96. The Darkness Is Easier

Maybe I’m just a dumb guy, and this is what guys do. They open the door and look at the pretty girl and suddenly forget everything and everyone. I can’t speak for other guys, but I can say that I’m glad Lily is standing there. One glance at Lily, and I know I’d still probably run away with her if she asked me.

Turns out, that’s exactly what she wants me to do.

“We need to leave right now.”

“And go where?”

“Far away. You still have your phone?”

I shake my head.

“Good. Come on.”

“Like right now?”

“Yes, Chris, I mean right now. You spend any more time in this cabin or this place and you’ll start having second thoughts.”

“But—how do I know—”

“If I’m lying? You don’t. This is now or never.”

“Now or never—what do you mean?”

“You either come now or you’ll never see me again. I almost left this place for good but I couldn’t. Just—now, Chris.”

I shake my head. It’s not that I think I’m going away for good. But I don’t want her leaving like this. I grab my wallet and keys and then follow her outside. Rain drizzles over us as we walk down to her car.

The black two-seater seems smaller than usual as I climb in and wonder what her plans are. She backs up and then speeds down the road.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“I’m fantastic,” she says in a mocking voice.

The wipers swish away the droplets as she winds around curves like some kind of race car driver. I glance at her, the jeans and thin leather coat, her hair curly and wild, her eyes more intense than usual.

“Where are we going?”

“Far away.” She suddenly jams down on the gas. I hold the door handle and then put on my seat belt.

“What’s gone on since Wednesday? What happened with Staunch?”

“He threatened me. Not just me, but my ex. And I just—I can’t anymore. Do this. Deal with all of this insanity. These people are crazy. It’s all crazy.”

“Where is he?”

Lily gives me a look that says are you kidding me? “Where’s who? Kurt?”

“I’m just asking.”

She curses. “Don’t even—Chris, please. This is serious. Don’t give me that attitude.”

“What attitude?”

“You know what kind of attitude. That one—the one that’s all over your puppy dog face.”

That stings. “It’s just how I’m feeling.”

“And how are you feeling? Huh? Sad that you didn’t find love or sad you didn’t get any?”

The car is in the middle of the road when another car comes around the curve. She quickly steers to the right without overreacting.

“You lied to me,” I say.

“Oh, really? Open your eyes, Chris. Open them up.” She curses again, and I’m not sure if it’s directed at me or the situation.

The rain seems to start falling harder. The daylight is pretty much gone. I’m not sure where she’s going and I don’t know if she does either.

“My eyes are open.”

“You’re blind. There’s something way bigger than you and me going on here. That’s why this has got to stop.”

“They’ll find us.”

She seems to spit out a laugh. “No, they won’t.”

“You don’t understand.”

“This place is the backside of nowhere. This stuff is going on because nobody pays any attention to anybody or anything around here.”

“And you understand what’s going on?”

She shakes her head, staring out through the rainstorm and the quickly-moving wipers. “I understand that we need help. That you need help. I could’ve left. I almost left, Chris. I did. But I couldn’t. Because—it’s just—I don’t want—I’m afraid for you. Afraid they’re going to get through to you.”

“Through to me?”

“Stop repeating what I’m saying. Through to you. Getting you to turn.”

You don’t know me and never will.

“They’re not going to get me to do anything.”

She laughs. “They’re smart enough to find others. I wasn’t the only one. What about that guy who claimed he was your cousin?”

“What was I supposed to believe?”

“You’re a good guy, and I don’t want that to change.”

“No, I’m not,” I say.

“No, listen. I know. I know that there’s something different about you. Something special. And I don’t want that to change.”

“I’m not some little kid, even if you think I am.”

Lily rolls her eyes. “You can’t see the obvious right in front of you in broad daylight.”

She doesn’t know I’ve been trying to see the obvious in front of me ever since I got to this wretched place. It was only after I met her that I stopped looking around for answers and uncovered mysteries and simply focused on one thing: her.

And that’s exactly why they chose her, you idiot.

She curses again. “Listen, I know. I know that the darkness is easier. The night changes everything, Chris. It’s there that you don’t have to be afraid, that you don’t have to see your reflection in all its ugly glory.”

“You’re not ugly,” I say.

“Not in the night, not in the shadows. You know—if heaven is real, I don’t want to go.”

“What—why?”

“Because it’s probably bright and sunny, and I won’t belong there. They’ll be able to see everything—everything—and I don’t want anybody to see the things I’ve done.”

The person behind the wheel is a lot like that other girl who once drove me around with all this baggage following her.

“People can change,” I say, a bit weakly and a bit soft for the pounding rain.

“You remember when that Teacher-of-the-Year came to our summer school with that assignment? Remember what I read?”

That feels like a lifetime ago.

“You don’t start over,” Lily continues. “There are no do-overs and no second chances. There’s just reality. The brutal facts of life.”

“But—you don’t have to be stuck—you can do whatever you want.”

Lily only chuckles. “This isn’t a cry for help, Chris. I don’t need someone picking up my pieces. I’m fine. My choice in boyfriends—that’s the part that hurts. And if only I could—”

She interrupts herself with a curse as she glances in the rearview mirror. I can see lights reflecting off it.

“Listen to me—” she says, then keeps cursing as she starts to drive even faster.

The road is heading downhill and swerving like a snake. I keep hold of the handle of the door, watching her, then staring back at the bright headlights behind us.

Following us.

“If anything happens—you listen to me. Don’t mess with Staunch. He’s the guy—just don’t mess with him. And don’t let them change you. You got that?”

She jerks the wheel as the street veers left, then jams it over as the car slides a bit as we turn right.

The vehicle is right behind us.

“It’s going to be next May, whatever it—”

A loud cracking sound interrupts her as the car behind us slams into our tail and jerks us.

I feel us turning. Circling. Spinning, yet still racing ahead.

No

Lily screams. I reach out toward her with my hand grasping at her arm.

God no no no help

She’s still screaming.

We’re suddenly not on the road anymore. We’re spinning, flying.

“Lily,” my voice yells before the crunching breaking sound of glass and the thudding, pounding sensation.