Contents

Book One: Regulation 19

- Chapter One: Under the Law

- In the Before (Part 1)

- Chapter Two: Same Old Town

- In the Before (Part 2)

- Chapter Three: Certified

- In the Before (Part 3)

- Chapter Four: Cases

- In the Before (Part 4)

- Chapter Five: The Cassandra Lock

- The Bad Thing That Happened

- Chapter Six: Seven Nights in Rook Mountain

- The Unregulated (Part 1)

- Chapter Seven: Regulation 19

- The Unregulated (Part 2)

- Chapter Eight: Away

- The Unregulated (Part 3)

- Chapter Nine: The Broken Clock

- The Unregulated (Part 4)

- In the After

Book Two: A Place Without Shadows

- Prologue

- Chapter One: The Curbside Killer

- In the Woods (Part One)

- Chapter Two: Sanctuary

- In the Woods (Part Two)

- Chapter Three: Artifacts

- In the Woods (Part Three)

- Chapter Four: The Pulse

- In the Woods (Part Four)

- Chapter Five: The Price

- In the Woods (Part Five)

- Chapter Six: The Broken World

- In the Woods (Part Six)

- Chapter Seven: Always Spinning

- In the Woods (Part Seven)

- Chapter Eight: A Place without Shadows

- In the Woods (Part Eight)

- Epilogue

Book Three: The Broken Clock

- Prologue

- Chapter One: Swarm

- The Boy Who Found the Watch (Part One)

- Chapter Two: Strained

- The Boy Who Found the Watch (Part Two)

- Chapter Three: The Rough-Shod Readers

- The Boy Who Found the Watch (Part Three)

- Chapter Four: The Key Without a Lock

- The Boy Who Found the Watch (Part Four)

- Chapter Five: Frank’s Dilemma

- The Boy Who Found the Watch (Part Five)

- Chapter Six: Seven Years in King’s Crossing

- The Boy Who Found the Watch (Part Six)

- Chapter Seven: Reunion

- The Man with the Watch (Part One)

- Chapter Eight: The Quarry

- The Man with the Watch (Part Two)

- Chapter Nine: The Lock Without a Key

- The Last of the Hinkles

- Author's Note

- Acknowledgements

- About the Author

Regulation 19

Book One of the Deadlock Trilogy

By P.T. Hylton

CHAPTER ONE: UNDER THE LAW

1.

Frank Hinkle was staring at the murder weapon in his hand when Correctional Officer Rodgers called his name.

“Hinkle!”

Frank squeezed his eyes shut and muttered a near silent curse.

He had been standing in the prison yard, drifting. Not even thinking. Just drifting. It had been happening more lately, the sense that his mind had become un-anchored from reality. He would find himself standing in the middle of the yard with no idea how long he’d been there. The old timers said the longer you were inside, the more it happened. You would find yourself losing bits of everything—time, your personality, even the reality of the prison walls around you. Still, common or not, it was damn unsettling.

If he had seen the Newg striding toward him, he would have turned and walked the other way. But he had been drifting hard, and he didn’t see the Newg until the other man was up in his face.

The day Jerry Robinson arrived at NTCC, one of the men in the yard called him ‘the New Guy’. As a reward for this burst of wit, Robinson punched the inmate in the throat. In spite of the throat-punch, the nickname had stuck. Over the years, it had morphed from ‘the New Guy’ to ‘the Newg.’ and somewhere along the way the Newg had come to embrace his new name. He even had it memorialized on his right bicep in prison ink.

While the Newg wasn’t opposed to a good old-fashioned throat punch when the need arose, he now preferred to repay perceived slights with a shank. He’d doled out one such repayment only two days ago, and the COs were in an unusual hurry to find out who had stabbed the kid in the shower.

The Newg gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze as he spoke. “Man, I need your help. I know I ain’t paid you back for what you did before, so I feel real bad asking. But I ain’t got no choice.”

Frank blinked hard. His mind snapped back to reality, but he still felt like he was playing catch up, jumping into the middle of a conversation he didn’t fully understand.

The Newg must have taken Frank’s silence as permission to continue. “Need you to hold on to this for me.”

Something slipped into Frank’s hand. He didn’t have to look to see what the Newg had handed him. Frank’s mind, and his pulse, sped to life.

“Whoa, Newg,” he said. “I respect you, and you know I’d love to help. But you also gotta know I’m not putting a murder weapon in my bunk.”

The Newg’s face scrunched up in desperation. The man wasn’t handsome to begin with and the look did nothing to improve the situation. “You were at the laundry, right? They got you signed in at the time of death, and at least three guards laid eyes on you while you were working.”

“It doesn’t matter where I was. They’re going to keep tossing bunks until they find something. How did they not find this already?”

The Newg glanced around and lowered his voice. “I got a hiding spot in the yard. But it’s not the kind of spot that’s gonna withstand a full sweep.”

That was the moment the voice came, shouting his name like it was a cuss word. “Hinkle!”

The Newg looked up and the color drained from his face. He backed up. “Looks like Rodgers wants a word.”

“Newg!” Frank whispered as loudly as he dared. He still hadn’t turned to acknowledge the CO’s call. “Get back here and take this thing!”

The Newg wiggled his head back and forth, his eyes never leaving the figure behind Frank. “I appreciate this. I owe you double.” He turned and hustled away.

Frank remained frozen. There was nothing to do but wait for the inevitable. He snuck the shank into the waistband of his pants and pushed it down as far as he dared. If he shoved it down too far, it would fall down his pant leg and onto the ground. Guards tended to notice stuff falling out of the leg of an inmate’s pants. It was an all too common, last resort option for getting rid of contraband in the loose-fitting, pocketless prisoner’s clothing.

“Hinkle! You got shit in your ears? I’ve been calling your name for two minutes.”

Frank felt a hand on his shoulder, this one from behind him, and he grimaced. He turned and saw Correctional Officer Rodgers standing there, the light hint of a smile on his face. When CO Rodgers smiled, it was never a good sign.

Frank had most of the guards figured out, but Rodgers...Rodgers was different than the others. Rodgers was smart. He was good looking. He was an athlete. Fifteen years ago, Frank had been in the stands the day Rodgers had led the Bristol, Tennessee High School football team to a stunning victory over Virginia High. The kid had been a natural athlete.

Rodgers went on to play for UT his freshman year of college before being cut from the team as a sophomore. He finished school and got his degree in criminology. And then, for some reason, he had come to work with a bunch of dunces and thugs who’d barely made it through high school.

“Sorry about that,” Frank said. “I was spacing out. Didn’t hear you.”

Rodgers grunted. He nodded his head toward the Newg who was now halfway across the yard. “Having a little conversation with Robinson?”

Frank nodded, not quite meeting the other man’s eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“Every time I give you a little bit of credit and start thinking maybe you're an actual human being with a functioning brain, you gotta turn around and prove me wrong. Why is that? Did you have to train hard to act so stupid or does it come naturally?”

The shank in Frank’s waistband felt huge. Rodgers had to see it. Any moment he would blow his little whistle and ten guards would sprint across the yard and tackle Frank to the ground.

Frank said, “I guess it comes naturally, boss.”

The smile faded from Rodgers’s face. “That was a rhetorical question, Hinkle. See what I’m saying? You just proved my damn point.” He grabbed Frank’s right arm and marched toward the administration building. “Come on. Warden wants to have a chat.”

“What?” Frank asked. He struggled to keep up without dislodging the shank from its precarious position. “What’s the warden—?”

Rodgers stopped and spun to face Hinkle. He leaned in close to the prisoner’s face. “Do me a favor. Keep your feet on that side of the yellow line and don’t speak unless you are asked a direct question.”

Frank may not have understood the inner workings of CO Rodgers’s mind, but he did know enough basic guard psychology to understand that Rodgers had no idea why the warden wanted to see him.

They stopped outside the door to the administration building. “Hands in front.”

Frank held out his wrists, and Rodgers clicked the handcuffs into place. “Okay, let’s move,” Rodgers said.

They entered the administration building and walked down a long, institutional gray hallway. It didn’t look much different from the other buildings in the NTCC except for the doors. They were standard office building doors with nameplates instead of the heavy metal monstrosities found in the rest of the prison.

Northern Tennessee Correctional Complex wasn’t a terrible place, at least as far as maximum security prisons went. The bizarre rule changes during Frank’s nine years inside had made things worse, but the location was still hard to beat. The prison was located in Rook Mountain, Tennessee, and the prison yard views of the Smoky Mountains could be outright breathtaking. Still, even after nine years, the sight of the administration building unnerved him.

He had been in this building once before. He had been scared that time, but at least he had known why the warden wanted to see him. He could reveal or withhold the facts as he wished. That little bit of power had been something to hold on to, something to savor. Even though they had him in handcuffs, he chose whether to talk. This time, he had no power.

Also, last time he hadn’t had a murder weapon in his elastic waistband.

Rodgers led Frank into a room with no windows. The warden sat in a chair behind a large metal table. The fluorescent overhead lighting gave his already weathered face a sickly hue. He looked uncomfortable, like maybe he was suffering from a bout of gas. He nodded to Rodgers, and the guard moved Frank to the lone chair on the near side of the table. Frank sat down, and Rodgers locked the handcuffs in the latch built into the table for this purpose. Then Rodgers took a few steps back until he was out of Frank’s field of vision.

The warden leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. “We’ve only got a few moments, so listen to what I am about to tell you.”

Frank shifted in his seat.

“An hour ago I got a call from Rook Mountain City Hall. They told me Becky Raymond needs to meet with you. I know you haven’t had the chance to keep up with politics lately, but Ms. Raymond is the city manager of Rook Mountain.”

The warden stared at Frank for a long moment.

Frank had the feeling that he was supposed to say something. He couldn’t quite keep the smile off his face. “This the same Becky Raymond who used to work at the Road Runner gas station out on Dennis Cove Rd?”

The warden leaned even closer. Frank saw beads of sweat forming on the big man’s forehead. “Ms. Raymond is going to be here any minute, so don’t be cute. I need answers. What the hell does the city manager want with you?”

Frank shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“Come on. Think!”

“I...I guess it could be something to do with my brother. He works for the city. Maybe he’s up for a promotion, and they want to interview me for some background check or something.”

Rodgers snickered behind him. “I’m pretty sure your brother isn’t up for a promotion.”

The warden smacked the table. “You expect me to believe the Rook Mountain city manager would come down here and walk into this prison about a background check?”

Frank paused, unsure of how to continue. “All due respect, but it seems like you may be thinking about this a little too hard. We're going to find out what she wants in a few minutes, right?”

The warden shook his head. “You don’t understand. Things have changed in Rook Mountain. The city manager represents the board of selectmen, and the Board...” The warden paused. He glanced at Rodgers as if looking for an assist, but the CO remained silent. The warden continued. “The Board has done amazing things since you’ve been inside. Wonderful things. But there are rules –”

If Frank hadn’t been looking at the door behind the warden, he wouldn’t have seen it. But he was, and he saw a flash of blue light through the crack below the door.

The door opened and a tall, sharply dressed woman in her early fifties marched into the room. She moved toward the table and held out her hand to the warden. “Warden Cade?”

The warden leapt to his feet and shook her hand. “Yes ma’am. It’s an honor. Thanks for coming down. I think you’ll find what we are doing here is in keeping with the Regulations.”

“Fine.” She slid into the nearest chair and looked at Frank. Her face was all sharp angles. Her deep brown eyes perfectly matched her hair color. “Mr. Hinkle,” she said, “how would you like to get out of prison?”

2.

Will Osmond drew a deep breath and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. They were hiking through a dense stand of pine trees, but it wouldn’t be long now. In a few moments, they would step out of the trees and onto the round bald top of the mountain. The view would be worth it. It always was.

Henry Strauss said, “You holding up okay?”

Will stopped and glanced back at the other man. Henry was red with heat and slick with sweat. Both men were in their late thirties, but, when Will compared his own stamina with that of the six twelve-year-old boys hiking with them, he felt much older.

The two men held up the rear of the procession. Ostensibly, this was so that they could keep watch on the boys in front of them. In truth, it was so they could go at a non-lethal pace without the kids stepping on their heels.

Will grunted in reply.

“Yeah, me too,” Henry said. “It sure was easier when we could drive up.”

Will ignored that last comment. Sometimes it was better to let things slide.

He said, “We made it. That’s the important thing. Almost made it, anyway.”

Two years ago, the board of selectmen had decided vehicles were not allowed past the old ranger station on Rook Mountain. Before that, you could drive all the way up to the parking lot at Carter's Gap. A stroke of a pen turned a fifteen-minute hike into an excursion that took a whole afternoon. Will had no idea why the board had passed the change or what danger a vehicle near the summit of Rook Mountain might pose, but he had long ago stopped asking those types of questions out loud.

When it came to the board of selectmen, trust was a must.

Will stopped for a moment and waited for Henry to catch up to him. Then he fell in step with the other man. When he spoke, it was quiet enough that only Henry could hear him. “Did you see what I saw half a mile back?”

Henry nodded. “Under that boulder by the overlook?”

Will smiled. “Good eye. We have to deal with it on the way back.”

Henry arched his eyebrow. “What about the boys?”

“The boys are the reason we have to deal with it,” Will said. “What if one of them saw the backpack wedged under that boulder? The hiker wasn’t even trying to hide what he’s doing.”

Henry nodded. “So the kids might have seen it. That’s not the end of the world. We’ll report it when we get back to town and let the boys sign the testimony. It’ll be good for them.”

Will snorted. “We're supposed to be teaching these kids to be men, right? How’s it look if we just go back and report it? Sure, we’re fulfilling the letter of the Regulations, but we aren’t doing our duty. Is that what you want to teach Carl? 'Cause it’s sure as hell not what I want to teach Trevor. By the time we go to town, file our report, and the law gets back up here, the hiker could be long gone.”

Henry squinted at him. “What are you suggesting we do?”

“You know what I’m suggesting. I’m suggesting we teach our boys to uphold the Regulations.”

Neither man spoke again for a few long moments. Only the call of distant birds and the excited chatter of the boys on the trail ahead cut the silence.

Finally Henry said, “You’re right. We don’t have a choice. We need to take care of it on the way back down.”

Will nodded. “Good man.”

Henry was the leader of their Rook Mountain Scout troop. Henry’s son Carl was Trevor’s best friend, so Henry and Will saw a lot of each other. The two men weren’t close. It was mostly a quick hello when dropping off the kids at some activity or a little chat around the dessert table at a school function.

It had come as a surprise when Henry invited Will to help out with this camping trip. Will knew Henry wouldn’t have called if he wasn’t desperate. The Scout troop’s usual co-leader had come down with a case of something or other, and Henry had nowhere else to turn. People got a little nervous around Will because of his job. Combined with his wife Christine’s job and...well, they didn’t get invited to a lot of cookouts. Sometimes he thought it wasn’t fair the way they were cut off socially just because they served the community. Other times he felt like it was a necessary evil.

Truth be told, he had been a little thrilled at the invitation. Things between Trevor and Will had been strained recently. It was natural. The kid was growing up and finding himself. He was feeling the need to rebel and he was just starting to discover what form his rebellion might take. So far it was a lot of moping around and disdainful glares when he thought Will wasn’t looking. Will could deal with that, and he thought he would be able to deal with whatever rebellion came in the next few years. Still, he couldn’t help hope that the weekend would be a time to reconnect, a time to teach the kid a thing or two about nature, about being a man. It hadn’t worked out that way so far. The kids had kept to themselves, and Trevor had interacted with Will only when required.

And now the thing with the hiker. He hoped it wouldn’t embarrass Trevor too much. Either way, it couldn’t be helped. The Regulations were the Regulations. Trust was a must. Will was a leader of the community, and he was expected to uphold the Regulations. Appearance was everything in Rook Mountain.

The kids had disappeared around a corner, but Will could still hear them talking and laughing. They were out of the dense part of the forest and surrounded by bushes. A few months earlier, this spot had been covered with the blazing purples and reds of rhododendrons. Now, the season of the flowers had passed and the bushes were bare, spindly as a tangle of fishing line left unattended.

The pitch and volume of the boys’ conversation went up a couple excitement levels.

“Sounds like they made it to the clearing,” Henry said.

Will rounded the corner and there it was—the summit.

Rook Mountain and the surrounding peaks were grassy balds—blunt rounded mountain tops covered with dense vegetation. The balds of the Southern Appalachian Mountains were unique because they were well below the tree line. The peaks’ lack of trees was a scientific mystery. Some researchers cited long centuries of grazing by a wide variety of large animals, many of which had gone extinct. Other scientists said it was the composition of the soil. There was no conclusive verdict.

Just another damn Rook Mountain mystery, Will thought. Add it to the list.

The thought snuck into his mind before he could suppress it. He was usually good at blocking those kinds of thoughts before they took shape.

Whatever the origin of the grassy balds, the end result was a clear three-hundred-sixty-degree view of the surrounding landscape. From up there the land looked untouched, an endless sea of deep green forest. Will had lived in the town of Rook Mountain for sixteen years. It had been the center point of his whole adult life. At the summit, it seemed tiny, just a series of small gaps in the thick trees that blanketed the landscape below.

When Will first moved there, the town of Rook Mountain had been a small village to the north of the mountain. The town limits had been expanded eight years ago, and the mountain itself was part of town now, all the way to where it bumped up against the North Carolina border. The prison was in the town limits too. But regardless of what the maps said, the mountain top had always been the real Rook Mountain for Will. It was his favorite place on Earth. The view, the crushingly beautiful, endlessly green view below him, was a large part of the reason he had settled there while most of his college friends had migrated to cities like Chicago, Denver and Phoenix. Up there, more than anywhere else, Will felt like he was home.

But there was a job to do.

The boys were gathered on top of a large boulder near the summit. Just a couple of years ago they would have been playing King of the Mountain, the boy at the top of the boulder fighting to keep his position as the other boys struggled to take it. Now they were too cool or too proud. Or maybe they were just growing up.

Will and Henry stopped a few feet from the boulder.

“You wanna tell them?” Henry asked.

Will nodded.

“Guys,” he said in a voice full of hard-won authority from sixteen years standing in front of a classroom. “Listen up.”

Their roar of conversation diminished to a soft murmur.

“I have something important to tell you. On the way up here Mr. Strauss and I spotted something.”

The boys turned to look at him. They went silent.

“Before we came up, we checked with City Hall. There shouldn’t be anyone on this mountain but us. Unfortunately, we saw someone. They appeared to be camping. Maybe even living up here.”

“Regulation 11,” muttered the boy at the top of the bolder.

Will nodded. “That’s right, Russ. This individual is in violation of Regulation 11.”

There was a long silence. Finally Carl Strauss said, “What are you going to do?”

“Not me. We. We are going to do what we have to. We are going to find this Regulation breaker, and we are going to carry out his sentence.”

3.

Frank looked at the city manager for a long time before speaking. “I’d like to get out of prison very much, but I guess you already knew that.”

Becky Raymond smiled. “I guess I did. Let me restate that. I have it within my power to release you from prison today.”

Frank sat up a little straighter in his chair. The shank in his waistband dug into his side as he moved, reminding Frank of its presence. Was that what this was about? Did they want Frank to give up the Newg?

His palms were sweaty. They always got sweaty when he was nervous. He wished he could wipe them on his pants the way he always did back in the day before reaching for a girl’s hand, but his wrists were handcuffed to the table.

He waited to see if Ms. Raymond would continue. She didn’t, so Frank said, “What do we need to do to make it happen?”

Her lips curled into a smile. “When was the last time you saw your brother?”

Frank recoiled under the pressure of her cold brown eyes and the unexpected question.

The warden spoke before Frank could. “Ma’am, as you know, our prisoners have not been allowed any contact with the outside since Regulation Day.”

Regulation Day. That was a term Frank hadn’t heard before. He could infer its meaning from the context: the day eight years ago when everything had changed at NTCC.

The first year of Frank’s stay at NTCC had been difficult, but there had been contact with the outside world. The prisoners were allowed regular visitors and TV time. There were phone calls and magazines and letters. It had been a lot like the versions of prison Frank had seen in movies, only noisier and smellier.

Then, eight years ago, everything had changed. With no explanation, televisions were removed, mail was cut off, and the phones were taken out. The prisoners were told there would be no more visitors. They had reacted with predictable fury. They’d threatened lawsuits, but since they weren’t allowed contact with lawyers that hadn’t gotten them far. There had been a series of riots, but the guards had violently put those down.

Eventually, the prisoners had come to accept their new circumstances, taking out their anger on each other more than on the prison leadership. New prisoners were kept in a separate cell block, cut off from the prisoners who had been inside before the day everything changed. Except for the occasional new guard, Becky Raymond was the first new person Frank had laid eyes on in eight years.

Ms. Raymond ignored the warden’s comment about Regulation Day and kept her eyes fixed on Frank.

“My brother came to see me once,” Frank said. “Right after the trial.”

“Only once?”

“Ma’am, I’d be happy to pull the visitation records if you’d like to verify Hinkle’s story,” the warden said. “We could get the exact date for you. Wouldn’t take but a moment.”

Ms. Raymond shook her head. “Why didn’t he visit you more?”

Frank shifted in his seat again and the shank wedged deeper into his side. If they were serious about letting him out, what would happen if they found the shank?

“I killed a friend of his,” Frank said. “Jake didn’t take it very well. He didn’t have much to say to me after that.”

“You look like him.”

Frank couldn’t help but smile. “I’ve been hearing that my whole life. It’s been a while, though.”

“A lot has happened while you've been incarcerated. With the town. If you get out of here today, you won’t believe the changes we’ve made. The things we’ve been able to do.”

“The warden mentioned something about that. I think he called it wonderful.”

The warden practically glowed at the comment, but Ms. Raymond didn’t seem to notice.

“That’s an accurate statement,” Ms. Raymond said. “And I don’t say that out of pride. It’s the simple truth. I think it’s fair to say you won’t find a town like Rook Mountain anywhere else on Earth. It is truly a marvel.”

“What’s this have to do with me getting out?”

Ms. Raymond reached forward and touched Frank’s hand, a casual gesture that made him flinch in surprise. It had been a long time since a woman had touched him.

“I’m sorry to tell you this,” Ms. Raymond said, “but your brother killed three people.”

Frank drew a deep breath. “That’s not possible.”

“I’m afraid it is.”

Frank let this idea, this horrible idea, roll around in his mind. Sure, Jake had hit a rough patch and got in some trouble as a teenager, same as Frank. Unlike Frank, Jake had met a nice girl and made a solid life for himself. Jake was a husband and a father. He was the only person Frank knew who could accurately be described as content. The idea that Jake could have taken three lives was absurd.

Something wasn’t right about this. Something seemed off in a big, bad way. The sudden meeting where even the warden was caught off guard. The way Ms. Raymond had walked through the door as if she owned the place. All this talk about the board of selectmen like they were the President’s Cabinet or something. And now this lady was saying Jake was a killer? Had she come to prison just to deliver this horrible news?

Why was Becky Raymond really there?

Frank’s hands were dripping a fair amount of sweat onto the table. He really wanted to wipe them on his pants. “Okay. So my brother’s a killer. You still haven’t told me what I need to do to get out of here.”

“After the killings, your brother realized that we were on to him, and he ran.”

A chill went through Frank. He pictured Jake on the run, living out of hotel rooms and dying his hair unnatural colors. “When was this?”

Ms. Raymond smiled her hollow smile. “Seven years ago.”

“What about his family?”

“He left them behind.”

Frank’s stomach felt like lead. Christine and Trevor had been going it alone for seven years? “I don’t understand. Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

The warden cleared his throat. “We discussed it. But the selectmen decided, and I agreed, of course, that telling you wouldn’t serve any purpose. Time in prison is hard enough without that on your shoulders. Besides, Jake had only been here the one time. We assumed you two must not be close.”

The smoldering lead ball of emotion in Frank’s belly was growing hotter by the moment. He wanted to lash out at them, to scream. Not close? A thousand childhood memories flashed through his mind in an instant. A hundred inside jokes. A dozen secrets. Not close? Frank had been closer to Jake than to anyone else in the world. Jake and his wife and son were the only real family Frank had. Maybe things hadn’t been friendly since the trial, but this went deeper than that. This was family.

Frank took a deep breath and reminded himself of what the city manager had said. He could get out of here today. He couldn’t help Christine from behind the walls of this prison. Whatever emotions he was feeling, he had to remain calm and figure out what the city manager wanted to hear. Whatever he needed to say, he would say it.

“You still haven’t told me how I get out of prison,” Frank said.

Ms. Raymond leaned forward and took a deep breath before speaking. “We have reason to believe your brother is still in town. We believe he’s been in Rook Mountain all this time, deep in hiding. We have used everything we can think of to ferret him out. We’ve failed. We are not one step closer to finding Jake than we were seven years ago. We’ve turned over every stone in this town. There is nowhere we haven’t looked. We’ve investigated every angle. And we have nothing.”

Frank spoke cautiously. “And you think I can help?”

The city manager nodded. “We're hoping you can.”

“You must be pretty desperate.”

“Watch your mouth!” the warden said.

“It’s okay,” Ms. Raymond said. “We are desperate, but we also have our first clue in seven years.”

Frank cocked his head and waited for her to continue.

“Do you remember Sally Badwater?”

Frank nodded. Sally had lived a few doors down from the Hinkles when Frank and Jake were growing up. She was two years younger than Frank, but the boys spent a fair amount of time with her because of the trampoline in her backyard.

“Sally claims that your brother came to see her three days ago.”

“Why would he go see Sally Badwater?” Frank asked.

Ms. Raymond reached into her briefcase, pulled out a stack of paper, and slid it to Frank. Frank repositioned the pages as best he could with his restrained hands.

“Top of page four,” Ms. Raymond said. “Jake approached Sally in the Food City parking lot. She was putting her groceries in the trunk. She turned around and there he was.”

Frank flipped over the first three pieces of paper and looked at the text on the top of the fourth page.

OFFICER DENSON: What did Mr. Hinkle say to you?

SALLY BADWATER: It was about that brother of his. Frank. The murderer.

OFFICER DENSON: Do you remember exactly what he said?

SALLY BADWATER: Yeah, I remember. He was real intense. Got up in my face. He said, ‘Tell my brother to meet me at the quarry.’

OFFICE DENSON: The quarry? Does that mean anything to you?

SALLY BADWATER: No, of course not. He was talking nonsense.

“What did he mean by 'the quarry'?” Ms. Raymond asked.

Frank thought for a long moment. There was no quarry in Rook Mountain. “So that’s it, huh? Decipher my brother’s cryptic message for you and I can walk free?”

Ms. Raymond nodded.

Frank paused. This was the most power he’d had in nine years. He couldn’t waste it. “I think I’d like a lawyer.”

“Jesus, Hinkle.” The voice came from behind him. Rodgers. Frank had forgotten the guard was in the room.

A cold smile crossed Ms. Raymond’s face. “The whole point of a lawyer is to get you a better deal. I’m offering you the ability to walk out of prison today. You think a lawyer is going to get you something better than that?”

Frank licked his lips, trying to decide how far to push this. “No lawyer means no paperwork. No paperwork means maybe you don’t hold up your end of the deal.”

The woman shrugged. Her face was unreadable. “I understand your concern. Your choice. If you want to go back to your cell, ask for a lawyer again. If you want to get out of prison today, answer the question. What’s the quarry?”

Frank weighed the options and then answered. “You’re right. I couldn’t ask for anything more than what you’re offering. The thing is...I have no idea what Jake was talking about. I’ve never heard of any quarry around Rook Mountain.”

Ms. Raymond sighed. Then she did something unexpected. She reached out and she took one of Frank’s hands. For a moment, he felt the old familiar shame at their sweatiness, but then she looked into his eyes. And when she did, all other thoughts slipped away. Her gaze had a force to it, a weight. There was nothing intimate about it; in fact it was the opposite. Her stare was cold and clinical. She looked into him like he was a math problem. He felt her gaze squirming into him. It was a feeling he had felt only once before.

After an endless moment, she released his hand. She didn’t look away, but her stare lost its weighty intensity. She had an odd look on her face, a surprised look.

“I believe you,” she said, and she stood up. “Thanks, warden.”

“Wait,” Frank said. This was it. His freedom was about to walk out of the room, and he was about to go back to the world of the Newg and mentally drifting and shower stabbings. “Maybe I can still help you.”

“I don’t think so. But I appreciate your willingness to try.”

Frank’s mind was spinning. He had to say something. He had to find the right words to stop her from leaving. Jake needed him. Christine needed him. “Jake wants to see me, right? That’s what he told Sally. He can’t do that in here. But if I were out there maybe he would make contact.”

Ms. Raymond picked up her briefcase from the table and put it under her arm.

“And in the meantime, I could do some digging. I’ve lived here all my life. I know everybody and they’ll talk to me. And I know these mountains. I know them as well as Jake does. If anyone can find him, it’s me.”

Ms. Raymond paused for a long moment, then looked at him. “Thirty days.”

Frank’s heart almost stopped as he waited for her to finish.

“You have thirty days to find him. If you do, you’re free. If you don’t, you come back here and serve out your sentence.”

Frank felt himself nodding.

“You meet with me each week to discuss your progress. You don’t leave town. And if I even suspect you aren’t following through, your little leave of absence ends.”

She reached into her briefcase and pulled out an envelope. She slapped it onto the table in front of him. “This is enough money to get you some clothes and a week of food. I assume you can find somewhere to stay?”

Frank nodded again. He looked at the envelope. She’d had it ready.

“Okay,” she said. She looked at the warden. “Get him released. He has work to do.” The warden looked as shell shocked as Frank felt. He nodded to Rodgers.

“Ma’am,” Frank said. “How do I find you? For the weekly meetings.”

Ms. Raymond smiled. “You don’t. I’ll find you.”

Rodgers moved back into Frank’s field of vision and unhooked the cuffs. Frank felt a smile growing on his face, and he was powerless to stop it. He had a feeling it would be there for a long while.

Ms. Raymond turned to the warden. “He’s carrying a weapon. Tell the guards to overlook it.”

Warden Cade nodded. “Ms. Raymond, I’m not sure how to do the paperwork on this thing.”

“Jesus, Cade. Figure it out. Do it fast. If he’s not a free man in the next sixty minutes, I will not be happy.”

As Rodgers led Frank out of the room, Frank heard the warden say, “Shouldn’t we tell him?”

Ms. Raymond said, “No. Let’s see how he does. He’ll either figure it out or he won’t.”

4.

The walk down to the boulder took much longer than it should have. The boys were quieter, and they walked behind the men. There was an energy in the air, part nervousness, part anticipation. The things the boys had been taught in school, the things they had been trained to do in the Scouts, the stories they heard the men telling, usually after a few drinks, they were about to see them up close. They were about to carry out their duty. They would soon take down a Regulation breaker.

Will leaned close to Henry. “You bring a gun up here?”

Henry nodded and patted the pocket of his thick jacket.

“I got mine too,” Will said.

“I’ve got plenty of rope. Enough to tie him up and also tie a lead around his waist for bringing him to town.”

The men had spent almost an hour talking to the boys on the summit of Rook Mountain. They had talked about the boys' responsibilities in capturing the Regulation breaker. They had told them to stay out of the hiker’s reach and to stay alert. It was all review, stuff they had heard a thousand times before in the classroom, but the boys had listened with focus. There hadn’t been any laughter or side conversations. Not this time.

Will held up a hand to stop the group before a curve in the road. He waived the boys in close. “The boulder is about a hundred yards ahead. From here on out, we are silent. Stay as quiet as you can and follow me and Mr. Strauss. Stay behind us and don’t do anything different than what we discussed. Nod if you understand.”

Will looked around the group, making eye contact with each boy. They all nodded when he looked at them, a silent vow that they understood, that they would perform their duties.

Will reached into the front pocket of his backpack and pulled out the pistol. It was a 9mm Glock. It had been a couple years since he had fired the thing at the range, but that was okay. He didn’t intend to use it today. He just wanted to have it ready in case things turned bad. There were six boys here to think about after all.

Will slung the pack onto his back and began creeping down the road, the gun held loosely in his right hand. He stepped lightly, but he knew any effort to be silent would have been futile. A group of eight was sure to be noticeable. They walked down the center of the road to minimize the noise, but bits of gravel still crunched under their feet.

It didn’t matter. Will could see the boulder. Most likely, there would be no one there. The backpack could have been abandoned, or its owner might have left it for the day while he went foraging for food. They would probably find nothing, the Scouts would file a report when they got back to town, and that would be that.

The lump of ice in Will’s stomach told him there was another possibility. There was a possibility that someone would be there, and it would fall to Will to take the lead. Scout leader or not, Henry had already shown that he didn’t have it in him. Try as he might, Will couldn’t help but hate Henry a little for that. The way things were, there was a burden that had to be borne. For every person like Henry, too squeamish or indecisive to do their part, there had to be someone like Will to pick up the slack. It wasn’t meanness on Will’s part; it was just the way it was.

Will was fifty feet from the boulder. Henry was a few steps behind him, and the rest of the group hovered back a bit farther. Will reached down and shifted the pistol to a two hand grip. He looked at Henry one more time to make sure the man was ready. Henry nodded.

“Step out from behind the rock,” Will said. He spoke in the calmest, most authoritative voice he could manage.

He was met with silence.

He tried again. “Come on out. We don’t mean you any harm.”

Another long moment of silence.

Henry spoke softly. “I don’t think—”

Will held up his hand to quiet him.

Will said, “I take your non-response as hostility. We are moving in.”

“Wait!” The voice came from behind the rock. It was a hoarse, throaty voice, but it was also higher pitched than Will had expected.

“Step out onto the road,” Will said.

A shadow moved at the edge of the boulder, then it grew until it revealed feet, legs, a body. The figure moved into the sunlight. Will heard a boy behind him gasp.

“Don’t shoot!” the woman said. Her eyes were glued to Will’s pistol. Her hair was a tangle of blonde and black. Her t-shirt featured the faded logo of the band Phish.

Will kept his gun trained on her. He concentrated on keeping it steady.

“Ma’am, you have broken Regulation 11. We need to escort you back to town.”

The woman’s voice trembled when she spoke. “Please. I haven’t hurt anyone. I just want to be left alone.”

“Jesus,” Henry said. “That’s Jessie Cooper.”

Will felt a surge of anger rising up. The last thing he needed was Henry complicating matters.

“Jessie Cooper,” Henry repeated. “She works at the Food City. And before...she was my accountant.”

“Henry Strauss?” the woman asked, squinting into the sun.

“I don’t care what she was in the Before,” Will said. “Get out your rope and tie her hands. Boys, go collect her things.”

Henry paused only a moment before reaching into his pack and pulling out a coil of nylon rope. He moved toward the woman.

Will kept his gun trained on her while Henry bound her hands.

“Mr. Osmond! Come here!” The voice came from one of the boys behind the boulder.

Will looked at Henry. “You got her?”

Henry nodded. “Go.”

Will pocketed his gun and trotted around the boulder. On the other side, he saw the boys huddled around something on the ground. They parted as he approached, and he saw the oversized piece of paper that held their attention.

It was a map. And not just a map of Rook Mountain. It was a map of the county. A red line had been drawn straight north from the town of Rook Mountain to Elizabethton.

Russ said, “Mr. Osmond, was she planning a route to leave town?”

Will didn’t respond. He stood up with a grunt and then took a deep breath. This was not good. He tried to steel himself for what was next. What had to be next.

Will walked back around the boulder. Henry stood a few feet away from the woman. Her head was down, and her shoulders were slumped.

“Ms. Cooper,” Will said. “Are you familiar with Regulation 1?”

She raised her head. Her face was a bitter mask of contempt. “Yes, I think I’ve heard of it.”

“Were you planning to leave Rook Mountain?”

She kept her eyes on him, but she did not speak.

“Ms. Cooper, were you trying to leave town?”

“It’s not fair what they’ve done to us,” she said. “It isn’t right and I'm done with it. Done with all of them!”

“Jessie, are you leaving Rook Mountain?” Will asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m leaving. Now let me go.”

Will fired, and the sound echoed off the side of the mountain. The bullet hit Jessie Cooper in the chest, and she staggered backwards. She made it three wobbly steps before collapsing. She landed with a thud.

Will walked toward her, not rushing, but careful not to hesitate either. He couldn’t lose his nerve. He stood over her, staring into her vacant eyes. A sick wheeze came from her chest as the breath leaked out of her.

Will fired again, this time hitting her near the center of the forehead. There was no mistake now—the woman was dead.

He turned and saw the group staring at him. He looked from one to another, making eye contact with each of them just as he had done before they approached the boulder. He saw looks of shock, horror, revulsion, and terror. There was even a look of awe from Carl Strauss. But they were all present behind their eyes. Whatever feelings they had about what had just happened, none of them were going to lose it. At least not now.

Will spoke softly and calmly, as if his tone could counteract the violence. “We did what we had to do. This woman was a Regulation breaker. Not only that, she was a Regulation 1 breaker. She was going to leave Rook Mountain and go elsewhere. At best, she would have been killed by the Unfeathered. At worst, she would have led them back to Rook Mountain.”

The boys remained still.

“There was no shame in what we did here,” Will continued. “We protected ourselves. We protected our families. We did our duty, no more and no less. Everyone understand?”

The boys all nodded, some more enthusiastically than others. Things would be different now, for Trevor and for all of them.

“Don’t touch anything,” Will said. “Leave her things where they lay. When we get to town, we will report what happened. The police will come up here to investigate. They’ll want to ask you all some questions. As long as you answer honestly and tell them exactly what happened, everything will be fine.”

Will looked at Henry and waited for the man to say something. If Henry took charge, it would go a long way toward getting things back to normal. But Henry said nothing.

“We want to get to the ranger station before sundown,” Will said. “Let’s get moving.”

As Will turned, he heard Carl say, “Hinkle, your dad is a badass.”

“Don’t call him that,” Trevor said.

“Sorry,” Carl said. “Step-dad. Whatever. He’s still a badass.”

“Yeah,” Trevor said. “I guess he kind of is.”

Will angled his way through the group until he stood next to Trevor. He put his arm around his stepson’s shoulders and started down the mountain.

IN THE BEFORE (PART 1)

The first time Will met the Hinkles, Jake was sitting on the porch drinking beer and Christine was wielding a chainsaw. Over the years, Will often thought back to that day and considered it the perfect introduction to both their personalities.

Will was fresh out of college and in the state of Tennessee for the first time. He had grown up in the plains of central Illinois and driving a car, let alone a U-Haul, through the mountains was an adventure to him. He had been skiing a few times out west where the mountains were tall, jagged things that jutted proudly into the sky and dared you to summit them. They were mountains for extreme sports, ski lifts, and feeling on top of the world.

The Appalachian Mountains of Eastern Tennessee were different. They were much smaller, yes, but they were also sneakier creatures. They were round and tree covered. There would be no skiing down them. They clung too close to the Earth, and they wore a coat of dense forest. They were mountains where you could imagine Daniel Boone blazing a trail, and you could understand why it would have been such a big deal.

They looked like mountains that held secrets.

Will made it through the Cumberland Gap and the twisty ups and downs of Kentucky and Virginia, clutching the steering wheel of his U-Haul in a death grip for hours on end. He made it past the giant, illuminated roadside crosses of Bristol and into the beautiful valley that cradled Elizabethton. After surviving a winding state highway and passing countless roadside stands selling boiled peanuts and South Carolina peaches, he made it to Rook Mountain.

He pulled off the highway and onto the first side road. A man in an old Subaru passed him going the other direction and waved. Will hesitated, then waved back. You didn’t get much waving at other drivers in Illinois. Unless the wave featured only one finger.

After ten minutes on the country road, he saw the sign, ‘Hinkle Resort.’

He heard the distinctive buzz of a chainsaw as he drove down the driveway. A chainsaw wasn’t the most comforting sound that could have greeted Will on his first visit to the Tennessee mountains, but he pressed on nonetheless.

A few hundred feet down the driveway he saw her. A woman in a sleeveless t-shirt cutting into a pine log. A pickup truck was parked behind her just off the driveway. Will figured there was room for the U-Haul to get by if he drove tight against the trees on the opposite side of the path, but just barely.

Will pulled up alongside her and rolled down the window. She didn’t seem to notice. Up ahead, the driveway forked into four smaller paths. Will had no idea which way to go.

The woman shut off the chainsaw. Her long chestnut hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. The look suited her. “You Osmond?”

Will nodded. “Are you Christine?”

She returned his nod. “Welcome to Rook Mountain.” She set down the chainsaw and marched over. Christine looked to be in her late twenties. She moved gracefully and with purpose. Will’s heart skipped a beat as she gave him the slightest hint of a smile and held her hand up to his open window. He took the gloved hand and shook it.

She pointed to the fork in the driveway. “Your place is on the right. My husband Jake is up there now. I’m sure he’ll be glad to help you unload.” She turned and walked back to the waiting chainsaw.

Will felt like he should say something else. “Have fun.”

She looked at him, gave a half smile, and fired up the chainsaw.

Will eased the U-Haul to the left, taking it as far off the gravel as he dared. He didn’t want to knock off the side view mirror of his new landlord’s truck, but he didn’t want to get stuck, either. After a bit of finagling, Will got the U-Haul past the truck, turned onto the right-hand fork, and caught sight of his new home.

What he saw surprised him.

Christine had accurately described the cabin over the phone. She told him that it was nothing fancy, that it was old but roomy and solidly built. He liked the look of it. The large and numerous windows. The stubby chimney shyly poking out above the roof. The large porch which stretched the length of the house.

What surprised him was the man sitting on the steps leading up to the porch. He was leaning back on the stairs and looking up at the sky, surrounded by a half dozen empty beer bottles. An oversized portable cooler stood behind him. The man sat up as the moving truck approached, gave Will a casual wave, and wobbled to his feet.

“You’re from Indiana or something, right? That’s a long drive in this scrap,” Jake Hinkle said.

“Nice to meet you. Illinois, actually. But yeah, it was a long drive.”

Jake was maybe twenty-five years old, at least a few years younger than Christine. He was average height and bulky without being either fat or too muscular. He was solid, the kind of physique that comes from heavy labor rather than hours spent in the gym. His most distinctive feature was his shaggy blonde hair. If this had been a coastal town, Will would have taken him for a surfer type.

“Want a beer?” Jake asked.

Will paused for a moment, then looked at the U-Haul and considered the work that lay ahead of him.

“Truck ain’t going nowhere.” Jake smiled and nodded toward the cooler. “Help yourself.”

Will grabbed a beer and took a long satisfying drink. It tasted mighty fine.

“So, listen,” Jake said. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

Will took another drink before answering. “About what?”

“You see a man sitting around drinking while his wife is hard at work, you might not think too highly of him. I want you to understand this is a special circumstance.” Jake gave Will a crooked smile. “I lost a bet.”

“Oh,” Will said. He took another drink and noticed the bottle was half empty.

Jake snorted and shook his head. “Dude, seriously? I tell you my wife is cutting down trees because I lost a bet and you’re not going to ask about it?”

Will shrugged. “Didn’t think it was any of my business.”

Jake roared with laughter. “Man, you see that house over there?” He pointed to another cabin just past a thin line of trees. “Me and Christine live there. Your business and my business are bound to get tangled up from time to time. Might as well start now.”

Will smiled. “What was the bet?”

“Christine’s dad, Clark, used to own this place. He’d rent these cabins out a week at a time to vacation people. Demand was so high that he’d occasionally rent out his own place and sleep in the tool shed out back. We bought it from him when we got married. 'Course, he couldn’t help but share his thoughts on the way we run the place. He lives in the cabin on the end. He didn’t much like it when Christine and I moved in as it meant there were only two left to rent out. Then we let my brother Frank move into the third cabin. He really didn’t like that. When we decided to rent this cabin out monthly rather than weekly, he had some thoughts on that as well. Needless to say, Clark and I have some communication problems.”

“So what was the bet?”

“That brother I mentioned? Frank? Christine has a couple issues with him. We knew they’d both be gone today, so we had ourselves a little bet. We shot darts. And I lost.”

Will heard the gravel crunch and looked at the road just in time to see Christine’s truck roll by, dragging a large log behind it.

“So if you lost, why is she cutting wood while you drink?”

Jake smiled again. “That’s her fifth trip. See, we had the bright idea that it might be fun to build a little blockade across either Clark’s or Frank’s driveway. She won the bet. God, she was on fire last night.”

“So when Frank comes home tonight...”

“He’s going to find his driveway blocked with at least five logs. My guess is that it will be more like ten before the girl runs out of steam.”

Will couldn’t help but laugh. “Remind me to never piss off Christine.”

Jake held up his bottle. “Cheers to that.”

Will raised his beer, and the two bottles clinked together.

“Welcome to Rook Mountain, Mr. Osmond, where we make our own fun. The great thing about this place is that nothing crazy ever happens.” He met Will’s eyes and that crooked smile reappeared. “The downside is that nothing crazy ever happens.”

CHAPTER TWO: SAME OLD TOWN

1.

“If I had to guess the cause of death, I’d go with the two bullets,” Christine Osmond said.

The deceased woman, positively identified as Jessie Cooper, lay on the medical examiner’s table. She was stuffed into a black body bag, unzipped at the top. Her head and torso poked out like a candy bar from a peeled-back wrapper.

“Seriously, Doc?” the man in the police uniform asked. “That’s all you got?”

Christine sighed. “Sullivan, she’s been unzipped for about thirty seconds. Come back in an hour and I might have something a little more in-depth.”

Sullivan nodded. “I was hoping to get home tonight.”

“Very subtle.” She looked up at him. “So you don’t have any concerns with me doing the medical examination?”

Sullivan shrugged. “It’s not ideal. In the Before, we probably would have had to find someone else. But now… who else are we going to ask?”

Christine nodded. She’d grown used to that refrain over the last eight years. She was one of only two medical doctors in Rook Mountain, and the other one had just celebrated his eighty-fifth birthday. In the Before, most people had gone to Elizabethton for their medical needs.

In the old days, Christine had been a podiatrist. She had worked in a small but progressive hospital in Elizabethton, a tight-knit workplace high on results and comparatively low on drama. They were even starting to get some national recognition. A medical journal had written up their unique approach to cross-disciplinary teamwork. There had been talk of awards. Grant money.

It had been a good life. Work hard all day and sometimes all night at a job she was passionate about. Sure, it was stressful, but it was a good stress, an invigorating stress. When work was done, she drove to her beautiful home in the mountains and her amazing family.

Then the Bad Things had happened. The Unfeathered. Regulation Day. Jake’s disappearance. Now she might as well be one of two doctors alive.

“Anyway,” Sullivan said, “I don’t guess you’ll find anything unexpected. This couldn’t be any more straightforward. Ms. Cooper here was a Regulation breaker. Will took care of her, protected the town, and taught all those boys a thing or two at the same time. You should be proud of your husband.”

Christine smiled. “I am. Always.” Ever since she had married Will she’d never once been anything but proud of him. It was different than her marriage to Jake had been in many ways. She supposed no two marriages were exactly alike. She and Will had their ups and downs, but her trust in the man never wavered. The best part was that she knew he felt the same way about her.

“Man alive, I wish Peyton had been in that group,” Sullivan said. “His Scout leader hasn’t even taught him to start a proper fire. And he’s fourteen in September.”

Christine pulled on a pair of latex gloves. She reached up and hit 'record' on the video camera pointed at the table. Who the hell would ever watch this thing, she didn't know. But procedure was procedure. Christine made a point of following the rules. Trust was a must.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” Sullivan turned and sauntered out of the room, letting the heavy metal door slam shut behind him.

Christine dragged the zipper of the body bag down until the rest of the corpse was exposed. In spite of what she had told Sullivan, she didn’t want to be there all night, either. She wanted to get home to her family. She wanted to be with Will. And Trevor too. It wasn’t the first death that either of them had seen, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. But they both had to be going through some things.

Christine sighed and took a deep breath. She couldn’t think about any of that now. There was a dead woman in front of her who deserved the courtesy of a thorough examination. Like Sullivan, Christine doubted there was anything to find, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.

Christine pulled the body bag away from the woman’s arms and legs. Jessie Cooper was forty-two years old, or so her records said. It was a little hard to tell on visuals alone with the distracting hole in her forehead. It was clear from her clothing that she had been out in the wild for some time. The denim of her jeans was hard with dirt. Her hair was tangled and uneven. Christine tried to picture the way she might have looked before she went into the wild.

Christine started with the hands. They were bound with rope but appeared uninjured. Her wrists showed no signs that she had struggled against the rope. Most likely it had been quick and her suffering had been minimal.

Where to go next? She could start from the bottom and work her way up. The feet would be in terrible shape, Christine knew. It was difficult to take care of your feet when spending any significant time in the wilderness. Christine had seen it on countless hikers in the Before, men and women passing through Rook Mountain on the Appalachian Trail who had finally given in to their screaming feet and come in for a checkup. The feet were always the first sign of a life hard lived, long before the teeth or the hands.

Not that the head was much prettier in this particular case.

The shot, Christine had to admit, was impressive. Dead center of the forehead. From the way Sullivan had told it to her, the woman had been lying on the ground with Will standing above her. Shooting down was more difficult than it might seem. It wasn't the way a weapon was meant to be fired and not the way anyone practiced shooting. It would have been easy for Will to take off the top of her skull, but his shot had been true. Steady hand, that one.

Not as steady as hers, of course, but she was a doctor.

Christine could have stopped there. But she felt it was her responsibility to check for any other possible injuries prior to death. That was when she noticed the necklace.

Jessie Cooper wasn’t wearing any rings, earrings, or bracelets, but she did have a thin gold chain around her neck. Christine slid a probing tool under the chain and lifted it, pulling it from underneath the woman’s shirt.

On the end of the chain, there was a key.

Christine took a sharp breath. It couldn’t be. Not on this random woman who had spent the last month hiding in the woods and planning her escape to Elizabethton. Christine unhooked the chain and held it up so the key dangled in front of her eyes.

It was an old-fashioned key, a long cylinder with dramatic teeth jutting out at the end. There was a symbol on the head of the key, and that symbol was what held Christine’s attention. It showed the face of a clock with a jagged crack running down its center.

Christine had seen the symbol before. She had spent much of the last eight years searching for something, anything, with the symbol. She’d searched until she had run out of places to look. No, that wasn’t accurate. There were still plenty of stones unturned in this little town. She had run out of something else. There was a word for it... Hope? Motivation? Some combination of those things.

Christine peeled the latex glove off one hand and reached for the key. She closed her hand tight around it, feeling the coolness of the metal against her skin. Then she opened her hand and traced the symbol of the clock’s face with her thumb.

It was real. She had found it.

Christine took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind. Keeping this key—keeping anything with the broken clock symbol—was a violation of Regulation 2. The rule was clear—she was supposed to turn the object over to the police immediately. Breaking the Regulation didn’t bother her, she had broken this one before, but it did complicate things. It put her and her family in danger.

She switched off the video camera. Then she took out the Mini-DV tape and put it in her pocket. Thank God for the old school video camera in the medical examiner’s room. She would burn the tape later. It wasn’t ideal, she knew, especially since Sullivan had seen her turn the camera on. Couldn’t exactly say she had forgotten. And since the shooting involved her husband, it was plausible that someone might review the tape to make sure she wasn’t covering anything up. It wasn’t likely in Rook Mountain, but it was plausible.

Christine, by her very nature, didn’t like dealing with this level of uncertainty.

Still, there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t risk someone reviewing the tape and seeing the key. If the wrong people saw it, things could take a very bad turn.

She would put another tape into the video camera, hit 'record,' and take the examination from the top. She would be thorough. Even though she desperately wanted to run home and show the key to Will, to celebrate the good news with him, she would force herself to complete the job. When Sullivan came back in forty-five minutes or so, she would tell him about the results of the examination. She would have an unhurried, casual conversation with him for as long as she could stomach. Only after all that would she go home. There was too much at stake for her to be anything but meticulous.

She slipped the necklace into her pocket and went to find another tape for the video camera.

2.

Frank sat on a park bench in downtown Rook Mountain. He was eating a vanilla ice cream cone with sprinkles. It was the first time he’d tasted ice cream in over nine years. He was a free man.

The release from prison had been a whirlwind. Usually, the hours leading up to a prisoner’s release were an exciting but stressful time. Often the prisoner was given little information on the exact time of their release. But the main reason for the tension was the fear that something would go wrong. Maybe there had been a paperwork snafu. Maybe someone in some government office somewhere would review your file and have a change of heart. It was unlikely to happen, but that didn’t stop the fears from coming in those final prison hours.

Frank had been spared all of that.

After the meeting with Ms. Raymond and the warden, Frank had been taken to another office area and asked to sign a few pieces of paper. Rodgers then led him to a large room where he was given a set of clothes he’d never seen before, an envelope of cash, and a hearty handshake. With that, Rodgers had called for a prison transport van and sent Frank on his way.

Of course, Rodgers hadn’t been able to leave it at that. As Frank boarded the van, he heard Rodgers calling to him. “Maybe I’ll see you on the outside.”

Frank had no idea if that was a threat or the guard’s awkward way of saying that he considered Frank a human being again. Frank didn’t much care. He turned and gave Rodgers a tooth-baring smile that probably could have been interpreted as menacing. “Yeah,” Frank said. “Maybe you will.”

Frank asked the van driver to drop him off in downtown Rook Mountain. He wasn’t ready to head out to the cabin just yet. He wandered a few blocks, enjoying the freedom of not having his next move dictated to him. He didn’t have anywhere to be, and no one would yell at him if he wasn’t walking fast enough or on a straight enough line. He passed a few people on the street that he recognized. Some of them looked at his face for a little too long, as if trying to place him, but no one said anything. Thank God for that. He wasn’t ready for small talk. To say he was out of practice would have been a severe understatement. And he had no idea how he would explain his release from prison.

He spotted Grumpy’s Creamery. It had been one of his favorite places when he was a kid. He’d spent many happy hours there back in the days before he knew anything bad could happen. Before he knew how dark life could get. Back when the future was something to look forward to rather than something to dread.

So he took the envelope out of his pocket, peeled off a twenty, and walked inside.

After he got the ice cream cone, he wandered for a few more blocks, licking at it when it started to drip. He sat down on a bench in front of a small playground. It was only after he sat that he realized where he was.

It couldn’t be a coincidence. It had to be his subconscious that had led him there. Perhaps it had been leading him there all along.

Right there, right next to the swing set, was where he had killed Brett Miller almost ten years ago. It looked almost exactly the same as it had on that day. Frank could almost see Brett’s blood splattered across the ground and dripping from the park sign.

He looked hard and didn’t try to force the remembered blood out of his mind. He’d had a lot of time to think about that night, and he didn’t run from it anymore. The thought of it still made the guilt bubble up inside him, overwhelming all his senses, but he didn’t try to push it down. He had done something terrible. As the prison counselors would say, it was an event that defined his past, but it did not have to define his future.

So what did the future hold? Frank inspected his waffle cone, and then licked a drip running down the side. He bit into the cone, and it cracked with a sweet crunch. It tasted as good as he remembered.

There wasn’t much in this world Frank was good at. He’d messed up his life about as bad as was possible. Even before he became a killer, he’d been fired from about every reputable employer in Rook Mountain. Frank had never known his father very well, and his mother had died still worried about how her younger son would turn out. But there were three things Frank knew. He knew locks, he knew the people of Rook Mountain, and he knew his brother Jake.

The police had been searching for Jake for years, but that didn’t mean much to Frank. The cops never did really understand the Hinkle boys. Frank could do it. He could find his brother. And what would happen when he found him? Frank didn’t have it in him to turn in his own brother. But Jake needed him. And maybe he needed Jake.

“Hello, Frank.”

Frank whipped his head toward the figure on the bench next to him. Damn it, he had been doing it again. Drifting.

The first thing he noticed about the man sitting next to him was the uniform. Then he saw the face. For a moment, Frank flashed back to the morning he killed Brett. He saw himself hitting Brett with the tire iron. He saw two police officers tackling him to the ground. Now, in the same spot ten years later, one of those officers was sitting next to him.

“Hello, Sean.”

Sean Lee was one year younger than Frank. In their elementary school days, Sean had often come over to the Hinkle’s house to play basketball in the driveway. The kid had shot the ball pretty well and hit the boards with enthusiasm on offense, but his defining basketball characteristic was his complete lack of interest in playing defense. He just stood around and waited for his team to take possession of the ball again.

“You doing okay?” Sean asked.

Frank wasn't sure how to answer that question. How was he doing? He was ecstatic. He was confused. He was angry. “It’s been an odd day.”

Sean said, “You really put me through my paces in the last couple of hours. You know how many calls we’ve had to the station about you? Go ahead and guess.”

“I really don’t know.”

“Seven. We’ve had seven calls, and they were all pretty much the same. The murderer has broken out of jail. The Hinkle boy is out on the street. For some reason, even though they say your brother killed three people, you are the Hinkle everyone seems most afraid of.”

Frank sighed. “I thought maybe no one recognized me.”

Sean laughed. “You’re famous, buddy. Rook Mountain famous anyway. I called the prison and they confirmed that your release was legit. I told the next six people who called. It should be making its way around the gossip circuits. By midday tomorrow everyone will know. Then maybe people will start being a little friendlier. You got lucky today, though.”

“How do you mean?”

“You’re lucky people called us about you. Things have changed in Rook Mountain since you went inside.”

“So I keep hearing.”

“Yeah, well, it’s true. When folks see someone doing something illegal, they don’t always tip off the law. A lot of times they decide to take care of it themselves.”

That didn’t sound all that new to Frank.

“I’m not saying it’s going to happen,” continued Sean, “but if anybody starts harassing you, you come to me, understand? Or someone else in the department. Don’t try to resolve it yourself. Things can turn ugly fast that way.”

Another image flashed into Frank’s mind: the tire iron slamming into Brett Miller’s head, the head bending and then caving in. And Frank pulling back the tire iron, slick with blood and coated with chunks of what had been Brett.

“That I do know,” Frank said.

Sean frowned. “Yeah, I guess you do. What I’m trying to say is...well, you remember that nickname Jake had for me?”

Frank couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah. No D. Lee.”

Sean’s ears turned a shade of pink. “That’s the one. I never agreed with it. I played some top notch defense in your driveway. Still do every Wednesday morning down at the Y.”

“Sure. I remember your great defense. It involved a lot of standing behind your opponent and waiting for him to score, right?” It felt good to talk to an old friend, and it was surprising how quickly he fell back into the old pattern of giving Sean a hard time. It was like the last nine years had suddenly fallen away.

“Now’s the time for you to play some serious defense. Don’t get in anyone’s face. Go with the flow. It will take you some time to get used to things, but you’ll get there. Did they tell you not to leave town?”

Frank nodded. “Yeah, they made a big deal about that.”

“That’s the most important thing. As long as you don’t leave town, and you don’t start any trouble, you’ll get along fine.”

“Thanks,” Frank said. “Hey, can I ask you about something that’s been bugging me?”

Sean looked away. “Frank, I’m sure you’ve got lots of questions. But I’m not really the guy to answer them.”

“Just one. It’s about the cars.”

Sean paused for a long moment, then nodded.

“I bought a new Ford F-150 a couple months before the thing went down with Brett. I’d wanted one my whole life, and things were going well with the lock business, so I finally pulled the trigger. I thought about that truck a lot in prison. About how unfair it was that I’d finally gotten it and then had it taken away from me. Anyway, I can picture that truck almost perfectly in my mind.”

“So what’s the question?” Sean asked.

“I was walking down the street a little while ago and I saw an F-150 drive by. And it looked exactly like mine. Same color, same detailing, same new truck shine on it.”

Sean smiled. “That’s a popular truck, Frank. Yours wasn’t exactly one of a kind.”

“That’s not what I mean. The F-150 I saw had to be almost brand new, and it looked exactly like mine. Sean, I went to prison in 2013. Are you telling me Ford hasn’t changed one detail of the F-150 in the last nine years?”

The smile fell from Sean’s face.

“So then I started looking around at other cars. And you know what I noticed? They all look like they did in 2013. There weren’t any changes to the models I remember, and there weren’t any new models.”

“You’re right,” Sean said. He spoke slowly and carefully. “At least not in Rook Mountain.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Frank asked.

“When I said that you need to go with the flow, this is the type of thing I was talking about. This is one of the hundreds of tiny things you are going to notice in the next few weeks. Like I said, things have changed here. I don’t feel very comfortable talking about it, especially in public and even more so while I'm on duty.”

“That’s a pretty weird thing to lay on me and not explain, Sean.”

“I know. And I’m sorry about that.” He patted Frank on the shoulder and smiled. “Still, beats the hell out of prison, right?”

Frank nodded.

“Listen, if you still want to chat about this stuff, why don’t you come over tomorrow night? I’ll throw a couple of steaks on the grill and we’ll drink some beer. I won’t promise to answer all your questions, but with a couple beers in me I’ll be more likely to answer some of them.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” Frank said. And did it ever. Steak. Beer. And to think, he’d been excited about the ice cream cone.

“Awesome. Come by around sixish. I’m still over on Maple Street.” Sean stood up.

“Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.”

“I’m glad to see you, Frank. I’ve missed you. Welcome home.”

Frank felt a lump growing in his throat. When was the last time someone had spoken a sincere kind word to him? He couldn’t remember. “Thank you.”

“Hey, you got a place to stay?”

“I was going to head out to my cabin. See if the place is still standing.”

Sean looked away again, the same as he had when Frank asked about the cars. “Yeah, of course. Cool.” Something in his voice made Frank think Sean did not consider it cool at all. “Just make sure you don’t sleep in the park or something. We’ve got these...regulations against that. We’re pretty strict about them.”

Frank nodded. “See you tomorrow night.”

3.

Will stood in front of the open refrigerator for a few minutes, and then he shut it and wandered back to the living room. He couldn’t sit still. He couldn’t stop pacing, snapping his fingers, stretching. Anything to keep moving. He had too much nervous energy.

Up on Rook Mountain, killing Jessie Cooper had seemed necessary. Now he wasn’t so sure. He had taken the life of a woman who only wanted to be free of this town. He had added another name to the ever-lengthening list of Regulation casualties. And for what? Had it been worth it?

After the shooting, Will had led the boys down the mountain and joked with them a little bit, but not so much that it disregarded what had happened. At the police station, he had calmly given his statement. He hadn’t left anything out or held anything back. He had told the truth to the best of his recollection. After an hour and a half of questioning, the police had given him instructions to stay home tonight in case they had further questions and released him.

When he got home, Will had tried to talk to Trevor, but he wasn’t sure how much got through to the kid. No, Trevor wasn’t upset. No, he did not want to talk about it. Yes, he understood why it had to happen. Yes, he knew that he could talk to Will about anything. Will ended the conversation feeling ineffective and out of touch. The way his own dad had once seemed to him.

The pacing started after the conversation with Trevor. Will felt odd. Tired and hyper at the same time, and a little sick to his stomach. He felt like a hypocrite. He was still pacing almost an hour later when Christine walked through the door.

She stepped toward him and gave him a tight hug. “Are you okay?”

“I feel weird. It’s probably the adrenaline. I’m okay.”

She sighed. “Tell me what happened.”

“I thought the woman was camping, so I talked Henry into going after her. I figured it would look good to bring in a minor Regulation breaker, you know? As soon as we saw her map, every kid in the troop knew she was headed out of town. I couldn’t see any way out of it, so…”

He took a deep breath and continued. “Henry wasn’t going to pull the trigger. If we hadn’t executed her, the board of selectmen would have started an investigation. They would have looked into our lives more deeply than they have since right after Jake disappeared.”

“Honey, you did the right thing. You know that, right? We knew something like this could happen.”

Will nodded. Her hair tickled his face.

She pulled away from him and gripped his upper arms. “Will. I found something on the body.”

“They made you examine it? I thought they would have had someone else do it.” He noticed the intensity on her face, and stopped talking.

“It was hanging from her necklace. She was wearing it like a charm.”

She put her hand into her pocket, pulled it out, and slowly opened her hand.

Will’s breath caught in his throat. “Is it really one of them?”

Christine smiled. “It has to be, right?”

Will nodded. “Why would she have it? Where’d she get it?”

“I don’t know,” Christine said. “Here.” She placed the key in his open hand and closed his fingers around it.

Will shut his eyes and concentrated on the key in his hand. All the nervous energy drained away, and he enjoyed a moment of peace.

Will said, “This...this is huge. We have to be careful. We’ve waited this long. We have to make sure we don’t rush into anything.”

Christine looked at Will. Her eyes were shining. “I know we’re not there yet, but we're getting close to the finish line. If we can stay strong a little longer.”

Will nodded. Her excitement was infectious. He leaned toward her. His lips were almost touching hers when the doorbell rang.

4.

Trevor lay on his bed, his earbuds in his ears, staring at the letter.

He still wore his clothes from the trip, and he stunk of sweat and campfire smoke. He needed to change and do it soon. Will had been too distracted to notice, but he would have no such luck when Mom got home. She could discuss the dangers of dirty clothes on a clean bed at great length and with deep passion. He should probably take a shower too, to be on the safe side.

Come to think of it, a hot shower sounded pretty good.

But he couldn’t stop looking at the letter. No one knew about it, no one but him, and that was part of what made it special. He would have to tell Will and Mom soon, probably that night. Tomorrow at the latest. He wanted to savor the secret for a little longer first.

What would Will and Mom say? Would they force him to accept? Would they say he was too young? Would they leave the decision up to him?

He read the letter again, probably for the hundredth time.

September 13th, 2022

Trevor Hinkle

1407 Riley Dr.

Dear Trevor:

Congratulations! I am pleased to inform you of your acceptance to the Rook Mountain Beyond Academy for the Fall Semester of 2022. Your acceptance is evidence of our Board of Directors’ confidence in your potential as demonstrated by your academic achievements, your standardized test scores, and your unique personal qualities. You are now part of a select few, and you will be a part of the fifth graduating class in the Academy’s history.

RMBA is dedicated to providing the best education for our students. Our faculty strives to find new and innovative ways to prepare students for the challenge of leading our community. While some of our students will go on to careers in Resource Expansion, we expect others will follow other paths such as Law Enforcement, Medicine, and Business Administration.

Whatever path you choose to follow, we look forward to you starting it with us.

Sincerely,

Janet Miller

Dean of Students

At the bottom of the letter was a handwritten note:

Trevor, we are all very proud of you. You have overcome a lot in your life and we believe you can be successful here at RMBA. See you in October! —Janet

The board of selectmen had launched the Rook Mountain Beyond Academy three years earlier as a school for advanced students. They didn’t accept a set number of students each year, nor did they disqualify students based on age. They accepted eight students the first year, the second year only three. Most of the students were between fifteen and twenty years old. The youngest person ever accepted was thirteen. A full year older than Trevor.

Trevor would be the youngest ever. But would his folks allow him to go?

He felt anger building up inside him at the very thought that they might object. Trevor knew Will’s feelings on the school. The man wasn’t usually outspoken, especially when his thoughts went against the official stance of the Rook Mountain board of selectmen. But he couldn’t hold his tongue about the RMBA. He thought it was elitist. He thought it created an unnecessary class system. Most importantly, Will thought it unfairly bypassed the town’s Certification and Mentorship programs, programs which he happened to run.

Trevor knew that Will had applied to teach at RMBA and been rejected. Janet Miller had told Will he had the book learning but not enough real world experience.

It didn’t matter. His step-dad couldn’t tell him what to do. Sure, about little stuff. But something big like this? Something that affected his future? No way. Will Osmond had no say in that.

There was a lot to love about the RMBA. Some of Rook Mountain High’s best teachers taught exclusively at the RMBA. There were certain freedoms allowed to Academy students, certain Regulations they didn’t need to follow. They were all little things, sure, but it was the town’s nod of respect to its best students.

Those weren’t the reasons Trevor so desperately wanted to join the Academy. The real reason was that the Academy gave him his best chance, probably his only chance, of becoming a Resource Expansion Specialist. And RESpys were allowed to leave town. They hunted down citizens who ran. They gathered supplies for the town. They explored the unknown territories.

Carl thought Will was a badass. And for what? Shooting a defenseless woman who was sleeping in the woods? Compared with what the RESpys did every day, that was nothing. RESpys faced down the nightmares that wanted to eat the world, and they fought them back.

Trevor would be a RESpy someday. He knew it. He would leave this town. He would see the plains. Maybe even see the ocean.

Then he would find his father.

5.

Frank walked the edges of the road, staying close to the tree line. Cars driving down the tiny road in the middle of nowhere didn’t expect to see pedestrians, and they drove accordingly. It wasn’t just the thought of cars that pushed him to the side of the road—his desire to be near the trees pulled him toward their shade. He had grown up playing in these woods. He’d climbed many of these trees and fallen out of a few of them. He’d camped out here. Played hide and seek. Drank his first beer and taken his first shot of moonshine. These woods were a constant presence in his life, and after so long away he wanted to be close to them. The crunch of pine needles beneath his feet and the rich scent of the woods in his nose just felt right.

Frank was walking home, walking toward the cabin he had lived in for six years before his incarceration. He had never owned the place, Jake and Christine had owned all four cabins on the property, but he had lived there long enough that he felt a sense of ownership. After Jake and Christine had moved into town to be closer to the schools for little Trevor, Frank had taken care of the property. And he had taken care of Clark, Christine’s father, until the old man had gotten too sick and spent the last two months of his life at Elizabethton Memorial.

In some ways, that had been the best year of Frank’s life. His lock business had been growing steadily, and there was plenty to do around the cabins when he wasn’t working. He’d been dating Wendy, and things had been getting pretty serious. He and Christine had patched up their differences—most of them anyway. He had the land to take care of, and he took great pleasure in doing so.

Frank grimaced as he rounded the bend and saw the driveway. Weeds as high as Frank’s knee sprouted through the gravel. He would have thought Christine would have kept the place up, or at least hired somebody to do so. He walked up the driveway, grabbing randomly at weeds and pulling them out as he passed. He knew he wasn’t doing any good. He wasn’t pulling up the root. But it still made him feel a little better.

He came to the four-way fork in the drive and took the one on the left that led to the cabin that had served as his workshop after Clark died.

Frank walked the remaining weedy stretch of the driveway slowly, taking in the sights and the sounds of the place. He climbed up the porch and looked out over the view. He had spent many a pleasant evening on this porch, sometimes strumming his guitar, sometimes sipping Tennessee whiskey, sometimes simply thinking. Or had he really been thinking? He remembered many hours spent out here, sure, but he couldn’t remember what he might have been thinking about so hard. Maybe he had been drifting a little, even back then.

Frank turned and pulled the keys out of his pocket. They had been in his possession when he was incarcerated, so they were given back to him when he was released. He paused before inserting the key, and took a look at the place. Not bad for nine years of neglect, he decided. The paint wasn’t exactly flake-free, but it wasn’t falling off the door either. Part of the benefit of a log cabin—the age didn’t show as quickly. If it wasn’t for the weeds growing in the driveway, you might not even know it was abandoned.

Frank reached out and gave the doorknob a wiggle. It turned freely in his hand. Damn, that wasn’t good. Not good at all.

He had left instructions with Jake and Christine. He had asked them to lock the cabin and leave his things untouched. That was all he had wanted from them. Jake had nodded, and even though he had been furious about what had happened between Frank and Brett Miller, it seemed like he had understood and that he would take care of it.

There was another possibility. Maybe Jake had followed through and left the place locked tight. Maybe someone had found their own way in. Maybe that someone was still there.

Frank wished he had thought to bring some sort of weapon. A gun would be ideal, but anything would do. A knife. A hammer. Anything but a tire iron.

Frank took a deep breath and pushed on the door. It was only open an inch when he heard a voice behind him say, “Don’t move. Put your hands in the air, please.”

Frank released the doorknob and raised his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, as tight as he could, to clear his mind. Then he opened them. The man hadn’t said he had a gun, but he didn’t need to. In these parts, a man might not have a legal home, but he wouldn’t be caught without a gun.

Frank gritted his teeth in frustration. He hadn’t survived nine years in NTCC to get shot by a squatter the day he got out. He began turning toward the voice.

“I said don’t move!”

Frank froze. “Okay. Sorry. And I’m sorry if I frightened you. I’m—”

“Yeah, you’re gonna be sorry,” the man said. “You better tell me what you’re doing here, and tell me quick.”

Frank took a deep breath. “I...I used to live here. I’ve been away for a while.”

“Away? What the hell do you mean, away? You expect me to believe you’re a RESpy?”

“RESpy?” Frank asked. Sean’s words came back to him. Go with the flow. “No, I’m not a RESpy.”

“Okay, then I guess you’re a Reg Breaker. That means I could shoot you dead and be a hero. They might even give me these cabins legally. Put them in my name as a way of saying thanks.”

Frank’s jaw ached with tension. No way in hell was this asshole getting the cabins. He wasn’t about to say that now, though. “I don’t know anything about that. I’ve been in prison. Up at NTCC. Got out today.”

“Holy shit. You’re that Hinkle boy, ain’t you?”

Frank nodded slowly. “Yeah. I am.”

“Ha. I thought you looked familiar. It’s Gus Hansen. From 3rd Street Baptist.”

Gus Hansen. It took Frank a moment, but he finally placed the man. He had been an usher at church. Always sucking on mints. The man had always had a mischievous little smirk on his face. Frank had never really understood what the man did for a living, but he'd had the impression it was not exactly legal.

Frank lowered his hands. “Gus. Yeah, of course.”

“Keep them up!” shouted Gus. “The fact that I knew you in the Before don’t mean nothing.”

Frank put his hands back up. “Okay. Sorry.”

There was a long silence. So long that Frank began to wonder if the older man had nodded off or something.

Finally Gus said, “Frank, you’ve put me in a bit of a pickle here. I don’t want to hurt you, and I know you didn’t come out here with any ill will toward me and mine. You’re just a man enjoying his freedom.”

“That’s right,” Frank said. “I don’t mean you any harm.”

“At the same time, here you are, mucking up a nice situation for me. See, I lost my house in one of those goddamn property regulations. Thankfully, we found this place and made ourselves a nice little arrangement with the owner. Part of that arrangement is we don’t let people go snooping around on the property.”

The door in front of Frank swung open and Frank suddenly remembered the other important thing about Gus Hansen: his sons.

Ty and Kurt Hansen had been the scourge of Rook Mountain during Frank’s high school days. The brothers were both in the neighborhood of six foot seven and built like brick walls. In high school, they had helped put the Rook Mountain High football team on the map. By the time Frank was a teenager, the Hansens had graduated from high school and had moved on to bar fighting and general hell-raising.

Every time Jake and Frank Hinkle got into trouble, which was frequently, folks would say, “Well, at least they aren’t the Hansen boys.”

The Newg had run with the Hansen boys back in the day, so Frank had heard plenty of stories about them during his time in prison. Enough stories that he hoped he’d never again cross paths with either of them.

One of those Hansen boys was standing in front of Frank now, filling the open doorway so thoroughly that only a sliver of light managed to eke in around his edges. The man was as big and solid as Frank remembered. He grimaced at Frank, and then looked past him and noticed his father. Frank kept his hands in the air and waited.

“Dad, what’s going on here?”

“This here’s Frank Hinkle,” Gus said. “He’s a little confused. Ain’t that right?”

Frank nodded slowly. “You Ty or Kurt?”

The man in the doorway scowled.

“This is Ty,” Gus said. “And I think it’s time for you to be moving on, Hinkle.”

Frank started to go, but then stopped. Maybe he could still get something out of the long walk out here. Maybe he could get the one thing that mattered. “I don’t care about you living here. I’m going to be staying in town. And I don’t care about my stuff. You can have it for all I care. I only want my guitar case.”

There was a long pause. Gus asked, “Your guitar case? The locked one?”

Frank nodded.

Another long pause. “Boy, you don’t know how long I’ve spent trying to get that case open. My fingers have been itching to play that thing for years. I found those keys in the kitchen, but they didn’t work. I take it there’s a trick to it?”

“There is,” Frank said.

Gus sighed. “Been driving me crazy trying to figure it out. I could have smashed the hinges off and opened it that way. I came close to doing just that a few times. But I kept thinking some night it would come to me. I thought I would beat the thing somehow.”

Another long pause. Gus said, “Whoever heard of a guitar case with a puzzle for a lock? I take it you can open it? You remember how?”

Frank said, “Let me have the case and I’ll show you how to open it.”

Gus was quiet for a long moment, and then he said, “You used to make those, right? Trick locks?”

Frank couldn’t help but correct him. “Puzzle locks.”

“And people paid you for that?”

Frank nodded. It was a small market, but the customers paid well. He had spent years creating thirty original designs. And they were all in the guitar case. His life’s work was in that guitar case.

“So wait a minute,” Ty said. “You know so much about locks, how come you never broke out of that prison?”

Frank smiled. “They put pretty solid locks on prison doors. Besides, the guards kind of frown on lock picking. They knew I was a locksmith, so they watched me pretty close.”

Gus sighed. “Well, as much as I’d like the trick to opening that case, it ain’t gonna happen. Like I said, we got an arrangement with the owner. Ty?”

Ty smiled like he had been given the green light.

He moved fast for a big man. His fist hit Frank in the gut like a sledgehammer, driving the air from Frank’s lungs. Frank hit the ground with a thud.

He lay on the ground, gasping, his mind reeling. He had spent the past nine years successfully avoiding fights, and he had let his guard down the moment he got out. Stupid.

Ty grabbed a handful of Frank’s hair and pulled him up to his knees. He leaned close and whispered into Frank’s ear. “Don’t come back here. This place is off limits. You come back here, and I’ll have to get rough.”

6.

It took Frank an hour to walk to the section of town where Christine lived. The sun was down now and he felt a slight sting of worry. Sean had said not to sleep in the park, but what about walking down the street at night? Was he asking for more trouble? And what if Christine wasn’t home? Or if for some reason she refused to let him stay with her? What would he do then?

He turned onto Riley Drive and slowed his pace. He hadn’t thought much about what he would say to Christine; he had only considered getting there. How much would he tell her? Would he admit he had been released to find her missing husband?

He paused for a minute in front of the tan, ranch-style home. It looked bigger than he remembered. More intimidating. The bushes were carefully manicured and the lawn was nicely hedged. No weeds growing in this driveway. Frank reached for the knob, then stopped and pressed the doorbell instead.

After a long moment, the door opened. The man on the inside squinted out into the darkness, trying to see Frank. Frank should have said something, but he was too surprised. Why was Will Osmond answering the door at Christine and Trevor’s house?

Will fumbled for the porch light and finally flipped it on. It was his turn to be shocked.

“Frank?” Will asked. “Frank, is that you?”

“Yeah. Hi, Will. I got out today and I was...well, is Christine here?”

Will’s mouth hung open in an expression that was half surprise and half confusion. Christine appeared, pushing past Will. “Frank?” She laughed and the sound was a balm to Frank’s soul. She looked older, but the years sat well on her. To Frank’s eyes, she looked prettier than she had a decade ago. “What are you doing here?”

She stumbled forward without waiting for an answer and threw her arms around him. He returned the hug, maybe a little too tightly. He wasn't accustomed to physical human contact these days—it was going to take some getting used to.

“I was wondering if I could stay here for a while.” The words felt awkward and dumb coming out of his mouth. What had he been thinking, showing up here after all these years? That he could sleep on the couch like some teenager crashing at a friend’s house? Maybe he should have stayed at Sean’s place.

“Of course you are staying here,” Christine said. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, right Will?”

“Yes, of course,” Will said. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Frank looked at Will and then back at Christine. “Does he...live here too?”

Christine smiled. “I’m sorry. I forgot you didn’t know. So many things have happened. Yes, he lives here. Will and I are married.”

“Oh. Well, congratulations. Is this...recent?”

“Almost seven years,” Will said.

Frank blinked hard, trying to remember when Becky Raymond had said Jake had disappeared. Eight years ago? He wasn’t sure.

As if reading his mind Christine said, “We have so much to talk about. Please, come inside.”

Christine stepped back to allow him to enter. She was beaming. The look on Will’s face was less easy to read. He was smiling, but there was something else, something troubling behind that smile. Frank took one last look over his shoulder onto the emptiness of Riley Drive, and stepped across the threshold and into the house.

IN THE BEFORE (PART 2)

“Should we have brought wine? I feel like we should have brought wine.” Frank sighed. Why was he so nervous? He’d shared a bedroom with Jake for sixteen years. And he had lived next door to Jake and Christine for the last five. He walked into their house without knocking. He’d walked into their old house without knocking, anyway. This new place on Riley Drive, he wasn’t so sure.

Wendy reached across the car and squeezed his hand. “You’ll be fine. Stop stressing. You brought something.” She held up a package slightly smaller than a shoebox.

“I don’t know,” Frank said. “Maybe the gift wasn’t such a good idea.”

“Oh come on. I’ll bet all Christine’s doctor friends brought wine. I guarantee no one else brought one of these.”

“You’re right. Let’s go.”

Frank had to admit, Wendy looked great tonight. He might feel self-conscious around Jake and Christine’s friends, but one look at Wendy set things right.

They walked together toward the door, hand in hand. Frank had never been a big hand holder, but something about Wendy made it feel different. Even after almost a year together, he still wanted to touch her as much as possible.

Frank paused at the door and then tapped his knuckles against it. He heard laughter from inside the house. Sounded like the party was well underway. A woman he didn’t know opened the door and showed them inside.

The place was crowded. There must have been a dozen people crammed in living room with at least half a dozen more in the kitchen, and Frank recognized only a precious few of them. Frank was relieved to see that Will was there. Will was standing across the room engaged in conversation with an intense-looking pudgy little man. Frank nodded to Will, and Will motioned him over with the insistence of a man stuck with a conversational partner he is desperate to pass off to another unsuspecting victim.

Frank smiled, shook his head, and walked in the other direction. Will’s eyes shot daggers at him.

Frank looked around and saw Wendy was gone. How had he lost her already? It wasn’t surprising really. She was a great social mingler. He heard her distinctive laugh across the room, a lower pitched version of a schoolgirl’s squeal—all the delight but none of the ear-splitting.

He walked toward the group, the largest in the room. They all seemed to be listening to a story. As he approached he was surprised to find he knew the storyteller. It was Sean Lee, his childhood neighbor.

The group burst out in another fit of laughter. Jake spotted Frank from the bowels of the group. “Hey, man!”

“Hey! Nice party,” Frank said.

Wendy grabbed his arm. “Frank, you’ve got to hear this. You know that naked guy who was wandering around downtown yesterday? Sean was the one who arrested him.”

Sean nodded. “Yeah, it was pretty wild.” Sean turned back to address the group. “So Wes and I are still on the way downtown when we get the third message from dispatch. Seems he’s near the Post Office now.”

A woman Frank had never met before asked, “And did the dispatcher mention how, um, large the naked man was again?”

Sean laughed. “Indeed she did. In fact she seemed so obsessed with this central point that Wes offered to snap a couple of cell phone pictures for her. She shut up pretty quick after that.”

The group roared with laughter again.

“So we finally turn onto Main Street, and we see him standing there in front of the Post Office. He’s looking all around, up in the sky, down the street, not a care in the world. We get a little closer, and we see the guy a little more clearly. More clearly than either of us wanted to, I’ll tell you that.”

“So was he as big as everyone was saying?” Wendy asked.

Sean grinned. “He was, and not just the way you all are thinking but are too polite to say. He had to be six foot four or six foot five and he was completely bald. Pretty ripped, too. So Wes and I park the car and approach the guy. We start calling to him, saying, ‘Sir, we need you to come with us,’ stuff like that. But he doesn’t respond. He keeps looking around like he’s never seen a city street before. And he’s got something in his left hand.”

Frank glanced at Jake and Christine sitting together on the couch. Little Trevor slept in Christine’s arms with the kind of slumber that only babies know, the kind that occurs independent of location, body position, or the noise level around them. They looked happy, this little Hinkle family. Peaceful.

Frank didn’t know if he’d ever have anything like that. He wouldn’t mind settling down with Wendy, but sometimes he got the feeling she didn’t feel the same way. Sometimes he felt like she was passing the time with him, waiting for something better to come along.

“So we keep walking toward him,” continued Sean, “yelling to him the whole time. And he continues to ignore us. Finally, we’re right up next to him, and he is still in his own little world. Wes and I look at each other, trying to figure out how to proceed. So I decide, what the hell, and I reach out and put my hand on his shoulder. And as soon as I touch him, he gives me this look, and I’ll tell you what. In that moment I saw pure crazy. He looked like he wanted to eat me for dinner.”

A wise guy sitting in a recliner in the corner grinned. “I ate his liver with some fava beans, Clarice.”

“Something like that. He definitely gave off a Hannibal Lector vibe for a moment there. But then he smiled and said, 'I like your town. I think this will do just fine. I think I’ll live here for a while.’”

“Oh my God,” Wendy said. “'This will do just fine'?”

Sean shrugged. “We cuffed him and put a blanket around him. I didn’t want his naked ass sitting in my backseat, so we put another blanket down under him. We took him down to the station, and that was about the end of it.”

“Wow,” the smart ass in the recliner said. “So what was in his hand?”

“It was an old-fashioned pocket watch. The only time he got lippy with us was when we tried to take it away.”

“He still down at the jail?” someone else asked.

“No, they took him to the psych ward at Elizabethton Memorial. Makes you wonder what he was doing though. We tried to question him, but we never got farther than his first name. Zed.”

Wendy put a hand on Sean’s arm. “It could have been worse. At least you didn’t have to frisk him.”

The group burst out in laughter at that.

“Hey, thanks for your help back there.” The voice came from Frank’s right, close to his ear. He looked over and saw Will grinning at him.

“No problem. Least I could do.”

Will sighed. “The guy invented some new type of stucco or something. He talked about it for twenty minutes and I still don’t understand.”

“Poor communication skills,” Frank said. “I blame the educational system.”

“I blame the fact that the guy was a self-centered prick.”

Jake sidled up next to them. “Glad to see you two are branching out. You’re really mingling. Meeting new people.”

“Hey, we haven’t talked in like twelve hours,” Will said. “Lots of catching up to do.”

“That reminds me.” Frank handed the gift to Jake. “Happy house warming.”

“Aw, thanks, man. Christine, Frank brought us a gift.”

“Thanks, Frank,” Christine said. “Jake, can you open it? I’m kinda of tied up.” She gestured to the sleeping baby in her arms.

Jake nodded and tore into the purple wrapping paper. Frank felt a slight twinge of unease. The whole group was watching Jake open the present. Frank wished he had waited and given it to them privately.

Jake pulled off the last of the wrapping paper and lifted the lid off the box. “Huh,” he said. There was a perplexed grin on his face.

“What is it?” Christine asked.

“It’s a doorknob.” Jake lifted the brass assembly out of the box and held it up. It looked like an ordinary doorknob except for an ornate letter H engraved on the top of both knobs.

The group stared at the door knob. A few people nodded politely.

“That’s more practical than the traditional bottle of wine,” the man in the recliner said.

“I’m guessing that’s not an ordinary door knob, Frank?” Christine asked.

Frank smiled. “Yeah, I, uh, made some modifications.” He held out his hand, and Jake gave him the door knob. “You know how Jake is always losing things? His wallet, his keys, stuff like that?”

“Games of darts with his wife,” Christine said. The group laughed.

“This door knob will help with that. It’ll keep him from getting locked out. See, it works like a regular lock.” Frank turned the lock, and then reached into the box and pulled out a set of keys. He inserted one of the keys into the keyhole and twisted. The lock popped open.

Frank continued. “Let’s say you forgot your keys and you need to get inside to get Trevor’s diapers. With this you won’t have to call your wife at work and interrupt her in the middle of some foot-saving surgery or something. If you know the secret, you can open it without the key.” Frank turned the lock again and set the keys down. He grabbed the doorknob, twisted it a quarter turn to the left, putting pressure on a specific spot, and then he turned it hard to the right. The lock opened.

The group murmured and Frank felt his ears redden.

“Is that safe?” the man in the recliner asked. “With a baby in the house and all? Couldn’t someone just mess with the door knob a little and come right in?”

“Trust me,” Frank said. “You’d have better luck picking the lock than opening the door knob without knowing the secret.” He looked at Jake and Christine. “I’ll show you two how to open it later.”

“Thanks, Frank,” Christine said. “That’s sweet.”

Jake slapped him on the back. “That’s really thoughtful, man.”

Frank smiled. “I wanted to make sure you three are safe. Will and I sit around and worry day and night about you crazy kids.”

“I’ll bet you find time to fit a few beers in there somewhere,” Christine said.

Will laughed. “Occasionally. It gets lonely. All we have is each other.”

Jake and Christine exchanged a look. Jake turned to the other two men.

“Yeah, about that.” Jake spoke softly so the rest of the group couldn’t hear. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you two. We, uh, we rented out the other cabin.”

Frank tried not to let his disappointment show on his face. He was surprised at how hard the news hit him. He had always assumed that Jake and Christine would keep the cabin empty and use it themselves from time to time. Maybe move back out there full time when they got sick of life in town. It was a ridiculous notion.

“That’s great. Anybody I know?” Frank asked.

Jake shook his head. “It’s a guy Christine works with. Nice dude. We’ve gone out to dinner with him a few times and been to a couple cookouts at his house. He’s going through a rough divorce and he needs a new place.”

“Cool. We could use another bachelor,” Will said.

Jake waved to the guy on the recliner.

“Hey, I was telling Frank and Will that you're going to be their new neighbor.”

The man eased himself out of the chair and ambled over. He smiled and held out his hand to Frank. “Hey, nice to meet you, man. I’m Brett Miller.”

CHAPTER THREE: CERTIFIED

1.

Wendy Caulfield missed the Internet. It had been eight years and it seemed like she should be over it by now. And most of the time she was. She agreed with Zed and the others. It was better to have a world with more personal connections and less virtual ones. It was better to have a world where families talked during dinner rather than glancing at their iPhones every thirty seconds. A world where cyber-bullying and cyber-crime and online pornography were things of the past.

Still, she couldn’t help but miss it sometimes. Facebook. Twitter. Blogs. YouTube. Podcasts. The collected knowledge of human history a few keystrokes away. Sure, there was a lot of bad stuff and misinformation out there, but plenty of good stuff came along with it. She missed being able to take a five-minute break from working and hop over to CNN.com. And, okay, maybe Vulture.com too. Now she was left staring at Word and PowerPoint.

It was a better world the people of Rook Mountain had created for themselves, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t indulge in a little nostalgia now and then.

She sighed and pushed those thoughts away. She had to concentrate on this syllabus.

Wendy was just getting back into the groove when there was a rap on her classroom door.

“Come in,” she said. If this was Grace Harris asking for help with Excel again, Wendy was going to punch her in the face.

The door opened, and Becky Raymond stepped into the classroom. The city manager moved elegantly, sliding through the barely open doorway and easing the door shut behind her.

“Hi Wendy,” Becky said. “Do you have time to chat for a moment?”

“Becky, of course.” Wendy started to stand up, but Becky held up a hand.

“Please, don’t get up for me. I know you’re busy. I won’t take much of your time.” Becky walked to the student desk nearest Wendy and sat down. “How’s the prep going? Ready for another year?”

Wendy smiled. “I’m getting there. It’ll be a challenge with the restructuring, but we’ll make it work.”

“I appreciate that, and Zed does too. I know we threw you for a loop with the reduced classroom hours this year, but we feel that the students of the Beyond Academy are better served by having more time in the field.”

Wendy nodded. “I understand. I hope you know that reduced class time means we have less time to spend with the students who are struggling. It also probably means lower Certification scores.”

The smile was still frozen on Becky’s face, but her eyes went a shade colder. “The Board knows that we have the best teachers here. We ask a lot, but I think you’ll agree that we reward you well for your results. The Beyond Academy has a history of one hundred percent Certification of our graduates, and that can’t change. Otherwise, what are we doing here? We might as well send the students to one of Will Osmond’s night classes.”

“I agree. I’m not saying they won’t pass certification. I’m just saying you have to expect this to have some impact.”

“We understand that. And we are confident that you and the other teachers will find a way to mitigate those impacts. But I’m sorry to get off topic. I didn’t come here to discuss the schedule changes. I came to talk to you about one of your new students.”

“Oh? Which student is that?” Wendy knew which student, but she felt it polite to ask.

“Trevor Hinkle.”

Wendy rubbed her arms. “Okay, sure. Trevor’s a bright kid. I’ve seen his test scores and his essay work is strong. Seems mature enough. I’m not expecting any problems due to the age difference.”

“The age difference isn’t my main concern. His family is.”

Wendy sighed. “Is it his mother the doctor that’s worrying you? Or his step-father who runs Zed’s certification program?”

Becky drummed her manicured fingernails on the desktop. “There’s no need to be a smart ass, Wendy. You spent a lot of time with his family in the Before. What do you think?”

Wendy fought to remain calm. This woman was technically her boss, one of them anyway. Becky wasn’t being rude exactly—she was interested in a situation into which Wendy had special insight. But Wendy had long ago grown tired of talking about her ex-boyfriend and his family.

“Yes, I spent time with the Hinkles. Christine and I were good friends. But that was all in the Before. Trevor was a baby. I’m not sure how I can help you.”

“I know. It’s not fair of me to ask. I guess I’m a little nervous. Here’s this kid whose father threw that little temper-tantrum after Regulation Day. His uncle has been in prison for most of the kid’s life. How will a kid like that will hold up under the strain of the Academy?”

“We’ve had kids from tough backgrounds before. You remember Marcus Yates? There were three Regulation Breakers in his immediate family. He managed to turn his life around in here.”

Becky smiled. “Thanks for saying that. I needed to be reminded of something positive today.” She tilted her head at Wendy and lowered her voice a little. “Can I bounce something off you?”

“Of course.”

“Zed’s considering fast-tracking Trevor. He thinks maybe if he takes Trevor outside early in the semester, it might help get the kid in the right mental state. What do you think?”

Wendy sat up in her chair a little straighter. “You mean take him on a trek out of Rook Mountain?”

Becky nodded.

Students didn’t usually make their first trek until their second year at the earliest. Had a freshman ever been allowed outside? But there was only one answer Wendy could give. She spoke slowly. “Kids are different when they come back from their first time. Some of them have a hard time dealing with it. If Zed thinks Trevor is ready for that, I trust him.”

Becky smiled, showing her impossibly perfect teeth. “Good. I appreciate your honesty. One more thing I wanted to mention while I’m here. Frank is out of prison. Got out yesterday.”

Wendy suddenly felt numb all over. “How is that possible? He had years and years left on his sentence.”

“I oversaw the release myself. The Board thought he might be able to help us find his brother.”

“But—why now? After all this time?”

The smile fell from Becky’s face. “That’s Board business. I just wanted to let you know in case he contacts you.”

Wendy sat for a few long moments, trying to think of something to say. Nothing came to mind.

Becky stood up. “Thanks for the chat. Please let me know how things go with Trevor.” The city manager stood and walked out of the classroom. She did not shut the door behind her.

Wendy closed her book and rubbed her eyes. She wouldn’t get any more work done today. Frank was back and he was looking for Jake. Well, good luck to him. Wendy was the one person who knew exactly what had happened to Jake, and she wasn’t talking.

2.

In another classroom across town from the Rook Mountain Beyond Academy, Will stood in front of a class of bored and vacant-eyed teenagers. They all aspired to part-time jobs in the Rook Mountain food service industry, but before they could take their proud places in the checkout lines or in front of the fry cooker they needed to pass the Rook Mountain Food Handling Certification Test. Will’s job was to get them ready.

“Okay,” Will said. “Renee and Brad, you role play the scenario. Renee, you are a customer breaking Regulation 14 at a grocery store, and Brad is the Food Service Professional who is going to stop you. Got it?”

Brad and Renee looked at each other for a moment and then nodded, signaling their mutual readiness. Renee took a deep breath and then began.

“Oh, man, you know what my family totally loves? Pepsi.” She spoke in a loud, theatrical voice. “The store sure has a lot of Pepsi this week. But what if they don’t have any next week? You know what I’ll do? I’ll buy, like, fourteen cases of the stuff today to be safe.”

A twitter of laughter made its way through the classroom.

“Okay,” Will said. “Good, Renee. Brad, she’s bringing her fourteen cases of Pepsi to the checkout counter. What do you say?”

Brad cleared his throat. “Excuse me, ma’am. May I ask you how many people are in your household, please?”

Renee put her hand to her chest and put on a shocked expression. She was in full-on drama club mode. “Oh, certainly, young man. It’s me, my super rich and handsome husband Jacques, and our three lovely girls.”

The class laughed again.

“Ma’am,” Brad said. “I notice that you have fourteen cases of Pepsi. That is over the weekly limit for a family of five. Can you please put twelve of them back?”

“Nicely done,” Will said.

Renee pretended to choke up. She wiped a mock tear away from her eye. Will really wanted a drink, and not Pepsi. “But what if you don’t have any Pepsi next week? My Jacques would be so disappointed in me!”

Brad held up a hand. “Ma’am, the Rook Mountain Resource Expansion team is hard at work even as we speak, gathering supplies for next week’s groceries. They won’t rest until we all have what we need. You have to trust them. Trust is a must.”

Will rubbed his eyes and reminded himself that he only had two more classes today.

“This is unbelievable!” shouted Renee. “How dare you deny me my rights! This is America. I’ll buy as much Pepsi as I want, and you can’t stop me, you fascist pig!”

“Okay, we probably don’t need the name calling,” Will said. “That was good, though, both of you. A round of applause for Renee and Brad?” The other students clapped half-heartedly. “At this point, Brad would call for his manager to assist with the situation. And Renee would probably be looking at a nice fine after all that fascist talk. Any volunteers to go next?”

Will loved asking that question. More to the point, he loved the silence that followed, the absolute peace in the classroom while every student tried to sit still and not be noticed. Back in college, they had taught Will to wait a full seven seconds after asking a question. At first, that had seemed like an eternity. Now he preferred to stretch it to fourteen. It gave him a moment to collect his thoughts. And this morning he needed all the moments he could get.

Last night had been rough and he hadn’t gotten much sleep. With the shooting yesterday and Christine finding the key, there would have been more than enough excitement. And then Frank showed up.

It was worrisome, Frank showing up the same day they found the key. It was too much of a coincidence, and Will didn’t believe in coincidences, not these days. How much did Frank know? And why had they let him out of prison? What had he promised them? Will trusted Frank, the old Frank, but who knew how nine years in prison could change a man? Frank hadn’t been there on Regulation Day. He hadn’t been there for what happened to Jake.

Will suspected that he and Christine had changed as much as Frank had over the last nine years. The old Will certainly wouldn’t have shot a defenseless human being on top of Rook Mountain for the purpose of keeping up appearances.

Last night Christine, Will, and Frank had kept the conversation light. They didn’t talk about Frank’s time in prison, or why he had been released. They didn’t discuss the shooting earlier in the day or the key Christine had found. They hadn’t mentioned the Regulations. They avoided these topics by unspoken, mutual consent. They had talked about old times. Frank had marveled at how old Trevor looked and had asked a lot of questions about the boy. It had been nice.

But they wouldn’t be able to avoid the difficult conversations forever. They would have to face them soon—probably tonight.

Will noticed a hand raised near the front of the class. “Yes, Jen? What is it?”

“I will,” the girl said.

“You’ll what?”

Jen looked confused. “I’ll volunteer. For the role play.”

“Oh,” Will said. “Right, sorry.” Will focused on the class. He couldn’t let his attention waver, not now. The last thing he needed was a student mentioning to the wrong person that Mr. Osmond seemed weird today.

“Who else?” Will asked. He suspected a few of the boys would be more apt to volunteer now that Jen Durant had.

The last ten minutes of class went by without incident. Will took a long drink of his room-temperature coffee as the class filed out. He didn’t mind the temperature or the harsh, bitter taste. He’d need all the caffeine he could get for this next class.

Rook Mountain offered twenty-five Certification tests on topics ranging from heavy equipment operation to law enforcement, and Will taught prep classes for every one of them. He had little input into the tests themselves—the board of selectmen put those together. He just prepared the students. It was a job the old Will, the Will from the Before, would have hated. It was the very definition of ‘teaching to the test.’ Old Will would have complained about the instructional philosophy behind a system so test heavy. The present day Will drank his bad coffee and tried to make it through the day without breaking any Regulations.

Of all the Certification courses he taught, this next one was his least favorite. It was also the most popular. Resource Expansion Certification. The only Certification that gave the ability to leave Rook Mountain. Will had trained this class to over four hundred people. Four hundred in a town with a population of four thousand. Young and old, it seemed like everyone wanted to venture beyond the borders of the little town. None of his students had ever passed.

And none of the students at the Rook Mountain Beyond Academy had ever failed.

It was a source of constant frustration for Will. Unlike the other Certification tests, Will was not allowed to see the Resource Expansion test. He had only a vague idea of the topics the test covered. As the teacher, he was barred from taking it himself, and others who had taken the test were barred from discussing it lest they face jail time under Regulation 17. The Beyond Academy had three years to prepare their students for the test, and Will was sure the teachers over there knew what was on it. The deck was stacked against Will and his students. Those not selected for Beyond Academy weren’t meant to pass the test, and they never did.

Will actively discouraged folks from signing up for this Certification course, but most of them could not be deterred. They kept signing up, month after month, and Will kept teaching the curriculum designed by the board of selectmen, despite its zero success rate.

Will looked out at the class. It was the first day of this course, and they were eager. Hopeful. They’d all heard the stories about how difficult the test was, but they all thought they would beat the odds. It made Will sad to look at them. He wanted to tell them to go home, that it wasn’t going to happen for them.

Instead, he put on a smile, stepped to the front of the class and said, “Okay. Ready to begin?”

3.

Frank hesitated at the bottom of the porch steps for as long as he dared, then trotted up to the front door of the house. The steps bent and groaned under his feet. The porch was badly in need of a paint job. A single artificial plant stood in a moldy planter near the door.

Frank knocked and waited. There was no answer, but he saw the living room curtains flutter.

He knocked again. He saw a dark, indistinct shape through the door's frosted glass window.

“Sally,” he said. “Sally, are you there?”

Again there was no answer, but the shape in the window grew a bit larger.

“Sally, it’s Frank Hinkle. I need to talk to you for a minute. It’s about my brother.”

He heard a series of clicks as deadbolts were released and locks were turned. The door opened three inches.

“Did they let you out of prison, or did you escape?” The voice coming from behind the door was low and raspy, but definitely female.

“They let me out, fair and square. I’m actually on assignment from Becky Raymond. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

The door eased open halfway, and Frank saw Sally Badwater for the first time. Her face was sickly thin and her hair clung to her head in stringy, greasy clumps. Though she was close to Frank’s age she looked at least ten years older.

“Damn Hinkle boys,” she said, looking Frank up and down. “I want to be left alone to do my business and you all keep bothering me. The devil take both of you.”

Frank cleared his throat and gritted his teeth. “What business are you in?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m curious why you're so interested. You never gave me the time of day back in high school.”

“I apologize for that,” Frank said. He shrugged. “I don’t have any excuse except that I was a dumb kid, and that’s no excuse at all.”

She stepped out onto the porch and leaned against the door frame. “I suppose we all were. You asked about my business. It’s photography. I do the usual weddings, senior pictures, and the like. The occasional boudoir type thing for an anniversary.” She winked at him. “I’ve been known to capture some other stuff too though. Scary stuff from you-know-where. Figure it’ll make me rich if we are ever allowed to travel again.”

Frank had no idea where ‘you know where’ was, but he nodded. He was still trying to assess Sally Badwater’s sanity.

She frowned at him. “I trust you won’t share what I just said with Becky Raymond? It might technically be against the rules.” Frank shook his head. “Good. They got lots of rules here now. They tell you about those?”

“Some of them. I hear we’re not supposed to leave town. Or sleep in the parks.”

She snorted out a laugh. “Yeah buddy, and that’s only the start. You want to do something, they probably got a rule for it.” She squinted at him again. “'Course, I’m sure they’ve got their reasons. Trust is a must and all that. What did you say you were doing here again?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Jake. About the day he spoke to you. Would it be all right if we went inside?”

She crossed her arms and glared at him. “No. Out here’s fine. And I already told the police all about what Jake said to me.”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “I read the report. I’m wondering if there could be anything else you might have forgotten to tell the police. Between us.”

“I didn’t forget anything and I didn’t leave anything out on purpose neither. Jake kept it short and sweet. It was over in ten seconds. And I’m not dumb enough to hold back info about Rook Mountain‘s most wanted. Even if I did make out with him at some party in tenth grade.”

Frank sighed. “Okay. Of all the people in town, why did he pick you?”

Sally shrugged. “How the hell should I know? I hadn’t spoken to the man in years.”

“Have you thought any more about what he said? Does that thing about the quarry make any more sense to you now?”

“No,” Sally said. She pulled at the neck of her sweater as if it were choking her, although it looked two sizes too large. “Trust me, I’ve thought about all this. Why me? Why did he say what he said in the way he said it? I can’t make heads or tails though. How about you? Did it make any sense to you?”

Frank shook his head. “I have no idea what the quarry is or when he wants me to meet him.”

“What about the thing with the lock?” she asked.

Frank’s head snapped up. “What?”

“The lock. What he said about the Cassandra lock. Did that make sense?”

“Sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.”

She snorted again, this time with frustration. “I thought you read the report.”

“I did,” Frank said. “But the copy I saw didn’t say anything about the Cassandra lock.”

Her face softened a little. “Guess they’re lying to you too. That makes me feel a little better about you as a person.”

“Sally, what did he say? Tell me exactly.” Frank felt the breath catching in his throat as he spoke. He had considered that this woman might be insane, that she hadn’t spoken with Jake at all. There were a million inside jokes and stories Jake could have used in a message that only Frank would understand. Why would he pass along one that Frank couldn’t? But this, the Cassandra lock… Sally had spoken to Jake. There was no doubt in Frank’s mind.

She licked her lips and spoke slowly. “He said, ‘Tell my brother to meet me at the quarry.’ Then he turned and I thought he was gonna leave. But he stopped like he had remembered something and he turned back. He said, ‘And if Frank comes, tell him to bring the Cassandra lock.’ That part mean anything to you?”

“No. Not a thing.” The lie came to his lips automatically and without thought. His mind was a million miles away.

“And the way he disappeared. I could tell the cops didn’t believe me, but I swear it’s the truth. He was there one second and gone the next. He didn’t run away. He just… vanished.”

Frank needed to get away. He needed to think things through. “Listen, I should go. I’ve bothered you enough. Thanks for your help.”

He turned and scurried down the steps before she had a chance to respond.

4.

Christine read the letter for the fourth time.

“When were you going to tell us about this?” she asked.

Trevor sat across the dining room table from her. He looked miserable and frightened. Sometimes Christine could have sworn he was a grown man. He'd get that determined, mischievous look in his eyes, and he was the spitting image of his father. But right now he looked like a scared little boy.

“I’m telling you now,” he said.

“Yes, you are. Less than a week before the start of school.”

He squirmed in his chair. She let him sit in uncomfortable silence while she read the letter one more time.

“So there’s no registration paperwork I need to fill out?” she asked. “Or some kind of parental consent form or something? ’Cause I’m guessing we missed the deadline for all that stuff.”

Trevor shook his head. He looked relieved to have been asked a question for which he could give a solid answer. “No, Mr. Thorpe explained all that to me. The Academy is technically part of the Rook Mountain school system, so they pull all your paperwork from there. He said no one has ever declined an invitation to the Academy, so you don’t need to accept or anything. They assume everybody who got in is coming.”

“Well,” Christine said, her eyes still on the letter. “There’s a first time for everything.”

Trevor got quiet again.

“May I ask why you waited so long? Were you afraid we would say no?”

Trevor shrugged.

“I can’t help but notice that you waited until Will was at work before you brought this up,” Christine said. Trevor stared straight ahead. She reached across the table and took his hand. “What do you want to do?”

He looked up slowly, that shaggy hair he refused to cut hanging in his eyes. “I want to go.”

“Okay,” she said. “Tell me why.”

“I want to get out of this town someday. I want to see what’s out there.”

“Honey, you know what’s out there.”

“Yeah,” he said, “but beyond that. Out farther. Out of this state. Maybe even across the ocean, you know?”

Christine raised her eyebrow. “You know they don’t let Resource Expansion workers do that, right? They go as far as they need to in order to get what we need. Then they come back.”

“Maybe someday they will. You always said I should go after my dreams, right?”

Christine looked back down at the letter. “What about supplies? Dress code? There’s not a lot of information here, Trev.”

“Mr. Thorpe said they’ll cover all of that during orientation.”

“Did Mr. Thorpe say why they picked you? Was it your test scores?”

“Yeah, I guess that was part of it. Zed selects every student himself. He came to the school a couple of weeks after we took the tests. We had an assembly and he talked for a while and looked every student in the eye. It kinda creeped me out. But then the next day Mr. Thorpe gave me the letter.”

A chill ran through Christine. Zed had looked her son in the eye and liked what he had seen there. She let the silence linger for a moment. Then she said, “Youngest person ever accepted, huh?”

He nodded.

Christine smiled. “I’m very proud of you. I’ll talk to Will. And we will all discuss it as a family, okay?”

“Think he’ll be mad?” Trevor asked.

“No, of course not.” Will wouldn’t be mad at the thought of Trevor going to the Beyond Academy. He’d be terrified.

Christine reached into her pocket and touched the key she had taken from Jessie Cooper. She knew she would let Trevor attend the Academy. It would look too odd if she didn’t. No one had ever declined an acceptance before. She had no choice. It was a terrible risk, putting Trevor in that place, but Christine couldn’t think of a way to avoid it.

Things were changing, accelerating around her. The key. Frank showing up to stay with them. And now this. They would have to move up their timeline. They’d been taking it slow and playing it safe for too long. Trevor might start Beyond Academy, but there was no way in hell he was going to graduate from it. If things went as planned, this would all be over long before that.

5.

Frank dragged the knife across the steak, sawing off a tiny piece. He wanted to savor every morsel of the rib-eye. He slid it into his mouth and closed his eyes. Without a doubt, this was the best thing he had tasted in nine years.

“Dang, dude,” Frank said. “This steak is outrageous.”

Sean smiled. “Thanks. I dry brine them. That’s the key. People think it’s the way you cook it, but it’s actually the preparation that makes the difference. You like the beer?”

Frank set down his fork and took a sip from the frosty glass. His eyes widened again.

“I know, right? That’s Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA. My personal favorite.”

“Man, what did I ever do to deserve all this?”

Sean laughed. “It’s your welcome home. What did you expect? I’m sure Will and Christine will have something at the house sooner or later, but I wanted to be the first.”

“Thanks, man,” Frank said. “So do you see Will and Christine much?”

Sean shrugged. “Not as much as I’d like, but we get together every once in a while.”

“How about Todd? You still tight with him?”

Sean set down his silverware. “Frank, I’m sorry to tell you this, but Todd’s dead. He died about eight years ago.”

“What? No. What happened?” Todd had been a friend. He’d been closer to Jake than to Frank, but it was still a shock to hear he had died.

“He was shot. They say Jake did it.”

A chill ran through Frank. “No way. I don’t buy that for a second.”

Sean furrowed his brow. They both took a few more bites of steak.

“Did Christine and Will talk to you last night?” Sean asked. “Did they give you the run down on, you know, the Regulations and everything?”

Frank shook his head and answered mid-bite. “No. We kept it pretty light.”

Sean sighed. “Well, as the first to officially welcome you home, I guess it falls to me to give you the lay of the land.”

Franked nodded. He had been dying for someone to come right out and give him some answers rather than hinting around everything. He had intended to ask Will and Christine last night, but things had been too awkward. “Thank God. Start at the beginning.”

“The beginning, huh?” Sean took another sip of his beer. “Well, you were here in the beginning. You remember Zed showing up in town, right? And the way people started going to listen to him talk in the park.”

“You kidding? My ex started following the guy around.”

Sean grinned. “That was pretty funny.”

“I remember him showing up on my doorstep too. Showing up on everybody’s doorsteps. What’s he got to do with what happened?”

“Maybe nothing.” Sean paused for a long moment. “Maybe everything. It’s not something people talk about, and honestly it’s not something I even like to think about. All I know is that when the bad things happened, Zed and his disciples got organized mighty quickly.”

“What bad things? You’re being vague again.”

“Yeah, sorry. I’ve never had to explain it before. It’s just something everyone knows.”

Frank let the silence linger. He wanted to give Sean the time he needed to find the right words.

“March 27th, 2014, we went to bed and everything was normal. We woke up on the 28th and everything had changed.”

“Changed how?” Frank asked.

“People were dead. Lots of people. There had been attacks during the night. I went on duty that morning and the dispatchers were already overwhelmed. We tried to contact Elizabethton to send some support units, and that was when we realized something was really wrong.”

“People were dead? What people?”

Sean took a deep breath. “Okay, it’s like this. Sometime during the night of March 27th, every person on the streets of Rook Mountain was killed. Torn apart. We didn’t know who did it and we didn’t know why, but fourteen people were ripped to shreds. Took awhile for us to even ID the victims. It was Christine who finally cracked that nut. We found what was left of the bodies in the streets. It looked like it had been done by wild animals. The meat had been stripped from their bodies.”

Sean glanced down at Frank’s steak. “Sorry. Maybe this isn’t the time.”

Frank set down his fork, his appetite shrinking. “No. Keep going.”

“You remember Kurt Hansen? Ty’s brother?”

Frank nodded. “Ty and I got reacquainted yesterday.”

“Kurt was one of the people they killed that first night. We found him on top of a squad car outside the station. Anyway, when I got to work it was chaos. Someone finally thought to call for help from an outside department, and that was when people started to lose it.”

“What do you mean?” Frank asked.

“Well, we tried calling Elizabethton and the call didn’t go through. That’s not exactly right. The call went through, but there was no answer on the other end. No voice mail either. It just kept ringing. We tried a dozen other departments and they were all the same. Our cell phones were down, and all we had were the landlines. Some of the cops at the station tried calling out of town friends and relatives, and there was no answer from any of them.”

Frank’s mouth felt dry. It had been filled with the savory taste of steak a few minutes ago, but that was forgotten now. “It sounds like some kind of coordinated attack or something. Like someone was trying to isolate the town.”

“Maybe,” Sean said. “As the day went on it started to feel like we were the last people left on Earth. The Internet didn’t work. All we could get on the TV was static—even the over the air local stations were gone. People started gathering around the police station and City Hall. They wanted answers and we didn’t have any to give.”

Frank wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “So you’re telling me that a bunch of people were brutally murdered in the middle of the night, and the next day Rook Mountain was cut off from the outside world?”

Sean smiled. “It sounds even weirder when you say it out loud. Don’t get me wrong, it seemed crazy that day too, but I was busy. I kind of took it in stride. I guess most people did. We eventually got everyone to go home for the night. That turned out to be a pretty good move. There were eight more murders that night. Again, it was all people who were outside. Four of them were cops. One was my partner Wes Dinsmore. He’d volunteered to pick up an extra shift.”

“I’m sorry, Sean.”

Sean nodded. “Thanks. The next day, as you might imagine, the group of people in front of City Hall was even larger. They wanted someone to explain what the hell was going on. No one could. Then he showed up.”

“He?” Frank asked.

“Zed. By that time, everyone in town knew him. He’d knocked on almost every front door in town. Most people thought he was a harmless nutcase, but he had a dozen or so loyal followers by then. Most of them were people in their early twenties. A lot of them came from rough backgrounds and were looking for something, you know?”

“So what does that wacko have to do with any of this?” Frank asked.

“He gets up in front of the crowd and starts talking about how he foresaw this. Saying that he warned the town.”

“Warned the town? How?”

Sean raised an eyebrow. “You said he came to your door, right? Do you remember what he said?”

Frank thought for a long moment. Then he remembered. “Holy shit. Are you saying that this dude actually saw this coming?”

Sean shrugged. “I’m just telling you what happened. I don’t know if he told the future or if he caused his prophecy to come true or if it was all a weird coincidence. But when he stood up in front of the town and said he had warned them, every person in the crowd knew exactly what he meant.”

Sean poured the rest of his beer down his throat. “There was a moment,” he said, “when it could have gone either way. For a split second, it seemed like the crowd might turn on him, blame him for what was happening. If it would have played out that way, I don’t know how it would have ended. Maybe we all would have lynched him or something. But it didn’t happen that way. Because, at exactly the right moment, Zed told us he knew how to fix it.”

Frank tilted his head. “He said he could set things back to normal?”

“No. He was very clear on that. He said life would never be the same, and there was nothing he or anyone else could do to change that. But he said he could stop the killings. He could protect us.”

“Did he say what he was protecting you from?”

Sean paused and looked away for a long moment before speaking again. “He didn’t have to. Many of us had seen the creatures by then. The rest had heard about them. It’s hard to describe, but I can tell you that he spoke with authority. I fully believed he knew what he was talking about, and so did everyone else. And then he pulled out this long sheet of paper and tacked it to the City Hall door.”

“What was it?”

“It was eighteen Regulations.”

“Huh,” Frank said. “So that’s how the Regulations started?”

Sean nodded. “Zed said that he could stop the killings for good, but that the town needed to agree to live by these Regulations. He didn’t ask for any elected office or any sort of title. He just wanted the vow of the people.”

“And the people agreed?”

“Yeah, they agreed. Wait, I’m trying to be honest here, so let me restate that. We agreed. I voted too. But, think about it, what was the harm? If Zed couldn’t protect us like he said, we were under no obligation to follow his rules. If he could protect us, well, maybe he knew what he was talking about and we should listen to him anyway.”

Frank whistled through his teeth. He wasn’t sure how much of this to believe. Twenty-two people dead in two nights? “What did these Regulations say?”

“They were well thought out, that’s for sure. Basically, they were the rules for sustaining a society in isolation. Stuff like how much food was allowed per person per day. How specialty fields like medicine and plumbing would be managed and sustained. How to go about getting gas for your vehicles and what to do if your vehicle broke down. But the most important Regulation was that no one was to leave town. Regulation 18 set up a plan for certifications.”

“Certifications for what?”

“They call them certifications, but most of them are more like exceptions. If you're certified for a certain Regulation, that means you're allowed to break it. Will runs that program, by the way.”

Frank ran his hand through his hair. He always did that when he was nervous. “And the people agreed to follow these rules?”

“Yeah,” Sean said. “They… we did. It seemed like a long shot, but we didn’t have many options at that point. So we voted to approve the Regulations. As soon as we did, one of Zed’s weird disciples came out of the crowd and handed him this little box. Zed said he needed a room with some privacy, so me and a couple other cops showed him to an empty office in City Hall. A few hours later, Zed came out and said everything was all set. He said no one is to go in that room and he asked us to lock the door.”

“So what happened after that?”

Sean smiled. “Nothing. Nothing at all. There were no killings that night. Or the night after that. Or in the eight years since. At least not in Rook Mountain city limits. Regulation breakers haven't always been so lucky.”

“So who killed those people?”

“It wasn’t a who. It was a what. The killings were done by these...animals.”

“What kind of animals?” Frank asked.

“We’ll get to that,” Sean said. “But to understand that you have to understand a little more about what’s happened to the town. With the killings stopped, the Regulations took on this holy significance. We started enforcing them even though they had never officially been passed into law. Regulation 18 says that anyone who knowingly fails to report a Regulation breaker is just as guilty as the one who committed the crimes. There were these in-depth investigations into who knew about which crimes and when they knew it.”

“That’s why you told me to be on the defensive?”

Sean nodded and then continued. “Zed’s disciples started getting elected into public office. It’s gotten to the point where no one outside of his inner circle has a prayer of being elected to the board of selectmen. Officially, Zed runs nothing. In reality, he runs everything.”

“People like Becky Raymond?”

Sean smiled. “Yeah. She’s got ambition, that’s for sure.”

“And my brother?” Frank asked. “What do you know about what happened to him?”

Sean shrugged. “On that, I’m not much of an expert. I only know what I’m told. He killed three people. Two police officers and Todd. Then he disappeared.” Sean tilted his head at Frank. “Wait a minute, is that why they let you out? Is it about your brother? Is it because of the thing with Sally Badwater?”

“Yeah. They want me to find him. If I do, I get to stay out of jail.” Frank took a long pull on his beer. “But I’ll tell you something. I know Jake, and there is no way he stuck around the scene of the crime. Maybe he did duck back into town to give Sally his cryptic message, but he is holed up somewhere else. If I am going to find him, I need to leave Rook Mountain.”

Sean held up his hand. “Whoa, Frank. That’s a really bad idea.”

Frank felt his face flush with anger. “It’s the only one I’ve got. I’m going to find my brother. He needs my help. And I’ll tell you something else. I wasn’t around to get brainwashed by Zed and his weirdo disciples. I never agreed to his Regulations and I don’t see why I should have to follow them. Jake’s hiding outside of town somewhere, and I’m going out there to find him.”

Sean sighed and shook his head. He grabbed the phone and punched in a number. Ice filled Frank’s chest. Had he misjudged his friend? Was Sean turning him in? Was he about to be sent back to jail?

Then Sean spoke. “Hi Christine, this is Sean. Listen, does your neighbor still sell rabbits? Could Will pick one up for me and bring it to the edge of town over on Dennis Cove Road? Frank needs a little demonstration.” There was a long pause where Sean did not meet Frank’s eyes. Then finally, “We're finishing up our dinner. Can he meet us in twenty minutes? Perfect. Goodbye.”

Sean took a bite of his steak and then motioned to Frank’s. “Eat up, my friend. We have somewhere to be.”

6.

It was full dark when they pulled over to the side of Dennis Cove Road in Sean’s Subaru Forester. Will was already there. He was parked perpendicular to the road, the headlights of his sedan pointing into the woods fifty yards off the road. Sean eased his vehicle onto the gravel alongside Will’s. With the headlights of both vehicles pointed toward the grassy area off the road, it was lit up like day.

A wire-mesh cage sat on the ground next to Will’s feet. In the glow of the headlights, Will looked grim and uncomfortable.

Frank opened his door and stepped out before Sean had come to a complete stop. He raised a hand in greeting to Will. “Hey, roomie.”

Will nodded back to him. “So I take it Sean’s been telling you about the Regulations?”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “I’m not sure how much to believe, but he’s been telling me.”

“Good,” Will said. “Look, Christine and I should have been the ones to give you the rundown. I’m sorry. Things last night were a little…”

“Weird,” Frank said. “I know.”

Will nodded. “Yeah. Sorry about that. We’ll do better tonight.”

Sean stepped up beside Frank and patted him hard on the shoulder. “Will, your boy here has been taking this whole thing in stride. He hasn’t freaked out on me once.”

“Night’s not over yet,” Will said.

“That’s for damn sure,” Sean said. “But really, Frank, I’m proud of you. You seem to be taking this better than I ever would.”

“Thanks,” Frank said. “It’s all a bunch of crazy-talk of course, but bits and pieces of it make sense. This whole Regulation thing happened about the same time they stopped letting us prisoners have any contact with the outside world. Guess now I know why.”

Will pointed at something on the pavement. “You see that white line going across the road? That’s the town line. We are on the Rook Mountain side. Whatever happens next, do not cross that line, you hear me?”

Frank nodded. He heard a little chirping-like sound coming from the cage, and he bent down for a closer look at the rabbit inside. It was a fat little thing with long floppy ears hanging down on either side of its face. It huddled in the corner of the cage farthest from Frank.

“Cute little bugger,” Frank said.

“Don’t get attached,” Will said.

Sean patted Will on the back. “Thanks for coming out, man. Frank was talking about maybe leaving town. He said he wasn’t sure that the Regulations applied to him. I didn’t know how to explain. I thought maybe we needed to show him.”

“I figured it was something like that,” Will said.

Frank crossed his arms. He couldn’t help but smile at his two friends and their clandestine plan. “I’m game. This is the first time I’ve been outside after dark in years. Just seeing the stars is enough of a demonstration for me. Ain’t nothing better than freedom on a warm autumn evening.”

Sean grinned at Will. “He thinks he’s free now. Isn’t that cute?”

Will lifted the wire-mesh cage and walked toward the town line. “It’s like the old saying, I guess. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.” Will set the cage down on the white line. He put his foot on the back of the cage and slowly pushed it forward until it was completely on the other side of the line.

“Okay,” Frank said. “What’s supposed to happen?”

Sean put a hand on his arm. “Shhh. Listen.”

Frank watched the cage and tried to listen. He didn’t hear anything besides the oscillating whine of the cicadas. He stood like that for about thirty seconds, listening, but wasn't sure what he should be listening for. Then, under the cicadas, there was something else.

“Here it comes,” whispered Sean.

At first it was just one sound, like a man singing a wordless melody in the distance. Then it was joined by another. And then another. It vaguely reminded Frank of a Gregorian monk’s chant, except this tone was aggressive instead of worshipful. The pitch of each of the voices was different, but the notes of the song fit together into an unsettling and beautiful harmony. More voices joined the throng and the clamor grew louder. Frank tried to count how many distinct voices he heard, but he quickly lost track. He became aware of something else under the sound of the many-tuned song. It was a sharp snapping sound, a fluttering sound. It was the sound of wings.

Quick as a flicker of light, a shape appeared in front of the cage. Frank could see it all too clearly in the beam of the headlights. The creature was about four feet tall, and it was bone thin. It had a face of a bird and a large curved beak. Its bat-like wings reached from its shoulders to the ground. It had no feathers, and its skin, its beak, and even its eyes were all the purest white. Its beak was wide open and pointed toward the sky as it sang its song. Others of its kind soon joined it.

Frank stepped back and felt himself taking sharp, quick breaths. The creatures were less than five feet in front of him.

Will put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re safe. They won’t cross the town line.”

Frank forced himself to stand with the other men though his every instinct told him to run. He reminded himself that he was the stranger here and he didn’t know the rules. Will and Sean did. If they were confident in their safety, Frank should be too, right? He clenched his fists and stood fast, but his heart thumped so loudly in his chest that he felt sure the creatures would hear it and attack.

“What the hell are they?” Frank asked, his voice betraying his fear.

“Zed and his crew called them the Unfeathered,” Will said, “which I always thought sounded sort of lame. Most people call them the Birdies.”

“Both pretty good band names,” Sean said.

There were eight of them gathered in a semicircle around the cage. They were crowded in tight. The backside of the cage was flush against the town line, the line the creatures appeared unable to cross, so Frank had a clear view of both the cage and the Birdies.

The creatures stood stone still, their heads raised, singing their terrible song. All the beauty Frank had heard in it before was gone now. It sounded as much like a cacophony of screams as it did music. It grew louder by the moment, filling Frank’s ears and worming its way under his skin, making him feel unclean.

Frank turned to Will. “I thought you said things weren’t going to be as weird tonight.” He had to speak loudly to be heard over the singing. He heard the quiver in his own voice as he spoke.

“I guess weird is a relative term,” Will said. “I’ve seen a fair amount of these guys in the last nine years. I ain’t seen you once.”

Frank nodded, conceding the point.

As if by some undetectable signal, the creatures all stopped singing at the exact same moment. Silence ruled the night. Even the cicadas had gone silent.

Then, as one, they struck.

Their heads snapped into the cage, tearing into the mesh wire like it was wrapping paper. The rabbit huddled near the back of the cage, shaking violently. Soon the creatures had torn open a hole big enough to allow their beaks access to the back of the cage.

The creatures slowed then. The mad hunt for food was over and it was time to enjoy their meal. Their beaks still moved with an uncanny quickness, but they paused between each thrust, as if savoring the moments before the kill.

The one in the middle shot forward, its beak too quick for Frank’s eyes to follow. Just as fast, its head was back outside the cage, a strip of furred flesh dangling from its beak. The others quickly followed, tearing off flesh, then muscle, until the panicked rabbit was finally silent. Less than a minute later the rabbit was nothing more than bones on the bottom of the cage.

One of the creatures took a last half-hearted lunge at the carcass. The Birdie in the middle straightened up, shook itself off with a shudder, and launched into the air, cutting a graceful arch into the sky and back into the forest beyond the clearing. The others each gave an identical shudder, and then followed their brother into the night sky.

None of the men spoke for a long while.

Finally, Frank said, “Those are the things that killed all those people in town?”

“Yeah,” Sean said.

“They do that to anything that leaves town? Animal or human?” Frank asked.

Will said, “They come out quicker in the nighttime, but they’ll attack during the day too, albeit a bit more slowly.”

“There’s no way past them?”

Will and Sean exchanged a look. “There’s a way,” Will said. “Zed and his Resource Expansion team are able to venture out.”

“How do they do that?” Frank asked.

“We don’t know,” Sean said.

Frank thought for another moment. “Are all the other towns like this too? Are these things gathered around Elizabethton and Bristol and, hell, Washington, DC?”

“We don’t know,” Sean said.

“Why don’t they cross the town line?” Frank asked. “What exactly did Zed do to keep them away?”

“We don’t know,” Sean said.

“But we're hoping you can help us figure it out,” Will added.

IN THE BEFORE (PART 3)

A pounding noise woke Frank. It was as loud as a church bell, and he could feel it in his brain, his teeth, and his balls. He pulled the pillow over his head and tried to ignore it, but the noise didn’t stop. If anything, it grew louder.

Frank didn’t want to open his eyes. He knew the pain would be worse when he did. He wanted to drift back to sleep. He had been dreaming of the Cassandra lock. In the dream, he had finally figured it out. He’d discovered how to make it work.

But now he was awake, and he knew that the solution had been nothing more than a dream. The Cassandra lock was still a fantasy. He knew it would be perfect, but he couldn’t visualize it quite well enough to make it a reality.

It had been a rough night filled with liquor store moonshine, the stuff they produced for the tourists. It wasn’t only his raging headache that made him want to stay curled up under the covers. Getting up would mean coming into contact with three items he would rather not deal with: his text messages, his outgoing calls list, and his email. Wendy had broken up with him four days ago. He didn’t remember the events of last night too clearly, but he was certain he would see Wendy’s name on at least two of those three lists.

The pounding continued, and now a voice joined it. “Frank! You in there? You awake, buddy?”

Frank sighed. It was Brett.

It wasn’t that Frank didn’t like Brett. He enjoyed hanging out with him most of the time. There was something kind of cool about having three bachelors living in the cabins. There were many late nights of poker, whiskey, and non-judgmental slothfulness. Frank had never been to college, but he imagined this was what dorm life would have been like. It was the perfect environment for a recently dumped guy like Frank.

But Brett had boundary issues. He came over at all hours, and he never took the hint. He simply kept knocking and shouting until Frank opened the door. It had been that way even when Frank and Wendy were together. He had been meaning to talk to Brett about it, about how it killed the vibe a bit when Brett came knocking on the door wanting to play Madden when Wendy was over. But, Frank supposed, there was little need now. His nights could use a little filling, even if it was playing Madden with his socially clueless neighbor.

Frank tried to shift his mind to something more positive. Every morning he tried to think one or two positive thoughts before getting out of bed. Lately, it was getting harder and harder. This morning all he could think of was the Cassandra lock. He had the whole day in front of him without any plans. That meant he had the whole day to spend in the vacant cabin that served as his workshop. He was getting so close. A few more days and he would have it finished, he was sure of it.

Frank sighed and got out of bed. He glanced at the t-shirt and running shorts on the floor and then decided against them. If Brett wanted to talk to him so bad this early, he would get Frank in boxers.

Frank shuffled his way to the door and opened it, squinting into the sharp morning light.

“Hey man,” Brett said. “You up?”

Frank blinked hard. “Yeah. I’m up. What’s going on?”

Brett looked anything but remorseful. His face was straight, but a gleeful grin was beginning to peek through. “I wanted to make sure you were up. He’s here.”

“Well, mission accomplished—wait, who’s here?”

Brett’s grin widened. He was no longer attempting to hide it. “You know. That guy Zed.”

“Zed? The naked guy Zed?”

“The very same. I knew our turn was coming, I just didn’t know it would be so soon.”

Frank stepped back from the door and gave Brett a nod. Brett scurried inside.

“Okay,” Frank said, shutting the door. “Talk.”

Brett moved to the couch and sank into it. “About twenty minutes ago, there was a knock on my door. I figured it was you or Will. 'Course I heard you playing guitar and singing at the top of your lungs pretty late last night, so I figured it probably wasn’t you.”

Frank rubbed his eyes, trying to keep up with Brett. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was celebrating freedom.”

Brett waved him off. “No, it’s cool man. Anyway, I open the door, and there he is. He’s so tall that I have to crane my neck to look him in the eye. I’m not used to that. And he’s dressed in a long sleeve shirt, buttoned all the way up to the top. The shirt is one of those heavy wool jobs. He looks cool as a cucumber, though, I’ll tell you that. A man wearing that shirt on a day like today, and he isn’t sweating even a little? I’m not sure what to think of a guy like that.”

Frank walked to the bedroom and pulled on his shorts and t-shirt. “What did he want?” Frank called back over his shoulder.

“It’s like everybody’s been saying. He says he wants to introduce himself, but then he starts talking all weird, about blood in the streets and I don’t know what else. Guy’s a real loony, I’ll tell you that. He’s talking to Will right now, poor guy.”

Frank didn’t know if Brett meant Will or Zed, but he didn’t care enough to ask. He walked back into the living room and saw Brett fiddling with one of the locks he had left lying on the coffee table. Frank felt his face flush with anger.

“Dude. How many times do I have to tell you?”

Brett grinned at Frank. “What? I’m not hurting anything. I’m trying to figure out the trick.”

Frank took a deep breath. Every time it was the same. No matter how often he asked him not to, Brett always messed with his locks. His livelihood. And when Frank called him on it, it was always the same argument.

“They are not tricks. They are puzzles. And the ones I leave sitting out are the ones I’m working on. Which means they are not ready. You could twist something the wrong way and snap a tiny component as easily as snapping your fingers, and that would create hours of work for me.”

“Yeah,” Brett said, setting the lock on the table. “Sorry.”

Frank glanced up at the window and saw a large man in a black wool shirt walking toward his cabin. “Well, here he is. You staying for this?”

Brett chuckled. “No sir. I’ve had enough crazy talk for one morning. In fact, I think I’ll slip out the back.”

Frank waited until Zed knocked on the door. Then he waited a little longer. After a few moments, he shuffled over and opened the door.

“Good morning,” the big man said. His voice was soft and had a boyish quality.

“Hi,” Frank said. “Can I help you?”

The man smiled. “I am new in town and I’d like to introduce myself. My name is Zed.”

“Zed what?” Frank asked. Zed tilted his head at Frank questioningly. “What’s your last name?”

Zed waved his hand. “No need to be formal. You can call me Zed.”

“Okay, Zed. I’m Frank Hinkle. Pleased to meet you.”

Zed’s smile widened. “And I as well am pleased. Thank you for your warm greeting.”

“I’m just glad you're wearing pants.”

Zed’s smile didn’t waver. “Ah, you heard about my little episode. Not the way one wants to be introduced to one’s hometown. But what’s done is done, and now I am going around making my proper introductions.”

Frank leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. “Can I ask you something, Zed?” Zed nodded. “Do you think it’s a little strange that you’re knocking on every door in town and introducing yourself?”

“No,” Zed said. “I think we live in a strange time in which common courtesy is perceived as odd.”

“Well, you call it courtesy. Some folks might call it a nuisance. In my experience, strangers who come knocking on doors are selling magazines, cookies, or religion. Which one are you peddling?”

Zed spread his hands out at his sides. “I am selling only myself. Rook Mountain is my new home. I want to know her, and I want her to know me.”

“Yeah.” Frank put his hand on the door. “Well, now we know each other.”

“There is a time coming, Frank, when you will need me. The world will spit out this town like a watermelon seed, and we will be alone. Death will come, first by night and later by day. That is when I will save this town.”

Frank squinted at the big man. “You’re going door to door spouting this nonsense? Scaring kids and old ladies with this?”

“Fear is sometimes a temporary side effect of truth.”

Frank had heard enough. “Okay. Good luck with your introductions. You’re really making a great impression.”

He moved to shut the door, but Zed looked him in the eye before he could. The smile was gone from Zed’s face. That stare held him like a vice. It was like a physical force, the way the man looked into him. He felt Zed’s gaze worming its way past his eyes and into the darkest corners of his mind. It was an invasion, and Frank’s stomach turned. He was powerless to look away.

Then Zed blinked and the spell was broken.

Frank staggered backwards, struggling to keep his balance. “What was that? What did you do?”

Zed smiled again. “It was very nice to meet you, mister Frank Hinkle.” He turned and walked away.

CHAPTER FOUR: CASES

1.

Christine held her hand out the window as she drove. Her fingers didn’t quite brush the pine needles on the trees along the side of the road, but it was close. She had all the windows down, enjoying the autumn breeze blowing through the car and the pleasant, rich smells of the forest around her. When she’d lived here, she’d driven this route two or more times each day. It had been a commute no different than any other. Now that she rarely made this trip, she noticed its beauty.

She drove up the driveway and stopped in front of the second cabin. The one Frank had lived in.

Frank. She hadn’t figured out what to tell him about why these people were living in his former home and why he couldn’t have it back. She hadn’t had to; he’d been so shell-shocked from the things he had learned about Rook Mountain in the past week that he hadn’t been asking too many questions. But the time was coming when she would have to make a decision: trust him and tell him everything, or don’t and tell him nothing. She wanted to trust him, but after nine years in that prison and an unexpected release, she’d be a fool to take anything he said at face value.

She parked the car and pulled out her roller bag filled with medical supplies. Gus Hansen stood on the porch, leaning against the railing, making no effort to hide the way his eyes were glued to her.

As she reached the steps, Gus said, “Doc, Candace is going to be glad to see you. She's worried sick about that boy.”

Christine sighed. Gus was a proud man, too proud to say thank you straight out and too proud to admit his concern for his own son.

“Hi, Gus. How long has he had the fever?”

Gus looked away. “Oh, a day or so, I guess.”

Christine knew he was also too proud to call a doctor unless he was really scared. “Maybe it’s been a little longer than that?” she asked.

Gus nodded. “Yeah, maybe a little. Maybe three days, I guess.”

Christine frowned. “Okay. Can I take a look?”

Gus led her into the house. She’d been in here a dozen times since the Hansens had taken up residence, but it never failed to catch her off guard. She always expected it to look the way it had when Frank lived here. When she had spent three nights a week here, drinking, playing games, and acting like a fool with the guys, and whatever girlfriends Will and Frank had at that moment. Those had been good times. She had felt so alive. She had felt like she and her three boys could take on the world. Nowadays she could barely get through the day.

Frank would have had an aneurysm to see the old place like this. The Hansens may not have had the nicest clothing, but there sure was a lot of it. It lay around the house in piles Christine swore hadn’t been touched since the last time she’d been out here eight months ago. Frank had plenty of faults in those days, but he sure kept a damn neat house. His work with tiny and delicate parts for locks necessitated a certain level of orderliness, but Frank had taken it to the next level. The place had been spotless. That was probably why they had hung out in this cabin so much –no matter how badly they treated it in the night, it always seemed to be ready for the white glove test by the time she saw it the next day.

Gus led her to the back bedroom where little Hal lay on the bed covered to the neck with a thin sheet. His hair was matted to his head with sweat and his complexion was pale and drawn.

His mother sat in a chair across the room from him. “Oh, thank God,” she said.

Christine shuffled her way to the bed. “Hello, Hal.”

The boy gave her a weak smile. “Hi, Doctor Christine.”

“Hi,” she said. “I understand you aren’t feeling well.”

He shook his head. “My throat feels bad. And I keep having the weirdest dreams.”

“Can I sit down?” she asked.

He nodded, and she sat on the bed next to him. She spent five minutes examining him—taking his temperature and blood pressure, listening to his heart and lungs, and looking in his throat and ears.

She turned to his parents. “I don’t suppose you would let me take him to my office?”

Gus and Candace exchanged a glance. Candace said, “By your office, you mean the clinic. And no. Gus and I agree that he needs to stay here with his family. Just tell us what’s wrong with him.”

Christine took a deep breath and tried to summon the courage to avoid the same old debate she’d had with the Hansens a dozen times. They didn’t trust anyone in town and they wouldn’t come to the clinic even for their son’s benefit. For once, Christine forced herself to steer clear of that line of conversation. She pulled a rapid strep test kit out of her bag.

Ten minutes and one throat swab later, she had a diagnosis.

“Hal has strep.”

Candace sighed with relief. Gus smiled. “Shit, is that all it is? Give him some of that pink stuff and let’s call it a day.”

“Strep is nothing to smile about,” Christine said. “Especially not these days. In the Before, it was a little simpler, but now we have to be careful. There is less we can do if things escalate. Having a fever this high for so long isn’t good, especially for someone Hal’s age. You need to call me sooner next time.”

“Okay,” Gus said. “Sermon delivered. Can you help him or not?”

Christine pressed her lips together, hoping to mask her scowl of frustration. She unzipped her roller bag and sorted through the contents until she found what she was looking for. She pulled out the translucent red bottle and held it out to Gus.

“Here,” she said. “One pill twice daily.”

Gus grabbed the bottle, but Christine didn’t release it. She looked him in the eyes. “Have him keep taking it until the bottle is empty. Don’t stop when the fever goes away. You hear me?”

Gus nodded and gave her a grin that displayed a wide expanse of yellow teeth. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” She released the bottle. “I’m going to need to spend a little time out in the shed before I go.”

Gus nodded. “I figured you would. You never miss the opportunity when you’re out here.”

Christine squeezed Hal’s hand. “You take your medicine and you’ll feel better tomorrow, okay?”

“Yes, doctor,” the boy said.

She nodded farewell to Candace and walked out. Gus followed her.

“How’s Ty?” Christine asked.

“He’s okay.” They had reached the porch. “Did we do the right thing last week? When Frank came calling?”

Christine thought for a moment. She didn’t even know what the right thing was herself. How was she supposed to tell Gus? She said, “I told you not to let anyone on the property except for me and Will. Yeah, you did good.”

She started to walk away, and Gus called after her. “What if Frank comes out here again? Do I let him on the property or do the normal rules apply?”

Christine paused but didn’t turn. “No one but me and Will.”

Gus whistled through his teeth. “You’re a tough woman.”

Christine smiled, glad her back was turned so he couldn’t see it. There weren’t many people that Gus considered tough. “I am,” she said. “And you’d better remember that.”

She heard the screen door bang shut behind her as Gus went back in the cabin. She started toward the driveway but veered off onto a dirt path leading away from the road. Thirty yards down the path stood an old shed. Christine pulled out her keys and unlocked the padlock. The door let out a high pitched squeal as she slid it open. She stepped inside and flipped on the light. She slid the door shut behind her.

The shed was filled with the usual items. Tools, shovels, the chainsaw she had used to play that prank on Frank so many years ago. There were a few half-empty paint cans and a couple bags of fertilizer. Frank’s old guitar case sat in the corner. And in the back of the shed there was an old freezer.

Christine put her hand on the lid of the freezer and felt it humming. She breathed a sigh of relief. Sometimes she woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, sure that the freezer had broken down. Still, no matter how much she worried and obsessed about it, she didn’t allow herself to come out here more than twice a year. There was always the chance, however small, that someone would wonder why she was coming out here so often when everyone else in town was staying away. And maybe that person would mention it to a friend in passing, and maybe the wrong person would overhear.

She couldn’t risk that. She had given up far too much. She simply didn’t come out unless the Hansens needed her for something.

Christine reached back into her roller bag, unzipped an inner compartment, and pulled out a single key. Though the key looked mundane, she didn’t keep this one on her key chain. She put the key into the lock, turned the key halfway, pressed the hidden button on the lock, and turned the key the other direction. The lock popped open.

The lock was one of Frank’s creations of course. Another reason to keep him away from here. Even with the key, only Christine, Will, and Frank knew how to open this particular lock. And Jake, she reminded herself. If indeed he was still alive.

Christine took the chain off her neck and lowered it into the freezer. Another key dangled from the chain—the key she had found on Jessie Cooper.

She quickly surveyed the contents of the freezer to make sure it was all there. There was the large pocket knife, the kind that folded. There was a mirror. There was the lighter, wrapped in cloth and sealed in a Ziploc bag. A three-foot long cane lay wedged in diagonally across the bottom of the freezer. The cane was a rich mahogany. The knife, the cane, the mirror, and the lighter all featured the same broken clock symbol as the key.

The final item in the freezer was the severed head. It was a light shade of blue, and tiny icicles grew from the eye sockets.

A knife, a lighter, a cane, a key, a mirror, and a head. Would they be enough when the time came? Would they be any help at all? Christine had no idea, and not knowing weighed on her heart. There was no way to know, not until it was too late to make a difference. When the time came, they would work and save her, or they wouldn’t and she would die.

2.

“Uncle Frank? Uncle Frank?”

Frank looked up and saw the cereal bowl on the table in front of him. It had happened again. He had been drifting. He blinked hard to clear his mind of the cobwebs.

“Uncle Frank!”

Trevor stood near the table. The boy was dressed in only blue jeans, and he held two shirts, one in each hand.

“Yeah, man, what’s up?” Frank asked.

“What do you think? The red shirt or the blue?”

Frank stared blankly at both shirts for a moment. “They, uh, they both look great to me.”

Will chuckled from across the table. “Your uncle has been a little out of the fashion scene for a few years, Trev.”

“I’m only looking for, like, a second opinion,” Trevor said.

“The blue,” Frank said. “Definitely the blue.”

Trevor grinned. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” With that, he ran back toward his room.

“Trevor loves you, dude,” Will said. “He hardly talks to me anymore. You gotta tell me your secret. I guess he missed you.”

Was that even possible? Frank wondered. The kid had been three years old when Frank went away. “I missed him too.”

Christine walked into the kitchen and began making herself a bowl of oatmeal. “So what’s on the docket for today, Frank?”

Frank shoveled a spoonful of cereal into his mouth to give himself a moment. That was an excellent question. What was on the docket? He had been out a full week, but—aside from talking to Sally Badwater on his second day of freedom—he hadn’t accomplished much. The last few days he had seldom left the house. He was still shaken by the things Will and Sean had shown him at the edge of town.

But it was more than that. The whole town seemed to have gone crazy. Crazy/naked Zed was a hero? Will was in charge of some certification program? And now Trevor was going to go to some weird school where they trained kids to pass a test to leave town?

He had known finding Jake would be challenging, but he had no idea where to go from here. After talking to Sally, he had hit a dead end. Jake said he wanted Frank to bring him the Cassandra lock, but the Cassandra lock didn’t exist. Frank had never finished it.

Finally, he swallowed his cereal and said, “I’m thinking I might get out a bit today. Maybe go for a hike.”

“On the mountain?” Will asked.

Frank nodded.

“Good for you,” Christine said. “It’ll do you good.” She took a seat across from Frank and dug into her oatmeal. “Make sure you drop by City Hall first. You need a permit. Not a big deal to get one, but you don’t want to be caught without it.”

Frank felt a little guilty looking at Christine. She had let him into her home and asked only the most basic of questions. She wasn’t pushing him to talk about anything before he was ready, and for that he was grateful. Yet, he still hadn’t told her that he was here to find Jake. He had told her he was here as part of a temporary release program. He would be out for a month, and if he could prove he was ready he might get to stay out longer. It wasn’t a lie exactly, but it certainly wasn’t the full truth. She had taken his story at face value.

Trevor came back into the kitchen wearing the blue shirt. “Ready to go, Mom?”

“In a minute,” Christine said.

Will squinted at Trevor. “Did you use gel in your hair?”

Trevor blushed. “So?”

Will shrugged, trying to hide the grin on his face. “I’ve never seen you use anything in your hair.”

Trevor’s shade of red deepened.

Christine gave Will a stern look, but she was grinning too.

“I understand,” Will said. “New school. New girls. Wait, do they have girls at this school?”

Trevor smiled. “They definitely have girls.”

The morning routine always baffled Frank. The whole thing seemed hectic but well-orchestrated. The three of them flowed in and out of the kitchen, the bathroom, and bedrooms in a blur of constant motion. The schedule never seemed quite the same, but there was never any discussion about whose turn it was in the single bathroom. They never got in each others’ ways. Frank, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to get in sync with them. He was always standing in the wrong place, blocking someone’s access to the bananas or the lunchboxes.

The exit happened the same way. This morning Frank barely had to time shout, “Good luck on your first day,” to Trevor before they were gone.

Frank enjoyed the silence for a moment. Of all the things he loved about freedom, silence had to be near the top of the list. Prison was a loud place. He had almost forgotten what it was like to sit in silence with your own thoughts. He sat for a long time, staring into his empty cereal bowl. Almost drifting.

Then he heard a knock at the door. He considered not answering. It was his choice, after all, to answer or not. Such options were the luxury of free men. He pushed himself to his feet, drifted to the door, and opened it to find Becky Raymond standing there. She was staring at the door knob; the one Frank had made for Jake and Christine so many years ago.

She looked up at him and smiled. “Hi, Frank. You didn’t forget about our weekly meeting, did you?”

“No, of course not,” he lied. “You want to come in?”

She glanced down at the doorknob again and then shook her head. “Walk with me. I have an errand to run.”

“I’d rather not. Can we talk here?”

“Come on,” she said as if she hadn’t heard him. She spun on her heel and marched toward the sidewalk.

Frank took a deep breath and forced himself to unclench his fists. He stepped outside and followed her down the sidewalk.

“Let’s talk,” she said. “How is the search for your brother going?”

Frank looked at her. “I haven’t found him yet, Becky.”

She arched her eyebrows. “It’s Becky now, is it? What happened to Ms. Raymond? You were much more polite at the prison.”

“When you appear in my home and bully me into going for a walk, you are Becky.”

“Well this isn’t your home, is it? Your home is Northern Tennessee Correctional Complex. At least until I say it isn’t. So I’ll ask you again: how is the search for your brother going?”

The woman made him uncomfortable, but he had to keep a grip on his emotions. She was right. She held all the cards here.

“I’ll be honest. I haven’t opened up too many leads yet.”

Becky frowned. “You said you knew places where he hung out. That you knew the land. That you knew where he’d go.”

Frank nodded. “Yeah, that’s all true. It’s taking me some time to acclimate to… how things are.”

“That’s understandable.” Her gaze softened. “Let’s take a step back from the facts. What’s your gut feeling? Based on what you know about Rook Mountain and what you know about Jake, do you think he’s in town?”

Frank scratched his chin. It felt strange, talking to her about Jake. Working with the people who were trying to track Jake down. He told himself he wouldn’t turn over any information that would hurt Jake. If he found Jake he would warn him—maybe they could even escape Rook Mountain together.

Speculating couldn’t hurt, though.

“The way I see it, there are two possibilities,” Frank said. “Either he’s in town and he’s been in town the whole time, or he found a way to survive outside of town without those crazy bird things eating him.”

“And which of those options seems more likely to you?”

“I’d say he’s in town. If he really knew a way to get past those things on the outside, it seems like he would have taken his family and gone somewhere else.” Frank shrugged. “Either way, he is close enough that he can at least slip into town to pass a cryptic message to Sally Badwater.”

The woman smiled. “Let me ask you something, Frank. Was Jake close to his son?”

“Yeah, of course. After the kid was born, it was all he wanted to talk about. It bordered on annoying.”

“That’s what I thought.” She leaned toward him. “Can you imagine any scenario where Jake has access to Rook Mountain and doesn’t at least keep tabs on his son?”

Frank thought about that for a moment. Becky was right. Frank couldn’t imagine a scenario where Jake wouldn’t be in touch with Trevor.

When he was about to answer, Becky said, “This is my errand. It’s an interesting case. Follow me.” She turned up the sidewalk leading to the next house. Frank glanced up at it, a ranch-style home not much different than any of the dozen or so other houses they had passed on their walk. Frank stayed two steps behind Becky.

When she reached the door, Becky knocked, waited about two seconds, and then opened the door and walked inside.

“Hello!” she said.

Frank followed her in. The man sitting on the couch sprang to his feet. He was short and slightly overweight, but his most distinctive characteristic was the scar on his left cheek. It was shaped like the number eight.

“Hello, Ms. Raymond,” the man said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Becky smiled at the man. “That’s sort of the point of surprise inspections, Phillip. Anything I should know before I look around?”

“No, ma’am. Everything in this house is in keeping with the Regulations.”

“Good,” Becky said. She wandered out of the room as she spoke. “Frank here just got out of prison. He’s learning about the Regulations. Why don’t you tell him about your crime while I look around?”

The man cleared his throat and looked at Frank. “I’m a Regulation breaker.” He pointed to his cheek. “Regulation 8.”

Becky called from the other room. “He doesn’t know what that is, Philip. Explain.”

“I uh, there was this family. They broke a Regulation, and their punishment was no rations for two weeks. I shared mine with them.”

“Rations?” Frank asked. “You mean food?” Philip looked at Frank like he was trying to determine whether or not Frank was an idiot, then he nodded and looked away. “Yeah. I aided Regulation breakers. Not my finest hour. I’m paying my debt to society, though. Part of that means surprise inspections from time to time.”

“Really? From the city manager?”

Philip shrugged. “No, this is a first. Usually it’s a couple of cops.”

Becky returned to the room. “Well Philip, I don’t see any evidence of Regulation breaking.” He smiled and nodded. “Thank you, ma’am. It’s an honor to have you handle this personally.”

Becky smiled back at him. “You’re proof that the system works. Hey, why don’t you tell Frank about your scar?”

He looked at Frank. “It’s part of the punishment for Regulation 8 breakers. So people know not to trust me."

“And tell him who gave it to you.”

Philip took a deep breath. His smile wavered for only a moment. “It was my wife. She found out about my crimes, and she drugged me and took care of it. She’s a good woman.”

“She sure is,” the city manager said.

Back out on the street, Frank asked, “So what was the point of that little show?”

Becky Raymond shrugged. “I’m continuing your education. I want you to know the score. Family is important, but Rook Mountain comes first.”

“I’m not sure I agree with that.”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe. It’s what the town believes. All I’m saying is to stay vigilant. You are out there grilling Sally Badwater and visiting your old haunts, and at the same time you are living with the town doctor and the head of the Certification program.”

Frank took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. He spoke softly, but he still heard the anger in his own voice. “Listen to me. I agreed to look for Jake, and I am doing that. I will find him. You leave them the hell out of it.”

“Of course,” Becky said. “I want you to know that we are watching. Always. Zed has eyes everywhere. You are never out of his sight, not in Rook Mountain.”

Frank nodded. “I’ll find Jake, but I’m not bringing Christine and Trevor into this thing.”

The woman smiled. “Frank. They live in Rook Mountain. They’re already in this thing.” They stopped in front of the Osmond’s house. “There’s something else. Something I didn’t tell you before.”

Frank waited for her to continue.

“Since Regulation Day, odd items have been appearing in Rook Mountain. They look like everyday objects. A mirror, a lighter, things like that. But they are extremely dangerous. We believe that Jake was interested in these items. Obsessed with them, really. We know he had at least one of them. He may have hidden it before he went away. If you find any of these objects in your search for Jake, you let me know right away. Understand?”

“If they look like everyday objects, how am I supposed to find them?”

“They have a symbol carved into them. It’s a broken clock.”

Frank froze. He struggled to keep any reaction off his face. He had seen that symbol once. He’d seen it on the worst day of his life.

“You find something with that symbol, you bring it to me.” Becky Raymond turned away from him and toward the street. “You’ve had your week to acclimate. Next week I expect to hear some results. If not, well, I’m sure CO Rodgers is keeping a bunk empty for you.”

Becky Raymond gave him a curt nod and turned back up the sidewalk.

Frank stood on the threshold of his former sister-in-law’s home, taking long slow breaths, trying to figure out his next move. He didn’t notice Will standing in the front yard, watching Becky Raymond walk away.

3.

Trevor followed the signs pointing toward the auditorium and tried not to make eye contact with the other students.

Everyone had been polite so far, but when they looked at him he saw it in their eyes. They were all wondering how the son of a terrorist had gotten into the Beyond Academy.

At his old school, it had been much more overt. Kids would make comments, ask Trevor if his dad had taught him how to make pipe bombs, ask when Trevor was going to blow up the school. It bothered him, of course, but most of the time he had been able to laugh it off. As Mom always reminded him, these kids didn’t know his dad. Yes, Dad had gone crazy for a little while there at the end, but that didn’t define him as a person. Trevor remembered other things about his dad. He remembered Dad reading him stories, and wrestling with him on the floor, and taking him for hikes in the mountains.

But today, even though no one was saying anything, it was different. It was probably just the stress of starting a new school, but Trevor had a terrible feeling that someone would realize the error and expel him at any moment.

He wished Carl had been accepted. Then at least he would have someone to walk with in the halls.

“Trevor!” a female voice called.

He looked around, bewildered for a moment, then saw a woman in a blue dress. She wore glasses and her black hair fell in loose curls around her shoulders. She was hot, but she was also clearly a teacher.

“Trevor, hi.” The woman walked over to him. “You probably don’t remember me. I’m Wendy Caulfield. Your uncle Frank and I used to babysit you when you were little.”

Her statement was so unexpected that Trevor had no idea how to respond. “Hi, Ms. Caulfield.”

She smiled. “I teach History and Civics. You’ll have me for fourth period this semester.”

He nodded dumbly.

“Anyway, I just wanted to say hello.” She turned to go, then stopped and nodded toward the auditorium. “Trevor, remember, however weird this place seems, and whatever you hear in there, this is still a school. We're here to help you learn. And you can talk to us –to me—if you need anything. Okay?”

Trevor nodded again. “Okay. Thanks.”

She turned the other direction, and Trevor stepped into the auditorium.

To call it an auditorium was a bit of an overstatement in Trevor’s opinion. Like the rest of the school, the room was clean and state-of-the-art. Every surface said quality. But it was more of a classroom with stadium seating than it was an auditorium. The school only had forty students. Trevor guessed this room could hold maybe seventy-five total. He eyed the back rows, looking for a block of empty seats where he could squeeze in without having to sit next to anyone. Fancy genius academy or not, this was still high school. Who you sat with mattered, and Trevor wanted to get the lay of the land before pigeon-holing himself into any particular clique. He found a likely spot in the second row from the back and hustled toward it.

He had barely sat down before the lights flicked once, and a voice over the PA system asked them to rise for the national anthem. Trevor rose with the rest and turned toward the American flag on the left side of the stage. Pre-recorded music filled the room at a surprisingly loud volume. As the first verse began everyone's voice rose to match the level of the music. Trevor looked around as he sang and saw most of his fellow students for the first time. What he saw didn’t remind him of the first day of school. They weren’t slouching or giggling, and there were no annoyed frowns. Every pupil stood ramrod straight and sang loudly, their eyes glued to the flag. There was a quality about them that it took Trevor a few moments to identify. Then it came to him. The students weren’t just glad to be starting the school year, they were proud to be here. It was pride he saw on the faces of his fellow students.

The “Star-Spangled Banner” built to its crescendo. The pre-recorded music cut off a moment too soon, jarring Trevor out of his thoughts. Everyone sank back into their seats. Trevor did the same, his eyes on the still-empty stage.

The voice on the PA returned. “To open the 2022-2023 school year, please welcome back guest speaker and friend of the Rook Mountain Beyond Academy, Zed!”

The students erupted with applause, and a tall bald man jogged up the steps to the stage. He wore a green, long-sleeved t-shirt and khaki pants. He stood there with an easy smile on his face waiting for the applause to die down.

Trevor had heard a lot about Zed, of course, but he had only seen him up close once before. Trevor knew Zed had saved the town. They told that story every year on the anniversary of Regulation Day. He knew Zed lived in the big house downtown. He also knew that his father had gone crazy and tried to blow up Zed, killing three innocent people in the process.

Zed was a legend in a town that had far too few of them. Everyone talked about him with respect and admiration. Everyone seemed to love him. In a lot of ways, he was the complete opposite of Trevor’s father.

When the applause stopped, Zed held out his hands, palms up. He was wearing one of those headset microphones, and his deep voice filled the room when he spoke. “Thank you. You know, it’s really an honor to be asked back again to open the school year. Sometimes I feel like a broken record. I’ve said the same thing every year for the past four years, and I’m about to say it again. Some of you returning students might be sick of hearing it—”

“No way, Zed!” called a male voice from the crowd. The kids all laughed.

Zed pointed toward the student. “Thanks for humoring an old man, son. Some of you may be sick of hearing it, but what I have to say was true last year and it is still true today. Here it goes. This year is going to be the most important year of your lives.”

Zed paused, his eyes moving back and forth across the faces in the crowd. The laughter was gone now, and the room was filled with a reverent silence. “I believe that with all my heart. Think about it for a moment. This year is going to be the most important year of your lives.” He paused again, this time looking down at his own feet as he gave the students a moment.

He looked up and spoke again. “Let me ask you something. How many of you have traveled outside the United States? In the Before, I mean.”

A few hands rose.

Zed nodded. “How many of you have traveled outside Tennessee?”

This time, over half the hands in the crowd went up, including Trevor’s. He didn’t remember it well, but he knew his family had taken a vacation to Florida when he was three.

“How many of your parents talk about their travels? About what life was like outside Rook Mountain in the Before?”

Every hand went up. Zed nodded. “Thanks. You can put your hands down. For those of you attending the Beyond Academy for the first time this year, today is an important day. Today is the day that you stop listening to your parents’ stories about the world outside. Because I’m going to tell you something important: your parents’ stories don’t mean shit.”

He held up his hands as if calming the crowd, though not one student had voiced an objection. “Don’t get me wrong! Those stories have their place. Just like stories of George Washington or stories of the Roman Empire. But I know every one of your parents at least a little, and I can say with confidence that they do not understand the world outside of Rook Mountain. Not anymore. Very shortly, you will. The days of your parents are over. Your day has begun.”

He looked out over the crowd again. “A person can survive somewhere between three and six weeks without food. We have some food stored in town, but how long do you think Rook Mountain would survive without our brave Resource Specialists?” He let the question hang in the air, then continued. “But it’s not about survival. It’s about what you want the future to be. I know that many of you will choose to become Resource Specialists when you leave this school, but some of you will pursue different paths. That’s perfectly fine. As long as you work hard to get whatever it is you want out of life, this school has done its job.

“I don’t work for the school. I am just a guy who cares deeply about Rook Mountain. Your parents have obviously done things right since you’ve all made it this far. But in the coming days and weeks and months you will see things that your parents will have no way to understand. Sometime during the next couple years, you will be allowed to go on a trip outside of town with some Resource Specialists. Depending on the expedition you are assigned to, you might see Elizabethton, or Kingsport, or Johnson City. You might even go somewhere farther if your Resource Specialist needs to fulfill a more exotic request.”

He held up a finger for emphasis. “When you go, you will see how the world on the outside really is, and then you will start to understand why Rook Mountain is so special and why we must do everything possible to protect it.”

Trevor couldn’t help but imagine the places he would go as the man talked.

“The things you see will change you,” Zed continued. “And you might need someone to talk to. Someone who understands. I want to tell you—and I mean this from the bottom of my heart—that from this moment on, I consider each person in this room family. Anytime you need to talk, day or night, you call me. Even if it’s something silly, something you don’t think is worth bothering me for, you call me. And, I promise, I will do everything I can to help you. You might need a listening ear, a place to stay, or even protection from your own parents. Doesn’t matter. I will help you.

“Like I said, I love Rook Mountain, and I believe you are her future and her brightest hope. It doesn’t matter what you were before today, what your dreams are, or—” he looked at Trevor, “—what your parents might have done. You are the future, and the future starts today.”

Zed smiled and put his hands on his hips. “Ready to get started?”

4.

Frank walked in the door a few minutes before six o’clock. He had spent most of the day wandering the town. He’d walked past his childhood home and his elementary school. He’d gone by Sean’s house and knocked on the door, but there had been no answer. He’d even walked past Wendy’s place, though he knew she would be at school. People had to work for a living.

The hours of walking had left his feet sore but his head clear. Becky Raymond had been wrong to suggest he should be suspicious of Christine and Will, but she did have a point. It was odd the way they weren’t asking him any questions, and the way they steered clear of certain topics. The way they hadn’t told him anything about the Regulations, and the way Will had only shown him those things on the outside of town after Sean had called him and asked.

Frank had come to a conclusion on his long walk through town: either Christine and Will were hiding something, or they didn’t trust him and thought he was hiding something. Possibly both.

Of course, if they thought that he was hiding something, they were correct. He hadn’t told them why he had been released from prison. He’d had to sort through his own feelings first. But now was the time. He had to have an honest talk with them tonight. Everybody needed to put their cards on the table. Enough with the secrets already.

The front door was locked, but that was no problem. The door knob was still the same one he had given Jake and Christine as a housewarming present so many years ago. Frank twisted it a quarter turn, pulled, twisted it a full turn the other direction, gave it a push at just the right angle, and the lock popped open.

Will and Christine were sitting at the dining room table.

“Hey,” Frank said. “You all have a good day?”

Will and Christine exchanged a glance.

“It was fine,” Christine said. “Frank, could you sit down for a minute? We need to talk.”

“Yeah, of course.” This was it, Frank knew. The chance for everyone to come clean.

Frank sat down. He felt a little like a child with mommy and daddy sitting at the ends of the table.

“Where’s Trevor?” Frank asked. “I wanted to ask him about his first day.”

“He’s at Carl’s,” Will said. His hands were squeezed into tight fists. “What was Becky Raymond doing at our house this morning?”

Frank shifted in his seat a little. The question caught him off guard. He wanted to discuss that, but he had hoped to be the one to get the ball rolling. “How’d you know about that?”

“I forgot my coffee this morning. I came back to get it and I saw her leaving. The two of you were chatting like old buddies.” Will’s ears were bright red. Will was a calm man, able to hide his emotions better than most, but Frank had played enough poker with him over the years that he could see what was wriggling beneath his cool exterior. Will was furious.

“Will,” Christine said, “let him explain.” She spoke in an uncharacteristic staccato. Her eyes were troubled.

“Okay,” Frank said. “She was here to check on my progress.”

“Your progress on what?” Will asked.

“Finding Jake.”

“Excuse me?” Will raised up out of his chair and leaned forward, palms on the table.

Frank met Will’s eyes. He felt himself getting a little heated too. There was no reason he should be under attack.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Frank said. “I was trying to get my bearings before we had this discussion.”

“Time’s up,” Christine said. “Talk to us.”

Frank nodded. He took a deep breath. “Becky Raymond came to see me in prison last week. She offered me a deal. If I agreed to help find Jake, I would be released.”

Will shook his head. “I don’t understand. Why would they think you could help?”

“Jake made an appearance last week. He talked to Sally Badwater.”

“That’s impossible.” Christine’s voice quivered as she spoke. “Sally Badwater’s making it up. She’s batshit crazy, and she’s telling stories.”

“No,” Frank said. “Jake told her something. Something only he would know. I believe her.” Frank didn’t want to explain the Cassandra lock. Not now, anyway.

Will stood up straight and pointed a shaky finger at Frank. “There is no way Jake’s in town. You think he’d go see Sally Badwater and not visit Christine and Trevor?”

Frank shrugged. “I only know what I know. It seems crazy to me, too. Maybe he’s trying to protect you guys.”

Christine rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands. “Okay, say it is true. Why did Becky Raymond come to you?”

“Jake told Sally that he needed to see me. So they let me out. Becky said I had one month to find him. And I had to agree to weekly meetings to discuss my progress. That was what you saw today.”

“This is incredible,” Christine said.

Will took a step back from the table. His balled up fists were at his side. “You know what’s incredible to me? After we took you in, no questions asked, you didn’t think to mention that Jake, Christine’s ex-husband, Trevor’s father—” he gritted his teeth, but Frank saw the tears in his eyes, “—my best friend. You didn’t mention that he was out there. They’re hunting him right now and he might need our help.”

“Will,” Christine said. “You’re wrong.”

“Thank you,” Frank said. “If we could all take a minute—”

“You’re wrong to say that they’re hunting Jake.” She nodded toward Frank. “Frank is the one hunting Jake.”

“Whoa, Christine, please. Let me explain.”

“Explain what?” Her eyes were filled with fury. “You agreed to track down Jake in exchange for your freedom! Explain to me what kind of a person does that.”

“It’s not like that. I’m trying to find Jake, yeah, but I’m gonna warn him. I wouldn’t turn him in.”

“Then why the secrecy?” Will asked.

“It’s not like you've been super forthcoming, either. Listen, maybe we need to work together. We can find Jake. Isn’t that what you want? Becky Raymond mentioned these objects. They have a broken clock symbol on them. She said Jake was obsessed with them. Have you seen anything like that?”

Will’s lips pressed together into a tight line. He said, “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Frank knew Will was lying. He knew it as sure as he knew his own name. “Okay. How about the cabins? Did you clear them out before the Hansens moved in? Maybe we can look around out there. If Jake had to hide something, that’s where he’d stash it.”

“We moved everything out,” Christine said. “There’s nothing there.”

“What about my guitar case? The one with my locks in it.”

“We put all your stuff in a storage unit. We can go down there tomorrow if you want.”

Frank shook his head. “Gus Hansen said he had the guitar case. If you missed that, there might be other things out there too. Some of Jake’s things maybe. I should go take a look.”

There was a long moment of silence. “Damn it,” Will said. “I know you are fresh out of prison and don’t know any better, but there are things going on in this town that even your buddy Sean doesn’t know about. Bringing the city manager here could have really screwed us. I love you like a brother, and Christine does too. But if you put my family in danger—”

“What?” Frank asked. His voice was loud, almost a shout. He felt himself slipping, starting to lose control of his emotions. “What will you do, Will?”

Christine spoke softly. “You’re not the only killer in this house, Frank.”

Frank stopped, mid-breath. “What are you saying?”

“Will and I have done things, terrible things, to protect this family and to make sure Trevor has a future. We’ve sacrificed so much. We’ve hurt people, and we will do it again if we have to.”

Frank looked back and forth between Christine and Will, two of his closest friends in the world. All he saw in their eyes was ice. He believed Christine.

He pushed back his chair. “I’m sorry if I put you in danger. That is the last thing in the world I’d ever want to do. Maybe I should clear out of here for a while.”

Christine and Will were silent.

Frank paused, hoping they would say something. Maybe ask him not to leave. At least say goodbye. But they didn’t. Frank walked out the front door and headed into the darkening streets of Rook Mountain.

IN THE BEFORE (PART 4)

“Frank,” Brett said. “You ever feel like maybe you need a change of scenery?”

Frank shrugged. “You want to get out of Rook Mountain?”

Brett strummed a lazy D7 chord. “I don’t know. I guess. I’ve lived in these mountains all my life. I still think they’re pretty, but there’s something stifling about them too, you know? The trees are so thick it’s like they want to squeeze you. Not like the Rockies. Those mountains give a man a little room to think. Or the ocean. I could really spread out near the ocean.”

“You’ve got some weird ideas, dude.”

The two men were playing guitar on Frank’s porch, strumming old country tunes and 90’s grunge songs. Brett did a mean Billy Corgan imitation on “Bullet with Butterfly Wings.” It was the odd night when Will wasn’t around. He had some PTA function or something, so the three amigos were dos tonight. On nights like these, they often pulled out the guitars and jammed. Will was learning to play, but his limited chord vocabulary held them back a bit. Sometimes Todd came by with his perpetually out of tune ukulele. But on the nights when it was just Frank and Brett, they could get lost in the music and really jam.

They made an odd pairing. Brett was always talking as if he couldn’t stand the silence. He’d talk about anything, from the sad state of popular music to his grandfather’s rare coin collection. He was the type of guy who would start calling friends to chat anytime he had a drive longer than ten minutes. It didn’t even matter who—he would keep working his way through his contacts list until someone answered. Frank, on the other hand, cherished the silence.

It was understandable, Frank supposed. Brett was used to a houseful of kids and a wife who talked his ear off. His recent divorce had left him lonely. At first, he had a hard time understanding Frank’s quiet nature, but he came to accept it over time.

Frank was about to launch into “Interstate Love Song” when Brett said, “You know what I saw today?”

Frank reached for his beer. “I really don’t.”

“I was walking down by Gravel Park and I saw this little crowd gathered around. There were maybe ten people. I figured it might have been some kind of class or something, so I wandered over to see what was up. And guess what I saw?”

“I still have no idea.”

Brett leaned his guitar against the porch railing to free up his hands. He was a big hand talker. “Okay, so all the people are sitting on the ground in a semicircle around this rock. And guess who’s sitting on the rock like he’s Buddha or something? That Zed guy.”

Frank snorted out a laugh. “Naked Zed?”

“Yeah. I mean, he was wearing clothes but that’s the guy. I didn’t recognize some of the people, but I did know a few of them. There was Nate Grayson. And that girl Will took to that Strange Brood concert in Asheville—”

“Mary Gunderson.”

“Yeah. And Becky from the gas station on the corner of Dennis Cove Road.”

“Becky Raymond.”

“Yeah. So I stood back a little ways and watched. I wasn’t close enough to hear what he was saying, so I was kind of watching their body language. And, man, they were hanging on his every word. He was going on and on like he was giving a sermon or something. And they were eating it up. It was like Jesus with the ‘Blessed are the meek’ stuff.”

“The Beatitudes.”

“What?”

“The ‘Blessed are the meek’ stuff. That’s from the Beatitudes. It’s part of the Sermon on the Mount.”

“Anyway, I’m standing there watching, and all of a sudden Zed looks right at me and nods toward me. And all his little groupies turn their heads. Then one of the guys, this dude I’ve never seen before, stands up and walks over.”

“No way.”

“So I stand there, trying to figure out if this guy is going to get aggressive, trying to decide what to do if he does. Fight or flight and all that. But then I see he's smiling. He walks up and says, ‘Brett, Zed would like you to join us.’ Keep in mind, I’ve never met this dude.”

Frank laughed. “What did you say?”

“I didn’t know what to say! I just kind of shook my head and walked away. I’m telling you, Frank, this Zed guy is up to no good. We’ve got a real David Koresh situation building here. You met him. Can you imagine sitting there listening to him talk for twenty minutes? Voluntarily?”

Frank shook his head. “I could barely stand him for five minutes.”

“Weak minds, I guess.” Brett took a drink of his beer. “So how’s the workshop fund coming?”

Frank sighed. “It’s coming. I got a big payment in yesterday. I’m still eighteen months away from being able to get a real shop set up, though. That’s if I’m lucky.”

Brett smiled. “Man, when you start mass producing your locks, I’m going to be bugging you for a job.”

“I didn’t realize you were a qualified locksmith.”

Brett shrugged. “I’ll do whatever. Sweep floors. Help with the books. As long as I make enough to tell my current boss to suck it. I don’t need much. Just enough for rent on one of these cabins, a little food money—”

“Child support,” Frank said.

“Yeah.” Brett frowned. “That too. How much are your locks going for these days?”

“Anywhere from fifty bucks for the standard models up to a few hundred for the custom jobs. But it’s not like the money’s going to be rolling in the minute I get the shop set up. I’ll still be a one man operation. I’ll be able to work a little faster, that’s all. I’ll build it up slowly. Maybe bring on another locksmith in a few years so I can concentrate on designs.”

Brett wagged a finger at him. “What you need is an investor. You get some capital behind you, I’ll bet you could have your locks in every magic shop and hobby store in the country in a couple years.”

Frank smiled. “Maybe I should join Zed’s cult. Get them to fund me.”

Brett let out a full-bellied laugh which quickly devolved into a coughing fit. “Not the worst idea I’ve ever heard.” He stood up. “I gotta take a piss. Mind?”

“Yeah, sure,” Frank said. It was a little odd that Brett asked. He wasn’t usually averse to walking into Frank’s house without asking permission.

It wasn’t until almost eleven the next morning that Frank noticed the guitar case was gone.

It was only by chance that Frank had discovered it at all. He had wanted to look at it this morning. Tinker with some of the locks he kept in there. He looked under the bed, but the case wasn’t there. He ran over to the cabin next door, the one he used as his workshop, but it wasn’t there, either. His guitar case and all the locks inside of it were gone. His life’s work. Thirty original lock designs, including ten prototypes not yet for sale. Including the unfinished Cassandra lock.

After some initial panic, a surprising sense of calm settled over him. There had only been one person in his cabin since he had last seen the guitar case. That person had always shown an uncommon interest in the locks Frank left laying around the house. Brett would mess with them for days trying to figure out the trick to opening them until Frank finally took pity and showed him how to do it.

Frank started at Brett’s cabin, first knocking on the door and then breaking in through a window when there was no answer. The inside of Brett’s place had always been sparse –nothing on the walls and only a few pieces of furniture, as if he expected to move back in with his wife at any moment—but this took it to a whole different level. The furniture was still there, but everything else was gone. The clothes, the bedding, even most of the food. Brett must have packed up his things during the night and headed out.

The room felt ten degrees colder than it had a moment ago. How long had Brett been planning this?

Frank sat down on the old overstuffed recliner in Brett’s living room and pushed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. The pain brought clarity.

It all made a sick kind of sense. Brett had been wiped out financially and emotionally by the divorce. He had gone from living an upper-middle class lifestyle to barely being able to scrape by. He had been on the edge for a while. It wasn’t shocking that he would bolt in the night. But what was he planning to do with Frank’s locks?

He took a deep breath and pulled out his cell phone. He needed to call the police. Something held him back, though. If he could get to Brett himself and talk to him, maybe the law didn’t have to get involved. And there was one place Frank was almost certain Brett would go before leaving town for good. Frank glanced at his watch and ran for his truck. There was still a chance.

He almost cried with relief when he saw Brett’s Chevy Malibu parked in front of the bank downtown. Its back seat was stuffed with clothes and boxes. Frank pulled in next to it and got out. He leaned against the back of Brett’s car and waited.

Brett walked out of the bank ten minutes later, carrying a backpack slung over one shoulder. Brett slowed when he saw Frank. The color drained from his face, but he recovered quickly, forced a smile, and kept walking.

“Hey man,” Brett said. “A little early for you isn’t it?”

Frank put on a smile of his own. “I couldn’t sleep. I kept having this weird feeling like there was something I needed to do this morning.”

“Cool,” Brett said. “We still on for poker tonight? Maybe we can see if Jake and Christine are free?”

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen, buddy.” Frank nodded toward the backpack. “You might have packed up during the night, but I knew you’d have to wait until the bank opened to get those. That was a mistake. What are they worth? Two grand?”

Brett shrugged. The smile was gone. “Sentimental value, I guess.” His grandfather’s coin collection was one of the few things Brett had been able to keep in the divorce. He was immensely proud of it. He kept it in a safety deposit box at the bank, but he talked about it constantly. Frank knew he wouldn’t leave town without it.

Frank stood up straight and crossed his arms. “I only have one question. Was this a spur of the moment thing? Or have you been planning this?”

“I’m not going to lie to you. It was a little of both. I’d been thinking about it for a while and last night I saw my opportunity.”

“Damn dude, that’s cold. How’d you get the guitar case out?”

“I slipped it out the bedroom window. I came back and got it later after you went to bed.”

“What are you gonna do with a bunch of puzzle locks anyway?” Frank asked.

“This dude approached me, and offered me some cash for your locks.”

Frank paused. Who would want his locks? A competitor? “How much?”

“They offered me five grand.”

Frank stepped forward. He was close to Brett now, only a few feet away. Within arm’s reach.

“That’s it?” Frank asked. “Five grand? You sold me out for five grand?”

Brett stepped up to Frank. “I was leaving town anyway. I needed a little more cash. But don’t act like we’re lifelong buddies. We’ve known each other what, six months? And you’ve looked down on me the whole time. You’ve always thought I was pathetic.”

“Give me the case and I won’t call the police,” Frank said. “I’m gonna beat the piss out of you either way, but I won’t call the police.”

“I’m not giving you the case. I’m getting my money and leaving town.”

Frank looked away for a moment and took a deep breath. How many times had Brett been in his home? How long had he been planning to betray Frank? “You don’t understand what’s happening here. I caught you. You are not leaving my sight until you give me the case.”

Brett chuckled. “No, you don’t understand. You want to live your weird little bohemian lifestyle in the mountains making artisan locks or whatever, go right ahead. Live your hippie dreams. I don’t want to live like that. I had a great life, and I want to make a new one. I’m leaving, so get out of my way.”

He shoved Frank. Frank stumbled back two steps and caught himself on the side view mirror of Brett’s car. He straightened himself to his full height and glared at Brett, with his middle age beer gut and that stupid backpack over his shoulder.

Frank lunged forward and drove his fist into Brett’s stomach. Brett’s breath left him with a whoosh, and he doubled over. The backpack slipped off his shoulder and hit the ground with a thud, and a dozen coins tumbled out of the bag and clinked onto the pavement. One of them fell against Frank’s right foot.

Frank glanced down at the coin. He paused, then looked at it a little harder. The coin was different than any currency Frank had ever seen. It didn’t feature the face of a historical figure. It didn’t display an eagle or the Statue of Liberty. This coin featured a different symbol—a broken clock.

Frank found it hard to look away from the coin. It held his gaze like a vise. It was suddenly hard to concentrate. Frank felt dizzy.

He heard Brett moan, and the coin’s spell was broken. Frank looked up at Brett, and he felt a fury like none he had ever known before. A single punch to the stomach? That wasn’t enough punishment for what Brett had done. Not nearly enough.

Frank looked to his left and there in the bed of his truck was his tire iron.

Frank picked up the tire iron, gripping it with both hands. The iron felt cold against his skin and the weight of the thing in his hand was pleasant. He raised the tire iron and brought it down hard on Brett’s back.

Brett collapsed, groaning as he wriggled on the ground. After a moment, he rolled onto his side and looked up at Frank, his body rigid with pain.

Frank shifted the tire iron to one hand. He raised it over his head.

“No!” shouted Brett. “Wait! I’ll tell you where it is. Just put that thing down!” He twisted onto his back and crab-walked backwards through the parking lot. Frank followed, not hurrying, the tire iron still raised above his head. Brett looked pathetic scooting across the blacktop like that. Frank felt numb and cold.

Brett backed onto the grass next to the parking lot, and kept going until he bumped against a sign. ‘Grayson Park: Hours 7am-7pm.’ Brett pushed himself up, using the sign for support. He held out of a hand in front of him as if to keep Frank at arm’s length.

Frank felt a fresh wave of anger flow through him. He reached back with the tire iron, then brought it around hard. It crashed into Brett’s temple, rocking his head to the side like it was on a hinge. Brett fell to the ground and moaned. After some time—Frank had no idea how long—he noticed the moaning noises had stopped. Brett wasn’t moving.

Frank stood over Brett, the tire iron still clutched in his hand, for what felt like hours. Eventually he heard someone scream, and a little while later, he heard a voice yelling at him to drop the weapon, to drop it or they would shoot. He absently wondered what they were talking about, and then he noticed the tire iron in his hand. It was sticky with blood.

With a great effort, Frank uncurled the fingers of his left hand. The tire iron fell to the ground with a clang.

The screaming voices told him to put his hands on his head, and he did. They told him to drop to his knees, and he did that, too. Then they were on top of him, throwing him to the ground. He felt handcuffs click on his wrists and wondered how long it would take him to escape from them if he wanted to. He didn’t want to, though. He wanted to lie there and die.

He looked over and saw his old friend Sean. Sean looked upset, and Frank wondered if he was having a bad day.

By the time they put him into the police car, Frank was starting to come back to himself. He didn’t fully understand what he had done—not yet—but he couldn’t stop hearing the meaty thud of the tire iron hitting Brett’s skull, feeling the jar of the impact in his hand, and seeing Brett’s dead face.

CHAPTER FIVE: THE CASSANDRA LOCK

1.

If Frank had any sense, he would have headed to Sean's. Sean lived within walking distance, he lived alone, and—best of all—Sean would take him in no questions asked. But Frank wasn't going to Sean's.

The other option was to head for the edge of town, just step over the town line and let the Unfeathered have him. The board of selectmen weirdos wanted him to find Jake, and he was starting to think maybe that was exactly what happened to his brother. Why not join Jake? But that wasn't where he was going, either.

As he walked, the spaces between homes grew larger and larger until the road was flanked with pine trees and there was not a house in sight. He stepped off the gravel and felt the pleasant crunch of pine needles under his feet. He would approach the cabins from the back and hope for the element of surprise. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for and he didn't know exactly where to look. All he knew was that Will and Christine were hiding something out here. Whatever it was, it had to be important. They had allowed the most feared family in town to live there, which – Frank had to admit – was a pretty ingenious tactic to keep people away. Frank had a terrible, growing suspicion that Will and Christine knew more about Jake’s disappearance than they were admitting.

The beginnings a plan were forming in Frank's head. To call it a plan was probably too grand—call it an approach. Combined with a little luck and his reputation as a convicted killer, it might be enough to get him through the night. Frank knew that he would have to take out Ty first. His best bet was to deal with the big man rather than to leave him running around to muck things up later.

Frank paused when he came within sight of the dull light of the cabins. He crouched behind a tree and scanned the yard until he found what he was looking for. A thick dog chain staked to the ground. The chain would serve nicely in the dual role of weapon and potential tool of restraint. The presence of a dog was a little worrisome. The Hansens didn’t seem like the type of family who would have a dog that was prone to licking strangers rather than biting them. It hadn’t started barking yet, which was a good sign. Frank hoped the dog wasn’t in Ty’s cabin.

He waited, shrouded in the darkness and security of the familiar pine trees, until the lights clicked off in each of three occupied cabins—first the one on the left, then the right, then the middle. He stayed in his spot for what felt like an hour after that, then made his move.

Frank ran to the chain and unhooked it from the stake. He shuffled to his old cabin and crouched in front of it, his eyes an inch above the level of the porch floorboards. There were two rickety old wooden chairs on the porch, and a small table with a mason jar half full of an unidentified liquid. It might have been tea, whiskey, or tobacco spit—it was too dark to tell.

His approach was a bit juvenile, but he was beyond trying to cook up cool plans. He was flying solely on instinct. He crept up the porch steps and paused at the door. He stood up to his full height and brought the chain to his chest. He took a deep breath and rapped on the door hard three times—rat tat tat. He turned and pressed his back against the wall next to the door.

Frank heard the heavy thud of footsteps inside. A light switched on. Its glow flowed out of the windows into the night, fading a few feet to Frank’s left.

Good, thought Frank. Let him ruin his night vision.

The cabin door creaked open, and a huge shadow spilled out onto the porch. Frank stood statue still, trying not to breathe.

“Who’s out here?”

Conflicting waves of excitement and terror crashed through Frank. The voice was low, slow, and relatively youthful. It was Ty’s voice.

“You hear me? Who’s out here?”

The door opened a bit further, and the hulking form appeared in the doorway. Frank saw the big man’s hands and grew the tiniest bit calmer. Ty’s hands were empty. His uncle and father would have answered the door with a shotgun in hand, but Ty was used to his physical size being enough to dominate most situations.

Moment of truth. Frank gripped the chain in both hands and waited to see what would happen next. Either Ty would step inside and Frank would have to knock again, or Ty would step out a little further. Frank allowed himself a long slow breath. He would need all the oxygen he could get in just a moment.

“I know you’re out here.” Ty took one step forward. “Better speak up before—”

Frank moved in fast, swinging the chain like a jump rope up and over Ty’s head. He pulled both ends as hard as he could, and Ty staggered toward him.

Frank cursed. He had meant for the chain to wrap around Ty’s neck, but he had underestimated the size of the man. The chain had caught Ty around the shoulders. Still, Frank had knocked him off balance. Frank kept pulling, and the big man tumbled to the ground with a shout.

Frank pounced on the downed man’s back. He pulled both ends of the chain hard, tightening it across Ty’s chest. Ty groaned in surprise and pain. Frank held his grip. Ty’s hand closed around Frank’s ankle and he pulled, sending Frank spinning to the ground. Frank hit the ground hard and lost both his wind and his grip on the chain.

He rolled onto his side and dragged himself to his feet, straining to force enough air into his lungs. Ty rose much faster. The big man was up while Frank still struggled to get his feet under him. Ty grabbed Frank by the collar and slammed his back against the wall of the cabin. The big man held Frank there, Frank’s feet dangling off the ground.

Ty squinted at him in the darkness. “Who are you?”

Frank tried to speak, but only a cough escaped. Ty slammed him against the wall again, and the cabin rattled.

“Who are you? Talk!”

“I—I—” Frank tried to speak, but he wasn’t having much luck. He wasn’t sure what he would have said anyway.

“Do you know who I am?” Ty asked. “Do you have any idea how bad you just screwed up?”

“I—” Frank said, and he slammed his knee into Ty’s crotch. The big man released Frank and doubled over. Frank landed and staggered, putting one hand on the wall for balance. Ty raised his head and started to straighten. His face looked an impossible shade of red in the light coming through the cabin window.

Frank threw three quick jabs into Ty’s face. He aimed for the nose and connected solidly on two of the three punches. He heard something snap on the last punch. Ty moaned and staggered backwards.

Frank reached down and snatched the chain off the ground. He spun it over his head, getting its speed up until it whistled through the air, then he flicked his wrist and the end of the chain slammed into the side of Ty’s head with a crack.

Frank pulled back the chain, once again holding each of the ends in one hand.

Ty raised his bloodied face, let out a howl of fury, and charged. The big man ran on pure rage. His eyes had to be filled with tears from that busted nose. Frank ducked under Ty’s outstretched arms, got behind him, and threw the chain over his head. This time, he didn’t miss the neck.

He put his knee against Ty’s back and pulled on the chain until the big man sank to his knees. Frank eased the pressure on the chain a little. He didn’t want Ty to pass out, but he couldn’t have him getting loose either.

“Jerry sends his regards,” Frank said. “I spent the last few years with him inside. Nice guy. We all called him the Newg. Doesn’t like you much, though.”

“I’ll…rip...your...head…”

Frank tightened the chains, cutting off Ty’s words. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Anyway, I’m here about something else.” Frank couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Ty. One minute the guy is asleep in his bed; the next he has a broken nose and is being choked with a chain. Frank couldn’t work up too much sympathy, though. According to the Newg, Ty Hansen had done worse than this to less deserving folk. Much worse.

Ty uttered another frustrated groan.

Frank glanced toward the two cabins to the north, wondering if they had heard the fight. He knew from personal experience how well sound carried here, how thin the walls of the cabins were. He had heard more than he wanted to of Christine and Jake carrying on back in the day.

Frank said, “Let’s go inside. This is going to be a little awkward, but I think we can do it. Get up.”

Frank eased the tension on the chain a little, allowing Ty to stand. Frank’s comfort level dropped as Ty straightened to his full height. He was one big guy. Frank was six feet tall, and Ty had a good six inches on him. He was solid too, built like a big NFL linebacker. It was a miracle the guy hadn’t crushed him already.

Frank steered Ty, using the chain like a horse’s bridle. The big man shuffled forward and awkwardly opened the screen door.

“Easy,” Frank said. They walked through the door, and Frank guided him to the kitchen. “Kneel down there. By the radiator.”

“You...gonna…kill me?” croaked Ty.

“No, not unless you make me. I have some questions for you. And I can’t have you punching me while I’m asking. Put your arms by your side.” He took a deep breath and slid the chain off Ty’s neck and down around his midsection. He pulled chain tight, pinning Ty’s arms to his sides.

Before Frank had gotten into locks, he had been fascinated by knots, and he knew some good ones. He threaded the chain around the radiator and tied a constrictor knot. There was no way Ty would get out of that one. Frank wasn’t even sure how he would release Ty when this was over.

With the pressure off his neck, Ty fell forward and coughed violently.

“Take all the time you need,” Frank said. “Get some air. Let me know when you’re ready.” Frank walked over to wall and flipped off the light switch. It was better to do this kind of thing in the dark.

Ty’s coughing fit subsided. “You stupid piece of shit. You broke my nose. I’m gonna kill you.”

“Not today,” Frank said. “Today you are gonna answer my questions, or I’m gonna to beat you even bloodier.”

Ty’s big silhouette quiver, either with anger or the strain of trying to catch his breath, Frank didn’t know which.

“Good answer,” Frank said. “I know Christine Hinkle is hiding something out here. What is it?”

Ty smiled. “Osmond.”

“What?”

“It’s Christine Osmond now. She hooked up with that teacher pretty quick after your brother lit out, didn’t she?” Ty spit some blood onto the floor. “Didn’t I beat up you and your brother after a football game once?”

“Thanks for reminding me. I was starting to think I might have been too hard on you. Let’s get back on topic. What’s Christine hiding?”

“Sorry, man. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Frank kicked Ty, connecting with the big man’s side, and Ty screamed in pain and rage. Frank’s eyes flickered toward the window, toward the other cabins. They remained dark.

That kick had probably been a little too hard. He might have done some real damage. Frank was hoping the harder he kicked, the fewer times he would need to do it. That was the theory anyway.

Part of Frank, a distant rational part, was shocked that he was once again hurting someone. But the rest of him, the part that was sick to death of the secrets and the Regulations and Christine and Will dancing around topics, that part was all too happy with what was happening. Maybe he couldn’t get his old life back. Maybe he couldn’t get his brother back. But he sure as hell was going to try.

“Tell me,” Frank said.

“Okay, man, relax. But you can’t tell Christine I talked. She lets us stay here for free, but we aren’t supposed to ask any questions about what she does out here. And we can’t mess with her things.”

“What things?”

“In that shed down the path. She’s got a freezer chest in there and she keeps it locked. Every time she comes out here she spends some time in that shed. Your guitar case is down there too.”

Frank sighed. “Okay. Is the shed locked?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’s the key?”

“My keys are in a bowl near the door. I don’t have a key to the freezer, though, just the shed.”

Frank walked to the door and grabbed the keys. “Fantastic,” Frank said. He walked into the bedroom and rummaged around in the dark until he found a t-shirt.

“Listen up. I’m going out to the shed. If everything is as you say, I’ll come back and untie you in a few minutes. But I can’t have you screaming your head off and waking up the family while I’m gone, so I’m going to have to gag you.”

Ty didn’t say anything, so Frank brought the t-shirt over and wrapped it around his head, stuffing it deep into his mouth. Frank made sure it was tight enough that Ty wouldn’t be able to move his tongue much, but not so tight that he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

“Look,” Frank said, “I know you’re not too comfortable, but we’re almost done. Five minutes in the shed and then I’ll let you go.”

Ty moaned weakly.

Frank walked out the door and headed for the tree line. The path was more overgrown than it had been when he lived here, but even in the dark Frank had no trouble finding the shed. It was locked with a standard-issue hardware store padlock—the cheap kind. Frank clucked with disapproval. Hadn’t he told Christine and Will a thousand times how easily one of these could be picked? He pulled out Ty’s keys and unlocked the door.

It was pitch black inside the shed. He wished he had thought to bring a flashlight from Ty’s cabin. He groped along the wall until his hand found the light switch. With the light on, he quickly slid the door shut.

At the back of the shed, he saw the guitar case leaning in the corner. The breath caught in his throat at the sight of it. He hurried over and ran his hand across the hard plastic exterior. All the trouble his stupid locks had caused. Maybe he should have let Brett take them. Maybe he should have forgotten about locks altogether and done something useful with his life.

He opened the case and saw them, his creations, his babies, his locks. The Yeti, The Horse Collar, The 51st Star, and twenty-seven other models. He loved them all, but it was the one he had never completed that he loved the most. The Cassandra lock didn’t look like the rest of them. It was a silver hoop which hooked into a metal square. There was no key hole and there were no perceptible seams on the lock. It was a brilliant design, Frank wasn’t afraid to admit. He just couldn’t get it to work.

Was this what Jake wanted Frank to bring to their mysterious meeting? Or was he supposed to finish it first? He picked up the unfinished Cassandra lock and put it in his jacket pocket.

Frank saw the freezer in the back of the shed, exactly as Ty had described. The lock on it made Frank smile. Maybe Christine and Will weren’t so dumb after all. It was the Gazelle, one of his best models. Opening it required a key and a bit of pressure in the right spot. The freezer would be safe from anyone. Anyone but Frank.

He reached into the guitar case and found the Gazelle master key. He had the lock off in five seconds. He opened the lid of the freezer, and the first thing he saw was a head.

He took an involuntary step backward and put his hand to his mouth. It was one of those things. The Birdies. The Unfeathered. Ice hung from its long beak and its open eyelids. The head was a cool bluish color.

What were Christine and Will into? Had they killed this thing? Why keep the head?

He pushed aside the revulsion and moved back to the freezer. There were other things in there too. A key. A knife. A lighter. A cane. A mirror. Each item had the broken clock symbol. Seeing the symbol again took him back to that day. The day he had killed Brett. A shudder went through him and the familiar feeling of guilt washed over him.

Frank removed the objects, holding each item in his hand for a long moment. This was it. This freezer was Will and Christine’s big secret.

Frank had no idea what the items might signify, but he knew they must have some importance. Becky Raymond had called them dangerous. She’d said that Jake had been obsessed with finding them. What was the connection to the coin he had seen on the terrible day so many years ago?

He put the lighter, key, the mirror, and the cane back into the freezer. He picked up the knife, paused, and then slid it into his pocket. He was going to take one of the items with him, and a knife could always come in handy. He picked up the guitar case and left the shed.

When he got back to the cabin, he stopped and stood on the porch, unsure of what to do next. He got what he came for, but what good had it done him? He needed help. He needed to talk to someone who knew the town and might understand the significance of the items in the freezer. He wasn’t sure he trusted Christine and Will anymore, and, more importantly, he knew they didn’t trust him.

He had to go to the guy with no reason to lie. The guy who had told him the truth about the Regulations. He didn’t much like the idea of walking all the way there, though. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Ty’s keys.

He opened the door to the cabin and stuck his head inside. Ty’s large dark shape was still crouching on the floor next to the radiator.

“Hey man,” Frank said. “I’m really sorry, but I’m not going to be able to untie you. I’m gonna need to borrow your truck for a while.”

Ty emitted a low groan that he probably had meant to be a scream.

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” Frank shut the door and walked out. The truck was parked in the driveway. He got in, took a deep breath, and started the engine.

The lights were on in both of the other two cabins by the time he had pulled out of the driveway.

2.

Frank had been knocking for almost three minutes before a blurry-eyed Sean answered the door. Sean squinted out into the darkness. He turned on the porch light.

“Frank? Is that you?”

“Yeah, sorry to wake you, man. Can I come in?”

Sean blinked hard a few times and then nodded. “Yeah, of course. Come in.”

“I’m really sorry, man, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“What—what about Will and Christine?”

“We had a bit of a fight.”

“Oh.”

Sean shut the door and ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t all there yet, Frank could see. Maybe that was for the best. Honesty came easier to the weary mind.

“Well,” Sean said. “You're welcome to stay here. The guest bed is all made up. Hasn’t been used in about five years, so I guess I’m due.”

“Thanks. That’s not why I’m here, though.”

Sean crossed his arms and stared at Frank like he was looking at a difficult crossword puzzle. “Okay. What’s up?”

“I need your help. You ever see anything with a symbol of a broken clock on it?”

Sean’s face darkened. He suddenly looked a few degrees more alert. “Where did you see that?”

“I—I can’t tell you right now. I take it you've seen it?”

Sean nodded. “Yeah. I’ve seen it. Frank, if you saw something with that symbol on it, you have to turn it over to the police or board of selectmen.”

“Why?”

“That’s Regulation 2.”

Frank paused. “What does the symbol mean?”

“I’m not sure. But it’s tangled up with Zed somehow.”

“What do you mean?”

“The first time I met Zed, when he was wandering around naked, he was holding a pocket watch with that symbol on it.”

Frank felt his heart speed up. He reached into his pocket and felt the knife, and he thought about Sean’s words. “What’s the penalty for breaking Regulation 2?”

Sean looked him square in the eye. “Death.” He turned away and sighed. “There’s something I need to tell you about your brother.”

Frank waited.

“Jake found an object with the broken clock symbol. He showed it to a small group of us. Me, Wendy, Will, Todd, and Christine. Jake believed that we needed to keep these objects away from Zed. That Zed needed them for something. Together we started looking for more of these objects, and we found a few of them. Not long after that, Jake disappeared and they blamed those killings on him. I believe that Zed went after Jake because of the objects we found.”

“So why didn’t Zed go after the rest of you?” Frank asked.

“We don’t know.”

“I do,” Frank said. “It’s because you gave up. You’ve been living in fear of him. But I’m not afraid.”

Frank thought about Will, Christine, and Trevor. He thought about Jake, and his message to Sally Badwater. Frank took the Cassandra lock out of his pocket and looked at it. What could Jake want with a non-functioning lock?

“What’s that?” Sean asked.

Frank instinctively closed his hand. “It’s a lock I was working on before I went to prison. Never did finish it.”

Sean frowned. “I’ve seen it before.”

Frank shook his head. “No. This is the only one.”

“I’m sure of it,” Sean said. “It was on the box Zed showed the town on Regulation Day. The box he used to keep the Unfeathered outside of town.”

Frank’s knees felt like water. It wasn’t possible. “Sean, that room at City Hall where Zed took the box… I need you to tell me exactly where it is.”

Ten minutes later, Frank parked Ty Hansen’s truck three blocks away from City Hall. The building was dark, which was a relief to Frank—he had been afraid there might be a night watchman on duty.

Sean had tried to talk Frank out of going, but there had been no chance. Frank had to see that box. He picked the lock on one of the side doors and headed toward the darkness inside.

Frank counted the doors as he passed them. He stopped in front of the sixth door on the left. In the dim hallway, it looked unremarkable, just like all the rest, but this was the door to the room Zed had locked himself in the day he stopped the Unfeathered. This door had been shut later that day and not opened since.

Frank pulled out his lock picking kit. The darkness didn’t bother him. This kind of work was mostly done by feel. He gave the doorknob a jiggle and to his surprise it turned freely. His heart was thumping fast, as fast as it had when he was fighting Ty. Something was very wrong. Frank eased the door open.

A small desk lamp illuminated the room with a yellow glow. After the darkness of the hallway, the light hurt Frank’s eyes, and he had to squint. The first thing Frank noticed was the wooden box on the desk. The second thing he noticed was the man sitting behind the desk. The man was smiling, and the light from the desk lamp reflected off his teeth and his bald head.

“Hello Frank,” Zed said. “Please, come in.”

3.

Christine hung up the phone and turned to Will. “Frank’s been out at the cabins.”

The color drained from Will’s face. “The shed?”

Christine nodded. “They don’t know if he got in the freezer. If he did he locked it back up before he left.”

“If he got in the shed, he got in the freezer.”

“Yeah,” Christine said.

Will ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, let’s think about this. Worst case scenario. Let’s say he emptied the freezer and he knows everything he could possibly know. Let’s say he’s leaping into action. Where would he go?”

“There are only two possibilities,” Christine said. “Zed’s house or City Hall.”

Will stood up from the chair. “We have to find him and stop him. Maybe if we explain things, he’ll listen to reason.”

“Maybe we should have explained things that very first night.”

“The smart thing to do is to split up. I’ll take City Hall.”

“No, I’ll take City Hall. At least if I get caught I have an excuse. I can say I needed to check some medical records.”

“I could say I need to get some research materials for a Certification class.”

Christine held up her keys. “I have keys. I have a City ID badge. It makes more sense for me to be there.”

Will looked at her for a long moment before realizing he wasn’t going to win. “Fine. Will you call the Strauss’s and ask if Trevor can stay over?”

Christine nodded. “Meet back here at first light?”

Will gave her a quick kiss and turned to go.

“Don’t shoot anybody unless you have to,” Christine said.

“You either.”

Christine drove the three miles to City Hall in about four minutes. She circled the block a few times looking for Ty Hansen’s truck, but she didn’t see it. The building was dark and none of the doors or windows appeared to have been forced open. Of course, Frank probably would have been able to pick the locks on the doors. Jake used to say that the only reason Frank hadn’t broken out of jail was that he was too stubborn to live life as a fugitive.

She parked her car across the street and waited, trying to decide what to do. If Frank wasn’t here yet, she would be better off waiting and catching him before he went inside. But if he was already inside he was in trouble and needed her help. She decided to take one look around inside and then come back out to wait.

She grabbed her keys and her purse. She couldn’t help but stick her hand in the purse and feel the cold comforting metal of the gun. She left the purse unzipped for easier access.

Christine went into City Hall through the front door. If she was caught it would look better to have gone in as if she had nothing to hide. It reminded her of one of Will’s favorite old Lutheran sayings: sin boldly.

The halls were dark and there was no sign that anyone was there. She walked quickly toward her destination, her shoes clicking loudly on the linoleum and echoing through the empty halls. When she reached the sixth door on the left, she froze. For the first time in eight years, the door was open.

4.

Zed gestured to the chair in front of the desk. “Sit down.”

“I’ll stand,” Frank said.

Zed’s smile didn’t waver. “That’s fine. You know, I’m impressed. Your brother killed three people to get to me, and he never made it this far.”

Frank thought about pulling the knife out of his pocket. But what would he do with it? Stab the man? Would that even help anyone? “I guess Sean told you I was coming?”

Zed nodded. “He called me the moment you left his house.”

Frank imagined introducing Sean to his old friend the tire iron.

“Don’t be too hard on him. With your history, and your brother’s, can you blame him for erring on the side of law and order?”

“Law and order. Is that what you call it?”

“Yes,” Zed said. “What would you call it?”

“I’d call it trapping a whole town. You show up and suddenly we are cut off from the world. You’ve got your friends out there guarding the town, tearing apart anyone who tries to leave.”

“The Unfeathered? They are no friends of mine. I promise you that. I was in town almost a year before they showed up. Besides, correlation does not equal causation. That is a basic principle of science, my friend.”

Frank felt his temper rising in a way it hadn’t for a long time. “What did you do?”

Zed spread out his hands like a magician before a trick. Nothing up his sleeves. “Didn’t you hear? I saved the town!”

“That’s not all you did. It was you, wasn’t it? You paid Brett to steal my locks.”

Zed grimaced. “Come on, you came all the way here to ask me that?”

“What do you know about what happened to Jake? Did he really kill those people?”

“Okay,” Zed said. “I’ll make you a deal. If you answer one question for me, I’ll answer the one for you.”

“What’s your question?” Frank asked.

“Where did you see the broken clock symbol?”

Frank thought of Christine. And Will. And Trevor. He said nothing.

“That’s what I thought,” Zed said.

“How about this?” Frank asked. “Why did you come to Rook Mountain? Were you planning for all this to happen?”

“Ah,” Zed said. “That’s a better question. And I’ll answer it out of respect for the fact that you of all people made it into this room. I’m on vacation.”

Frank blinked hard. “What?”

“Haven’t you ever had one of those days at work? Well, maybe you haven’t, being self-employed and then a guest of the State. But trust me, those of us who work for a living sometimes need to get away. I stumbled across Rook Mountain and thought it might be a good place to relax for a couple of centuries. And if I happen to get a little business done too, all the better.”

Frank was trying hard to keep up with the conversation, but something about this room and the way Zed was talking made it hard to concentrate. “Vacation from what?”

Zed sighed. “Do me a favor, Frank. Look into my eyes.”

In spite of himself, Frank did.

It was just like the first time, the time when Zed knocked on his door. He felt Zed’s gaze claw its way into his mind, into those deepest parts of himself that he kept hidden from the world. It was like being punched in the stomach and standing naked in front of a laughing crowd at the same time.

“Interesting,” Zed said. He looked away, and Frank staggered backward, gasping for air even though it had only been a few seconds. “I’ll tell you what. I like what I see in you, and what’s a vacation without a certain element of spontaneity?”

He grabbed the wooden box in front of him and spun it around so the front faced Frank. Then he waited, watching Frank.

Frank looked at the box for a long moment before realizing what he was seeing. The box was held shut with a metal hoop that passed through a square. It had no discernible seams or openings. The Cassandra lock.

The Cassandra lock had come to him in a dream years ago. Creating it was his ultimate goal as a locksmith. He had tried a dozen times, but he had never gotten it exactly right. It was too technical, too complicated. He'd always felt like his skills were a few steps away from where they needed to be to finish his masterpiece. He’d never even spoken of it to anyone but Jake. Frank always imagined that the Cassandra lock, named after his mother, would be his life’s work.

And yet, there was a completed Cassandra lock on the table in front of him. It looked exactly as it had in his dreams.

“How?” Frank asked. “Can you read my mind?”

Zed shifted his head back and forth as if he was unsure how to answer. “Not in the way you’re thinking. It’s not like reading a book. But when I look into your eyes I do see certain images and feelings. That day at your cabin this lock was right at the front your mind. I got a crystal clear picture. I saw it in ways your conscious mind hadn’t. I liked what I saw.”

“But how did you build it?”

Zed smiled wide. “I’m a man of many talents, Frank.”

Frank felt his breath growing heavy. The back of his t-shirt was wet with sweat. “Why are you showing me this?”

Frank reached for the box, but Zed slid it back, away from him.

“I won’t let you open it,” Zed said. “This box saved the town, you know. I closed this box and locked it tight, and now the Unfeathered can’t come here anymore. It has to stay shut.”

Frank’s head was spinning, and he felt a wave of nausea. His life’s work was sitting on the desk in front of him. “Maybe everything would go back to normal. Maybe those bird creatures would go away and the cell phones would start working again.”

Zed ran his finger over the lock. “Or maybe the Unfeathered would come crashing in and kill us all. You’ll never know.”

Frank reached into his pocket and found the knife.

“It’s interesting, though,” Zed said. “Only two people in the world know how to open that lock, and they are both in this room.”

Frank pulled out the knife and opened it. He held it up toward Zed.

The smile stayed frozen on Zed’s face, but the joy left his eyes. Frank saw something frightening in its place.

“You are full of surprises,” Zed said.

Frank motioned toward the box with the knife. “Give it to me.”

“Where did you get that?”

Frank shook his head. “I’m done answering your questions. Give me the box.”

Zed licked his lips. “Give me the knife and I’ll give you the box.”

Frank looked hard at Zed. He saw something new on Zed’s face. “You’re scared of this thing, aren’t you?”

“It’s mine.” Zed’s voice was low and scratchy like he suddenly had a bad cold. “You could hurt someone with that. It’s not a tire iron. It can do some real damage.”

Frank took two steps to the right, coming around the edge of the desk. “Give me the box or I will start cutting.”

Zed shook his head violently. “It’s not right. That isn’t yours.”

Frank leaned forward, reaching toward Zed with the blade. Suddenly he heard footsteps behind him. He spun around fast, holding out the knife in front of him.

Christine stood in the doorway, a pistol in her hand. “Frank, we need to go.”

Frank shook his head. “No. Christine, he’s got it. My lock. The one from my head.”

“Frank, you’re not making sense.”

Zed seemed to have regained some of his composure. “Hello, Dr. Osmond. Would you please remind Frank that he is out of jail temporarily and that waving a knife at a Regulation-abiding citizen will not help his case for permanent release?”

Christine held out her hand to Frank. There was no color in her face. Frank realized she was terrified. “Come on, Frank.”

Frank turned back to the desk. He grabbed the box, pulling it out of Zed’s hands. He set it on the table. The Cassandra lock looked perfect, the way it always had in his head.

Frank moved the knife toward Zed. “What happens if I open it?”

“What?” Christine asked. “Frank, don’t open it. We don’t know what will happen.”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m asking. So how about it, Zed? What happens if I open it?”

It was a long time before Zed answered. “If you open that box, I leave. You are on your own. I’ll leave this town to the Unfeathered.”

Frank looked at Zed, tried looking into his eyes the way Zed had looked into Frank’s, but all he saw was emptiness. Even the fear he had seen before was gone.

“That’s all I get?” Frank asked.

“That’s all you get.”

“How about if I start cutting you?”

Zed shrugged. “I might say a few more things, but would you believe them? You already know the important stuff. That box keeps the Unfeathered away. What else do you need to know?”

Frank didn’t believe him, at least not fully. He knew Zed was lying, but he wasn’t sure about which part. Frank really wanted to try the Cassandra lock.

He picked up the box and held it to his ear. It made a soft ticking sound.

“Frank, no,” Christine said.

Frank reached for the lock and twisted it, squeezing in exactly the right place and pulling at just the right angle. The lock snapped open, and joy sprang up within Frank. The lock worked the way he had always imagined it would.

He removed the lock and opened the latch. He lifted the box’s wooden lid.

The four sides of the box collapsed outward onto the desk. The box was empty.

“That will be very difficult to replace,” Zed said.

The room was silent for a long moment. Then, in the distance, Frank heard a noise that sounded a bit like singing.

Christine put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Frank. What have you done?”

“He’s killed you all,” Zed said.

THE BAD THING THAT HAPPENED

1.

On the night the world changed, Christine was lying awake in bed trying not to look at the clock. She had struggled with insomnia all her life and that night she hadn’t slept for a moment. She knew what all the experts said, the strategies to fight it. But the experts weren’t there, lying in bed hour after hour with their minds racing, growing more stressed, more worried about how tired they would be the next day. Christine had been, and she was bored and worried and tired of the experts. She picked up her iPad to queue up an old episode of Alias. If she couldn’t sleep, at least she could have some vicarious excitement with Sydney Bristow.

Jake was fast asleep and snoring. The man could sleep through anything. When there was a thunderstorm, Christine would toss and turn all night, waking up anew at each thunderclap. In the morning, Jake would look out the window and say, “Oh look, it rained.” It hardly seemed fair.

A little circle icon on her iPad spun as it attempted to connect to the Internet. The connection had been down when Christine went to bed four hours ago, but she was hoping it would be working by now. No such luck. It wasn’t a surprise, really. Internet outages were all too common there in the mountains. She got up and walked toward the bathroom.

That was when she heard it.

The sound came from outside. It wasn’t a human noise or a machine noise. It was an animal noise, but unlike anything Christine had ever heard before. It was like a cross between a bird and a bear. Most disturbing of all, it wasn’t a constant tone. The noise fluctuated. It sounded almost like singing.

Christine froze in the middle of the bedroom, halfway between the bed and the bathroom door. Damn, that thing was loud. It had to be right under the window. She rubbed her arms. That noise, it wasn’t right. It wasn’t natural. She turned back toward the bed and said in a loud whisper, “Jake.”

To her surprise, the response came immediately. “I hear it.”

In a way, that frightened her more than the noise itself. The noise had woken up Jake, and nothing woke up Jake.

“What is that?” Jake asked.

“I don’t know. Some kind of bird or something.”

Jake pushed off the covers and stepped out of bed. He was dressed in only his boxers. “Whatever it is, it’s right outside the window.” He crossed the room to the window and opened the blinds. He craned his neck back and forth. The noise continued. “Well, I don’t see anything.”

“Do you think it could be in the house?”

“What? No. God, no.” But he didn’t look completely convinced.

“I’m going to check on Trevor.”

Jake nodded. “I’m going to go outside and see if I can see anything.”

Christine nodded and left the bedroom. The noise was almost as loud out here. The longer it continued, the more pronounced the melody became. It hurt her head to listen. It was like no song she had ever heard. She couldn’t quite tell if it was one creature making that sound or dozens of them.

She opened the door to Trevor’s bedroom. The boy was sitting up in his bed.

“Hey,” she said. “You okay?”

“Mommy, there’s singing.”

“I know honey. You want to go back to sleep?”

He shook his head. “No, Mommy. I’m scared. Can I come with you?”

Christine paused. She rarely let him sleep in their bed, but this was different. Christine didn’t want Trevor out of her sight.

“Okay,” she said. “You can sleep with me. Bring your pillow.”

Trevor visibly relaxed at this unexpected boon. He grabbed his pillow, his favorite stuffed animal, Mr. Bear, and climbed out of bed. Christine took him by the hand.

“What’s that singing, Mommy?”

“I don’t know. Daddy is checking it out.”

When they reached the bedroom, Trevor hopped onto the bed. He sat on top of the covers, his legs crossed. The moonlight through the window illuminated the Phineas and Ferb logo on his pajamas.

Christine gave him her best mother glare. “This isn’t a party. Climb under the covers and go to sleep.”

“But they’re still singing. I can’t sleep when they're singing.”

“Maybe not, but you can try.”

Trevor, resigned to his fate, slid under the covers.

Christine moved to the window and looked out. The streetlights gave her a pretty good view of what was happening below. To her surprise, Jake wasn’t standing under the window looking up at the house. He was close to the road, looking straight into the sky. And he wasn’t alone. The neighbors on both sides were out in their yards too, all of them looking up.

What was going on out there?

Christine looked across the street and saw that neighbor, too, was standing at the end of his driveway. All Christine knew about the man was his name, although they had been neighbors for almost two years. Ed Snell. He was in his late-sixties by Christine’s estimation, and he lived alone. The man kept to himself.

How much more scary must it be, she wondered, to wake up to that noise and not have anyone else in the house? Fear was like a weight, Christine thought. When there were multiple people in the house, you could spread the fear, lessening each person’s load. But if you lived alone you would have to keep all that fear for yourself.

While Christine was still considering that thought, a white shape fell from the sky onto Ed Snell. No, Christine realized. It wasn’t falling. It was flying. The shape swooped down, grabbed Ed, and turned back skyward, taking the man with it.

Christine put her hand to her mouth, stifling a scream.

“What is it, Mommy?” Trevor asked.

Christine didn’t answer.

The white shape circled through the air, once, twice, three times, and released Ed. He landed in the Hinkle’s front yard, thirty feet from Jake.

Jake ran toward Snell’s unmoving form. He was almost to the man when the white shape appeared again, swooping toward the ground. Christine put a hand to the window pane. She wanted to scream to Jake, but he was too far away.

Jake saw the shape too, and he stopped, stumbling backwards.

The white creature landed on top of Snell, its feet on his chest, and it raised its head to the sky and sang. Christine saw the creature clearly for the first time and terror shot through her heart.

It was like a bird, a giant featherless bird. The creature was so white it almost glowed under the streetlights. Its wings were big fleshy things like the wings of a bat. It was unnatural. It was terrifying.

Christine felt a tiny hand slip into her own. She hadn’t realized Trevor was standing beside her.

“What is it?” he asked.

Christine tried for a moment to think of something comforting to say, something that would make the boy feel safe, but nothing came to mind. She squeezed his hand, hoping that would help a little. “I don’t know,” she said.

Another white shape shot down from the sky. It landed next to the first. Then another joined it. And another. Soon there were six of them all gathered around Ed Snell’s body. They stood in a circle around him, their beaks open and pointed to the sky in a terrible song.

Then the song stopped, and they struck.

Trevor screamed as the first beak sank into Snell’s neck. Christine put her hand over his eyes.

The creatures moved with uncanny speed, stabbing at Snell’s body with their long thin beaks and then pulling them back, covered in blood, bits of flesh and intestines. The creatures feasted for a long time on the man, their mouths hungrily thrusting into him again and again.

“They’re eating that man, Mommy. Is Daddy going to save him?”

Christine still had her hand over her son’s eyes, but it was too late. He had already seen what he had seen.

“Trev, the man’s already dead. They aren’t hurting him.” She wasn’t sure if that would comfort the boy. She had said it partly to convince herself that it was true.

She turned her gaze to Jake. He sat on the ground, unmoving, staring at the bird creatures. Christine wanted to knock on the window, or maybe open it and yell down to him, but she also didn’t want to do anything that might call attention to Jake. The bird creatures still might be hungry when they finished with Snell.

There was only one thing to do. She would go downstairs, go outside, and get her man. She’d drag him in if she had to. There was no other option. Trevor would be fine. She’d have to make sure he understood to keep the doors and windows shut and not open them no matter what.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Jake was moving.

He stood up slowly and took a step forward.

“No,” Christine said.

Jake was walking the wrong direction. He was moving toward the creatures.

“No,” Christine said again, far too quietly for anyone but Trevor to hear.

Jake moved slowly and deliberately. Christine saw the gun in his arms. Jake stopped fifteen feet from his downed neighbor. He raised his rifle and took careful aim.

“Daddy’s going to save that man. I knew it!”

Christine realized she was no longer covering her son’s eyes. She was too afraid to move. Her eyes were glued to her husband.

Jake held his rifle pointed at the creatures for what seemed an eternity. He shifted his feet a little, corrected his aim, and fired.

The shot echoed through the neighborhood. The closest bird creature’s head exploded, raining brains and blood on its flock mates behind it as it collapsed.

Jake stood frozen. Christine willed him to move, to run. But he stood firm. The other creatures didn’t seem to notice. They continued their feast.

“Get out of there,” Christine whispered.

Jake cocked his rifle and fired again, dropping another one of the creatures. Again none of the others seemed to notice.

Jake fired again. And again. Now there were only two left.

The one closest to Jake had its back to him. Jake raised his rifle and took aim. Before he could fire, the creature lifted its head and turned to him.

Christine gasped.

It tilted its head as if trying to interpret what this man and his rifle meant. Then it lifted its bloody beak to the sky and began to sing. The other remaining bird creature stopped feeding and looked at its singing compatriot. Another white shape appeared in the sky, and then another.

Jake fired, silencing the bird creature and its song. Then he turned and bolted for the house.

As Christine watched, the remaining bird creature returned to its meal. It picked apart poor Mr. Ed Snell until there was nothing left but bones.

2.

Four days later the killings had stopped, the Regulations had been put in place, and Rook Mountain had been changed forever.

Christine knocked on the door of a large conference room in City Hall. They were calling the room the Command Center. It was a place for Zed and his inner circle to meet and do whatever it was they were doing since the town had been saved.

A short, thin man Christine didn’t recognize opened the door wide enough to stick his head through. He didn’t speak—he just waited.

“Hi,” Christine said. “I was wondering if I could talk to Zed for a minute. I have some information I think he might like to hear.”

The man looked Christine in the eye, and Christine felt a quick jolt, like a bolt of electricity running through her brain.

The man nodded. “Come in.” He led her through the large room to a desk in one corner. Zed sat behind the desk, furiously writing on a form of some sort. That seemed odd to Christine. What kind of paperwork could there really be at this point?

The short, thin man cleared his throat and Zed looked up. He saw Christine and smiled.

Christine was a little shocked at the sight of him. She had been at City Hall the day the Regulations were voted into law, but she had been near the back. She hadn’t gotten a clear look at Zed. The last time she had seen him up close had been when he was knocking on doors a couple of years ago. Then he had been subservient, odd but polite. Now he looked like a man transformed. He wore a blue turtleneck tight enough to show off his muscular physique. He looked tired, which was understandable, Christine supposed, but he also had a charismatic glow about him. He oozed confidence.

“Hi,” Christine said, holding out her hand. “I’m Christine Hinkle.”

Zed took her hand, and his smile grew even wider. “Yes. You’re a doctor, right?”

Christine nodded.

“We are going to need you, I promise you that. Not many doctors in town.” Zed held her hand a moment too long before finally releasing it. “But we can talk about that later. What brings you by today?”

“Well, first of all, thank you for what you did for our town.”

Zed waved her thanks away. “My pleasure. It’s my town too, you know.”

Christine smiled. “Yes, of course. The reason I came down here is that I think I might have something useful.”

Zed tilted his head. “Oh? What’s that?”

“The first night those creatures attacked, my husband managed to shoot a couple of them. Five, actually.”

Zed laughed out loud. “Good Lord! That’s incredible. Did you hear that, Jack?”

“I did,” the short, thin man said. “That’s mighty impressive.”

“Absolutely,” Zed said. “Tell your husband I said that’s some great shooting.”

“I will. The thing is we still have the bodies.”

The smile fell from Zed’s face. “What do you mean?”

“The creatures' bodies. You know Maria’s Pizzeria downtown? They recently closed, but their walk-in freezer is still functional. We’ve been keeping them there.”

Zed folded his hands. “Why on earth would you do that?”

Christine paused. This wasn’t the reaction she had been expecting. “We were attacked by a species never seen before. We have to study them.”

Zed chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Doctor Hinkle, I understand your impulse, and I think your heart is in the right place. You are a person of science, and thank God for that. We are going to need you. But in this case, your instinct is incorrect.”

“We need to learn everything we can about these creatures. Studying their anatomy could be the key to stopping them if they ever get through your barrier.”

“Let me explain, doctor,” Zed said. “I haven’t put up a barrier. I’ve managed to make us invisible to these creatures, these… let’s call them the Unfeathered. There is nothing stopping the Unfeathered from coming into town except that they can’t tell it exists. If I’ve done my job, and I think I have, they will feel a slight discomfort, a natural aversion to this place.”

Christine’s eyes narrowed. That wasn’t quite how he had explained it that day at City Hall. Truth be told, he hadn’t explained it much at all. He had just said that he could stop them.

“The only way the Unfeathered will come into the town,” Zed continued, “is if they have a reason stronger than the natural aversion I’ve put in place. The most likely reason would be a person going out of town. Once they have attacked a person, they will keep on attacking and, if the person fled back to town, the Unfeathered would follow. Hence the Regulations. What might be some other reasons? We don’t know.”

“That’s why we need to study them. There is so much we don’t know.”

“Or maybe having those bodies, the bodies of their fallen brothers, could draw them here.”

“That’s a big leap,” Christine said. “We have no reason to think that.”

Zed sighed. “Doctor Hinkle, we’ve put this town back on track. Keeping those bodies is too big a risk. We have to burn them immediately.”

“Maybe we should let the town know we have them. Let the people decide.”

Zed pulled out a pocket watch and opened it. Christine saw a symbol on the watch—a broken clock. “That won’t be necessary. Jack, can you send someone over to Maria’s to pick up the bodies right away?”

Jack nodded. “I’ll send Russ over there. He’s got that pickup.”

“Good,” Zed said. He looked up at Christine, that glowing, confident smile back on his face. “Doctor, I appreciate you bringing this to me. I hope you trust that I know what I’m doing. My friends and I have a little saying: trust is a must. It’s truer now than ever before.”

Christine didn’t know what to say, so she nodded.

“Goodbye, doctor. We’ll talk soon. I have big plans for you. We need your help to keep this town running.”

Christine turned to go. As she left, she heard Zed call after her, “And say hello to your husband for me. I have big plans for him, too.”

CHAPTER SIX: SEVEN NIGHTS IN ROOK MOUNTAIN

Night One

“He’s killed you all,” Zed said.

Frank looked at the five pieces of wood on the table. The pieces that had been a box until he unlocked it and it fell apart. He turned to Christine.

“No, it’s okay,” Frank said. “There was nothing in the box. That couldn’t be what was keeping the Unfeathered away.”

Zed twisted his face into a grimace. “It wasn’t what was in the box. It was the box itself.”

Christine looked at Zed. The gun hung from her hand. “You can fix it, right? You can fix the box?”

Zed picked up one of the pieces of wood and turned it over in his hand. “No,” he said. “I can’t. Whatever power it had is gone.”

Frank looked at Christine. “Listen, it’s all going to be okay.”

“No, you listen,” Christine said.

Frank listened, and he heard it in the distance. The sound of them coming. The sound of singing.

“The Birdies,” Zed said. “Isn’t that what you call them, doctor?”

Christine didn’t answer.

“First they’ll come in the night for people who happen to be outside,” Zed said. “But then they will grow bolder. It won’t be long before your homes aren’t enough to protect you. Then they’ll start attacking in the daytime.” He turned the piece of wood in his hand over and over.

Frank looked down and saw that his hand was shaking.

Zed set the piece of wood on the desk. “I’m leaving.” He held out his hand to Frank. “Give me the knife. I need it where I am going.”

Frank hesitated. His instinct was to give the man what he asked for. On the other hand, Frank’s instincts had given him nothing but trouble so far. “No way.”

Zed stood up. “That’s what I figured. I suggest you two stay here for the night. It’s going to be ugly out there.”

He marched across the room, giving Frank and Christine a final frown as he slipped through the open door. There was a flash of blue light as he shut the door behind him.

Christine put her hands to her head. “Frank, what have you done?”

“I know. I’m sorry. I thought he was lying.”

“Everything Will and I have been working for, everything Jake was working for, it’s all ruined. We—” She looked up, startled. “We have to go.”

“What? No, we have to stay inside.”

“It’s Trevor. He’s at Carl’s. They were going to camp out in Carl’s backyard.”

Frank gave a quick nod. “Let’s go.”

She ran out the door. He started to follow her, then stopped. He remembered Jake’s message to Sally Badwater. “If Frank comes, tell him to bring the Cassandra lock.”

Frank swept the Cassandra lock off the table, stuffed it into his pocket, and followed Christine.

“We’ll take my car,” Christine said. “I’m closer. But I want to have my hands free if any of those bastards come at us. You’re driving.”

Frank glanced at the gun in her hand. “Maybe I should be the one doing the shooting.”

Christine gave him a hard look. “When’s the last time you shot a gun? A decade ago? Besides, I’ve always been a better shot than you or your brother.”

Frank didn’t say anything. She tossed him the keys. He got into the driver’s side.

“Carl lives over on Locust Avenue,” Christine said. “You remember where that is?”

“Yeah.” Frank gripped the wheel.

“What is it? Time’s a bit of a factor here, man.”

Frank cleared his throat. He turned toward her. “I’m sorry, Christine. For everything. For killing Brett. For leaving you and Jake to deal with all this bullshit. For opening that box.”

Christine's expression didn’t change. “You don’t have to apologize. You're family. And even though that was a dumbass move in there, it certainly proved you aren’t on the side of the Zed Heads.”

“Zed Heads?” Frank smiled.

“That’s what we call Zed’s disciples. Let’s get going.”

Frank pulled out and hit the gas hard.

Christine said, “We should have told you the score that first night. We’ve learned to be a little paranoid.”

Frank shrugged. “I understand. You do what you have to and it changes you. I know that.”

“Anyway, if we get through this night, you're staying with us.”

“Good. I get the feeling I’m not exactly welcome at the Hansens’.”

Christine grinned. “I got that impression as well when they called me. Turn on State Street. It’s faster.”

Frank pulled a hard left onto State Street. “What did you mean earlier when you said I’d messed up what you and Will were working for?”

Christine looked up, her eyes scanning the sky. “Did you see how scared Zed was of that knife? We think the things with the broken clock symbol can hurt him.”

Frank glanced at Christine. Her eyes were still glued to the sky. “You gonna give me some more details or don’t you trust me yet?”

“You help me get my son and I’ll give you more details than you ever wanted to know. Locust is the next turn.”

The singing was getting louder.

“You see them?” Christine asked. “They’re high, but they're there. They leave a little white glow behind them when they fly, freaky little bastards.”

“Christine, do you think Jake’s still alive?”

Christine finally took her eyes off the sky and looked at him. “I know he is.”

Two minutes later, they pulled into Carl’s driveway. Christine knocked on the door. When Carl’s father answered, she said five words. “Send Trevor out. They’re back.”

Night Two

Will handed Frank the shotgun. “You sure about this?”

Frank took the gun. Between that and the pistol stored away in his shoulder holster, he was ready. “I’m sure. It’s my fault we’re in this damn mess.” He glanced at the open gun cabinet. “You were never an NRA type guy in the Before.”

Will shoved another box into his backpack, then zipped it shut. “I was a lot of things in the Before. In this town, with those things out there and the Zed Heads in charge, I thought I could use some firearms. There never was a shortage of them here.”

“You know, I’m a little surprised. A guy like Zed takes power, I would think the first thing he’d do is round up everybody’s weapons.”

Will smiled. “Yeah, I thought that too. But having a gun makes people around here feel a little more comfortable, a little more free. The Zed Heads are all about making you feel free even if you aren’t.” He threw the backpack into his truck. “Besides, if you have a gun and you aren’t afraid to wave it around they have a much better excuse to shoot you.”

They climbed in Will’s truck and rolled out of the garage. The sun was almost down, but the singing hadn’t started yet.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Will said. “When you held the knife with the broken clock, did you feel anything?”

“What do you mean?”

Will shrugged. “When I pick up the objects… it’s hard to explain, but my mind sort of goes empty. I lose track of where I am. Sometimes I get little intuitions about what the objects are for, but mostly I just go blank. It doesn’t happen to Christine or the others. I was wondering if you might have felt it.”

“Drifting,” Frank said. “You’re talking about drifting. It didn’t happen to me when I held the knife, but it does happen to me. I don’t know why.”

“You ask me, it’s creepy. Like I’m losing myself a little.”

Frank knew exactly what he meant, but talking about it made him uncomfortable. “You don’t have to come with me tonight,” Frank said.

“Yeah I do.” He grinned at Frank. “I won the coin toss.”

Frank chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Christine so disappointed.”

“She really likes to shoot stuff.”

They drove in silence through the neighborhood before turning onto the highway that led to the edge of town.

After they got home on Monday night, Will and Christine had told Frank all about their theories on the items with the broken clock symbol. How Jake had discovered the first one. How they had started finding more of them. Jake had been so sure he could take Zed down if they could find a couple more items.

Will pulled off the road and onto a long driveway. Frank shifted in his seat nervously. “You sure about this? We could probably get along without them.”

“Maybe,” Will said. “But I’d rather have three more guns by our side. The Unfeathered killed Ty’s brother Kurt eight years ago. However mad they are at you, they are madder at the Birdies. Besides… this is going to be hilarious.”

The car rolled to a stop in front of Ty Hansen’s cabin. Three men, Ty, Gus, and Gus’s brother Teddy, were all standing in the driveway. Each was heavily armed.

Will rolled down the window. “You boys ready?”

Gus spit on the ground. “I’m ready.” He nodded toward Frank. “I ain’t too pleased with this one, but I’m ready.”

Ty smiled. His swollen nose gave his face an even more menacing look. His neck was a mess of deep purple bruises from where the chain had dug into his throat. He climbed into the back seat right behind Frank.

Ty reached up and clapped Frank on the shoulder. “You got a nice jab, man. That nut shot was a little cheap, but I’ll let it slide.”

Frank turned in his seat to look back at the man. “Yeah, look, I’m really sorry about last night. I should have handled things differently.”

Ty bobbed his head back and forth for a minute as if weighing what Frank had said. “Well, I guess you could have taken me out faster with a good blow to the head. But don’t be too hard on yourself. Breaking my nose was a nice way to go. Messed me up for the rest of the fight. I could hardly see anything.”

Will had told Frank that Ty wouldn’t be mad at him, that Ty Hansen brawled for fun and would respect Frank for besting him. Frank didn’t believe it would be quite so easy.

“You didn’t have to take my truck, though. That was low.”

“Don’t be a sore loser,” Will said. “You got the truck back.”

Ty nodded. “It was worth it for a good fight. Next time we’ll do it at your place. I won’t knock, though. I’ll come in through the window.”

Frank wasn’t sure if it was because the broken nose was muddling the inflection, but he had no idea whether or not Ty was joking.

“What’s the plan?” Teddy asked. He was a few years younger than Gus and thin as a twig. It was a hard thinness, though; the man was all long limbs and lean muscle.

Will said, “I figured we would start down by Fifth Avenue Baptist. See if we can’t draw a few out down there. Then maybe work our way up to State Street.”

Frank looked toward the back seat. “You guys all killed these things before?”

“Yep, nearly every weekend,” Gus said. “We liked to put a little animal out across the town line and then shoot the bastards for target practice.”

“Guess I’m the only virgin then,” Frank said. “Any tips?”

Ty smiled. “Aim for the head. As far as I can tell, they don’t have nuts so your usual technique probably won’t work.”

Night Three

The sun wasn’t down yet, but it was getting close. Trevor sat in the living room, staring at the sky through the picture window. How long would it be until they came again? How long until the singing started?

He didn’t remember much about the first time the Unfeathered had come, the time before the Regulations. He had only been four years old. What he did remember was images, bits and pieces like snippets from a movie he had fallen asleep while watching.

He remembered lying in bed, listening to the song. He remembered his mother’s hand covering his eyes. He remembered that scared look on his parents’ faces. He remembered long beaks covered in blood.

Trevor took a deep breath. That was a long time ago. Things were different—he was different. He wasn’t a little boy anymore. So why did he still feel so afraid?

There had been a town meeting that afternoon for all the adults. Everyone at school had been talking about it. Afterward, Will said it had been the usual type of meeting - lots of talking and no deciding. Mom hadn’t been at the meeting. She had been at the clinic all day with those who’d been injured. The town had been lucky so far. Six injuries and only one death. Folks in Rook Mountain knew enough to get inside and lock the windows when they heard that particular song.

School had been weird. The teachers tried to keep a brave face, and they upped the talk about how the Beyond students were the future of Rook Mountain and all that. But Trevor knew there were only two questions on everyone’s minds: How had the birds gotten into town and where was Zed?

Uncle Frank was already gone for the night—he’d left to hunt the Unfeathered with the Hansens again. Trevor had asked if he could go, but both Uncle Frank and Will had given him a look that said he might as well not ask again.

He squinted up into the darkening sky, watching for any streaks of white.

There was a knock at the door. The noise was so loud and unexpected that Trevor almost leapt to his feet. He went to the door and looked out the little window. There were five boys standing out there, all older than Trevor. Trevor knew them, though he wasn’t sure of all their names. They were his classmates from the Beyond Academy.

Trevor opened the door wide enough to stick his head out.

The boy in front crossed his arms. His name was Sam something, Trevor knew, and he was one of the popular kids, if there was such a thing among the brainiacs at the Beyond Academy.

“What’s up, Hinkle?”

“Hey guys,” Trevor said. The words felt awkward leaving his mouth but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Listen,” Sam said. “We weren’t sure whether to invite you given who your dad was. But then we remembered what Zed said. You’re a Beyond man. It doesn’t matter what your dad did. So you can come.”

Trevor stared at them, hoping one of them would elaborate. They didn’t. So Trevor asked, “Come where?”

Sam nodded toward the sky. “The Unfeathered are back. We are Beyond Academy. Where do you think?”

Trevor tried not to let his face betray him. They were just kids… whatever the teachers said, they were just kids. Were they really going to fight monsters? At the same time, Trevor couldn’t deny the heat of excitement warming his belly. It would feel so good to be out there fighting instead of cowered inside waiting for the adults to do something.

Finally, Trevor nodded. “Okay. Let me ask my step-dad.”

A couple of the boys laughed. Sam smiled. “You really think he’s gonna say yes to this? You think any of our parents would?”

Trevor knew Sam was right. The only way this was going to happen was if he didn’t ask permission. “What do I need to bring?”

Some of the kids laughed again, but it was a joyous laughter this time. A short boy whose name Trevor didn’t know said, “That’s the best part. They let us into the Beyond Academy’s armory. We’ve got more guns than you’ve ever seen. All you need is your trigger finger.”

Trevor wasn’t sure what to ask first. Who had let them into the Armory? Where were the guns? Also, the Beyond Academy has an armory? Instead he said, “One second. I’ll be right out.”

Trevor ducked back inside without waiting for an answer. He wasn’t going to ask permission, but he also didn’t want his mom and Will to think he’d been plucked into the sky or something. He grabbed a pad of paper off the counter and jotted a quick note. He tore off the piece of paper and stuck it under a magnet on the fridge.

He grabbed his hooded sweatshirt and walked out the door.

It was almost a half hour later when Will found the note:

Mom/Will,

I’m spending the night with some friends from school. I’ll explain in the morning. Please don’t worry. I’m safe.

Trev

Night Four

They were surrounded.

Frank stood with his back to the Hansen men. The Hansens had their guns trained on the four Birdies gathered around them. Frank’s eyes were on the sky, quickly scanning for the tell-tale white shapes. The four on the ground were troubling, but it was the possibility of an unexpected attack from above that really worried Frank.

The Unfeathered didn’t move. Neither did the men.

As one, the Unfeathered turned their beaks to the sky and began to sing.

“Shit,” Gus said. “They are calling for reinforcements.”

“Drop ‘em!” shouted Frank. He turned his gun on the Birdie closest to him.

One moment and four ear-splitting gunshots later, three of the creatures fell to the ground. The fourth, the one closest to Ty, thrust its beak forward and snapped at Ty’s leg. Another gunshot rang out, and the fourth creature hit the ground, a piece of denim from Ty’s jeans hanging from its beak.

The four men turned toward the sound of the final gunshot and saw Sean Lee standing in front of his police car, firearm raised.

“You all right?” Sean asked Ty.

The big man was gripping his leg. Blood oozed between his fingers. “Yeah,” he groaned. “I could use a bandage, but I’ll live.”

“I can’t believe you missed, Ty,” Teddy said. “That thing was like ten feet away.”

Ty gritted his teeth. “It was moving like a snake.”

“Thanks for the assist, Officer,” Gus said.

As Sean approached, Frank gave him a cold stare, and Sean sent the same right back. The two men hadn’t spoke since that night at Sean’s house. Frank wasn't avoiding Sean, not exactly anyway. Confronting Sean about turning him in to Zed was definitely on his to-do list. His anger at the police officer was never far from his mind. But things were a little hectic with the monsters attacking town every night. Frank and the Hansen men were piling up Unfeathered bodies all over town while most people huddled inside their homes. The guys purposely attracted the creatures, and when they cornered one, they gave it time to call for help before killing it. Depending who you talked to, Frank and the Hansens were either public annoyances or folk heroes.

Frank glanced down and saw the remains of the thing the Birdies had been feeding on when he and the Hansens had stumbled upon them. He wasn’t sure what the poor animal had been until he noticed the collar around its neck. It was a smallish dog. A beagle, maybe. It was hard to tell with so much of the flesh missing. Frank was fairly confident it had been a hound dog of some sort. Frank looked away. He had a soft spot for animals, and it made him sad to see that dog and think about what its last moments must have been like.

“Gentlemen, I think you better head home and do it quick,” Sean said.

The men looked at each other. Frank said, “Did we do something wrong, Officer?”

“Maybe we made you boys look bad by killing too many Birdies?” Gus asked.

“Ain’t no shortage of the bastards,” Teddy said. “Plenty to go around.”

“No, nothing like that,” Sean said. “It’s your families at home I’m worried about.”

“Our families are fine,” Gus said. “They stay inside after dark. No need to worry.”

“We’re getting some reports tonight from the outskirts of town. The Unfeathered are getting more aggressive out there. They’re attacking windows. I hear they slammed into the front door of one house over and over until the damn thing buckled.”

Frank felt the familiar wave of guilt crash over him.

“Nothing against your cabins,” Sean said, “but I’m not sure how they’ll hold up to giant birds flying into them.”

Gus looked at Ty and Teddy. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll follow you there,” Frank said.

“I’d suggest you get your family further into town,” Sean said. “We have some vacant apartments downtown. You are welcome to use them for a bit until this thing blows over.”

Ty gave Sean a hard stare. “You want us to retreat? Leave our homes to these creatures?”

Sean looked him in the eye. “Yes sir, I do.”

Gus frowned. “Let’s check out the situation before we get crazy.”

Gus, Ty, and Teddy walked to the car. Sean tapped Frank on the shoulder. “Hey, you ride with me. We need to talk.” Frank only paused for a moment before nodding.

Sean pulled his squad car in front of Gus’s beater pickup. All three Hansen men were jammed into the truck’s front seat. Sean sped down the road with his sirens blaring and his lights flashing. Even still, Gus kept right on Sean’s bumper the whole way.

Sean waited until they were a few blocks away before he spoke. “Frank, what the hell is going on? What happened to Zed?”

Frank glanced at the sky. “After you called him, you mean?”

“Yeah, I called him,” Sean said. “I thought if anyone could keep you from doing something stupid, it would be him. Looks like I was wrong.”

“You were wrong. Can’t nothing keep me from doing something stupid.”

“What happened? What did you do?”

Frank shrugged. “I opened Zed’s box. Then Zed left.”

“Where’d he go?”

“He didn’t say. He seemed like the cryptic type.” Frank brushed the thick, black blood of the Unfeathered off his jacket sleeve and onto the car’s upholstery. “I’m sorry, Sean. This is all my fault. Zed said that I’ve killed us all, and I think he might have been right.”

“We’ll find a way,” Sean said. “We’re going to stop these bastards yet.”

Frank stared straight ahead. “There ain’t no we. You sold me out. Even if you had good intentions, you still betrayed me.”

By the time they made it to the cabins the Unfeathered had already smashed through every door and window. They found Gus’s youngest son unharmed, hiding under his bed. Gus’s wife wasn’t so lucky. All that was left of her was a pile of bones in the kitchen.

Night Five

The students were collecting the feet of the Unfeathered. They lined them up along the end of the gymnasium in rows. The collection was now four rows deep.

The feet were interesting in a purely academic way, Wendy had to admit. Each foot had three toes with long claws curving out of the end. The feet were a solid fifteen inches long, and they were pure white, like the rest of the creatures’ bodies. The number of joints on each long toe varied, anywhere from three to seven. Pretty fascinating, if you didn’t think about the fact that each foot had been chopped off the leg of a monster by one of the Beyond Academy’s teenage students.

Wendy surveyed the gym once again, scanning for anyone who might need medical attention, a shoulder to cry on, or even a little pep talk. She was the only female faculty member at the Beyond Academy and she had been left to act as Den Mother to students taking a break from their hunting. She had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, it was incredibly sexist. On the other hand, if she had been given her choice of assignments, it would have been the one she picked.

It wasn’t that she was against fighting the Unfeathered. If it had been just her, she would have been out there kicking ass. She was much more ambivalent about enlisting teenagers to fight the battle. Other faculty members were out there acting as field generals, devising strategies and showing the students where to point their weapons.

They had been lucky so far. No Beyond Academy students had been killed. There were a few injuries, but none too serious. How long that luck would last was anyone’s guess.

A group of ten students shuffled into the gym followed by Ned Carlile, the science teacher.

The returning kids looked beyond tired. They were different than they had been a few days ago. They walked past without a word, approached a group of tables set up at the north end of the gym, and began disassembling their rifles to clean them.

Ned Carlile shuffled over to Wendy. “Everybody doing okay here?”

Wendy nodded. “Everybody’s okay. Spirits aren’t exactly high at the moment, but what can we expect?”

“Supplies holding up okay?”

“Yeah.” In addition to the gym, she had also been put in charge of the armory. “Unless we're planning on invading a small country, the ammo will last for the near future. How’s it going out there?”

Ned shook his head. “I don’t know Wendy. These kids… they’re amazing. A real tribute to the Rook Mountain spirit. They are professional and efficient. They listen to orders without question. They protect their brothers and sisters.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“It’s the creatures. I’m starting to think they're smarter than we thought. They attack people on the streets when they have the chance, but they're focusing most of their efforts on the edges of town. They're destroying house by house and slowly moving inward.”

Wendy tried to imagine whether such a thing was possible. “Do you really think they have the intelligence to be that methodical?”

Ned shrugged. “It might be planning, or it might be that there are more of them on the edge of town. Either way, the result is the same.”

“What do you think is going to happen?”

Ned glanced around before speaking. “Honestly? If they keep moving inward, the town won’t last another week.”

Wendy took a deep breath. There were things she could control and things she couldn’t. She could make sure everyone who stepped into this gym was safe and comfortable, but she couldn’t make sure they would survive long term. All she could do was stay in the moment and do her best.

“Have you seen Trevor Hinkle?” Wendy asked. “I thought he was with you a couple nights back.”

Ned nodded. “He was. The kid was good, too. Everything Zed hoped he would be. Fought like the devil himself. I haven’t seen him in two nights, though. I suspect his family is keeping him at home.”

“Good. I wanted to make sure he was okay.”

“Some of the boys wanted to head over there and liberate him. Let his family know he’s needed. I talked them out of it. I figured it was best not to go looking for trouble.”

“Good call.”

Wendy was glad Trevor was home. She wanted the boy to be safe. She knew she couldn’t wait much longer. Soon she would have to visit the Osmond house and give Trevor the gift from his father.

Night Six

It was one of those times when Christine missed cell phones.

Will, Frank, and the Hansens were out in the streets again tonight, fighting their endless and increasingly futile battle against the Unfeathered. Tonight they had taken the fight to Meadow Park, Rook Mountain’s largest subdivision. It was a newer section of town featuring street after street of well-kept middle-class homes. The Unfeathered were getting uncomfortably close to the subdivision, and the guys were hoping to push them back a little.

It would have been nice to check in with Will every once in awhile to make sure he wasn’t bleeding out in a gutter or something. But, no cell phones. She knew he would call if he had the chance.

Speaking of calling… she glanced at her watch. It was 9:03. She walked across the makeshift hospital, past the quickly filling gurneys, and made her way to the phone mounted on the wall. She picked it up and dialed a quick seven digits.

Trevor answered on the third ring. “Still here, Mom.”

“Okay,” Christine said. Ever since Trevor had gone out with his school friends a few nights ago, she wasn’t taking anything for granted. She called him every hour on the hour to make sure he was home. If there had been any other choice, she would have stayed home with him, but the town needed its doctor. Will had stayed home with him the last two nights, but tonight she hadn’t been able to talk him out of going out to fight. Will said he was doing more to protect his family out there than if he stayed home. Christine wasn’t so sure. They were killing lots of the Unfeathered, and in the end that could save some lives. On the other hand, those things seemed endless.

Christine asked, “How’s it going there? Any singing?”

“A little, but it’s far away.”

“Good. Got your gun out?”

“Of course, Mom.”

“Good. Keep the safety on unless you need to shoot something.” Something in life had gone horribly wrong, Christine knew, for her to feel comforted by the thought of her twelve-year-old son with a loaded rifle.

She had considered bringing him with her. At least she would have known he was safe. They were set up in the spacious basement of the Fifth Avenue Baptist Church. Though it had been designed for potluck dinners and Bible studies, the room was working out nicely. There was plenty of space, and it stayed cool even with all the people. The building itself was among the most solidly built in Rook Mountain. Christine hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but the Unfeathered would have a hell of a time getting in here if they attacked.

In the end, she had decided against bringing Trevor. She wanted to limit how much death the boy had to see, and here he would see plenty. Most of the people who were brought here were passed the point of saving with her limited triage skills and resources. There had been two deaths already tonight.

The Osmond home was near the center of town, and there hadn’t been much Unfeathered activity nearby except for the occasional stray flier. Trevor was armed and he knew how to use the weapon. Leaving him home alone was a risk, a terrible risk, but it was a calculated one. The neighbors on both sides were watching the house and had promised to call her if any Birdies showed up in the neighborhood.

“Doc!” someone yelled from across the room.

Christine sighed. “I gotta go. Be safe. I’ll call you at ten.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, I do. Love you. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Christine hung up and made her way toward the man who had called out to her. His name was Martin Grady. A bird had crashed through the window of his home on the outskirts of town last night. It had taken a sizable chunk of his right leg before his wife had blown its head off with a shotgun. She sat next to him now. She’d been holding his hand since Christine had arrived three hours ago.

Christine sat in the folding chair on the other side of the cot from Mrs. Grady. “How you doing, Mr. Grady?” Christine didn’t like the distant look in the man’s eyes.

It was Mrs. Grady who spoke. As she did, she gave Christine a look that couldn’t have been far off from the one she had given the bird creature before she shot it dead. “He’s in pain, doctor. You need to help him. He’s not a complainer and if he says he’s in pain then by God he is.”

Christine hated this part She reached out and took the woman’s hand. “I believe you. But we are low on supplies, and injured people are pouring in here. He’s had all the pain medication I can spare at the moment.

Mr. Grady pulled her hand away. “Please.”

“I’ve done all I can for now. It’ll be a rough night, but I believe he is going to make it. In the morning, I’ll reevaluate our supplies and let you know.”

She turned and marched away before Mrs. Grady had a chance to respond.

The door at the top of the stairs opened with a crash and a man stumbled into the basement. It was Henry Strauss. He had a two-inch cut on his right cheek and the blood was dripping down onto his shoulder. Christine hurried over to him. “Henry, let me take a look at that cut. Any other injuries?” She pulled on a pair of latex gloves.

Henry shook his head. “No, that’s not why I’m here. Christine, they’ve taken Meadow Park. The Unfeathered have taken Meadow Park.”

Hours later, Will, Frank, and the Hansens staggered into the gymnasium, escorting a dozen wounded men and women. The guys looked like Christine felt – near total exhaustion. They stood by, their eyes distant and hollow, while she tended to the new arrivals. After she had seen to the most pressing of their wounds, Christine pulled Frank and Will away from the others.

“Tell me,” she said. “How bad is it out there?”

Will shook his head.

“We’re losing,” Frank said. “They’re gaining ground. A few more days, maybe a week, and it will be over.”

Christine didn’t respond. She didn’t know how.

“I’m sorry.” Frank’s voice was barely louder than a whisper. “Zed was right. I’ve killed us. I’ve killed you. And Jake… I let down Jake. He called to his brother for help, and I failed him.”

Will’s head snapped around. “Wait. What do you mean he called to his brother?”

“When he talked to Sally Badwater, he asked for my help.”

“What exactly did he say?”

Frank swallowed hard before he spoke. “Tell my brother to meet me at the quarry. And if Frank comes, tell him to bring the Cassandra lock.”

Will and Christine looked at each other.

“We have to get Sean,” Christine said.

“Why?” Frank asked.

Will grimaced. “We know what Jake’s message means.”

Night Seven

The sun was starting to sink by the time they all gathered at Sean’s house. Christine had managed to get a few hours of sleep and Sean had only gotten off his shift fifteen minutes ago. They didn’t have much time before the singing would start; they would have to talk fast. Will, Christine, and Frank met in Sean’s living room. Sean’s face, as usual, was unreadable.

“A couple of months after Regulation Day, a farmer named Dan Johnson brought me a cane with the broken clock symbol on it,” Sean said. “He’d found it half buried in his field. One of the Regulations says any item with that symbol needs to be turned in to the police or selectmen.”

“Regulation 2,” Frank said. “I remember.”

“Yeah. Regulation 2. That cane was the first Reg 2 item anyone had turned in, and I told Dan Johnson to keep quiet about it. I knew even then how badly Zed wanted those objects. He came and spoke to us at the station about them. He called them the Tools. He said to avoid touching them as much as possible. And when he talked about them, his eyes were… greedy. I don’t know how else to say it. They were greedy.”

Frank nodded. “I saw that look too. When he saw the knife.”

Sean continued. “I was supposed to hand it over to the selectmen immediately. Thing is, life in Rook Mountain was already getting pretty weird. People had taken to the Regulations. They were actually excited about enforcing them. I was seeing it more every day. I’d get called to a scene and by the time I got there, the people had already taken matters into their own hands. Something inside me didn’t want to give Zed any more power than he already had. So instead of calling the selectmen, I called my friends. And we decided to hang on to the cane.”

“We started calling ourselves the Unregulated,” Christine said with a smile. “It was Sean, Jake, Will, Wendy, Todd, and me. That was when we realized some people react differently to the Tools. Will picked up the cane and everything changed.”

“Remember when I said that I zone out when I touch the Tools?” Will asked. “Drifting, I think you called it? There’s a little more to it than that. I see things. The Tools, they show me what they’re for.”

“What do you mean?” Frank asked.

“They are Tools, right?” Sean asked. “They have to have a purpose. And the purpose of the cane is to find the other Tools.”

“The minute I picked up the cane and touched the broken clock symbol, it sort of came to life in my hands,” Will said. “It started vibrating. And it was pulling me somewhere. It was like a divining rod. Except it wasn’t finding water. It was finding the Tools. We found the first one buried out by the cabins. It was a lighter.”

“We were off and running,” Sean said. “We started using the cane to look for other Tools. It wasn’t long before we found this.” He pulled out a small object wrapped in an old t- shirt. He slowly unwrapped it and held it up for the others to see.

Frank gasped.

A wave of déjà vu swept over him. His emotions—guilt, anger, despair, fear—swirled within him at the sight of it. It was a silver coin with the symbol of the broken clock.

“Where did you get that?” Frank asked.

“Brett’s ex-wife had it,” Christine said. “When the cane led us to her house, she was more than happy to hand it over. She didn’t want anything to do with the coin. She told us Brett had it with him the day he died. That was when we started piecing things together.”

“What’s it do?” asked Frank.

“I don’t know,” Will said. “Not exactly. But when I held it, I felt death. I know that sounds weird, but I don’t know how else to describe it. That coin radiates death. The Tools seem to want things. The cane wants to find its brothers. The mirror wants to pull you in. But this coin? It wants everything to die.”

“I felt it,” Frank said. “The day I… I killed Brett. That coin touched my foot and I felt so angry.”

“The Tools affect people differently,” Christine said. “Some people, like me and Sean, they don’t seem to affect at all. Others, like Will, are more sensitive to them. We think that you are as sensitive to them as Will is, but maybe in a different way.”

Frank felt a flash of anger at that comment. What did she mean? She had no idea what he’d been through or felt the day Brett died. Then he stopped. Were those thoughts and feelings his own? Or was he being affected by the coin?

“I think,” Frank said, “that I’m feeling it now.”

Will grimaced. “Yeah, me too. I can feel the hate coming off the damn thing. Here’s the worst part. You have to touch the broken clock symbol to activate the Tools. That coin is not even turned on. There’s no doubt in my mind that the coin is more powerful than the rest of the Tools put together.”

Frank squeezed his eyes shut. Was it possible? Had he been under the influence of this thing, this Tool, when he killed Brett? He replayed the scene in his mind. He had punched Brett in the stomach. That move had been all Frank. But then the coin had rolled out of Brett’s bag, and Frank had flown into a killing rage.

“This is what we’ve been protecting,” Christine said. “This is the Tool Zed wants above all the others. We think this is why he came here in the first place.”

“You think Zed is powerful now?” Will asked. “If he had that coin, it would be game over. He’d have what he wanted and he’d have no use for the town anymore. I don’t know for sure, but it’s possible that the moment he touched that thing, every living creature in Rook Mountain would die. The coin’s that powerful.” Will paused and looked at the floor. “We’ve done things. I’ve done things. I’ve killed. What I did was wrong, but it was all to protect this coin. I knew Zed was watching me closely, and I had to be above suspicion. We all did.”

“That’s why you turned me in to Zed that day?” Frank asked Sean.

Sean nodded. “I’m sorry, Frank. I knew they would find out you’d been here. If it came out that I knew you were breaking into City Hall and I didn’t say anything, they would take a really close look at me. And my home. I couldn’t risk that.”

Frank nodded. He understood. For maybe the first time, he was starting to understand that this was bigger than him.

“When we found the coin, we agreed that we had to keep it separate from the other Tools,” Christine said. “Sean was the least likely to fall under suspicion, so we left it with him.”

Will sighed. “It was a burden knowing this thing even existed. I can’t imagine what it must have been like having it in your home.”

Frank thought for a moment. “You said this had something to do with Jake’s message to Sally Badwater?”

Christine nodded. “It was our code. In case one of us were caught and needed to get a message to the others. 'Meet me at the quarry' meant the coin might be in danger. It meant that we needed to move the coin.”

“How would Jake know the coin was in danger?”

None of them had an answer for that.

“Okay,” Frank said. “What about this? Why did he say, 'Tell my brother'? Why would he use your code to give me a message?”

Will and Christine exchanged a glance.

“Things were different after you went to prison,” Christine said. “Jake was more upset than he let on. After Regulation Day, when they stopped allowing visitors at the prison, he felt like he had lost a brother.”

“He and I were spending a lot more time together,” Will said. “He said he considered me a surrogate brother. We even started calling each other brother.”

“So when Jake said, 'Tell my brother to meet me at the quarry'...” Frank said.

“That message was for me,” Will said. “What I don’t understand is why he was so cryptic. Why not say 'Tell Will to meet me at the quarry,' or 'Tell Christine to meet me at the quarry'?”

“I don’t know,” Frank said. “What about the other part? ‘If Frank comes, tell him to bring the Cassandra lock.'”

“Maybe those were two separate thoughts,” Christine said. “Maybe what he meant was, 'Tell Will to meet me at the quarry. And if Frank comes, tell him to bring the Cassandra lock.'”

“Guys,” Sean said. “I don’t mean to break up the speculation session, but the sun is dropping fast. I’ll do what Jake said and move the coin. I know somewhere else I can hide it. But we need to get out there.”

“You’re right. Let’s get going.” Frank nodded toward the coin that was resting on the coffee table. “And put that thing away. I don’t want to see it ever again.”

Morning

The night had been hell, but it was almost sunrise.

They had relocated the surviving residents of Meadow Park into three main locations downtown: The Middle School, the High School, and Anderson Elementary. All three were centrally located and had plenty of rooms. Still, the scene at all three locations was grim—they had long ago run out of cots and movable beds. The residents of Rook Mountain were jammed in like refugees, lying on the floor in sleeping bags or blankets. Whatever artifacts they had been able to salvage from their homes were jammed into garbage bags and paper sacks and stacked next to where they lay.

Frank, Will, the Hansens, the Beyond Academy students, and some other men from town patrolled the downtown area throughout the night, taking out the few Unfeathered that flew into their paths. Will had brought Trevor with him this time; the Unfeathered were getting too close to the Osmond home now, and the boy had proved himself to be both careful and effective in the fight.

Compared to the last few nights, it was quiet. There were attacks, but the creatures came in groups of twos and threes. Not like last night’s wave of Unfeathered that descended on Meadow Park as if by some silent command. It was almost as if the creatures were gathering themselves, preparing a final assault to destroy the residents of Rook Mountain once and for all.

In Fifth Avenue Baptist, Christine and her band of helpers dragged themselves from cot to cot, caring for the injured. The death toll was above twenty, and it would likely be twenty-five in the next few hours.

Sean too was having a difficult time remembering when he’d last slept. There were a few smaller neighborhoods the Unfeathered had attacked that had been overshadowed by the battle at Meadow Park. It was in these smaller neighborhoods that Sean and his partner were working tonight. They fought the creatures when they could and convinced residents to leave when the battles were lost.

Wendy remained at the Academy, making sure her student-soldiers had what they needed, from weapons to food to the occasional nap. She hadn’t seen most of the faculty members in days, and she had no idea who was alive and who was dead. She concentrated on what she could control, and she kept the terrible machine of the Beyond Academy rolling through the night.

Becky Raymond wandered through Rook Mountain middle school, wondering what the hell she was doing there. The board of selectmen had agreed to spread out, to have a presence at the places throughout town where people would need the most help. The idea was to give people a sense of normalcy and convince them the selectmen still had a handle on things. Mostly she had been walking the halls, smiling and waving at people when she remembered to do so.

If she looked at it objectively, Becky had to admit that the selectmen had handled things pretty well, all things considered. They’d had emergency plans in case the Unfeathered got into town and attacked en masse, but the plans had all seemed theoretical. Why would they ever need to use those plans? They had Zed.

With the plans, some improvisation, and the help of a few great people like Doctor Christine Osmond and Frank Hinkle, they were managing to muddle through. But Becky felt no sense of pride or achievement in what they had done. It was all temporary. Sometime in the next few nights, the Unfeathered would reach downtown, and then it would only be a matter of time before there was no one left in Rook Mountain. The plans wouldn’t save them. The Regulations wouldn’t save them. And the board of selectmen, as powerful as it had seemed seven days ago, would not be able to save them.

But that was only part of the despair that clung to her like a weight. At the center of the despair was a question—a question which might never be answered.

Where was Zed?

For ten years, Becky had followed Zed, and she truly loved the man. Not in a romantic sense, for she knew he was beyond such things, and she believed that she was as well. She loved him like a soldier loves a trusted general. He had accepted her when she was an attendant at a Road Runner gas station, and he had believed in her even then. He had showed her how to be a better person, how to demand more from herself than she ever had before. And then he had shown her impossible things. He had told her secrets few had ever known and taught her skills few possessed.

The people of Rook Mountain had laughed at him. They had mocked Becky and Zed’s other followers. They’d called them the Zed Heads. But still Zed had prepared for the evil he knew was coming, and when it came he had saved the town.

He had placed Becky and his other followers into the seats of power and taken none of the power for himself. He had counseled them and guided them when they needed it and he had asked for nothing in return. He was, without question, the greatest man Becky had ever known.

And then he had disappeared.

At first she thought someone had taken him against his will. That he had been kidnapped or maybe even murdered. Perhaps Jake Hinkle had finally returned to finish the job he had started eight years ago.

But… the more she thought about it, the less likely that seemed.

Zed was a man of great power; he would not be easy to kill. Even if someone had succeeded in killing him, no one—not even the selectmen—had a key to the room that held the box. And even if someone had found the key, the box itself was locked with an unpickable lock of Zed’s own design.

She had considered that maybe someone had tortured the information out of him, but Becky had seen Zed in some rough situations. She wasn’t sure he could be tortured.

It wasn’t until after Becky started losing her Abilities that she accepted that Zed might be dead.

Zed had shared his Abilities with his six closest followers the day before he gave the town the Regulations. He’d given them the Ability to travel anywhere in town by simply thinking of the destination. He’d given them the Ability to read minds and hearts by looking deeply into a person’s eyes.

Over the past seven days, Becky’s Abilities had faded and then disappeared altogether. Now she was driving from place to place and could only guess what others were thinking. That could only mean Zed was dead, right?

Becky looked out the window of the school and saw the first hint of sunlight on the eastern horizon. She walked toward the front door. It had become a bit of a ritual over the last seven days in Rook Mountain. At sunrise, people left their homes and went outside, celebrating another day of life.

A voice Becky didn’t recognize echoed through the halls. “Sunrise!”

As she walked, the displaced Rook Mountain citizens poured out of the classrooms and joined her. They walked out together, almost defiantly, and they all turned to the east. It wasn’t light yet, not quite, but the Unfeathered never attacked this close to dawn.

The refugees at the High School next door were also coming out onto the street. Among the group, Becky saw Frank Hinkle and Will Osmond, their clothes tattered and stained with the blood of the Unfeathered. For such a large group, it was uncanny how quiet they all were. A few people were chatting. Becky saw some police officers talking in hushed tones near the curb, but most of the people were quiet. They all stood facing east, watching the rising sun.

It was a good moment. Not a happy one, but at least a moment filled with relief. They had made it through another night.

Becky felt a sense of peace settle over the crowd but, underneath that, the dread was already creeping in. The beginning of the day meant the countdown to the end of it. Sundown was coming.

Becky watched the sun peek over the mountains to the east. Then a murmur worked its way through the crowd. It started small, like a group of people all whispering at once, and it grew into a wave of chatter.

Becky’s eyes went to the skies. She scanned back and forth, looking for any white shapes, but she saw nothing. Then she looked down and saw him.

He was walking down the middle of State Street, coming from the east. He wore a long coat that hid his form, and he was still too far off to see the details of his face, but Becky knew him from the way he walked.

She stepped forward, pushing her way through the crowd, past the terrified and shocked people of Rook Mountain, until she was at the street. A hush fell over the crowd as he drew close enough for the people to realize who it was walking toward them.

Becky’s throat clenched as the emotions ran through her, and she fell to her knees.

Zed smiled at her and held out his hand. She took it and rose to her feet.

His eyes were a familiar deep gray and his smile was as warm as ever. He squeezed her hand and then released it.

Then he turned away from her and spoke to the crowd. Though he didn’t yell, his voice carried easily and echoed off the buildings.

“My friends,” he said, “I am so sorry for what you’ve been through these last seven days. I’m so sorry that I was not here to protect you.”

Becky scanned the crowd. Their eyes looked hungry and pleading. They needed an explanation. They needed to know why their hero failed them.

“You’ve all lost so much,” Zed said, “and you deserve to know why.”

A murmur of approval rolled through the crowd.

“Eight years ago I made a box. The box had one purpose—keep the Unfeathered away. The fact that we are all alive today is evidence that it did its job. I locked the box away in a room in City Hall, and I secured it with a lock I designed myself. I was confident that the box was safe. I was wrong. Seven days ago, the box was destroyed.”

Zed held up his hands to the crowd as if to calm them. “I take full responsibility for what happened. I was overconfident. I was too trusting. Things had been so good for so long that I forgot there are people who don’t share our dedication to the common good. I forgot that some people break things and start fires and hurt people for no good reason. It’s always been that way and it always will be. I can’t change that. But I should have done a better job protecting you from those people.

“Unfortunately the box I made wasn’t easy to replace. The construction materials were, well, let’s just say you can’t get them around here. I didn’t know if I would ever be able to rebuild the box, but I had no choice. I had to try. Time was of the essence. As soon as the box was destroyed, I left without a word to anyone. I went to some places and did some things I hoped I would never have to do again. The cost was high, but in the end I was successful.”

Zed reached into his coat. With a flourish, he pulled out a box identical to the one he had presented on Regulation Day eight years ago. The crowd gasped. Then it began to cheer.

The people clapped, stomped their feet and screamed with joy and relief. Becky felt her own eyes fill with tears. It was so beautiful. Zed had done it again. He’d saved the town.

Zed held the box aloft as the people cheered. He smiled and nodded at the crowd, a look of wonder on his face, as if he too couldn’t believe this happy occurrence. After a long while, he held up a hand to silence the crowd.

“We are safe,” Zed said, “But we have so much work to do. First, we have a lot of homes that need rebuilding. A lot of you lost everything, and I won’t rest until you have everything you had before and more. We also need to take time to grieve. That is no less hard and no less important than the rebuilding. After that, the real work begins.”

Becky watched the crowd watching Zed. He had them now like he never had before. They would make him king if he asked.

“We have to make sure this never happens again. And that starts today. There’s a man here who doesn’t have the same values that we hold so dear. He’s repaid this town’s kindness with betrayal. And for the last seven days he has laughed while the rest of you have suffered.”

Zed looked back and forth across the crowd. “Frank Hinkle! Come forward and answer for your crimes!”

Becky gasped, and much of the crowd did with her. There was a disturbance back near the High School. The crowd parted and two men pulled Frank Hinkle forward. Becky recognized one of the men as Henry Strauss.

The two men dragged Frank in front of Zed, one man holding each arm.

“Come back to mess with us some more?” Frank asked. His voice sounded weak and hollow compared to Zed’s.

“Frank Hinkle,” Zed said, his voice booming through the street. “Seven nights ago, you broke into City Hall and destroyed the box, bringing death and destruction to Rook Mountain. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

There was something in Frank’s eyes that reminded Becky of a wild animal. “I’ve been fighting those flying bastards every night. I’ve been trying to protect the town. What have you been doing?”

Zed smiled. “While you have been trying to save the town, I have actually been doing it.” He turned toward the crowd. “You see, my friends? You see how our enemies act? They will do anything to deflect responsibility for their actions. Frank Hinkle is no friend of mine, he’s no friend of the Regulations, and he is no friend of Rook Mountain. And, sadly, he is not alone. But I have hope.

“That’s why on this day I propose a new law—and a new phase for Rook Mountain. If we really want to provide a future for our children, this is the one and only path. My friends, let me tell you about Regulation 19.”

THE UNREGULATED (PART 1)

They met in Will’s cabin because it was the smallest of their homes. They crowded in a loose circle in the living room. Jake and Christine sat close together on the couch with an uncomfortable Sean wedged in on the far end. Wendy was in the green recliner. Will sat on a dining room chair he had dragged into the living room for this little meeting. Todd was on the floor, his back against the arm of the couch.

Their seating positions might have seemed casual, but all of their lines of sight were carefully planned. The doors to the lone bedroom and bathroom were wide open and mirrors had been strategically placed near them. Every corner of the cabin that could be seen by at least one of the members of the group. Wendy had told them that Zed and his Zed Heads—the leaders of the town now—wouldn’t appear in a spot where they could be seen. They always appeared behind a closed door.

Was the information accurate? Like so much else these days, the group had no idea. Better safe than sorry. In this little band of Rook Mountain subversives, trust was definitely not a must.

It had been almost a year since Regulation Day, and the town had fallen into new patterns. There had been a number of incidents. People had broken Regulations, and those people had been punished according to the new laws of Zed. For the most part, people behaved as if their lives had always been this way. They went to their jobs - many of the jobs newly created by the Zed Heads - and they went shopping and they spent time outdoors (but never across the town line). The lack of resistance or even questions was disturbing to those gathered in the room. As far as they knew, no one else was all that bothered by the Regulations.

Over the past nine months, they had acquired the cane, the knife, the coin, and the lighter. Last night, Will and Sean had found another item.

Will glanced at the bathroom to make sure it was still empty, and then he turned his attention back to the object on the table.

“What’s the story, Will?” asked Todd. Todd was the most outspoken member of the group. He had been the first to suggest they keep the cane, even before they had discovered its power to find other Tools. He was the most public about his feelings on the Zed Heads. In a way, it was great to have an extroverted natural leader like Todd in the group. On the other hand, it made Will nervous. If anyone was going to accidentally expose their group, it would probably be Todd.

“We found it in a field off Lakeland Drive,” Will said. “We were driving around and the cane started going crazy. It led us right to it.”

“And you haven’t tried it?” Wendy asked.

Will shook his head. “We stuck to the agreement. It’s been hard, though. The curiosity’s been killing me. So if no one objects…” He leaned forward to pick up the object on the table.

“Wait,” Jake said. “We have to do the other thing first.”

“Come on,” Will said. “We all know the score.”

“Jake’s right,” Todd said. “People are forgetting. They are starting to see all of this as normal. I see it every day at work. Somebody new gets detained, and my co-workers are joking about playing dice for their clothes. We have to keep reminding ourselves.”

“Yeah, but we aren’t like that,” Will said. “We’re here, aren’t we?”

“They deserve to be remembered,” Jake said.

Will looked at Jake for a long moment, and then he gave a little nod.

Christine grabbed a thin three-ring binder off the arm of the couch and opened it to the last page. “We have three new entries this week. On Wednesday, September 25th, Tyra Underwell was caught breaking Regulation 6 outside her home. Her sentence was carried out immediately by three of her neighbors who removed her left hand.” Christine looked up from the paper. “And if I may editorialize for a moment, her lovely and talented doctor missed dinner in order to save the rest of her arm. Moving on, on Thursday, September 26th, Fran Cantor was caught breaking Regulation 1 and her sentence was carried out immediately by the Rook Mountain police officer who caught her trying to cross the town line.” She glanced at Sean.

“That would have been Eli Jennings,” Sean said.

“Okay. On Saturday, September 28th, thirteen-year-old Gracie Holden broke Regulation 16. Her biology teacher carried out her sentence in front of the class, branding her with the number sixteen on her cheek.”

“You’re kidding,” Wendy said. “I didn’t know about that one. I taught Gracie last year. How did I not hear about this?”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Todd said. “It’s barely even news anymore.”

“With one death this week, that brings the total to seventy-four executions since Regulation Day.” Christine closed the book with a sigh.

“That was uplifting,” Will said. “Now, if I may?”

Jake nodded.

Will picked up the hand-held mirror and studied it for a moment. He ran his fingers over the broken clock symbol.

It was Wendy who had told the group about Zed’s obsession with the Tools. After her breakup with Frank, she had dabbled in becoming a Zed Head. She’d spent enough time with them that Zed had gone beyond the usual peace and wisdom talk he pitched to the dabblers and moved on to some of the real stuff. Wendy had heard him talk about Regulation Day in intricate detail long before it happened. He talked about the powers he would give to his followers. He had also talked to her about the ten Tools. He had the pocket watch already, but he intended to find the other nine.

All the talk of monster birds and magic pocket watches had seemed like nonsense at the time, but it had been enough to frighten her off. She had left the group only a few months before Regulation Day. If she’d only waited a bit longer, she might be sitting on the board of selectmen today.

Will took a deep breath, and then he pushed the broken clock on the mirror.

The group waited. Will was listening, waiting for the mirror to tell him what it wanted. When it did, he stood up, shuffled to the kitchen, and took out a paring knife.

“What are you doing?” Sean asked. He stood up and eased his way toward Will.

Will sliced open the palm of his left hand. He squeezed the hand shut. He saw a drop of blood fall from his fist and land on the face of the mirror. When the blood hit the mirror, it didn’t stop. It kept falling into the silvery surface and Will felt himself being pulled along after it. Powerless to stop, Will fell downward, head first.

A shimmering liquid surrounded him, and all sound disappeared. In the distance, he saw something, and he knew it was his destination. He felt something pulling on his legs, and he was back in the kitchen. His friends stood around him, their faces drawn with concern. Will put a shaky hand to his face, expecting to feel the wet residue of the shimmering liquid, but his had came away dry.

“What the hell, man?” Todd asked. “You all right?”

“It…” Will wasn’t sure how to describe what had happened. “It wanted to pull me in.”

“Yeah, it did a pretty good job, too,” Christine said. “Sean grabbed your legs before you disappeared into that thing.”

“It was trying to take me somewhere,” Will said. “I could see it in the distance. There were trees, but not like we have around here. These were huge. Redwoods maybe.”

“Wait,” Jake said. “You’re saying that mirror is a door to another place?”

The group was quiet for a long moment while everyone digested the news. Then Todd grinned. “Will, you did it. You found our ticket out of Rook Mountain. We can go there and bring back help for the town.”

Will shook his head. “I’m not so sure. That place looked… different. We don’t even know if you could get back here. Could be a one-way ride.”

“One way or not,” Todd said, “Five minutes ago we were trapped in this town. You’ve just found our escape pod.”

CHAPTER SEVEN: REGULATION 19

1.

Trevor sat in the back of the minivan hoping they couldn’t see his hands shaking.

The guys in the front of the van were Ned Elwood and Carlos Serrano. He had never talked to them before this morning, but he had seen them around town and watched them with awe. They were Resource Expansion Specialists. RESpys. Trevor had dreamed of being a RESpy since he was five years old. RESpys were cool. They could leave town, and they did so every day.

And today Trevor was leaving town with them.

It had been four days since Zed returned to town and once again stopped the Unfeathered. Four days since Regulation 19 was passed into law. Four days since Uncle Frank had been the first person found guilty under Regulation 19.

Trevor was still reeling. He couldn’t quite get his mind around it. It didn’t seem real. He felt angry and sad about what had happened to Uncle Frank. At the same time, he felt angry and ashamed at what Uncle Frank had done. Uncle Frank had seemed like a good guy. He had been a hero during the fighting against the Unfeathered. But in the end he had turned out to be a terrorist, just like Dad.

Trevor had stayed in bed that whole next day wanting nothing more than to curl up and die. Hinkles were terrorists. Hinkles betrayed the town. He had asked Will if it would be all right to change his last name to Osmond. It had been a tough decision for Trevor. He was the last Hinkle, after all. But maybe the Hinkle name didn’t deserve to live on. Will was kind of a dick sometimes, but at least he wasn’t a traitor. He’d proven that by shooting that Regulation breaker up on Rook Mountain.

When Trevor asked him, he had expected Will to be happy. Instead, it was like a dark cloud had crossed over Will’s face. “I’d be proud and honored to have you take my name,” Will said. “But I don’t think it would be right. Your dad and your uncle left you that name. They left you a lot to live up to.”

“Yeah, maybe if I go on a shooting spree I’ll live up to their legacy,” Trevor said. He couldn’t help it; he was hurt by Will’s reaction.

Will opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, then closed it again. He went back to the book he had been reading. Trevor had wanted to talk to his mom about it, but she had been gone for almost every waking hour the past few days. She was still taking care of those injured by the Unfeathered.

School started again the following day. There was an assembly in the morning and Ms. Janet, the principal, talked about bravery and heroism and blah, blah, blah. It all washed over Trevor. He had been there for part of it and he had fought against the Unfeathered with all his might, but it seemed like a dream now.

People were looking at him funny. Not only was he the son of Jake Hinkle, he was also the nephew of Frank Hinkle. No one mentioned it, but he could tell that everyone was thinking it. Trevor did his best to pay attention and concentrate on his lessons. It was difficult, though. It all seemed pointless.

After lunch, an announcement came over the PA calling Trevor Hinkle to the office. The hot ball of worry that had been growing in his stomach for the last two days suddenly erupted into a flame of panic.

At the office, the lady working the desk showed him into a room and told him to wait. After a few minutes, Zed walked in. He smiled at Trevor and shook his hand. Zed looked into Trevor’s eyes a little too long, but Trevor looked right back, meeting his gaze. He wouldn’t be intimidated, no matter what happened next. Zed was the first to look away.

“Trevor, I wanted to let you know that I’m very impressed with the things I’m hearing about you. You really made a difference last week. You fought the Unfeathered and did a great job of it from what I hear.”

Trevor didn’t say anything.

“Something on your mind?” Zed asked. “Go ahead and say it.”

Trevor hesitated, not sure if he should say what he was thinking. But what did it matter? It was probably going to be his last day at Beyond Academy anyway. He'd be shocked if the meeting didn’t end with him getting expelled.

“My uncle Frank fought the Unfeathered too, but no one’s thanking him.”

Zed waved his hand dismissively. “That’s not really the same thing, is it? If a man burns down a house, you don’t thank him for pouring a bucket of water on the fire. Anyway, I’m impressed. You’ve been through a lot, and this week you had to suffer another family member letting you down. But I think you are a special young man, Trevor. I’d like to offer you a unique opportunity.”

And now, one day later, Trevor was sitting in a van with two legendary RESpys, driving toward the edge of town with no intention of stopping when they got there.

Ride alongs with RESpys were a Beyond Academy tradition. The teachers and the students all talked about it. But it was usually an honor reserved for upperclassmen, not freshmen a couple of weeks into their first semester.

Trevor wasn’t about to complain. True, he didn’t understand exactly why he had been selected, but he was living his dream. He was about to see what really lay beyond the city limits of Rook Mountain.

“Half mile out,” Ned said from the passenger seat.

Carlos glanced at Trevor in the rear view mirror. “So you ready for us to pull back the curtain and show you how we leave town?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Trevor hoped his voice sounded more confident to them than it did in his own ears. Trevor, like every other civilian in Rook Mountain, had no idea how the RESpys left town safely. It was a violation of Regulation 9 to even ask.

Carlos pointed toward the dashboard. It took Trevor a moment to figure out what the RESpy wanted him to see. A wooden block was mounted on the dashboard. The block was about an inch tall, and it was painted the same color as the rest of the vehicle’s interior.

Ned gave the wooden block a little pat. “As long as we have this thing, it’s like we haven’t left town.”

Trevor licked his lips, trying to find the courage to ask a follow-up question. After a lifetime of being taught not to talk about the strange goings-on in Rook Mountain, this was no easy task. “How does it work?”

“You know that box Zed made? This is like a smaller version. It keeps the Unfeathered away. But it only protects a very small area. Take a few steps away from the car and it’ll be lunch time for the Birdies.”

A device that kept the Unfeathered away? And it was portable? Unbidden, visions of the open road flashed in Trevor’s mind.

As if reading his thoughts, Ned said, “A few years ago, we had a RESPy named Walter Quinn who thought one of these wooden blocks was his permanent ticket out of town. He jumped in a RESPy vehicle and hit the road. Zed waited until Quinn was a good seventy miles out, and then he shut off the wooden block. Quinn’s bones are out near Abingdon, Virginia. Still in the driver’s seat of his car. The Unfeathered smashed in the windows and ate him where he sat.”

“How’d Zed shut it off?”

Ned shrugged. “However Zed does what he does. Anyway, last week when Zed’s box was broken these blocks stopped working too. Thank God Zed came back and put things right.”

“This is it,” Carlos said.

Trevor felt his heart pounding in his chest. He saw the white line on the road getting closer and closer as the car sped forward. Then they were on top of it. Past it.

And suddenly it was dark. The stars sparkled overhead with a brilliant clarity.

Trevor looked out the windows at the landscape around him. He took a deep, slow breath to see how it felt. “Why is it dark?”

He looked up and saw Ned looking back at him in the rear view mirror, a smirk on his face. “It’s always dark out here.”

The trees flickered past as the van tore down the empty highway. Trevor had expected to see the Unfeathered everywhere, but he didn’t see any of the creatures. Everything looked desolate and empty.

“Where are the Unfeathered?” Trevor asked.

“They’re around,” Carlos said. “Mostly holed up in the woods. But they’d be here fast enough if we didn’t have our device running. They’d catch our scent and be on us right quick.”

“Is that how they sense us? They smell us?”

“How the hell should we know? They just do. Close your mouth and open your eyes. You might see a thing or two.”

Trevor turned back to the window and watched the trees roll by.

He had his first glimpse of something strange a few minutes later. Near the side of the road, a bird, the normal feathered kind, hung motionless in the air. It was like a snapshot, a picture of a bird in flight. He saw it in the beams of the car’s headlights as they approached, and it disappeared from sight as they sped past it.

“Did you see that?” Trevor asked. “That bird was, like, frozen in the air.”

Carlos grinned. “Yeah, we’ve seen that one a time or two.”

They drove on, over bridges and past trees. A few times they passed cars abandoned in the middle of the road. Ned seemed to know when these cars were coming up and he easily avoided them. Neither he nor Carlos commented on the vehicles.

Trevor couldn’t help himself. He had to ask. “Have these cars been here a long time?”

“Yep,” Ned said.

“What happened to the drivers?”

Carlos and Ned exchanged a glance and grinned at each other like kids on the way to a surprise party. “What do you think happened to them?”

Trevor opened his mouth to say he had no idea, but then stopped. There was a pretty good chance that had been a rhetorical question.

They drove in tense silence for a few minutes. When Carlos spoke again, Trevor almost yelped in surprise.

“Usually we would be driving a much larger vehicle. One of the semi trucks. Or a flatbed. We have a tanker truck we use for collecting fuel. It’s nonstop. You should know that if you are thinking about becoming a RESPy. It’s amazing how much one little town consumes in a week. After a while, it gets so you see every person in Rook Mountain as just another bottomless pit of consumption. We bust our asses hauling everything we can into the town, but it is never enough. It never ends.”

Trevor resisted the urge to speak again and waited for Carlos to continue.

“So, like I say, we would usually use something much bigger. We like to use the van for these ride alongs. The whole thing seems a little more real in a van. Our mission today is simple. Halloween is coming and the town needs candy. We're going to pick up a few boxes. Elizabethton still has some we can tap into.”

“Really?” Trevor asked. He had expected something grander, more vital than candy.

“Yep. Just a few boxes of candy. Walk before you can run, my man. Plus, can you imagine all the pissed off parents if we ran out of candy rations on Halloween? There would be a riot, an actual riot.” Carlos looked back at Trevor and grinned. “So when you look at it that way, we’re saving lives here.”

The van sped past another car stopped in the road. As they approached, Trevor looked through the window and what he saw almost made him scream.

“Holy shit!” Trevor said. “There’s a person in that car!”

“Yep,” Ned said.

“We have to help him! The Unfeathered could be here any minute!”

Carlos chuckled. “The Unfeathered only like the living and the breathing, and that guy ain’t either. Not exactly, anyway.”

Five minutes later, the van pulled into the parking lot of a CVS pharmacy. Ned spun the car around, threw it in reverse, and backed up almost to the door.

There were only five cars in the parking lot, and two of the cars had people inside them. Motionless people. It was like looking at a photograph.

“Okay kid, listen up,” Carlos said. “This is where it goes from a sightseeing trip to real dangerous work. We're going in that CVS to round up some candy. The minute we step outside this van, we are fair game for the Unfeathered. We should be okay inside with the doors shut, but we have to bust ass for the few moments we are outside. Got it?”

“What’s with the people?” Trevor asked. “The people in the cars.”

“We'll show you inside,” Ned said. He pulled out a pistol and looked at it. “Get out your weapon and switch off the safety.”

They had given Trevor a pistol for the trip. It felt heavy in Trevor’s hands. He clicked off the safety.

“Okay, hands on the door handles,” Carlos said. “When I count to three, we run like hell for the door. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Trevor said.

“Good. One. Two. Three.”

The three men threw open their car doors and leapt out of the vehicle. Ned and Carlos left their car doors wide open, so Trevor followed their lead. He had only taken three steps before he heard the sound of the Unfeathered singing in the distance. It was far off, but he heard another, closer voice join in the song.

Trevor pumped his legs and swung his arms, sprinting after the two RESPys. In front of him, Ned reached the door, still sprinting, and slammed into it. The door banged open, and Carlos and Trevor hustled inside before it clapped shut.

Carlos’s eyes scanned the parking lot, then the sky.

“We good?” Ned asked.

“Yeah. We’re clear.” He turned to Trevor. “We should be safe in here. The Birdies don’t usually start smashing into buildings for a few hours. We don’t want to be in here all day, but we will have long enough to get the job done.”

“You mean getting the candy?” Trevor asked.

Ned smiled. “That too. But that’s not our main job. The real reason we are here is you. Zed says that it’s time for you to know about the outside world, so we're here to show you.” Ned nodded his head toward Trevor’s left.

Trevor turned, and what he saw made the breath catch in his throat. A woman was standing behind the cash register. A man stood in front of the checkout counter. Neither of them was moving. The checkout lady had a Baby Ruth candy bar in her hand, poised over the scanner. Her mouth was half open as if she was speaking.

Trevor walked slowly toward them. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Technically? Nothing’s wrong with them. They’re just paused.” Carlos took a few steps toward the frozen people.

“It’s like this everywhere,” Ned said. “Johnson City. Bristol. I’ve been as far as Charlotte fulfilling some special orders, and it’s the same thing everywhere. Everywhere but Rook Mountain.”

Trevor reached his hand out toward the man in front of the counter. His hand hovered a few inches from the man’s face.

“Go ahead,” Carlos said. He rapped on the man’s cheek with his knuckle, producing a strange thud. “You can’t hurt them. I mean, you really can’t. You could take a chainsaw to their necks and it wouldn’t so much as scratch them.”

“Sure can take their stuff, though,” Ned said. He reached into the man’s back pocket and pulled out a wallet. He let go of the wallet and it snapped back into the man’s pocket like it was attached to a bungee cord. “Well, for a second anyway. Stuff doesn’t want to move. It goes back to the way we found it the second we let it go. Until we get it in the van.”

Trevor put his hand on the man’s cheek. It was hard as stone. “But what happened? What did this to them?”

“Well, the way Zed tells it,” Carlos said, “nothing happened to them. They are perfectly fine. It’s us in Rook Mountain that got screwed up.”

“Zed says Rook Mountain got knocked out of time,” Ned said. “It’s like we are in a hole in time. We are living in between one moment and the next. Technically, it’s still 2014. For the rest of the world anyway.”

Trevor turned a slow circle, scanning the paused world around him. He’d been living in the same moment for the last eight years?

“When we put stuff from out here into the van, it gets unpaused,” Carlos said. “It joins Rook Mountain time. It’s like we are pulling the stuff into the hole with us.”

“What about people?” Trevor asked. “What happens if you put a person in the van?”

Carlos shook his head. “Doesn’t work like that. People can’t be moved. They are too strongly tethered to their timeline. It only works for inanimate objects.”

“And liquids are even easier, for some reason,” added Ned. “They become unpaused as soon as they get within a few feet of the van.”

Trevor looked up sharply as something occurred to him. “If we get too far away from the van, do we get paused?”

“No,” Carlos said. “Whatever happened to lock us out of time seems to be permanent.”

Trevor blinked hard. His head was spinning. “What about the Unfeathered? How do they fit in?”

Carlos sighed. “We really aren’t sure. But our best guess is that this ‘time between times’ is their territory. Normally they're the only ones who live here. That's why they're so hostile to us. They see us as invaders.”

“Listen, Trevor,” Ned said. “We know this is a lot to take in. Zed will sit down with you when we get back and answer all of your questions. Take a minute to look around and let it sink in. We’ll handle the candy.”

Trevor nodded absently. While Carlos and Ned carried armloads of boxes of candy from the store to the car, Trevor wandered. He found a few other customers and workers, all frozen in the moment. There was a little girl in aisle eight who couldn’t have been more than four years old. She was dressed in pajamas, and she gripped her mother’s hand. The other hand was by her face, the index finger buried in her nose. It was so bizarre and unreal that Trevor wanted to cry. Imagine being frozen for all time with your finger up your nose.

But from her perspective, she wasn’t frozen, was she? For her, this one second would click to the next without any pause. Trevor, his family, maybe even his future kids, would all live and die while that little girl picked her nose.

“Yo, Trevor, you ready?”

Trevor headed to the front of the store.

Carlos put his hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “Listen kid, you're in the club now. The people of Rook Mountain don’t know this and they can’t know it.”

“Why not?” Trevor asked.

Carlos frowned. “Sometimes it’s easier to think that something is wrong with the rest of the world rather than thinking something is wrong with you.”

Ned peeked out through the glass door. “I count six Unfeathered circling. Pretty high up, but they’ll dive quickly enough when we head out.”

“Okay,” Carlos said. He looked at Trevor. “You ready?”

“Yes,” Trevor said.

2.

Frank sat on a metal folding chair in a hot little room that smelled of Lysol. His sweaty hands were chained to the table. Even with the nice carpet and colorful paint job, the room reminded him of the office where Becky Raymond had offered to release him from jail. It had seemed like a sweet deal at the time, but in retrospect he should have told her to go to hell.

The last three days had been dark times for Frank, and things didn’t look to be lightening up anytime soon. He’d been hauled up in front of the whole town and called a traitor. It wasn’t the first time he had faced public wrath. After he killed Brett there had been a lot of outrage. Unemployed redneck kills upstanding working man with two daughters. That was the way the media spun it. There had been a lot of calling for the death penalty. People longing aloud for the days of swift public hangings.

But the thing three days ago had been different. Frank wasn’t a scapegoat people could get angry with to forget their own problems; instead, Frank was being called out as the source of their problems. The death toll was still uncertain, but it was twenty-five at a minimum. Not to mention all the people whose homes had been destroyed. The town had been like a seething pack of animals. They wanted his blood. Zed could have come up with anything and the town would have agreed as long as it involved Frank’s death. Crucifixion or flaying or beheading, none of it seemed off the table.

But Zed had been thinking long term, and for once Frank was grateful for that fact. It might have satisfied the town to give Frank a flashy death, but Regulation 19 would take care of the Frank problem. Regulation 19 said that Zed or the selectmen could, at their discretion, enact a special punishment for any regulation breaker. A punishment Zed called ‘The Away’.

Zed and his Board of Zed Heads had just been given nearly limitless power, though no one realized it quite yet.

Maybe Frank should have tried harder. Maybe he should have denied everything. Not that it would have helped. The people were eating out of Zed’s hand. But Frank could have tried. The one thing that kept his mouth shut during his public non-trial was that, on some level, he agreed with Zed. The whole thing was his fault.

The door opened and Zed walked in, an easy smile on his face. He was dressed in khakis and a brightly colored t-shirt. He slid into the chair across from Frank.

“Morning! They treating you okay?”

Frank nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess. All things considered.”

Zed’s smile widened a little. “That’ll change. It may seem hard to believe, but these are the good times compared to what’s coming. I’m almost done building the device. Tomorrow’s the big day.”

Frank tried to ignore the man’s comments. “So how does this work? This erasing me from existence thing.”

“Ah!” Zed held up a single finger, “I’m glad you asked. It’s kind of beautiful in its own way.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object. Frank recognized it immediately. It was another Cassandra lock. How many of them did the guy have? “Time is like a lock with a bolt none of us can move. It seems unbreakable. Try to fight it and it doesn’t matter. It carries us along and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

He tugged on the Cassandra lock to demonstrate the futility of opening it.

“It won’t open. We don’t have the key.”

“You’re saying it’s a deadlock,” Frank said. “That’s the term for a bolted lock that can only be opened with a key. Like the kind of lock they use on prison doors.”

“A deadlock. I like that.” Zed looked pleased. “It’s impossible to open this giant lock we call time. Unless you know exactly where to apply pressure.” Zed twisted the Cassandra lock and it opened with a snap.

Frank raised his eyebrow. “You’re telling me you unlocked time?”

Zed laughed a surprisingly high-pitched laugh. “No, not at all! I’m not as sophisticated as all that. I’m much more childish. I like to poke holes in things. I poke little holes in space so that my friends and I can transport ourselves around town. I poke holes in people’s minds so I can see what’s inside. And, in a very limited way, I poke holes in time.”

“What does that mean?”

The smile never seemed to leave Zed’s face. “Frank, you’re not a stupid man, so don’t ask stupid questions. The town of Rook Mountain is in one of these holes in time. I made a nice little hole for us to live in. Tomorrow I’m going to poke another hole, a hole within a hole, one might say, and I’m going to drop you into it. You won’t die, not right away. But you will live out the rest of your abbreviated life alone and frightened in a place you can’t hope to understand. It’s not a nice place you are going, Frank. Trust me, I’ve dipped my toe in those waters and I don’t plan to return.”

Frank felt a chill pass through him. It was as if he were seeing Zed for the first time. Zed wasn’t merely a creepy, opportunistic man with some impressive parlor tricks; Zed was something truly evil.

Zed leaned forward and put his hands over Frank’s. They were ice cold.

“Frank, this isn’t the end for you. There is still a chance. Regulation 19 or not, I can still save you. And I want to.”

Frank waited. He took long slow breaths. Whatever Zed said, he wasn’t going to get his hopes up. He wasn’t going to take the bait.

Zed said, “The knife with the broken clock. Where did you get it?”

Frank stared at the table. He didn’t want to meet Zed’s eyes; he was afraid what the man might see.

“It’s as simple as that. Tell me about the knife, and you can go back to prison. You’ll be wearing an orange jumper and playing cards for Twinkies in two hours. All you have to do is tell me what I want to know.”

Frank waited, but this time Zed didn’t break the silence. He sat there with that creepy smile on his face. Eventually Frank said, “Sorry, Zed. Can’t help you.”

Zed sighed and nodded. “Okay. That is understandable. You are protecting someone. Maybe it’s the good Doctor Christine. Maybe it’s Will. Maybe it’s those Hansen boys you were running with all week. Honestly? I don’t care. I respect your loyalty. I won’t make you betray that. So let me change my offer. I don’t care where you got the knife. I only care where it is now. Tell me where I can find it and you can go back to prison. The moment it’s in my hand, you get on a van back to NTCC.”

Frank concentrated on his handcuffs.

“Last chance, my friend. We’ve looked at Christine's house. We’ve searched those cabins where the Hansens live and everything on that property inside and out. I will find it eventually. Help us both out. I’ll save some time and you’ll save yourself a horrific death.”

Frank kept his eyes on this handcuffs. If Zed had searched the cabins, why hadn’t he searched the shed? Why hadn’t he found the freezer?

Zed sighed. “I wish I had the device ready. I’d send you into the hole for a few minutes. I’ll bet your lips would be a bit looser after that. If you think the Unfeathered sing, just you wait!”

Frank kept his eyes on the table. “Anything else?”

Zed reached into his pocket and pulled out the pocket watch. “You see this? You know what I’ve been able to do with this thing? I’ve stopped myself from aging. I’ve built devices that can stop the Unfeathered. I’ve poked holes in time itself, holes that every person in this town will carry around with them wherever they go for as long as they live. You get the knife and what do you do with it? You wave it in my face like it’s a prison shiv.”

Frank said nothing.

Zed chuckled. “In a way, I’m glad you didn’t tell me. That would be almost like cheating. It’d be like…like looking at the answers to a crossword puzzle before you’re finished with it. You don’t get it. Your brother didn’t either. I’ve got all the time in the world to find the knife and the other Tools. They attract one another, and they are gathering in this town. More slowly than I would like, but they are gathering. Sometime in the next few hundred years this town is going to burn out, mark my words. And when every last person in Rook Mountain is dead, I will crawl out of this little hole in time. I’ll have what I came here for and I’ll be infinitely stronger than when I went in. And to the rest of the world no time will have passed at all. So tell me or don’t tell me. I’m having fun either way.”

Frank looked up, not into Zed’s eyes, but at his mouth. “Why don’t you poke a hole in my mind and see what I know?”

Zed’s smile wavered for a moment. “When I looked into your brother’s head, it was murky. There were things there, lots of things, but it was difficult to make them out. It’s the same with your nephew. But you are different. You know what I see when I look in your head? I see locks and nothing else. How do you do that?”

“Anything else?” Frank asked again.

Zed stood up. “You’re a cold one.” He turned to go, and then turned back. “Let me tell you something. When I first came to Rook Mountain and knocked on all those doors, I looked into every eye in town. There was only one person who frightened me. You. You were the only one who even gave me pause. I knew that if you put your mind to it, you had a chance to stop me. You and your locks. Your locks were interesting, so I paid that neighbor of yours to steal them. And then you went ahead and took care of my problem for me. Got yourself locked up.”

Zed leaned close to Frank. “You have great weakness in you, my friend. Trust doesn’t come easy to you. Maybe you could have been the hero once, but that time has long past. The best you can hope for now is to save yourself. I’ll give you one more chance. Tell me about the knife.”

Frank said nothing.

Zed sighed. “You know, you should really take the long view every once in a while. Reality gets weaker the deeper you go, and the hole I’m going to throw you in is mighty deep. When the Ones Who Sing come after you, you’ll wish you had swallowed your pride. Enjoy your evening.”

3.

Will opened the door leading to the attached garage and he saw Christine sitting on the ground with the knife, the lighter, the key, the cane, the mirror, and the frozen head of an Unfeathered spread out in front of her.

“Honey, what are you doing?” he asked.

She didn’t look up. She set the key on top of the knife. “We don’t have much time. They are sending Frank away in the morning. Whatever the hell that means.”

Will stepped down into the garage and pulled the door shut behind him. “Yes, but what are you doing? What are these things doing here?”

“You know what Jake always said. What we all said. These objects work together somehow. We need to find the right combination.”

“Christine, these should be locked up. What if Becky Raymond stopped by? Or Zed himself?”

Christine slapped her palm against the concrete floor. “What are we doing here, Will? What have we been doing all these years? He kills our people, he keeps us under his thumb, and we just drive around town at night with this damn cane hoping to find something useful.”

“You know what we're doing. We're protecting the coin. We’ve been smart about it. That’s why we’re not dead. We’ve been beyond reproach. That day on Rook Mountain, I didn’t hesitate. I killed Jessie Cooper even though every part of me wanted to run out of town alongside her. Because that’s what I had to do. What’s one life compared to the lives of everyone in this town? Everyone in this world? We’ve built such solid reputations that no one even looked at us twice when your brother-in-law turned out to be a traitor. We are protecting the things we have to protect. Trevor is safe. And so is the coin.”

Christine looked up at Will. Her eyes were filled with tears. “Everything we’ve ever tried has been a failure. Todd is dead. Jake is gone, probably forever. And now Frank. When is it enough? When do we finally stand up to him?”

“Jake wanted to fight. Look how far it got him. We have to be strong even if it means losing Frank.”

“They are brainwashing my son in that school. How much longer before we lose him too? Look around us, we have weapons. We have the knife. We have the head and the lighter.”

“Honey, I don’t think—”

“Shut up!” she yelled. “Shut up and come here.”

He knelt down next to her and held her in his arms. They cried together.

4.

Frank lay on the cot in his jail cell, missing the good old days of prison. If he had to spend his last night in a cell, he wished it could have been his cell at NTCC.

The heavy metal door swung open, and Frank resisted the urge to leap to his feet. Guards didn’t like jumpy prisoners. It wasn’t a guard who stepped into the cell—it was Wendy.

Frank looked at her for a long moment, not sure how to react. It had been almost ten years since he had last seen her. She hadn’t come to the trial. But here she was now, in his jail cell.

He stood up and stepped toward her. “How did you get in here?”

Wendy shrugged. “I’m an instructor at the Beyond Academy. People kind of let us do what we want. I told the guard I was here on Academy business and he stepped out of my way.”

Frank nodded absently. He didn’t know much about the Academy but he wasn’t about to start asking Wendy questions about her job. Not now.

“How you been?” he asked. He didn’t realize how stupid the question sounded until it was out of his mouth.

There were tears in Wendy’s eyes. “I’m so sorry this all happened.”

Frank smiled and shrugged. “I am too.”

She looked great standing there, as good as she had ten years ago. She glanced back at the door.

“Did Christine and Will tell you what happened to Jake? How he went away?”

Frank nodded. They had told him the story the day after Frank broke Zed’s box. “I’m not sure I fully understand it all, but they told me.”

“Did they tell you where it happened?”

Frank shook his head.

“It was at my house. I was the last one to see him before he disappeared.”

Frank didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know why Wendy had felt the need to come here, to tell him this.

“Frank, I believe that you’re special. If anyone can survive what Zed’s got planned for tomorrow, it’s you. I’ve been trying to think of some way to help you. All I came up with was this.” She handed him an envelope. The name Trevor was written on the envelope in Jake’s distinctive handwriting.

“Jake gave me that letter before he disappeared. He asked me to give it to Trevor when he was old enough to understand what’s happened to Rook Mountain.”

Frank looked up at her. “The kid’s smart, Wendy. I’m sure he’d love a letter from his father. What are you waiting for?”

“I agree. It’s time. I’m going to give it to him soon. I haven’t opened it. I don’t know what it says. But I thought maybe there was a chance it might be able to help you somehow.”

“You want me to open my brother’s letter to his son?” Frank asked.

“No,” Wendy said. “I want you to decide for yourself. What if there’s something in the letter that can help you survive?”

“What if there isn’t?”

Frank looked at the envelope for a long moment and then tore it open. He read it silently, and then folded it and slid it back into the envelope. “There’s nothing in there that can help me. Give it to Trevor.” He looked up at Wendy. “Thank you, though. Thank you for trying.”

Wendy took the envelope. “I won’t be coming tomorrow. I can’t watch them do that to you.”

Frank nodded. He understood. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You used to run around with Will and Christine and Jake, right? Looking for the Tools?”

“I did.”

“Then I guess you know Will and Christine have some of them.”

Wendy glanced back at the door and then nodded. “We believed that the Tools were stronger together than apart. If we could find enough of them, we thought maybe we could take down Zed.”

“Zed said they’ve searched the cabins and that whole property,” Frank said. “Why didn’t they find the Tools?”

A slow smile appeared on Wendy’s face. “You don’t know? I thought Will and Christine would have told you.”

“It’s been a little hectic.”

“They put everything in that freezer in the shed and locked it with one of your locks. Becky Raymond came out and personally oversaw the search of the place. When she went into the shed, she didn’t even try to open the freezer. It was like she didn’t even know it was there.”

“How could that be?” Frank asked.

Wendy’s smile widened. “It was because of your lock.” She tilted her head. “Wait. I have something else for you.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small lock. It was a Fox, the first original model Frank had designed. It opened without a key if you knew the right place to twist it.

Now it was Frank’s turn to smile. “You kept it?”

“It was always my lucky charm, remember?” She put it into his hand.

“Wendy, no. They are going to take it away from me. I’d rather you keep it.”

Wendy shook her head. “Keep it locked and they won’t find it. Not if you don’t want them to. It’ll be like the lock on the freezer out at the cabins. They won’t even see it.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Yes, I can. Hold on to the lock, and remember that no matter what they do to you, they can’t take away who you are. Like I said, Frank, you're special.”

5.

Frank waited on a raised platform in front of City Hall. Two people stood next to him. He recognized one as Anita Lawrence. The other was a man he had never seen before. He had no idea what either of them had done or why they were standing there. The crowd was rolling in at a steady pace. There were eight police officers around Frank and his fellow convicts, presumably in case the prisoners started making trouble. He spotted Christine standing near the edge of the stage, her roller bag of medical gear by her side.

One of the police officers stepped forward and held up a gold necklace. A golden loop roughly the size of a peach pit hung from the chain. He addressed the prisoners.

He said, “At the time your sentence is carried out, this marker will be placed around your neck. Do not remove it at any time. This marker will protect you from the Unfeathered. It will also let you know when your sentence is over. When it begins to flash red, that means you have one hour remaining in your sentence. Return to this exact spot immediately. Failure to return to the same spot you left will result in further discipline.” He glanced at Frank. “Except you of course. You ain’t coming back. Any questions?”

It seemed impossible to Frank but the two people to his left didn’t have any questions. Frank had about a million, but he didn’t think the officer would have the answers, so he too kept quiet.

Frank looked into the crowd and saw Will, his arm around Trevor. Will gave him a little smile. Trevor looked sad, terrified, and much younger than twelve. Frank decided not to look at the kid anymore. Frank was afraid he might start crying. It wasn’t that he was too manly to shed a couple tears; he just didn’t want to give Zed and the Zed Heads the satisfaction. So Frank turned his attention to the people filling the street in front of the platform.

It was amazing to see how many people had turned out to see him punished. Way more than had come to Jake’s wedding. At least Frank had that to comfort him.

He took a deep breath and tried to take stock of his feelings. All morning he had been waiting for the terror to hit him. There was fear, but it wasn’t the crippling kind he had expected. He only felt the emotion that had been his constant companion for as long as he could remember: anger. The way this was playing out wasn’t fair. Zed and his cult of freaks were going to win.

Frank heard the roar of the crowd before he saw Zed. The tall man stepped onto the stage and waved to his adoring public. There was nothing somber about his demeanor—he wore the broad easy smile that was as much a part of his uniform as the khakis and solid colored t-shirts.

Zed walked to Frank and put a hand on his shoulder. “Nice turnout. It’s a shame you won’t be around to see how this ends.” Zed gave him a wink and turned to the crowd.

When he spoke again, his voice carried as if projected over a PA. “Good morning, Rook Mountain.” The people answered with a roar, like it was a Strange Brood concert or something.

Zed waited for them to quiet, then said, “I’m so glad you are all here to bear witness today. This is a historic occasion for our great town. Regulation 19 goes into law today and with it comes the first three punishments. ‘Any person found guilty of an act against the people of Rook Mountain will serve an immediate sentence, the length of which will be determined by the board of selectmen.’ Simple enough in theory, but I think you will find its impact will be incredible. Crime will drop. Civic pride will rise. Rook Mountain will grow even stronger in our unity and our goal of building a better future for our children. And that all begins today.”

The crowd cheered again. Frank was finding it hard to concentrate on Zed’s words. That little pit of fear inside of him was growing.

“Let’s begin,” Zed said. He turned to face Anita. He spoke again in his unnaturally amplified voice. “Anita Lawrence, you have been found guilty of Breaking and Entering and Theft. While your neighbor fought for her life against the Unfeathered, you stole her jewelry. You have been sentenced to three hours Away. Do you have anything to say before your sentence is carried out?”

Anita's mouth was a thin white line. “This is ridiculous. I don’t understand what is happening.”

Zed put a hand on her shoulder. “You will, sister.”

He held out his hand, and the police officer handed him the gold necklace with the little gold loop hanging from it. Zed leaned forward and put the necklace around Anita’s neck. Frank’s mind flashed to the end scene in Star Wars when Princess Leia put medals on the heroes. Everyone but poor Chewie.

Zed said, “Under Regulation 19, your sentence begins now.” He poked the little gold loop with his finger. And suddenly Anita changed.

The crowd gasped.

A moment ago, Anita had been clean and tidy, her hair neatly pulled back into a ponytail. Now she looked like a woman who had been chased through a field of thorn bushes. Her clothes were torn, and small cuts crisscrossed her face. Her hair was down and chunks of it were missing, leaving gaps large enough to show her bloody scalp. Her face was dirty. Her cheeks were gray with little streaks where her tears had run down.

She spoke in a hoarse, scratchy yell. “My God, the people there. They ain’t real. They hurt me. They hurt me bad, and they ain’t even real. They…” Her words trailed off as she began to cry.

Zed removed the necklace and then put his arm around her. “Shhh. You’re safe, sister. Your debt is paid.”

The man next to Frank took a step back. “What the hell just happened? You ain’t doing anything like that to me.”

Zed turned to face the man, and his face grew cold. “Earl Garrison. You have been found guilty of stealing your mother-in-laws’ rations and neglecting her in the face of danger from the Unfeathered. She died because you didn’t care enough to take her somewhere safe after her neighborhood was lost. You have been sentenced to two months Away. Do you have anything to say before your sentence is carried out?”

Earl pointed to Anita. “Yo man, I don’t know what happened to her, but I don’t want none of that. Send me up to NTCC. I don’t want no part of that other thing.”

Zed nodded to the police officers standing on the side of the stage. Two of them came forward and held Earl’s arms down by his side. Zed slipped the necklace over his head.

“Under Regulation 19, your sentence begins now.”

“Yo, this ain’t right! I should be allowed to know what’s going on here. I—” Zed pressed the gold loop with his finger, and Earl changed.

The man looked years older. He was naked except for the necklace, and his chest and legs were covered with half-healed cuts. His head was a mess of dried blood and stubble as if his hair had been shaved with a dull knife.

Earl didn’t speak. He squinted out at the crowd as if the sun was too much for him. He lifted his right hand to shield his eyes. The hand ended in five jagged nubs where his fingers had been only moments before.

Earl tried to take a step forward, and he collapsed into Zed. His breath came in ragged gasps.

“Your debt is paid, brother,” Zed said. He nodded to the police officers. Someone stepped up and wrapped a blanket around Earl.

The pit of fear in Frank’s stomach exploded into a cold chasm. There it was. The terror he had been waiting for all morning.

Zed turned to him. “Your turn.” He felt the two police officers behind him grab his arms. Zed slipped the necklace over Frank’s head. The gold loop was heavy against his chest. Frank had expected the crowd to cheer when his time came, but they gave him only silence.

Christine moved so fast that Frank barely had time to register what she was doing. One moment she was standing on the side of the stage, the next moment she stood behind Zed. She had the knife, the one with the symbol of the broken clock. She snapped the knife open and held it to Zed’s neck.

“No,” she said. Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “No. You let him go.”

“Doctor,” Zed said, “What are you doing?” He still smiled his broad smile, but there was a quiver in his voice.

The eight police officers drew their weapons and pointed them at Christine. Zed waved them away.

Frank glanced to his right and saw Will crouching near the front of the stage, unzipping a backpack. Zed and the police officers hadn’t noticed him yet. All of their attention was on Christine. Will reached into the backpack and pulled out a roundish white object. It took Frank a moment to recognize it: the Birdie head from the freezer at the Hansens’. Will set the head on the stage and pulled something out of his pocket. The lighter with the broken clock symbol. He flipped the lid open and held it near the head.

Frank’s eyes scanned the crowd for Trevor, but he didn’t see the boy.

Christine grabbed Zed’s shoulder and swung him around a quarter turn, the knife still pressed to his neck. Will was ten feet directly in front of them.

Zed’s eyes widened when he saw Will. “Take it easy. Let’s talk this through.”

Christine nodded to Will.

Will flicked the lighter and it burst to life. “How do you like my book learning now, Zed?” He moved the flame to the beak. As soon as the fire touched the head, it burst into flames as if it were made of old newspaper. The decapitated head’s eyes shot open and it opened its beak and let out its familiar song.

Christine yelled to the crowd, “Go home! They’re coming. The Unfeathered are coming! Go home before it’s too late.”

One, then two, then three white specks appeared in the sky overhead. They were high up, but they were slowly circling. Their distant voices joined the song of their brother on the stage.

The crowd moved like a living thing, wriggling and squirming away from the stage. A few people screamed in terror as they noticed the Birdies circling above, lazily looping lower toward the ground.

Frank felt the hands on his arms fall away. He wanted to run, to help Christine and Will, but he had no idea how. He stood and waited.

Zed’s smile was gone now, replaced with a snarl. He turned and spoke to the crowd, and his voice echoed off the surrounding buildings. “Wait. Stop.”

To Frank’s surprise, they did. They froze, almost all of them, and turned to look at the stage.

Zed turned his head and looked back over his shoulder at Christine. “Here. Let me help you.” He grabbed the hand holding the knife and pulled it hard across his own neck. . Christine stepped back, her mouth hanging open.

Blood poured from Zed’s neck, darkening his purple t-shirt. He turned and took a step toward Christine. “Is that what you wanted? Did you want to cut my throat? Watch me bleed out like an animal in front of my town?”

He grabbed the knife from Christine’s hand and tossed it down onto the stage. He walked over, pulled the blanket from the crouching and shivering Earl Garrison, and wiped the blood off his neck.

Frank felt the breath catch in his throat. Zed’s throat was whole and uninjured under the blood. It was as if the cut had healed in only a moment.

Zed took three quick steps toward Will and tossed the blanket over the blazing head, smothering the flames. The song stopped. The three Birdies in the sky circled one more time as if listening for the song, then shot into the clouds above.

The police officers leapt forward, one tackling Christine to the ground and another grabbing Will.

“They never learn, do they?” Zed said. He was pacing across the front of the stage now, addressing the crowd. “The enemies of justice are everywhere. They are hiding among us.”

He turned toward Christine, pinned to the stage by the officer who had tackled her. “Among our most trusted citizens. But understand this, my friends. They cannot hide, not for long. Because they despise justice so much that they can’t help but reveal themselves in the face of it, as we have seen here today.

“These two people we considered friends—” He spat out the word like a curse. “—have shown themselves to be enemies of Rook Mountain. So they, like all enemies of Rook Mountain, will be judged under Regulation 19. In our town, justice cannot, will not, be stopped.”

“Uncle Frank.” The voice came from behind him.

“But let’s finish what we started,” Zed said. “Frank Hinkle, for acts of terrorism against the city of Rook Mountain, you have been sentenced to spend the rest of your natural life Away. You will not be given the chance to speak. Your actions have spoken louder than your words ever could.”

Frank turned and saw Trevor crouched down near him. He held out his hand, palm up, to Frank. The open knife was resting in it.

Quick as he could, Frank reached for the knife. Even as he was reaching for it, he thought he saw a hint of a smile returning to Zed’s face.

Frank’s hand was almost there, almost touching the knife, but Zed was faster. His finger shot toward the gold loop resting on Frank’s chest.

Frank kept reaching. His hand was almost to the weapon. Another inch and he’d have it.

Then the world blinked out of existence.

THE UNREGULATED (PART 2)

Jake and Todd were at the river. In spite of spending most evenings driving around town with the cane, waiting for it to detect something, the group was in the middle of a long dry spell. Since the mirror, they hadn’t found anything.

Todd and Jake had spent the last few nights out at the Gray River. The cane hummed like crazy out there, drawing itself toward a spot in the water. Digging in the river bed was messy, dangerous work, and they had yet to turn up anything. Tonight the group had decided that Jake and Todd would dig out there again while Wendy and Will used the cane to search another part of town.

Jake and Todd approached the river. Todd was a few yards ahead of Jake. Jake almost crashed into him when Todd stopped at the top of the embankment. Then he saw what had caused his friend to freeze.

Zed stood near the edge of the water, arms crossed and that ever-present smile on his face. “Evening, gentlemen.”

“Hello, Zed,” Todd said. Jake stepped forward alongside his friend, but he didn’t say anything.

“The police are on their way,” Zed said.

“We haven’t done anything wrong,” Todd said.

Zed shrugged. “We’ll think of something. I’ve been watching you two since last night. I appreciate your independent spirit. Still, I don’t see the need for all the clandestine stuff.”

“Really?” Todd asked. “People are being killed. Branded. You’ve trapped us all in this town and told us to like our prison. You don’t understand why we might not be super public with our objections?”

Zed chuckled. “No, you misunderstood. I don’t know why you are still objecting at all. I won. This town is mine. There’s nothing to fight.”

“We disagree,” Jake said, finding his voice. It sounded weak.

Zed swiveled his head toward Jake. “Okay. That’s your prerogative, as the song says. You keep on disagreeing.” He pulled out a pocket watch and looked at it. “Do you have any idea how closely the Tools are tied together? I knew a Tool was being used in town. My watch knew. At first I thought maybe it was the mirror, but then I realized it was the cane. After that, it was pretty easy to fool the thing, to lead whoever was using it out here. And then last night you two showed up. So, tell me, where is it? Where’s the cane?”

“We’re done talking,” Todd said.

“Maybe it’s time for us to go,” Jake said.

Zed turned toward Jake. “Maybe I’ll feed that little boy of yours to the Unfeathered. Maybe I’ll take your wife home with me some night. I could do either of those things and no one would stop me. I might do it just for laughs.”

Jake didn’t think, he acted. He reached into his coat and pulled out his pistol. He pointed it at Zed and took three steps forward.

“No one else dies,” Jake said. Then he fired.

It was a clean shot. It hit exactly where Jake had meant it to: Zed’s forehead. A dark hole appeared above Zed’s left eye. Zed fell backward onto the ground and put a hand to his forehead. Slowly, he got up and took a step forward, staggering like a drunk. He rubbed at the spot on his forehead vigorously with the palm of his hand. He took the hand away and the bullet hole was gone.

The smile never left his face.

“Whoa,” Zed said. “I was not expecting that. Maybe I underestimated you. Maybe we got the wrong Hinkle locked up over at NTCC.”

Jake raised his pistol again, careful to not let the barrel shake.

Zed shook his head. “Come on, really?” His hand snaked out quicker than Jake would have thought possible, and he grabbed the pistol, ripping it from Jake’s hand.

Todd’s hand went into his jacket. Zed pointed the weapon at him. “Empty hands, friend. Hold them up so I can see them.”

Todd raised his hands. It looked ridiculous to Jake, like a movie. He had never seen anyone put their hands up in real life.

“I’ll be honest,” Zed said. “I don’t like either of you. You are dangerous. Let me show you what I mean.”

Zed fired. Todd was dead before he hit the ground. Jake screamed, ran to his friend and fell to his knees next to the body. He turned back to Zed, but before he could speak a squad car pulled off the side of the road.

Jake didn’t know if these officers would be his saviors or his executioners. The way Sean talked about the police force, it could go either way.

Zed was waving his arms, signaling for the officers to hurry over. They stepped out of their squad car.

“Guys!” yelled Zed. “We need your help! We’ve got a man hurt over here!”

The police officers hustled forward. Jake recognized Gary Stampard. Gary had been a jock back in high school, but his point guard days were about seventy pounds behind him. His stomach strained the limits of his uniform. His partner was an older guy with a stereotypical cop mustache. Don Franklin. Don had busted Jake a few times back in Jake’s hell-raising days. The fact that he knew both of them was both a comfort and a concern. Would they be more or less likely to help him?

“Zed. Jake. What’s going on out here?” Officer Franklin asked.

Zed fired two shots into Franklin’s face, and then turned and shot Stampard. Zed's accuracy was lethal. Both men fell down dead.

Zed swung the gun around and pointed it at Jake.

Jake froze in his crouched position next to Todd’s body. He didn’t think he could have moved if he’d wanted to. His legs were shaking and his breath felt strange. The world looked a little fuzzy around the edges.

Jake thought, This is what it feels like to know you are about to die.

“Don’t make me shoot you,” Zed said.

“Todd didn’t make you shoot him. Neither did Gary and Don.”

“That’s true. You made me shoot them. You pulled your gun and fired it. Without your predilection for violence, this whole thing would have been a lot less bloody.”

Zed licked his lips. From Jake’s vantage point near the ground, Zed looked impossibly tall.

“Why’d you come here tonight?” Jake asked. “What do you want?”

“The way I see it, I came out here to think, as I often do, and I stumbled upon you and Todd breaking some Regulations. I haven’t decided which ones yet, but it hardly matters, does it?”

Jake said nothing, so Zed continued.

“I ran to the nearest house and called the police, reporting some suspicious activity at the river, but I knew the police might be too late. I had to investigate. So I came back out here and hid in the bushes, watching you and Todd. Imagine my surprise when you two started arguing. It sounded like Todd was trying to talk you out of leaving town, and you were saying it was the only way, that you didn’t care who got hurt as a result of your actions. One thing led to another, and you pulled out a weapon and ended the argument. I was shocked and too afraid to come out of my hiding spot. I didn’t even come out when Officers Stampard and Franklin showed up and you ambushed them. Then I found my courage, came out, and wrestled the weapon away from you. It was terrifying. A real nightmare.” Zed shook his head sadly.

“You’re crazy if you think anyone’s going to believe that.”

“Maybe,” Zed said. “Still, I like my odds. I’m the hero of Rook Mountain. You’re a redneck who tried to jump his station by marrying a pretty doctor. People around here know what you really are. How many times were you arrested as a teenager? Plus, the murder weapon is a pistol registered to you.”

Jake eased his hand under his dead friend’s jacket.

Zed crouched down next to Jake. “Is Dr. Christine involved in your little conspiracy? If she is, I’ll find out. How about your friend the teacher? I’ll be watching him, too. They take one step outside the Regulations, and they are mine. I know you have the cane. Where is it? ”

Zed raised the gun and placed the barrel against Jake’s forehead. The metal was hot on Jake’s skin.

Jake thought of Trevor and wondered what kind of man the boy would turn out to be. He mouthed a silent prayer. His hand tightened around the gun in Todd’s shoulder holster.

“Look at me Jake.”

Jake did. The creepiest thing about Zed was his genuine smile. He always seemed delighted.

“Hmm, your mind is cloudy. I can’t make out much of what I need in there. Too bad. I do see some cabins that seem important. I’ll have to check those out.” Zed sighed. “Be smart here. You are going to die either way—”

Jake ripped the gun out of Todd’s holster and shoved it into Zed’s mouth before the man finished his sentence. Jake pulled the trigger, and chunks of skull and brain matter exploded from the back of Zed’s head. Jake fired again. And again. He kept firing until the gun was empty. Then he put his foot against Zed’s chest and pushed him off the gun.

Zed fell backwards with a moan. He lay on the ground twitching.

Jake had no illusions that Zed was dead. But the man hadn’t gotten up yet, either. Jake might still have time to do one last thing for Rook Mountain. He jumped into his car and drove toward the center of town.

CHAPTER EIGHT: AWAY

1.

The world flickered, and then everything was different.

The first and most visceral difference was the temperature. It was as if the heat had been sucked off Frank's skin and a cold emptiness was left in its place. It was maybe not cold, but it was crisp, the type of weather where one would have liked to wear a sweater.

The light was different too. The world was illuminated by an ultra-diffused, grayish light. Frank looked up and, while there didn’t seem to be any clouds above, he couldn’t see the sun. It was as if the entire sky was glowing—there was no visible light source.

Frank’s eyes darted around him, trying to take in everything at once. It was sensory overload, and he felt his breath coming faster as he tried to understand what was happening to him.

The people of Rook Mountain were frozen where they had been moments ago. There was Trevor, with his hand stretched out. There was Will, an angry snarl on his face as a police officer pinned him to the stage. Zed stood directly in front of him, that creepy smile taking up most of the real estate on his face, his finger poised millimeters from Frank’s chest. The police officer to Zed’s left had his mouth open in a shout, and speckles of saliva were frozen in the air in front of him.

It was as if the world had been paused. All of it except Frank. He suddenly understood how the other prisoners had served their sentences in only moments.

But the frozen people weren’t the only change.

Dozens of the Unfeathered covered the area, and they were definitely not frozen. There were three of them on stage and many more scattered throughout the crowd. They strutted casually, occasionally pecking at one of the frozen people as if eating invisible bugs off their skin. These Unfeathered looked different than the ones Frank fought last week. The shorter beaks and more defined facial features gave these Unfeathered a look that was part bat and part emu. There seemed to be more variety among them, too. The one closest to Frank had long, finger-like protrusions at the end of its wings.

Frank stumbled backwards as the Unfeathered came near, and he crashed into what felt like a stone wall. He looked back and saw it was the police officer who had been standing behind him. The Unfeathered passed by Frank like he wasn’t there.

Frank glanced down at the necklace around his neck. Zed had said it would protect him from the Unfeathered. Looked like he hadn’t been lying. About that part, at least.

That was no reason to go unprotected, though. Frank reached for the gun holstered on the police officer’s side. He pulled on the holster’s strap and unbuckled it. As soon as he released it, it snapped back shut. He touched the officer’s face. It was hard as rock. His face, his hair, his hands, they were all part of the unmovable statue that was this man.

Frank eased himself out from between Zed’s outstretched finger and the officer behind him. He walked around the stage, touching things, trying to understand his new world. He found that he could pick up objects off the ground, like the microphone lying unused near the front of the stage, but as soon as he let them go, they snapped back to their original locations as if pulled by a strong magnet.

More than once he crossed paths with one of the wandering Unfeathered. They took no notice of him. Gaining a little more confidence, Frank inched close to one of them, stretched out his hand, and brushed his fingers against the creature’s wing. The Birdie shook itself as if a fly had landed on it, but it didn’t turn toward Frank.

A thick swarm of Unfeathered passing overhead. It was then he noticed something else: the creatures weren’t singing. Frank had rarely seen an Unfeathered that wasn’t singing its terrible song or feeding. But these creatures, even the countless cloud of them in the sky, were absolutely silent but for the flapping of their wings.

Frank walked up to Zed and spat in his face. It was less satisfying than he thought it would be; the moment the spit hit Zed, it disappeared. It seemed not even his saliva could affect the rest of the world here.

He slid off the stage and walked through the crowd. He held out his hands as he walked, letting the cold hard skin of the people brush against his palms. It was strange looking into their frozen faces. Some were somber. Some expressionless. But a disturbing amount of them looked gleeful, their faces frozen masks of delight as they watched the punishment being doled out up on the stage. Frank had known many of these people his whole life, but that didn’t stop them from getting their sadistic jollies watching him get the punishment they felt he had coming to him.

Suddenly the Unfeathered all froze as if listening. Then, as one, they took off into the air and flew away. Frank had a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The creatures had looked frightened. Whatever frightened the Unfeathered would probably not mean good news for Frank.

A low humming began. Then a higher note joined it. Then another.

It was a song, but not a song of the Unfeathered. This was something else. Frank remembered what Zed had told him. “When the Ones Who Sing come after you, you might wish you had swallowed your pride.”

Frank backed up until he was against the stage. He looked out into the crowd, waiting.

He saw a shadow moving through the crowd. Then another.

No, they weren’t shadows. They were dark shapes, vaguely like that of a man, though their edges seemed to shift and blur. They moved quickly, twisting their way through the crowd. Where moments ago there had been three of them there were now dozens. The shapes divided and merged, as if they were all part of some single, ever-changing mass.

The singing grew louder, so loud that Frank felt the urge to put his hands over his ears. He resisted it, afraid that any movement might draw their attention. He concentrated on staying perfectly still, his back pressed against the stage.

More voices joined the deafening chorus, and somehow the cacophony of notes began to form words. It was like no language Frank had ever heard, but it was also perfectly understandable, like a language he had always known somewhere deep inside. They were singing a single word.

“Frankkk.”

Frank’s breath caught in his throat. How did they know him? What did they want?

“Frankkk.”

Frank tried to pick one of the shapes out in the crowd and follow it with his eyes, but he found he couldn’t see the shape when he looked at it directly. It disappeared. It was only when he didn’t focus, when he took in the scene as a whole, that he could see them.

That poor woman on the stage had been right. They weren’t real. But they were.

“Frankkk. You are almost free.”

The shapes moved closer to him. He pressed himself harder against the stage. He wanted to run, but where? The shapes were all around him. The Ones Who Sing circled closer, their ever-changing song growing even louder.

One of the shapes brushed up against his leg and he heard a ripping sound. He looked down. His jeans were ripped and there was a long cut on his thigh.

“Frankk,” the song continued. “Come to us as a dog to its master, and we will feed you.”

One brushed past his head, and he felt a clump of his hair being ripped out.

“Get away!” he yelled.

“Come to us as a master to his dog, and we will give you three truths.”

Another brushed past his arm, and a new gash appeared in his skin.

“Come to us as a friend, and we will take your flesh.”

They were brushing against him two at a time, so quickly he lost track of his wounds.

“Come to us as an enemy, and we will take your life.”

Frank put his arms up to cover his face. He fell to his knees to cover as much of himself as he could.

“Come to us, Frankk. Come to us.”

The song stopped, and they were gone.

2.

Bad as the Ones Who Sing were, it didn’t take Frank long to realize that they might not be his biggest problem.

He stood in the produce section of Food City in front of a beautiful stack of Honey Crisp apples. Honey Crisps were his favorite. Will always said they were so good because they came from the North, but Will was an idiot.

Frank decided to try again.

He reached out and picked up the apple on the top of the stack. It was shiny and red, like an apple you’d see in a commercial. It looked delicious. Frank licked his lips and slowly brought the apple to his mouth, imagining how it would taste if only—if only!—he could eat it. He brought his teeth down gently this time. His mouth still hurt from the last attempt. But the result was the same. It was like trying to bite into stone.

He glanced down at his hand and saw he was dripping blood onto the apple. He hadn’t taken the time to count his cuts, but there had to be a dozen. Thankfully, none of them seemed too deep. Still, between the cuts and the blood smeared all over him, he probably looked like something from a Tarantino movie.

He had been up and down the aisles, and it was all the same. At first he had hoped it was only produce, so he had tried the meat. When that hadn’t worked, he had moved on to the more processed foods. But everything from the peanut butter to the Twinkies was inedible.

Frank dropped the apple, but it didn’t even have the decency to fall down. It snapped back to its rightful place on the top of the stack.

The food situation was worrisome, but he could go for a few weeks without food if he had to. Much more troubling was the lack of water. He could turn on a faucet, but no water came out. He had tried the fountain near City Hall downtown, but the water in the fountain was rock solid. The bottled water at the store was the same. He needed water if he was going to make it more than a couple of days, but he was out of ideas. Poor Earl Garrison had survived here for two months. How had he done it?

The words of The Ones Who Sing came back to Frank: “Come to us as a dog comes to its master, and we will feed you.”

As a dog comes to its master. Begging, thought Frank. They wanted him to beg. He wasn’t quite that desperate, not yet anyway. Then Frank thought of another part of the song: “Come to us as a friend and we will take your flesh.” He thought of Earl’s hand with its missing fingers.

Frank sighed. He had only been there a couple of hours, by his estimation. The situation wasn’t dire yet, but he had to think ahead, to figure it out, if he wanted to survive. He made his way to the front of the store and looked out the glass door. He was relieved to see three Unfeathered standing in the parking lot. One stood near Sally Badwater of all people, idly pecking at her face. It was as if they ate something off the frozen people. If they survived off that, was it something that could also sustain Frank?

He sighed and opened the door. He wasn’t ready to start licking Sally Badwater yet, but give it a few hours.

Frank stopped a few feet in front of one of the Unfeathered. After spending the whole of last week fighting these creatures, it was odd to stand so close to one without either of them trying to kill each other.

Frank glanced down at the gold loop resting on his chest. Zed had told him this would protect him from the Unfeathered, but Zed said a lot of things. Maybe the necklace was what was keeping him trapped here in this place where time didn’t move.

Slowly, Frank lifted the necklace over his head and set it on the ground. He took a deep breath and let go of the chain.

No sooner had his fingers lost contact with the metal than the creature fifteen feet in front of him snapped his head toward Frank and looked right at him. It opened its stunted beak and let out a weak cry. It was a pathetic version of the song the Unfeathered usually sang, but it was recognizable nonetheless. The other Unfeathered scattered throughout the parking lot all turned toward Frank.

Frank glanced at Sally Badwater. Damn it. She remained frozen.

Frank grabbed the necklace off the pavement and put it over his head. The Unfeathered closed their beaks and went back to their lackadaisical business.

Frank made his way through town. He had no clear destination. He needed to think, and he knew that the best solutions often presented themselves when he let both his mind and body wander.

After a while, he found himself back at City Hall. He looked out over the makeshift stage. He didn’t much care to see that again, so he turned the other way and opened the door to City Hall.

He meandered through the hallways. He stopped in front of the sixth door on the left, the door that had held Zed’s box. He let the scenarios play in his mind for a moment. If only he hadn’t opened the box. If only Sean hadn’t ratted him out to Zed. If only Zed hadn’t returned. If only the people of his hometown had stood up for him. In the end, though, there were only two people he could blame for his current situation: himself and Zed.

One of those two people was already paying for his sins. If Frank survived this place, he vowed that Zed would pay, too.

As Frank stared at the door, he heard a low familiar hum, and his heart jumped with terror. Other voices joined the first more quickly this time as the song grew.

“Come to us. We will sustain you.”

Frank silently cursed himself for going into City Hall. If he had been outside, he would have seen the Unfeathered scatter. Inside, he had been caught unaware.

Though the voices were many, Frank saw a single dark shape at the end of the hallway. It flickered as it approached him, hovering motionless for a moment, and then traveling ten feet in less than a second.

“Come eat from our hand. Our price is small.”

“I’ve seen your damn price,” Frank muttered. “I’d like to keep all my fingers, thanks.”

He wasn’t going to wait this time while they/it carved him up like a Christmas ham. He turned and ran toward the exit. He rounded a corner, and there was the dark shape. Frank didn’t hesitate. He ducked around it and kept running. He felt his hand slice open as it brushed against the shape. He didn’t stop.

He crashed into the door and threw it open. As he ran outside, he risked a glance over his shoulder. The dark shape was following close behind him. But now that he was in open space, he sprinted. The stage was directly in front of him.

The shape glided past him, cutting his shoulder. It split in front of him, forming a dozen dark shapes.

“Come to us as a friend. We will take your flesh.”

They formed a semicircle around Frank, pinning him against the stage once again. Frank saw Zed up there, his face frozen in a grin. He would have done anything wipe that smile off Zed’s face. Then Frank saw something else on the stage.

He pulled himself up onto the waist-high structure. He struggled to his feet and ran to Trevor.

Trevor’s hand was still outstretched, and the knife was still resting in his hand. Trevor had wanted Frank to have the knife, but Frank had been a fraction of a second too slow. Or maybe not.

Frank grabbed the knife. He said a silent prayer and opened it, knowing it would snap shut as soon as he let go of the blade. But it didn’t. And it didn’t feel like everything else here did. It felt like metal, not stone.

A dark shape drifted toward him, and Frank swiped at it with the blade. He hit the thing in what he guessed was its shoulder. To Frank’s surprise, the blade sliced through the shape and a piece of it fell to the ground. As the blade struck, there was a momentary pause in the creature’s song like a record skipping.

Frank lunged at the shape’s head, but the shape was already retreating. The song faded, and the Ones Who Sing were gone.

3.

The next thing Frank did was try to stab Zed in the eye. He was disappointed but not surprised when the blade made no mark on the stone skin.

Next Frank set the knife on the stage and let go. It didn’t snap back to Trevor’s hand. The Tools didn’t seem to follow the same rules as the rest of the things in this place. Frank walked over to where Will lay on the stage. The lighter with the broken clock symbol lay on the ground next to him.

Frank picked up the lighter, opened it, and flicked the thumb wheel. It lit on the first try. Good. He had fire and a weapon. He was becoming pretty advanced by caveman standards. What else?

He suddenly thought of Zed’s pocket watch. Was there a chance Zed had it on him? Frank walked to Zed and immediately saw the pocket watch. Zed held it clutched in his left hand.

No matter how Frank tried, he couldn’t get the watch out of Zed’s stone-like hand. He tried cutting and prying with the knife blade, and he tried burning Zed’s hand with the lighter. Neither worked. He couldn’t get the watch away from Zed.

Well, at least he had fire. Now if only he had something to cook. His eyes drifted to the Unfeathered. No. Not yet. He wouldn’t eat that abomination unless he had no other choice.

Frank wandered over to the fountain with its motionless streams of water hanging in the air. He knew he couldn’t drink them, but they sure looked wet. His thirst was beginning to get the better of him. He stabbed the water with the knife. The blade bounced off. He lit the lighter and dropped it onto the water. It hit water’s solid surface with a thud.

He had to move on. This fountain was only making him thirstier.

Just as he was about to pick up the lighter, something occurred to him. He pressed the broken clock symbol on the lighter. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the water began to change. Moisture pooled up around the lighter and it slowly began to sink. The water was melting. Like ice.

The lighter had brought the dead Birdie back to life. It was doing the same for the water.

Frank forced himself to wait until there was a good size puddle around the lighter. It was submerged, but the flame didn’t go out. Frank reached into the water and grabbed the lighter. Then he sank his face into the pool and drank with long thirsty gulps. He couldn’t help but laugh as he felt the wetness dripping down his face. He had water. He had a weapon. He had fire.

He might be able to survive in this place.

4.

Frank took another bite of the meat and wiped his greasy fingers on the tattered remains of his pants. It wasn’t exactly delicious, but he wasn’t eating for pleasure. He had to keep his strength up.

By his estimation, he had been there for a little more than two weeks. It was difficult to tell because there was no night. There was always the same amount of hazy light coming from the sky. He tried to use his body to judge the passing time. He slept until his bladder woke him up, and then he stayed awake until his body had told him to eat three times, and then he slept again. It wasn’t an exact science but it was all he had. He was starting to wonder how much sleep he was really getting, though. The last few days he had felt dead tired.

He had gotten over his squeamishness at eating the Unfeathered. Killing them was easy; they didn’t notice him until the moment he cut their throats. The real trick turned out to be cooking them. While he did have fire, he didn’t have anything that would burn. Wood, paper, fabric; they were all inflammable here. Luckily he remembered Will’s little on-stage demonstration with the head. The Unfeathered themselves were pretty flammable. So he lit the meat, waited until it was nicely charred, and put it out. It wasn’t tasty, but it worked.

He had learned to cook only small pieces of the meat at a time. As Will had demonstrated, the lighter seemed to temporarily bring things back to life. Frank had discovered with small enough pieces of meat it was difficult to tell whether it was alive.

He’d spent much of his time looking for the other Tools. He had the knife and the lighter, but the cane, the mirror, and the key were all still missing. He’d searched the shed at the cabin. He’d searched Will and Christine’s house. No luck. Will and Christine had hidden the other Tools somewhere new. He found the coin at Sean’s house, but he decided to leave that one where it lay.

He’d also spent time discovering the limitations of the Tools. The lighter unpaused liquids, but it didn’t seem to have any effect on solids. He could drink water, juice, and sodas as long as he could remove the lid long enough to apply a flame directly to paused liquid. Applying the flame to food items with high water content like applesauce produced a mixed result—the water eventually drained out, but the solid portion remained paused. The lighter had no effect on the humans or solid foods.

Frank had become skilled at avoiding the Ones Who Sing. It was all about watching the Unfeathered and clearing out when they did. The few times he had gotten caught, Frank fought off the Ones Who Sing with minimal damage. The real trouble was any time he went to sleep. By the time their song was loud enough to wake him, it was too late.

It had only happened once so far, but he had been lucky to escape. Even still, they had taken a small piece of his ear before he managed to fight them off.

He couldn’t live like that forever, he knew. Some night he would wake to find them too thick to escape. They considered him an enemy now, and the song said, “Come to us as an enemy and we will take your life.”

He had to figure something out.

He’d been thinking a lot about the song they sang to him on his first day. “Come to us as a dog to its master and we will give you food. Come to us as a friend and we will take your flesh. Come to us as an enemy and we will take your life.” He understood all of that. But there had been another part.

“Come to us as a master to his dog and we will give you three truths.”

That was the part he kept thinking about. What were the three truths? Would they tell him how to get out of there? And how exactly did a master come to his dog? With confidence? With love? He didn’t know.

Three days later, he was sleeping near the fountain when they came. That was the moment, half asleep, that he figured it out.

As they swarmed around him, he began to whistle.

5.

At first, the whistling didn’t seem to do anything. The shapes sped around him, brushing past him, cutting him, singing their haunting song. Then Frank listened for a moment and adjusted his whistle. He matched the pitch to the song.

Suddenly, for the first time, he could hear them as individuals instead of as part of the whole.

“He joins!”

“A new voice in the song! A little voice!”

“The Little One has joined the song.”

Frank kept whistling.

Then, as one, the shapes sang, “Three truths are yours to know. What three truths would you ask, Little One?”

Frank wasn’t sure how he felt about being called Little One, but at least they weren’t cutting pieces off of him. He said, “How do I return home?”

The voices separated and babbled too quickly to follow, as if they were conferring among themselves. Then they said, “You are home, Little One. Are you not of Rook Mountain?”

“Yes, but how do I get back into time?”

“Ah, there’s a wiser question, Little One. Time is a prison for your kind. It’s a river that carries you so fast that you cannot experience the sights on the passing banks. Why do you wish to return to your prison?”

“I—I need to help my friends who are there.”

“You are locked outside of time, Little One. You wear the lock around your neck. You must unlock it with the key.”

“The key?” Frank asked. “What if I don’t have a key?”

“Then find it. Or make it. Or pick the lock. Are you not the people who build powerful machines to cough smoke into the air and who traveled to the moon itself? Can you truly not open a lock? You try our patience, Little One. Ask your second question.”

Frank thought hard before speaking. He had heard too many stories of genies and wishes to screw it up. They didn’t seem to be counting follow up questions, so that was something.

“There is a man named Zed. How do I kill him?”

The voices rumbled in something like anger. “We know of this man. The boy who found the watch. Or was it the watch who found the boy?”

The throng seemed to be at odds on this matter, but the voices soon reunified and continued. “He has taken the Town of Rook Mountain and moved it out of the river of time. He has put it into a stagnant pool where time cannot flow and the town will grow putrid. He sent you and the other two as peace offerings, but we are not at peace. He cannot be killed by any means we know, Little One, or he would be dead.”

“Then how can I put Rook Mountain back in the… river of time?”

“That is the same thing you asked before. Your kind will always be in the river unless they are locked out of it. For Rook Mountain, there is another lock and another key. You risk our anger by repeating your questions, Little One. Ask your last question, and we will give your last truth.”

Frank’s mind was racing. One last question. Before he could even think, he blurted it out. “Where’s my brother? Where is Jake Hinkle?”

“Ah, we know this name, too. We know it well. He is our—” Here the voices split once again and Frank heard multiple words at once.

“Friend.”

“Enemy.”

“Rival.”

“Champion.”

“Oppressor.”

“Brother.”

The voices joined back together. “The one you speak of stands outside the river of time. He stands on its edge like a fisherman, pulling out those who swim by as it suits him.”

“Is he locked out, too?”

Another babbling laugh. “No, Little One. He chose to step out. We do not know all, but we do know this: you will never see Jake Hinkle again.”

Frank started to speak, but the voices cut him off.

“Little One, will you join us? Will you join our throng?”

Frank looked out at the shapes around him. They almost appeared to be dancing.

“Join us. Your kind flows in the river of time, but the river of time flows in us. Join us and time will be your plaything.”

Frank thought of Trevor, still standing on the stage holding out his hand. “Would I be able to help my friends?”

The babbling laugh came again. “No, those Little Ones will be of no consequence to you once you are in our throng. They matter no more than a flash of light at the edge of the universe.”

“Then no,” Frank said. “I won’t join you.”

“Very well, Little One. We will not answer your call again. Next time we see you, we will take your flesh.”

Frank held up the knife. “And I will take yours.” But they were already gone.

Frank held the gold loop dangling from his necklace up to his face. He tried to see it as a lock. If he were designing a lock like this, how would he do it? How would it open? The Ones Who Sing had told him to find a key. There was only one key in this town that might work to unlock the necklace. He just had to find it.

It took a very long time, but he did.

THE UNREGULATED (PART 3)

Jake Hinkle sped through town, frantically looking in his mirrors and expecting to see the flashing lights of a squad car closing in on him. So far there didn’t seem to be anybody following him. That was a good thing, because once they arrested him, he would have missed his opportunity. He would either join Frank in prison or—more likely—he would join Todd in the morgue. Those things couldn’t happen. Not yet. There was more left to do.

He wondered where they would look for him first. There were a couple of possibilities. The most obvious was home. He’d give anything to kiss Christine and hold Trevor one more time. But he couldn’t do either of those things, and probably would never do either of those things again, because home would be the first place they would look for him. If he went there, he would be captured. He wouldn’t get to do the other thing, the thing he needed to do for his family.

Another possibility was the cabins. Two of them were empty with Frank and Brett gone. He could probably go there and hide out for a while. He knew those woods like no one else, save maybe Christine. He could evade them for a good long time if he didn’t mind living wild. But all that would do was delay the inevitable. It wouldn’t help his friends or family. Eventually, he would slip up or they would get lucky.

There was only one destination. He had to go there, even though going there would mean the end of him.

He reached the house at a little after two in the morning. She should be home by now, and, if he knew the owner of this house, she would be awake, maybe winding down with a glass of wine while watching old episodes of The Twilight Zone on Blu-ray.

He took a deep breath and knocked, rapping on the door frame three times with his knuckles. Twenty seconds later the porch light came on and the curtains rustled as she peeked out. Then the door opened a crack.

“Jake, what are you doing here?” Wendy asked. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry. Let me in. We need to talk.”

“Is everything okay?”

He shook his head. “It’s bad. I need your help.”

She opened the door and shooed him in. Jake saw a half empty glass of red wine on the end table. The TV was on.

“No!” a voice said from the TV. “No, it’s nothing of the sort! I didn’t blow the lights out. I swear I didn’t! Someone’s pulling a gag or something!”

The Twilight Zone.

Another voice from the TV said, “A gag? A gag? Charlie, there’s a man lying dead in the street, and you killed him. Does that look like a gag to you?”

Wendy turned off the TV and sat down on the couch. Her face was drawn with concern. “Tell me.”

He told her, starting with Zed showing up. He told her about shooting Zed and about Zed shooting Todd and the cops.

“So he knows?” Wendy asked. “He knows about us?”

Jake shook his head. “I don’t think so. He only knows that Todd and I are involved.”

Wendy stood up and started pacing. “We have to call the others. We have to meet right away. Talk this through.”

“No. Wendy, listen. We only have one chance. The mirror.”

Wendy shook her head. “That’s a long shot at best. And even if it does work, we have no idea how long it will take to bring back help. It could be years. Decades. And what are the rest of us supposed to do during that time?”

“You’ll wait. You’ll be model citizens. You won’t meet with each other again and you’ll follow every Regulation to the letter. You’ll publicly and vocally support Zed and his cronies. You’ll give them no reason to suspect you of anything.”

“Jake, that’s crazy. If we don’t stand up to them what’s been the point of any of this? They win.”

“What’s the alternative? This is our shot.”

Wendy’s face was pale. Jake saw it from her point of view. She had been relaxing in front of the TV in her t-shirt and yoga pants, and in came Jake to tell her that her friend was dead and that the secret war they had been waging for the last six months was over. When he looked at it that way, she was actually taking it pretty well. She sat down on the couch next to him.

“Look, it’s not an ideal solution,” Jake said, “but I don’t know what else to do. This thing… we’ve been doing our best for a while now, but it isn’t working. We aren’t going to beat him head-on the way we wanted to. The mirror is our only chance. It’s ugly, but it’s the only way Trevor and the rest of the kids in this town have a chance at growing up as anything but slaves.”

Wendy sighed. “Fine.”

“Fine? Like, you agree?”

“Fine like I agree. I only have one favor to ask. Let me be the one to do it.”

Jake gritted his teeth. They were wasting time. “That won’t work.”

“Of course it will,” she said. “You have a family. I disappear, who cares? Your son needs you. Don’t make him grow up without you.”

“Wendy, that doesn’t make sense. I’m the one they’re after. It has to be me. I don’t go and I’m under arrest or dead in the next eight hours.”

“Maybe we could frame it so I did the crimes. I could leave a note—”

“Wendy!” he said, a little louder than he had intended. “You know it has to be me. I appreciate the offer. Your heart is in the right place and I’ll never forget it. But you know I’m right.”

Finally Wendy said, “I’ll get the mirror.”

She walked out of the living room and left Jake sitting on the couch. He saw the glass of wine and wondered if she had anything stronger. He sure could use a shot of Tennessee whiskey. He couldn’t do that, though. He needed his wits for what was about to happen.

Wendy returned and gave him the hand-held mirror. The broken clock symbol was intricately carved on the handle.

“Do you have a…” He mimed cutting his finger.

“Oh. Yeah, let me get something.” She returned a moment later with a large serrated kitchen knife.

“Thanks,” he said. He set the mirror on his lap and held his index finger over it. Then he stopped, remembering something. “Do you have some paper? And an envelope?”

“Of course.”

Writing it took a while. Words didn’t come easy to him in the best of times, and now was not the best of times. Wendy waited quietly, not rushing him. He finished his message, folded up the paper, and stuck it in the envelope.

“When Trevor gets older, old enough to understand, will you give this to him?”

Wendy nodded.

“I’m coming back. I am. But… just in case. There’s some things I want to tell him.”

“I’ll give it to him.”

He sighed and picked up the knife. “And ask Will to… to take care of my family.”

Wendy nodded again. “Any message for Christine?”

Jake shook his head. “She knows. She knows anything I could want to tell her. She knows what I’m gonna say before I say it. She always has.” Jake smiled. “She is going to be pissed, though. I promised her we’d play darts to see who got to use this thing.”

Tears leapt into Jake’s eyes as he brought the knife toward his skin. Would he ever see his family again? “Wendy,” he said, “I’m scared.”

Wendy said nothing, but she put an arm around his shoulder.

Jake took a deep breath and nodded to her. She stepped back. He slid the blade hard across the meat of his index finger. Blood pooled around the cut. Jake turned his finger over and let the blood drip onto the mirror. The surface of the mirror shimmered when the blood hit it.

“See ya, Wendy,” Jake said. He fell into the mirror.

CHAPTER NINE: THE BROKEN CLOCK

1.

The moment Zed cut his own throat Christine knew she was in trouble.

She and Will had talked late into the night trying to decide what to do. They had at times argued and at times agreed. They had changed each others’ minds and then changed them back. The central point of discussion was that they had been waiting for eight years to make their move, so why exactly were they still waiting?

At first they had been waiting for Jake to return. They had followed his instructions. They stopped meeting and even socializing with Wendy and Sean, the other two remaining members of the Unregulated. But Christine and Will hadn’t stopped seeing each other. As they kept more secrets from everyone else in Rook Mountain, their bond grew stronger. Part of it was the honesty they shared only with each other, but the other part of the bond was how deeply and profoundly they both missed Jake.

It was Christine who first brought up that perhaps they should start dating and eventually marry. It made sense from a logistical perspective. They spent so much time together already. And getting remarried would prove to the town that she had moved on. It would help people to stop seeing her killer husband every time they saw her face. So they had dated and gotten married as quickly as seemed appropriate. They had discussed the idea calmly and rationally, but it quickly became clear that it was much more than a marriage of convenience. As they spent more time together, their feelings for each other grew. They were two people living in a desperate situation, and soon they were desperately in love.

So they had remained undercover, living their new lives with Christine as the town doctor and Will teaching high school and eventually taking over the delivery of the certification program. They were polite, community-minded citizens. They told themselves they were doing it all for Trevor and to protect the coin, and that they were only waiting for the right opportunity to take Zed down.

But last night, talking in the garage until the wee hours of the morning, they had realized they might be using carefulness as an excuse to maintain their comfort. What exactly were they waiting for? They had the best chance of anyone in town of taking out Zed. They had five Tools. That was more than Zed himself. And they had reason to believe that they might be able to hurt him with the knife. Christine had seen Zed’s face when Frank pulled it out at City Hall. The knife, she was convinced, was the one thing in town that might be able to hurt him.

Acting now was dangerous. They discussed all the usual reasons for inaction: protecting Trevor, giving Jake a chance to do what he needed to do, not wanting the Tools to fall into Zed’s hands if they failed. But all the usual reasons seemed hollow. Frank’s life was on the line. If they didn’t act now, when would they? Sure, it might be putting Trevor at risk, but maybe safety wasn’t worth selling your soul.

So they had devised a plan. The knife for Zed and the lighter and the resurrected head to keep the townsfolk at bay. Christine had fully intended to slash Zed’s throat whether he let Frank go or not, so she was more than a little surprised when Zed did it for her.

Zed cut his throat, took the knife, and threw it on the ground. He put out the fire, and then Christine felt a police officer tackling her, pinning her to the ground. His knee pushed into the small of her back with painful force, but she was beyond such things. She noticed the pain only as a distant annoyance. Everything took on an air of unreality for her. Her only clear thought played on a loop in her brain: we failed. After waiting eight years, they had taken their shot and failed.

She turned her head as much as she could with her face pressed into the ground, and she saw Will in a similar position. His eyes met hers and she saw the same look of despair on his face that she felt on her own.

Zed was talking, speaking to the crowd as he so loved to do, but Christine wasn’t listening. She kept her eyes on her husband. There was no one coming to save them. Jake’s mission to bring back reinforcements from Wendy’s mirror had failed. All the years of trying to protect Trevor were for naught—even worse, he was in Zed’s pocket at that terrible school. Would he be an outcast after this, or would Zed draw him in even deeper?

Christine stared into her husband's eyes and tried to convey what she felt, the one message she desperately wanted to give him. We tried. No regrets.

If she understood Regulation 19 correctly—and she was sure she didn’t; no one did at this point—the only possible sentence for her and Will was to be sent ‘Away.’ The only question was for how long. It was a fairly genius plan really, Christine had to admit. There was something terrifying about serving a ten-year sentence right now in some unknown land, serving the whole sentence in what seemed like the blink of an eye to any onlookers. That was much more terrifying than the prospect of twenty years in NTCC. And now, with Earl’s suddenly missing fingers, it would be even more frightening.

Christine squeezed her eyes shut. Whatever ‘Away’ meant, she and Will would have a firsthand look soon. Regulation 19 didn’t seem to leave a lot of room for appeal. The only reason it had taken Frank so long to be sentenced was that Zed had to build that necklace with the gold loop. Now that it was complete, assuming Zed had made more than one of them, it was entirely possible Christine and Will would be convicted and sentenced right on the stage in mere moments. She only hoped that wherever they ended up, they would be together.

Christine twisted her head to see Frank. Two police officers held his arms. Zed approached him, saying things that were meant to sound formal and official, but were really another way of saying, “You’re screwed.” Zed reached out, touched the gold loop on Frank’s necklace, and Frank was gone.

Christine felt herself gasp. It came out much louder than she would have expected considering she was being crushed by a two-hundred-pound cop. Then she realized it wasn’t only her own voice she was hearing, but it was the sound of the crowd who had gasped along with her.

This wasn’t like the last two times. Those had been shocking enough with the convicted suddenly changing right in front of the crowd, their outward appearance evidence of the time they had spent in the Away. This was different, and, as bad as those first two were, this was worse.

Frank wasn’t changed; he was gone. He hadn’t been killed; he simply no longer existed. He was gone and he would never return. A wave of nausea washed over Christine. A life had been taken out of the world in a wholly unnatural way. The laws of the universe, both the laws of nature and the laws of morality, had been broken. Christine looked into the crowd and from the disturbed looks on some of their faces, she knew she wasn’t the only one feeling it.

Christine turned and noticed Trevor for the first time. When had he stepped onto the stage? He was squatting near where Frank had been a moment ago. He was staring at his outstretched empty hand.

Zed turned and opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. He looked at the crowd for a long moment, and Christine realized he was gauging them, checking their temperature. He had been about to make a triumphant speech, but the bastard was so in tune with his audience that he caught himself. He course corrected even before speaking.

“My friends,” he said. “Our path is not easy, and our burden is not light. We do what we do for our children and for the future of this great town. Believe me, I take no joy in what we’ve had to do. No joy at all. And sadly our work today is not yet done.” Zed looked at Will, then at Christine.

Christine’s heart sank. She had hoped she would have a little time, maybe to explain things to Trevor, but clearly that was not to be the case. Zed stared at her, his lips pressed together. The effect made his wide smile even more eerie than usual.

A high, long note suddenly filled the air and Christine instinctively put her hands over her ears. For a moment she thought it was the song of the Unfeathered—it had the same otherworldly feel to it, but it didn’t quite sound like them. It sounded like someone whistling.

Christine turned to the crowd and her eyes searched for the source of the sound. She noticed that everyone was looking upward. The sound was coming from above. Her eyes moved up, and she scanned the sky, looking for the Unfeathered. Then she saw him.

Christine gasped. His hair hung past his shoulders and it was more gray than black. He was dressed in strategically tied rags of denim and what looked like an old t-shirt. His face was a crisscross of scars. But there was no mistaking him.

Frank Hinkle stood on the edge of the roof of City Hall, and he was whistling.

2.

The first thing that hit Frank was the light. After living in the cold, diffused glow of the Away for so long, he had forgotten how hot sunlight felt. It hit him like a physical blow. He had trouble gaining his balance and almost tumbled off the roof. What an ending to the grand plan that would have been. He had intended to start whistling the moment he arrived, but that damn light.

He had spent a long time—days? weeks? so hard to tell—trying to find the exact right place to reappear. He had squeezed himself in between stone-statue bodies in the crowd, checked out nearly every possible line of sight in the crowd itself, and even thought about appearing right behind Zed so he could give him a nice sucker punch right in the kidney.

But in the end he had decided that what he was after was shock and awe. The rooftop gave him that and more. From up here it all seemed so manageable and small. It looked like a problem to be solved rather than a city to be saved. He might not be a hero but he had always been a problem solver. He’d gotten back, hadn’t he?

He guessed that it had taken him about two years to find the key. That might have been wildly inaccurate. One of the worst parts of the Away had been the absence of the passage of time. His body felt it—oh, how it felt it—but the rest of the world was at a standstill. He aged without knowing how much.

He had started whistling at the Unfeathered one day out of boredom. It had been a day when his belly was full and he couldn’t stand to look for the key anymore. The idea occurred to him that if he could imitate the song of the Ones Who Sing, maybe he could learn to imitate the Unfeathered, too.

It hadn’t been easy. It had taken a long time, but he had managed to blend in with their song. Even though they couldn’t seem to see him, they were able to hear him. Or at least hear his whistle. The Unfeathered in the Away didn’t sing often, so that made it more difficult. Over time, he had begun to notice the subtleties in their song. The long, slow call of the ‘I’ve found a safe place’ song. The sharp piercing notes of the ‘Danger! Flee!’ song. The rapid trill of the ‘Help!’ song.

It had been a fun distraction at first, and then he began using it as a tool. He called the Unfeathered to him as he worked and used them as an early detection system for the Ones Who Sing. He called them when he needed to kill one for food. He sent them away when their smell began to bother him. A few times he had even caused them to attack the Ones Who Sing just to see if he could do it. But they never attacked him. When he whistled, they saw him as one of their own.

After a long while, he had thought of how they might fit into his plan for Rook Mountain.

He’d search the town street by street, house by house. He’d started with any place that had a connection to Will, Christine, Sean, or Wendy. When that hadn’t turned up anything, he’d started a more systematic search of the town. Finally, in an office building on the south side of town, he’d discovered an office with Will’s name on the door. There was a closet in the office with one of Frank’s locks on it. Inside he had found the cane, the mirror, and the key.

Now he stood on the roof of City Hall and whistled a sharp series of notes. The song was high and loud. It was the ‘Help!’ song. The song that would bring them most quickly. The song that would ensure they attacked everything in sight. The song that would override the effects of the daylight and of Zed’s mysterious empty box.

They came even more quickly than he had anticipated. They filled the sky, little moving clusters of white coming from all directions of the compass. Frank kept whistling as he watched their aerial dance. These Unfeathered were quicker than the ones he had grown so familiar with in the Away. He had forgotten how deadly the Birdies here could be. He had a moment’s doubt—had he doomed the people of Rook Mountain by calling the Unfeathered down?—but he didn’t stop whistling.

They came from all directions, but they gathered around him. They swarmed above him like a cloud, a deadly mass of wings, beaks, and claws. He changed the timbre of his whistle, trying to calm them, keep them from attacking as long as he could. He needed them right where they were—above City Hall.

The people in the crowd fled. They ran to their vehicles, into nearby stores, the high school and middle school buildings. But most importantly to Frank, they ran away.

Only a few ran into City Hall. Police officers and the members of Zed’s inner circle. Frank knew that only the most dedicated Zed Heads would be thinking of capturing little Frank Hinkle while the sky was filled with monsters.

He only had a few moments. It wouldn’t be long before police officers burst through the trapdoor that led to the roof and took Frank down. He couldn’t afford to wait much longer. He looked down toward the ground and saw—thank God—that Christine, Will, and Trevor were all out of sight. He only hoped they would know what to do with what he had left them. A lone figure stood on the stage looking up at him. It was hard to tell from this distance, but Frank was almost certain Zed wasn’t smiling.

Frank let out a long high note—the call to attack—and the cloud of Unfeathered dove toward the ground.

There was no controlling them now. He had released the feral creatures on the people of Rook Mountain and there would be no take backs.

The flock spread out as they neared the ground. Many pursued the poor members of the crowd who were still searching for cover, but a good-sized group of the creatures headed for the stage—for Zed. A swarm of at least ten Unfeathered fell on him, and he disappeared from sight as they attacked, their beaks raining down with relentless speed. Frank was certain it wouldn’t kill Zed, but it would keep him busy for a few minutes.

Frank’s need for the Unfeathered was over. He stopped whistling and turned away from the carnage on the ground. Frank had thought long and hard about what would happen next. He had played out the possible outcomes in his mind hundreds of times and only about half of them ended with him doing any lasting good for the people of Rook Mountain. Even less of the outcomes ended with him surviving the next thirty minutes.

He had planned things out as well as he could, as well as he knew how to in the Away, but a lot had to fall into place for them to have any chance. So much depended on Will, Christine, and Trevor. So much depended on the board of selectmen. So much depended on Zed. Trust was most definitely a must.

Frank stood on the roof and waited for them to arrive.

3.

“Will! Will!”

Will heard his name being called as if from a distance. His eyes were glued to his old friend standing on the roof of City Hall, his suddenly gray hair blowing in the wind. The man up there barely looked human, and he certainly didn’t sound it. A mass of white creatures circled above his head. The people around Will were screaming and running away, but he still laid on the stage, transfixed by his friend’s dramatic reappearance.

“Will!” the voice said again. Will looked in front of him and saw a pair of sneakered feet. He also saw the open knife on the ground next to his hand. Somehow it must have gotten lost in the skirmish between Zed and Christine. Will reached forward and picked it up. He felt the familiar jolt he always experienced when he touched one of the Tools, and he felt himself beginning to drift.

“Will!” The voice was sharp this time, its patience gone. Will looked up and saw Trevor staring down at him. Maybe it was the angle, but Trevor looked more grown up than he ever had before.

“Will, we gotta go.”

Will nodded absently. He wasn’t sure if it was the way he had been knocked to the ground or the events unfolding around him, but everything seemed unreal. It all seemed distant. He shook his head to clear it. Trevor needed him. Christine needed him.

Will said, “Let’s get to the car, fast. Where’s your mother?”

“No,” Trevor said. It wasn’t a defiant no, the one Will was so used to hearing lately; it was a ‘you don’t understand’ no. “The police officers. Zed. The selectmen. They all ran into City Hall. They're going after Uncle Frank. We have to help him.”

He almost started to say something like, “How are we supposed to help him?” or “We already tried,” but he saw the determined, man-with-a-job-to-do look on Trevor’s face. It was a look Will had seen on Jake’s face many times over the years. A looked of righteous resolve. There would be no talking the kid out of this. And, Will had to admit, Trevor was right. If ever Frank needed their help, it was now. Even if Will had no earthly idea how they could help him.

Will looked down at the knife in his hand and sighed. It was something. It might not be able to cut Zed’s throat, but it was something.

Will nodded to Trevor. “Let’s go.” They stepped off the stage and turned toward City Hall. Then Will stopped. “Wait. Where’s your mom?”

At that moment, Frank’s whistle from above changed into a high pitched single note, and, like a rain, the Unfeathered descended on them.

They were only fifteen feet from the doors of City Hall. Will threw his arm around Trevor’s shoulders and pulled him toward the door. He glanced back at the stage and saw a pile of white wings where Zed had been a moment before. The man would have his work cut out for him getting out of there.

Will grabbed the door to City Hall and pulled it open. He shoved Trevor inside and then followed him, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Your mom,” Will said. “Did you see where she went?”

Trevor shook his head. His eyes were still on the attacking Unfeathered outside. “I saw her running. I think she was heading this direction, but I’m not sure.” The look of confidence melted from his face. He looked like a scared little boy again, the same way he had looked when Jake had disappeared years ago.

Will put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure she made it. She’s probably ten steps ahead of us as usual.”

Trevor nodded. He turned and glanced down the hallway. “Do you know how to get to the roof?”

Before Will could answer, the door burst open behind them. Greg Darrow stumbled in, his suit rumpled and his hair uncharacteristically messy. He was carrying a baseball bat. Greg was on the board of selectmen. In the days before becoming a Zed Head, he had been a burnout stoner who delivered pizzas, but he had taken to the bureaucratic lifestyle quickly, traded weed for whiskey, and gained thirty pounds to fill out his cheap suits.

The walkie-talkie clipped to Greg’s belt chirped to life. “Darrow! Get your ass up there! Meet on the roof.”

Greg Darrow glanced down the hallway, his eyes finding the doorways, scanning them as if looking for the most welcoming candidate.

“Now!” yelled the voice coming from the walkie-talkie. Darrow licked his lips and glanced at Will and Trevor. Then he nodded, as if to himself.

Will had been in the presence of selectmen many times. As the head of the Certification program, he could hardly avoid it. They always prided themselves on their signature entrances and exits. They stepped into a closet or an empty room and shut the door. There was a flash of blue light and they were gone. Will had often wondered what it would be like to be behind that closed door and watch as they disappeared. Would they blink out of existence and reappear elsewhere at the same moment? Would it be like Star Trek, with their bodies slowly dissolving?

As he watched Greg Darrow, Will got his answer.

Greg closed his eyes and pushed his fingers into his temples. His head began to vibrate. Then Greg Darrow melted.

It started with his feet. His shoes seemed to liquefy and drip onto the floor. Then his socks and the lower part of his pants oozed away. Then the skin of his feet melted, joining the liquefied goo puddling under him. Blood first seeped and then poured from his exposed muscles and blood vessels until they too melted. The baseball bat in his hand melted and joined the puddle on the floor. The process worked its way upward and inward, his pants, underwear and shirt dissolving so that his torso was left naked for only a moment until the skin melted and his inner layers were exposed.

Will heard Trevor gasp as Greg’s stomach muscles disappeared and his intestines spilled out of their cavity, flopping onto the floor with a splash of blood before they too melted away. Their last glimpse of Darrow was his skinless face floating atop his liquefied body, his mouth open in a silent scream and his brain beginning to show through his melting skull. Then there was a flash of blue light and the whole mess of him disappeared.

Will looked at the clean spot where the liquefied remains of a human being had been only moments before. “Damn. Guess that’s why they close the door.”

“Will, look,” Trevor said. He was pointing toward a door marked STAIRS.

“Let’s go,” Will said.

Trevor went through the door first and dashed up the stairs. Will followed, pushing himself to keep up. Whatever was at the top of those stairs, Will didn’t want Trevor facing it alone.

As they ran, Will thought back to that day on Rook Mountain. The day he killed Jessie Cooper. Maybe if he had been brave enough to break his precious cover things would be different today. He had held onto to his cover for far too long. What he had rationalized as caution was really cowardice. The time spent living with his family, even under the oppression of Zed and the Regulations, had been a precious time. But this—standing up to Zed with his family by his side—was even better.

Trevor reached the top of the steps and started up the ladder to the roof. Will stayed right behind him. Trevor stepped out onto the roof and froze. Will followed, grabbed his stepson and stepped in front of him. He didn’t know what Trevor had seen, but he wanted to protect Trevor from whatever it was. Then Will saw it too.

Christine stood near the corner of the roof, a gun in her hand. Three selectmen and the city manager stood in a semi-circle around her. Christine waved the gun back and forth, trying to cover all of them at the same time.

A man lay on the floor between them, a thin stream of blood running from his right ear. It was Frank.

Something hit Will in the back like a sledgehammer. He fell forward, hitting the floor face first. He felt Trevor land on his back a split second later. Then he heard the voice behind him, and the blood seemed to freeze in his veins.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Zed said.

4.

A moment after Christine noticed Frank standing on the roof of City Hall, she felt the police officer who had been pinning her to the ground roll off. She turned and saw Sean. He had his gun held to the head of the other officer.

“Go,” Sean said to Christine. “Help him if you can.”

Christine nodded. She reached down, unbuckled the other police officer’s holster, and pulled out the man’s gun. He grunted his protest, but Christine was already on her feet.

“Let her take it,” Sean said to the other officer.

“Thanks,” Christine said. Sean nodded.

She looked around the stage and saw that most eyes were still on Frank and the Unfeathered swirling above him. She had to get to Frank before they did. She didn’t know what would come next, but she didn’t want Frank to face it alone. She turned and ran for City Hall. Christine was inside before the Unfeathered attacked. She paused and looked back, but it was too late. Tears filled her eyes. She knew there was nothing she could do to help Will and Trevor. She had to trust that they would take care of each other. She sprinted to the top of the stairs, hoping she could reach the roof hatch before the Zed Heads did.

At the top, she saw a ladder leading up to an open hatch. She climbed and stuck her head through. Frank was only a few feet in front of her.

“Hurry! We have to get out of here!”

Frank dropped to his knees. He blinked hard and looked her up and down. It was as if he hadn’t seen her in a long time. Christine realized he probably hadn’t. There was no denying that Frank looked older even aside from his harshly graying hair. The scars crisscrossing his face probably did little to help, but there were also deep wrinkles on his face, a face so pale it looked like it hadn’t been touched by sunlight in years.

She stepped out onto the roof and gave him a hug. He flinched at her touch and didn’t hug her back.

“Come on,” she said.

Frank shook his head. “No. They’re almost here. Listen. The Tools are behind the...” His voice trailed off as he pointed toward the air conditioning unit mounted on the roof next to him. Frank sounded hoarse, and he spoke hesitantly as if unsure of his words.

She looked behind the air conditioner. There they were on the floor. The mirror. The key. The cane. “Where did you get these?” Christine asked.

“Will’s office.”

She reached down to grab the mirror. A flash of blue light and a pool of thick liquid appeared on the floor next to her. She instinctively took a step back. The smell of the stuff hit her—a rotten, tangy smell—and her stomach turned. The middle of the liquid swirled, revealing a human face. A head formed around the face, and then a neck and a torso. The liquid swirled across the forming body adding muscle to bone, skin to muscle, and finally clothes. The whole process couldn’t have taken more than five seconds, and now Selectman Nate Grayson stood before them. A final bit of liquid bridged the gap between Grayson’s right hand and the floor, and suddenly he was holding a baseball bat.

Grayson moved before Christine had a chance to react. He took a step toward Frank and swung the bat like a slugger aiming for the stands. He connected, and Frank went down with a groan.

Christine brought the gun up and pointed it at Nate. “Drop the bat, Nate! I will shoot you dead if you so much as raise it again.”

Nate glared at her and a guttural growl escaped his throat. His face was pure hatred. He dropped the bat. “There are Regulations for people like you,” he said slowly. “You will pay very soon.”

Another puddle materialized across the roof, and two other puddles appears a split second later. The first puddle solidified, and Becky Raymond stood facing them. Another Selectman joined her a moment later. Then another. Then there were four of them. It was four against two.

Christine moved behind Frank, trying her best to protect him, moving the barrel of her gun between Becky Raymond and the selectmen, trying her best to cover all of them at once. They weren’t attacking, but they weren’t backing off, either.

Frank raised himself to his hands and knees and groaned.

The four people looking at Christine reminded her more of rabid animals than government officials. This was a standoff she was destined to lose. If she thought she could shoot them all, she would have done it, but she sensed the other three would charge the instant she fired.

The trapdoor burst open and Christine's heart simultaneously leapt and plummeted as first Trevor and then Will stepped through. Her family was alive, but they probably wouldn’t be alive for long.

Then Zed arrived.

5.

Frank heard the voice before he saw Zed. He was still looking at the ground, trying to get his head straight. Even getting to his knees had felt like crawling out of a spinning washing machine. There was no way he was standing up anytime soon. Even through his daze and his ringing ears, he recognized that voice, the last voice he had heard before going Away. The voice of the man he had come here to stop.

He raised his head and looked at Zed. As he did, he saw some blood on the ground and wondered where it was leaking out of him.

Zed stepped forward. His clothes were torn in dozens of places, but he seemed uninjured. Not bad for a man who had just been attacked by a flock of giant bird monsters.

Frank noticed Will and Trevor sprawled on the ground near him. Bad guys up, good guys down. Things weren't going as well as he had hoped. Except for Christine of course. She was still standing, pointing that gun at anyone and everyone.

That damn smile was back on Zed’s face. “Are you going to shoot me, doctor? Your first husband tried that. If I remember correctly, he was never seen again.”

“It might not kill you, but it would be cathartic,” Christine said.

Zed bent down next to Frank. “Now what are we going to do with you?”

Frank tried to answer and instantly wished he hadn’t. All that came out was a pathetic grunt. He took a slow breath, and then reached into his pocket and took out the Fox, the lock Wendy gave him the day before he was sent away. He slid it across the ground to Will.

“Lock it,” Frank said. He was grateful that words came out at all, and that Will understood. Will closed the lock through the latch on the trapdoor.

“What did you do?” Becky Raymond asked. “The trapdoor looks all… fuzzy. Like it’s not there.”

Nate Grayson looked up at Zed, panic in his eyes. “They did something. I can’t melt off this roof. I know I can’t.”

“Nobody leaves,” Frank said. His voice was little more than a groan. “We finish this here.”

Zed sighed, but he was still smiling. “I’ve tried really hard not to kill you. You have a mind that… well, it’s remarkable. Somehow you’ve closed it up tight. And the locks! They are marvelous. For example, that necklace lock came from your subconscious. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised you eventually managed to unlock it. In another time and another place, you could have been great. But you never get out of your own way. You have all these ideas brewing in there and no clue what to do with them. You lack the resolve, the confidence to do something special. You have original ideas, but you lack originality. You are completely predictable.”

Frank saw Will helping Trevor to his feet.

Zed stood up and stretched. He had an oddly distant look in his eyes. “There are Tools here. I can feel it… I’ve never felt so many of them in the same place.”

“It enhances your powers, doesn’t it?” Frank asked. “Having all these Tools together makes you stronger.”

Frank was looking at Zed, but he was really talking to Will. Frank knew that he had to get the knife into Will’s hands. Will and his gift at figuring out the purpose of each Tool. Wendy had told Frank the Tools were meant to be used together. Frank knew that his only chance was to get all the Tools in one place and hope Will’s powers of perception came through.

It was risky and it left everything in Will’s hands. In some ways, Will was the one Frank trusted least out of all his friends. Zed was wrong about a lot of things, but he was right about one of them: trust was a must. Frank had to trust that Will would find a way.

“I must say,” Zed said, “This feels very good.” He sounded distracted. Almost not there. “For someone like myself, tuned into the Tools… it’s hard to explain. Thank you for bringing them to me, Frank. I will grant you a quick death for that.”

Frank saw that Will had the knife in his hand. Will was staring at it with a distant look in his eyes.

Zed’s voice was distant as he spoke. “Something is blocking the door out of this place. But with all this power, I think I may be able to send you people… you dangerous people… somewhere far away. Somewhere you will die quickly.” He looked down at Frank. “Starting with you.”

Frank felt wetness in his shoes. He glanced back and he had to stifle a scream at what he saw. His shoes—and his feet along with them—were melting.

Zed said, “And you, doctor.” He turned toward Trevor and Will. “And the boy. And Mr. Book Learning.”

Puddles were growing around Will, Trevor, and Christine’s feet, puddles of shoes and blood and melting flesh.

“Mom, what’s he doing to us?” bellowed Trevor.

Christine’s voice sounded shaky. “It’s okay, Trev. I love you. We’re going to be okay.”

The wetness was nearing Frank’s knees now. He felt himself fading. It was so hard to concentrate. Will was still staring at the knife in his hand.

“This isn’t working,” Zed said. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. “I don’t know what you did to this place, but it’s locked tight. I’m going to have to push. I must warn you—this will hurt.” Zed squeezed his eyes shut and grunted with effort.

Frank screamed in pain and he heard Christine, Will, and Trevor join him. It felt like his feet were being squeezed in a vice. The agonizing pain was slowly creeping upward.

“Frank!” yelled Will, “Is the cane up here with us? If it is, I need you to push the broken clock symbol on it.”

Zed clenched his fists. “Almost through the barrier.”

Frank took a deep breath. The pain was like a fire inside of him, but it had also cleared his mind. He pushed the agony aside and slid his hand behind the air conditioner. He pulled out the cane, gripped it with both hands, and pressed the broken clock symbol. The cane shot upward. It was all Frank could do to hold on. The end of the cane smacked against the side of Zed’s right pant leg as if drawn there by a strong magnet.

Then everything happened at once.

Will flipped the knife open and stepped toward Zed. He wobbled on his stump of a leg and took another step forward.

Becky Raymond leapt at Will, her fingers extended like claws. She hissed as she dove through the air. She landed on Will, and he fell forward onto his face. The city manager wrapped her legs around him and slashed his cheek with her fingernails. Christine fired, and Becky Raymond’s brains hit the floor behind her with a splat.

The three selectmen sprang into motion, two headed for Christine and one headed for Will.

Will raised himself up on one arm. He drew back the knife and then drove it forward, slamming it into Zed’s pocket and into the pocket watch.

Zed screamed. There was a cracking sound as loud as a gunshot. The scream and the crack blended together into an ear-piercing combination of agony and white noise.

The sound drifted away and time started again.

6.

The air still tasted the same as it had a moment ago. The wind still whipped around them. But they all knew. They all felt it. Things were different. Things were back. Zed’s clock was broken, and the real clock was running again.

They stood in silence on the suddenly dark roof of Rook Mountain City Hall. Zed, the knife still sticking out of his leg, had his head bowed and his fists clenched by his sides.

Christine, Trevor, Will, and Frank’s bodies were whole again. Only the echoing memory of pain remained.

Moments ago it had been morning. Now the sky was dark and the stars shone over their heads.

“This all began in the middle of the night,” Christine said. “We're back where we started.”

Zed raised his head. He was scowling. His face looked different, hardly recognizable without his signature smile. “Yes. We are back where we started. March 27th, 2014. After the lengths I went to in order to quarantine us, to keep what I had to do contained in this one little town, you have brought the world into it again.”

“2014?” Will asked. “What does he mean?”

“He means time started again,” Frank said. He struggled to get to his feet as he spoke. “For the rest of the world no time has passed. For us, it’s been nine years.”

“He means we’re home,” Christine said.

“Yes,” Zed said. “Home. But at what cost?” He nodded toward the cane in Frank’s hand. “You think you understand the Tools? You think that cane is only useful for finding other Tools? You think the lighter just brings back the dead? You have no idea. You’ve only scratched the surface of what these things can do.”

“I understand that your watch ain’t doing shit with that knife through it,” Frank said.

“I didn’t want to be a mass murderer,” Zed said. “I wanted to keep the damage as small as I could. That’s why I took Rook Mountain out of time. I figured if I let this one town live out its natural course and die out, I could take what I needed and return not even a moment after I left. There were the Unfeathered to deal with, but I figured that out too, didn’t I? But you’ve ruined it. Now lots more people will have to die.”

“You’re talking crazy, Zed,” Frank said. “You lost.”

“Not even close. It’s you who’s lost. Humanity. I will get the Tools no matter what it takes, and I will use them here instead of outside of time. I’ll find the coin and I’ll use it. Millions will die. Time itself will pay.”

“Time seems to be doing okay.” Out of the corner of his eye, Frank saw Christine bending down, picking something up.

“Not for long,” Zed said. “You met them. The Ones Who Sing. They can’t be allowed to survive. They will devour all, and their prison is weakening. If I have to kill a billion people to stop them, I will do it.”

Like a blur, Christine leapt forward. She grabbed the handle of the knife and pulled it out of Zed’s leg. In one swift motion, she swung the knife forward, slashing at Zed’s throat.

Frank’s first thought was, Didn’t we already try that?

Then he saw the blood shooting out of Zed’s neck and he understood. Christine had cut an artery. The blood sprang out in an arching stream with each beat of Zed’s heart.

Christine raised her other hand, the one holding the mirror. Zed’s blood hit the mirror and Zed screamed. It took only a moment for the mirror to pull him into its liquid surface. Zed’s cry echoed through the night as he disappeared into the mirror.

The broken pocket watch hit the ground with a clang.

Zed was gone.

THE UNREGULATED (PART 4)

Falling into the mirror was like diving into a pool of cold water. Jake felt like he was being pulled down toward something. The liquid—if that’s really what it was—was so cold it hurt, sapping the energy from his muscles.

He tried to fight panic as the circular view into Wendy’s living room grew smaller and smaller, shrinking until it was the size of a basketball, then a baseball, and finally a pinprick of light.

His lungs were burning now. He tried to relax, to let himself be pulled down toward whatever world waited below.

The group had argued about whether or not to use the mirror. All they knew was that it took you somewhere else. Will said he had seen something far away in the mirror. It was a forest, but the trees looked different than any in Eastern Tennessee. Will was convinced that the mirror was a portal to another place. Possibly another time.

The group had been evenly split on what to do about the new-found information. Christine, Jake, and Todd had been in favor of sending someone into the mirror in the hopes they would find a way to bring help back to Rook Mountain. The mirror, they argued, was their only way out of town and their only chance at outside help. Sean, Will, and Wendy had argued for caution. Leaping blindly into the mirror was potential suicide, they said. They had no idea what was in there and no reason to believe someone who went in would be able to return at all, let alone bring help.

Finally, the group had agreed that the mirror would be used as a last resort. Only if their other plans had failed. Jake just happened to be the first of them to find himself in a situation dire enough to use it.

So there he was, trying not to drown, sinking toward God only knew where.

As he sank, the light dimmed and Jake’s clarity of mind seemed to dim with it. A thousand thoughts raced through his head, but they were all blending together, merging into a confusing soup of facts and images. And then, suddenly, one thought hit him with the force of a punch. One thing he had forgotten to do. One thing he needed to do.

He needed to go back. But which way was back?

He took his best guess on what direction was up and swam hard, fighting against the downward pull with all of his strength.

Just when he thought his lungs would explode, when he almost couldn’t stand it, he burst through the surface. Gasping for air, he reached up to wipe the liquid out of his eyes, but he found himself completely dry. He blinked, adjusting to the sudden bright sun.

It was daytime. He was outside. Where was he? Where was Wendy’s living room with the wine glass and the Twilight Zone? It was hard to think, hard to keep any one thought in his head. It was as if his thoughts had become slippery. Holding on to each one was nearly impossible.

He looked around, trying to orient himself. He was in a parking lot. It looked familiar… yes, this was the Food City parking lot. He felt a pull. The same pull he had felt when he was in the mirror. It was trying to pull him back, to take him downward.

He looked around, panicked. He had come here to tell someone something. Who was it? What had he wanted to say?

The pull was growing stronger. He knew he couldn’t fight it for long. He needed to get the job done quickly. Then he saw her, only ten feet away. Sally Badwater. Not the person he had been looking for but she would have to do.

He ran to her, fighting the backwards pull with all the strength in his legs. He reached out and grabbed her shoulder.

She turned around and gasped when she saw him. Why was she so surprised?

He opened his mouth and tried to remember what he had to say, tried to find the words he needed to speak. Zed had said he would be investigating Jake’s friends. The coin was in danger. He needed to tell someone. Maybe his friend. His brother. Will. Wait, was that his name? Everything was so confused in his mind. “Tell my brother. Tell my brother to meet me at the quarry.”

The words were all jumbled in his head, but he had gotten them out. They would understand. He prayed they would.

The pull on him was stronger now and he almost stopped fighting. Then he remembered one more thing. Zed had a Tool too. Jake needed protection from Zed. He needed time to find help for Rook Mountain. There was only one thing he knew of that could protect him. And only one person who had it. A person who wouldn’t hesitate to help Jake if he could.

“And if Frank comes, tell him to bring the Cassandra lock.”

Then he stopped fighting.

He crashed back into the liquid almost immediately, almost before he had the chance to take a last deep breath. When he hit the liquid, he went limp, not fighting this time, and his mental clarity returned. He let himself be pulled down toward whatever salvation or damnation lay below. He hoped it would be a place where he could find help for his family. He had failed all of them—Trevor, Christine, Frank, and Will—for far too long. He hoped it would be a place of second chances.

As he rushed through the liquid he saw the figure of another man join him. It was dark and he couldn’t make out the details. He could only see a vague shape. Then a third shape appeared. Jake barely had time to register that one at all before the liquid spit him out.

He stood in a forest of towering trees. Will had been right—they weren’t the trees of Eastern Tennessee. Jake took a long deep breath of sweet forest air. The woods were alive with sound, the birds singing, the wind in the trees, the buzz of the insects. It felt like a place of peace.

He stood there for a long while enjoying the forest before he saw the object on the ground in front of him. It was a book. Jake picked it up.

The book was bound with rich brown leather. The only marking on the cover was a symbol. For a terrible moment, Jake thought it was the broken clock symbol. But it wasn’t. It was similar; it too had a crack running down the length of the image. It was a globe. A broadly drawn representation of the Earth.

Jake tucked the book with the symbol of the broken Earth under his arm and started walking. He had come to find help, and he intended to do so.

IN THE AFTER

1.

One morning, in the middle of May 2014, Wendy Caulfield and Sean Lee knocked on the Osmonds’ door. Will looked through the peephole. Between the media, the government, and the scientists investigating the events in Rook Mountain, the Osmonds barely had a moment to themselves. Knocks at the door were far too common these days, and Will, Christine, and Trevor had quickly adjusted to ignoring them when they came unexpectedly.

Frank was still living in their spare bedroom. With the town so overrun with outsiders, it wasn’t the best time to look for an apartment. He was keeping busy, distracting himself from the media circus by learning about programming. In prison, he’d had some ideas about locks that could be opened by completing a puzzle on a smart phone. Now that the Internet was back, it seemed like a good time to look into it.

Those were the reasons Frank and the Osmonds told themselves that Frank hadn’t moved out. The real reason was that it felt better to be together, to be with the only people who truly understood what it had been like, what had happened on the roof of City Hall that day.

Will opened the door when he saw Wendy and Sean. He invited them in, scanning the street for strange vans or news cameras before shutting the door behind her.

“You doing okay?” Wendy asked.

Will thought about how thoroughly to answer that question and then nodded. “Yeah. We’re okay. How about you?”

Wendy did a half-shrug half-nod. “As well as anyone I guess.”

Overall, the people of Rook Mountain were handling the situation very well. Sure, there were a few media whores who appeared on every news and talk show that would have them. There were a few who had signed book deals and sold their movie rights. Some good Samaritans had volunteered to spend time with the scientists trying to figure out what had really happened in Rook Mountain and how the population of the town had aged nine years in one night. The former selectmen seemed to be adapting to life without teleportation and mind reading.

Frank kept waiting for someone to show up and tell him it was time to go back to prison, but it hadn’t happened yet. He had cut his hair to a more manageable length, but he had left it gray. He kind of liked it that way.

Will looked at Sean. “You brought it?”

Sean nodded. “I’ll be glad to get rid of the thing. We should have done this two months ago. Things have been a little…”

“Yeah,” Will said. “I know.”

“Before we do that, can I talk to Trevor?” Wendy asked. “I have something for him. From Jake.”

A few minutes later the group was gathered in the living room. Will had a duffel bag as his feet.

Wendy handed Trevor the envelope.

“Your father wanted me to me to give this to you when you grew up. After everything that’s happened, I guess now’s the time. I never read it. But I did let Frank read it the night before he was sent Away. I thought… I hoped maybe there would be something in there that would help him. I hope that’s okay.”

Trevor nodded slowly. “Yeah. Of course.”

Trevor took out the single piece of paper and read carefully. When he was finished he didn’t say anything, but he passed Christine the note.

“You sure you want me to read this?” she asked.

Trevor said, “You both should.”

Christine read it with tears in her eyes, then she passed it to Will. He held it on his lap and read.

Dear Trev,

I am so sorry I have to leave you. I don’t know how much you know about what’s happened, so I wanted to explain.

One night when you were little, a bad man named Zed somehow managed to cut off Rook Mountain from the rest of the world. This place he put us in was filled with these creatures he called the Unfeathered. He protected us from the Unfeathered as long as we didn’t leave town, so people were grateful and they gave him and his friends a lot of power. But the real reason he took us here was so that he would have time to find these objects he calls the Tools. There’s a key, a cane, a knife, and a bunch of others. These things have special powers. If he gets them, he will have all the power he wants, and that would be a very bad thing. So me and your mom and some of our friends decided to fight him. I found a way to maybe get us some help, and that’s why I am not there with you today.

You may already know some of this. Maybe you know all of it. But I wanted to tell you in case no one else has told you straight out.

Three other things I need to make sure you know:

1) Your mother is the toughest person I’ve ever met. She will fight all the monsters in the world to protect you. Trust her and do what she says.

2) Will is a good man. I’m not sure what your relationship with him is like, but you need to trust him too. He loves you like a father. Will and your mother will do anything to protect you. Will has a way of figuring out what the Tools are for. He is sort of in tune with them in a strange way. He hasn’t figured out the knife yet, but tell him to keep trying. I know the answer will come to him when he needs it.

3) I will never stop trying to get back to you. I wouldn’t have left unless I thought it was the best way to help you. I’ll see you again someday. Believe that with all your heart. I know I do.

Love,

Dad

Will set the letter down, walked to the couch, and hugged Christine and Trevor with all his strength.

Frank said, “I’m sorry I never mentioned the letter. I forgot about it after everything that happened.”

“Is that why you left me the knife?” Will asked. “On the stage that day?”

Frank nodded. “Jake said the answer would come to you when you needed it. He was right.”

“It was a little scary the way the knife spoke to me. It told me exactly what to do.”

“Maybe the Tools changed the two of you,” Sean said.

“What do you mean?” Frank asked.

“The lighter was buried out there by your cabins. Who knows how long it was there. Maybe it amplified your natural talents. It made your locks stronger, so that people who weren’t meant to open them didn’t even see they existed. And maybe it upped Will’s powers of perception.”

Frank couldn’t argue. Becky Raymond had searched that shed, and she hadn’t even noticed the freezer with his lock on it. It was Frank’s lock that had trapped Zed and the selectmen on the roof of City Hall.

After a long moment, Frank turned to Will and said, “Speaking of powers of perception, let me ask you something. In that letter, it seemed like Jake knew you and Christine would get together. How’d he know that?”

Will looked out the window a long time before answering. “After you went to prison, things changed between the three of us. We grew closer. We spent a lot of time together. It’s hard to explain the relationship the three of us had. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. Christine and I never did anything behind Jake’s back or anything like that… but we were all close. You’re right. He knew Christine and I would get together if he were gone. And we knew we would have his blessing.”

Trevor cleared his throat. “Can we get to what we came here to do?”

Christine laughed. “You’re right. Enough of this touchy-feely stuff. Lay it on the table, Sean.”

Sean reached into his coat and set the coin on the coffee table.

Frank looked away. The sight of the thing still made him shiver.

Will unzipped the duffel bag and took out the cane, the key, the mirror, and the lighter. Finally, he brought out the knife.

“If Zed ever makes it back here, he won’t find these Tools waiting for him,” Will said.

Frank held up his hand. “Zed said that we need to protect ourselves. That the Ones Who Sing were coming. Do you think maybe we should hold on to them? Just in case?”

“No,” Christine said. “I’m done waiting and I’m done being cautious. Zed said, ‘death of millions.’ We are not letting that thing survive. Do it, Will.”

Will brought the knife down on the coin, and it shattered. Then he set the cane on the table and did the same. Then the key. Then the lighter. When he raised the knife over the mirror, Frank held up a hand.

“Wait,” he said.

“I thought we agreed these things have to be destroyed,” Will said.

“Yeah, I agree. But I have to go into the mirror first.”

He continued before any of them could speak. “Jake went through there and we don’t know where he ended up. Then we sent Zed through the same way. What if Jake needs help? What if Zed is coming for him and Jake doesn’t know it?”

“Frank,” Sean said, “I hate to say it, but they might be dead.”

“And they might be alive. I have to try. When I was Away, the Ones Who Sing told me that I will never see Jake again, but I have to try. I’m going in. After I’m through, destroy the mirror.”

“What if the mirror is the only way back?” Will asked.

“All the more reason to destroy it. We can’t leave Zed a way back. But I won’t leave Jake there alone.”

Christine said, “I think I finally understand the other part of Jake’s message to Sally Badwater.”

“If Frank comes, tell him to bring the Cassandra lock,” Will said.

“He knew you’d come after him.” Christine couldn’t help but smile.

Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out the Cassandra lock. “I’m way ahead of you.”

“Is that the one Zed made?” Christine asked.

“That cheap imitation? No, this is the real deal. I finished it last week.” He turned to Sean. “You got a knife? I need to cut myself and I’m not using that thing with the broken clock on it.”

“Let me come with you,” Trevor said.

Frank shook his head. “I’m sorry, Trevor. The best way to honor your dad is to live your life. Remember his letter. He promised to come back to you, and I’m going to do everything I can to help him keep that promise.”

“Before I go, I need to tell you all something,” Frank said to the group. “I want to apologize.”

“For what?” Christine asked.

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t here for you. Zed told me that I was the one person who could have stopped him. He said I could have been the hero. If I hadn’t murdered Brett, I would have been here. Maybe things would have gone differently.”

“That wasn’t you,” Sean said. “That was the coin.”

“Maybe,” Frank said. “But the coin used me. It amplified the anger that was already inside me. I think I could have stopped it.”

“But you did save us,” Christine said. “It was your locks that let us hide the Tools from Zed. It was your locks that bought us time, time we used to raise Trevor. It was your lock that kept the coin out of Zed’s hands. Frank, you were the hero.”

Frank smiled at Christine. He didn’t know what to say, and he was afraid if he waited much longer he would lose his nerve. He cut his hand, watched the blood fall onto the mirror, and fell in after it.

He didn’t fight the downward pull. It was a feeling he knew only too well. He was drifting. And in a few moments he was standing in a forest of tall, strange trees.

2.

The Osmonds lived in Rook Mountain for five more years. The media frenzy eventually died down, but the government and scientific interest never did. Will and Christine kept the knife hidden in their home, the last of the discovered Tools. They told the government about everything that had happened except for the knife. There were three more Tools out there waiting to be discovered, and they wanted to be ready.

When Trevor was seventeen, he told Will and Christine he wanted to go to college out west. He had his eye on a couple of good premed programs, but Christine suspected that ‘out west’ was the most important part of that equation.

After some discussion, Will and Christine decided that they too would take the opportunity to head west. They loved the rolling mountains and forests of Appalachia, but as Brett Miller had once noted, the dense foliage could be stifling. This place had too many memories and everywhere they looked held reminders of the horror they had lived in for nine years.

Leaving would be hard, especially with Jake and Frank gone and this town the last connection to them. But the Osmonds knew that if Jake and Frank found a way back, they too would be glad to put Rook Mountain in the rear view.

Christine gave the Hansens the cabins and surrounding property. Christine and Will put their house on the market and it sold for a surprisingly large amount. Rook Mountain property values had risen dramatically in recent years. The researchers studying the town had to live somewhere.

At the end of the summer the Osmonds loaded up a U-Haul truck, left Rook Mountain, and never looked back.

In the years that followed, Christine would occasionally see an old object at a garage sale or in an antique store and pick it up, sure she would see the broken clock symbol. But she never did. She would sometimes stare into mirrors, trying to see the face of her first husband or his convict brother or even the wide smile of a man she hoped was dead. But all she ever saw was her own aging reflection.

After a while, these things stopped bothering her. She had her family. She had hope. And she had her knife. Whatever happened next, she was ready.

A Place Without

Shadows

Book Two of the Deadlock Trilogy

By P.T. Hylton

PROLOGUE

Frank Hinkle drifted through the mirror.

Falling into the mirror had been a violent experience, like being pulled into a pool of cold water, but falling out of it was gentle. One moment, there was the strange coldness and the sensation of being suspended in liquid, his lungs burning and desperate for air, and the next, Frank was on a dirt path, dry and standing upright.

He stood in a forest of towering, twisted trees. It was eerily quiet; Frank felt the absence of all the expected forest sounds—no birds singing or insects buzzing. Even the wind was silent.

He leaned his head back and gazed up at the trees, trying to make out the tops of them, and a wave of dizziness washed over him. This place—wherever it was—it wasn’t right. The silence felt like a sickness.

It had been almost three months since he’d left prison—three months since he promised the Rook Mountain city manager he would find his brother Jake. Or had it? Time was tricky, especially for Frank. It had been three months of Rook Mountain time, but that didn’t count the time—probably years—he’d spent in the Away, fighting for his life against the Ones Who Sing.

However you figured it, it felt like he’d been searching for his brother for a long time. All of it had brought him here.

It had been seven years since Jake came through the mirror. Frank wondered how far his brother had wandered in that time. If Frank knew Jake, the man was doing everything he could to get back to his family, even if that meant walking halfway around the world.

Frank took in his surroundings. Ferns, bushes, and rhododendrons grew thick on the ground around him. He stood on a thin dirt trail on the side of a hill. Seemed odd, such behemoths of trees growing on such a steep slope.

As his ears began to adjust to the quiet of the woods, he heard something through the silence, and he licked his lips at the thought of it. A stream. He’d only been here a minute, but already he felt a powerful thirst. Something about the air here made him want to rinse out his mouth. He headed toward the sound, cutting his own path through the dense foliage. It wasn’t long before he came upon a stream.

Growing up in the Appalachian Mountains, he had more than a passing familiarity with mountain streams. He’d drunk from them, fished them, and swam in them plenty of times. This one was a shallow little number, freckled with rocks.

He squatted at the bank and reached a cupped hand toward the water. A dark shape hovered near the bed of the stream. For a moment, he thought it was his own shadow. It was a black round thing no bigger than a basketball, and it seemed unmoved by the force of the water around it.

He craned his neck and looked up to see if something above him was casting this odd shadow. He saw nothing but trees. He passed his hand over the shape and didn’t see the shadow on the back of his hand. That thing was under the water.

He held his breath, the pace of his heart suddenly quickening. He’d seen more than enough of shadow creatures in his time Away. But he didn’t hear any singing now.

He cursed himself for coming here so unprepared. Why hadn’t he brought a gun or a knife or, hell, a canteen?

Then he heard it. Not the buzzing, collective, mind-numbing song of the Ones Who Sing. This was something else. Something softer. It was like a light humming he could feel at the base of his skull. It was a disquieting but almost sweet sound.

He leaned back, away from the water. He’d have to move upstream and find somewhere else to drink. He started to rise, then felt a callused hand on his shoulder and heard a gruff voice say, “Don’t move. It might look small, but that damn thing’ll cut through you like a buzz saw.”

Frank froze. He didn’t dare turn around.

“Talking’s alright though,” the man continued. “They can’t hear us, near as I’ve ever been able to tell. Or, if they can, they don’t seem to care.”

The man hunkered down on the river bank, and Frank got a good look at him. The guy had to be in his sixties. His skin was a leathery color that spoke of long hours outdoors. His jeans were baggy and tattered. He wore a faded blue Carolina Panthers baseball cap and a plain red tee shirt, and he held a long pointed stick that had a knife lashed to the end of it.

“Okay, so what do we do?” Frank asked. “Wait for it to go away?”

The man’s eyes were on the creature in the water. “Nah, I may not have that much time left to me. This thing has been sitting at the bottom of this stream for years, never hurting no one ‘til you came by and caught its attention. You see the way it’s quivering? It wants you dead like it’s never wanted anything. You put all three of us in a bad situation.”

Frank did see it quivering now. It seemed to have risen up off the bottom of the stream, though it was hard to tell for sure.

“Only thing to do now is to kill it.” He grinned at Frank, revealing a smile speckled with holes where teeth had once been. “Might want to say a quick prayer. I miss and we’re both dead.”

Quicker than Frank could respond, the man pulled back the stick and stabbed it toward the shadow creature. He yelped and hopped to his feet, pulling the stick out of the water, and holding up the creature impaled on the knife. The thing looked like a huge black cotton ball. Thick strands of fur hung limply from its round body.

“You see that? Teach you to quiver at a man trying to enjoy a cool drink of water!” He held the spear high, and as Frank watched, the shadow creature melted, dissolving into a sludgy mess of ink-like ooze.

A thick glob fell onto the man’s shoe, but he didn’t seem bothered. He scraped it off with the heel of his other foot.

Frank put his hands on his knees and started to stand.

“Wait!” the man shouted. “You know how many of those things are in the water?”

Frank froze mid-crouch. His eyes darted back and forth along the stream.

The man bellowed out a laugh. “I’m just messing with you, man. Stand up.”

Frank did so and looked the older man in the eye, not sure whether to punch him or hug him. He pointed at the sludge dripping from the spear. “Thanks. What the hell’s that thing?”

The man shrugged. “I call them Larvae. Mostly I try to leave them alone. They don’t bother me much, unless I invade their space. They usually stick to quiet places like the bottom of that stream or up in the trees. It was different when I was young. Back then they were hungry. Now they keep quiet. Until someone or something like you comes along and gets them riled.” He held out his hand. “I’m Mason.”

Frank shook it. The hand was hard and rough with calluses. “Frank.”

Mason leaned the spear over his shoulder, oblivious to the sludge running down onto his neck and shirt.

“Frank.” He said the name like he was skeptical of its authenticity. “I gotta ask you, what the hell are you doing here?”

Frank brushed his hands off on his pants and looked around. “I don’t even know where here is.”

Mason’s smile suddenly looked a bit more artificial. “Oh, don’t kid a kidder. No one gets here by accident. It’s been a long, long time since anyone’s gotten here at all. Who sent you?”

“No one sent me. I sent myself.”

Mason squinted at him. “I’ve got bad news for you. Whatever your purpose, you’ve made a seriously bad decision. I need to know why you’re here. If you don’t come clean with me right now, I’m gonna let my spear here ask the next question.”

Frank nodded. Makeshift spear or not, he was confident he could take down this weather-beaten man if it came to that. Still, the guy moved pretty fast. “Look, I’m not trying to be secretive. I’m happy to explain everything. I’m looking for a man. I’m not sure he’s still in the area, but he definitely passed through here a while back. About seven years ago.”

Mason shook his head. “Ain’t no such thing as passing through here. No one came here seven years ago, I can promise you that.”

Frank’s heart sank. “You sure?”

Mason spat on the ground by way of an answer. “This man you’re asking after. Tell me about him.”

Frank ran a hand through his hair. This was getting him nowhere. “He’s a little shorter than me. Blond hair. Wears it a bit shaggy, at least he did last time I saw him. Suffers from a distinct lack of a sense of humor.”

The old man rubbed his chin and squinted at Frank. “Why, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were talking about Jake Hinkle.”

Frank’s pulse quickened. “Yes!”

Mason squinted at him. “You came here looking for Jake Hinkle?”

“Yes!”

“And what exactly do you want with him?”

Frank wondered if the man was messing with him. “I’m here to help him, if I can. He’s my brother.”

Mason grimaced. “That’s what I figured, but I needed to hear you say it.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got some hard news. Jake Hinkle has been dead more than fifty years.”

The air went out of Frank’s lungs. No. It wasn’t possible.

“Uncle Frank.” Mason put a hand on his shoulder. “My dad never gave up on you. He told me you’d be coming.”

CHAPTER ONE: THE CURBSIDE KILLER

1.

The man who killed Sophie’s sister ran free for five years before they caught him. His victims were young and old, black and white, beautiful and ugly. He was an equal opportunity killer. His only criterion was convenience. He attacked pedestrians, a quick baseball bat to the head and he went on his way, leaving them lying in the gutter.

Still, even knowing that, Sophie Porter spent her high school years living in fear of him. Fear he’d come after her some day. Even though she never walked anywhere—her parents didn’t let her and she wouldn’t have wanted to anyway—it was always in her mind that he’d make an exception from his established pattern for her. Sophie never believed her sister’s death had been random. She believed there was something special about Heather that had drawn him, and she believed maybe the same special quality was inside her, too.

The police caught Charles Dylan Taylor—the man the media had dubbed ‘The Curbside Killer’—just outside Chattanooga in 2004. They pulled him over for an illegal U-turn, saw the bloody baseball bat, and took him into custody. His multi-state, half-decade-long voyage of terror was over. No more names would be added to his already double-digit list of victims.

Sophie was nineteen years old when they caught him. She dropped out of Vanderbilt a month after the arrest. The combination of relief at the man’s capture and dread over his upcoming trial left little room in her mind for coursework. She got a job at a jazz bar and stayed in Nashville rather than returning to her parents' home in Knoxville. She needed to be around people who were at least pretending to be happy.

Charles Dylan Taylor was sentenced to death by lethal injection four years later. Twenty-three-year-old Sophie Porter sat in the courtroom during the sentencing, promising herself this was the end of the story for her and Charles Taylor. He’d likely wait for years on Death Row, but she wouldn’t let her mind and heart be held captive with him. She’d move on with her life. The Curbside Killer would wait for his final appointment with the needle at Northern Tennessee Correctional Complex in Rook Mountain.

On September 30, 2014, Taylor disappeared from his locked cell. The report showed he was in his bunk for the ten-thirty bed check. When Officer Rodgers came around for the eleven fifteen bed check, he was gone.

The story made national headlines—‘Death Row Inmate Escapes’—but most of the reports focused on how the disappearance had taken place in the weirdness capital of the nation. The other things that had happened there made a simple prison break, albeit a perplexing one, seem mundane by comparison. Most people chalked it up as another Rook Mountain mystery. Add it to the list, they said.

The families of the victims banded together and raised money to help bring attention to the manhunt. Sophie’s parents reacted as they always did in a crisis: her mother leaping into action, organizing campaigns and committees, and her father withdrawing further into his own thoughts and distancing himself from the world.

Sophie had seen this all before. The victims’ groups. The fundraising. The desperate pleas for a few moments of attention from the right media outlets. But Sophie wasn’t a little girl this time, and she was no longer content to watch her parents try their broken-hearted best to cope with another chapter in an endless saga of tragedy. It all seemed so familiar and sad. That same old picture of Heather was being shown again and again.

Sophie knew their way didn’t have to be her way. She needed to find her own method of survival.

On October 15, 2014, Sophie Porter drove to Rook Mountain.

2.

Sophie stomped on the clutch and downshifted into first, slowing to a roll as she approached the prison. The place was less menacing than she’d expected. Tall fences topped with coils of razor wire surrounded the complex, but what she could see inside the fence looked like the institutional version of quaint. The buildings were long and squat, gray and drab. They looked clean and freshly painted, not the grimy oppressiveness Sophie had seen in so many prison movies and television shows. It didn’t look like the kind of place she’d want to spend the rest of her life, but the sight of it didn’t cause her legs to go watery either.

There were seventy-six prisoners on death row at NTCC. Seventy-six people waiting around to die, some of them waiting decades. A few days before, there had been seventy-seven. Now Charles Dylan Taylor was walking free. Sophie didn’t know exactly what she expected to do about that, but she had to try something. Someone had to be held accountable.

She’d never been to Rook Mountain before even though she had grown up two hours to the southwest in Knoxville. It hadn’t been a hot tourist destination. Not until seven months ago, anyway.

It had been seven months since the weirdness. Seven months since everyone in this town had aged eight years in a single night. The residents of Rook Mountain had come back with wild and unbelievable stories, stories of giant birds and strange laws. They claimed they’d been led by a man named Zed. No last name. Zed had protected them, some claimed, from the things outside the town. Others claimed he’d been an oppressive dictator. Zed had apparently disappeared off the face of the earth around the time things went back to normal in Rook Mountain, and he hadn’t been seen since.

Theories about what had really happened to Rook Mountain on the night of March 27 were as varied as you’d expect. Mass delusion with physical manifestation. Some sort of spiritual attack brought on to teach the town a lesson. And aliens. A lot of people theorized it was aliens.

Sophie thought of all the government employees and scientists still hanging around town, and she grimaced. Finding a place to stay would be a nightmare.

She took a deep breath and glanced at herself in the rearview mirror. Did she look professional? Like someone who might legitimately come calling on the warden? She thought so. She had done her best approximation of the pantsuit she imagined a government official might wear on a daily basis. And yet, she saw her own discomfort in the mirror. She wore the right clothes, but she didn’t wear them with the casual grace of someone who was accustomed to business attire.

Nothing she could do about that now. She turned the wheel of her Civic and pulled up next to the guard station, stopping well behind the barrier arm blocking her path. She rolled down her window and waited for the guard to speak. He looked at her, his face blank.

When it became clear the guard wasn’t going to initiate the conversation, she said, “I’m here to see Warden Cades.”

For a moment, it seemed the guard still wasn’t going to speak. Then he said, “You have an appointment?”

She waited a moment too long before answering. “Yes. He’s expecting me.”

The guard grunted, his expression unreadable. “ID please.”

Sophie fumbled with the clasp on her purse. This wasn’t going how she’d planned. She’d imagined she would be charming. That she’d win the guard over with her smile and friendly conversation. So naive. Charles Taylor could be anywhere by now, and here she was in the only place she knew he wasn’t.

She handed the guard her driver’s license. It still had the picture from when she was twenty-one years old. At the time, she’d just bought a car and moved into a new apartment. It felt like a fresh start, a way to escape the past. No baseball bats would cave in the back of her head while she was driving her used Mitsubishi Expo, a vehicle that looked like a cross between Inspector Gadget’s ‘Gagetmobile’ and a minivan. She’d quickly learned no simple vehicle or state-issued plastic card would be the answer to her problems. Nor would the various other solutions she tried over the years. Older men. Younger men. The Goth scene. The rave scene. Even the country music scene. Of course, none of it had made her forget the Curbside Killer. She didn’t regret it, though. She had collected a wider array of memories than most people her age. Good as well as bad.

The guard looked at the ID for a full thirty seconds, squinting like it was written in Mandarin, and then he glared up at her.

“Hang on,” he said.

He scooped up the phone and pressed a button, his eyes never leaving her. It was as if he was afraid she’d turn to smoke and disappear if he looked away. He muttered into the phone too quietly for Sophie to hear. Her stomach was doing flip-flops now. All the confidence she had felt minutes before had drifted away.

He handed the ID back to her. “Listen,” he said. “I’m trying to get in touch with the warden. Visitor parking is over there. You can wait while I verify his schedule.”

She hesitated, not sure where to take it from here, whether or not to push. She’d had a response ready for if he gave her a flat-out no, and she was ready to act unsurprised and confident if he lifted the one-armed barrier and waved her inside. She hadn’t been ready for a maybe.

Sophie gave the guard a quick nod and shifted into reverse. She navigated the car backward fifty feet and then pulled into the visitor parking lot. She angled the car so she could see the guard’s little hut of a station through her windshield.

She sat for five minutes, chewing her bottom lip and trying to make out the guard’s movements through the tinted glass. She was staring so hard and gripping her steering wheel so tightly the vibration of her cell phone made her jump.

She fished the phone out of her pocket and saw a photo of a skinny, balding man on the screen. She groaned. Was this coincidence or catastrophe?

She took a deep breath and touched the green icon on the screen.

“Hey, Dad! What’s up?”

“Sophie, what are you doing?” His voice was matter-of-fact but clipped. This was his get-down-to-business voice.

Sophie let out an exhausted breath. Catastrophe.

“You’d rather I was there with you and Mom manning the tip line?”

“Actually, I would.”

It was always the same. It had been this way when Taylor was on the run. Sophie got frustrated that Mom and Dad weren’t doing enough, and Mom and Dad got frustrated that Sophie was distracting them from the work at hand. Fundamentally, her parents believed in the system. They thought Charles Taylor was a problem that could be solved through paperwork and phone calls. Sophie thought that was bullshit.

“You getting a lot of great tips on the hotline today?” she asked. “Did that guy who claims to have Heather’s left foot in his basement call again?”

The number of crank calls to the hotline was overwhelming. Most of them barely even remembered the details of Heather’s death. It was even worse this time. Not only did the crazy serial killer fans and wannabes call, now it was the Rook Mountain conspiracy nuts, too. Charles Taylor had been taken by aliens. Charles Taylor had been taken by giant birds. Charles Taylor had ascended into heaven to sit at the right hand of Jeffrey Dahmer. The crazy calls never stopped.

When her father didn’t answer, Sophie said, “How’d you know I was here, Dad?”

“Somebody at the prison called Don Gurke. Don called me.” Don Gurke was the family’s attorney—a victim’s rights advocate who had become a close friend of the family over the years. “Sophie, what exactly are you trying to accomplish? Did you really think anybody there would talk to you?”

She paused, trying to decide how to answer. What was she doing here? It had all seemed so clear fifteen minutes ago. “I had to try something different. Sometimes sitting and waiting for the phone to ring isn’t the best approach.”

“We’ve done a hell of a lot more than that. You know the money, the hours, the years we’ve put into capturing this madman?”

Sophie squeezed her eyes shut. She remembered. She remembered being shooed out of the room while her parents sat at the dining room table, a two-foot tall stack of files in front of them, when all she wanted was a hug. She remembered the painful, distracted looks in their eyes on every special occasion since Heather’s death. Every milestone in Sophie’s life was just another reminder of the daughter who wasn’t there.

“We’re trying our best here. Answering the phones might not sound like much. I know it’s not flashy, like driving to a prison across the state, but this is how real cases get solved. Ask any detective, any criminal lawyer. Real investigations aren’t sexy and they aren’t exciting. They’re long hours and paperwork. They’re a grind.”

“Yeah? How far has that grind gotten you this time?” She paused, the rest of her comment stuck in her throat. A tall man in a uniform was strutting toward the car, his arms swinging at his sides. His crooked smile revealed perfectly white, level-straight teeth.

“I gotta go,” she told her father.

“Wait, we need to talk about this. Your mother and I—”

Sophie hit the END icon on her phone. Whatever authoritative, by-the-book resolution her father had been about to suggest would have to wait.

The closer the man got, the bigger he looked. Sophie gripped her phone tightly. Why hadn’t she thought to bring a weapon? At least a can of mace or something.

The man reached the car, leaned over, and rapped on the driver’s side window.

Sophie paused only a moment before she stabbed at the button to lower the window. As the glass descended, the man leaned forward, his smiling face getting uncomfortably close to hers.

“I’m hitting on you,” the man said. He spoke in a low throaty voice. She smelled the freshly chewed wintergreen gum on his breath.

“Well, you’re direct. I’ll give you that.”

His smile wavered. “No. I’m not really hitting on you. I mean, pretend I’m hitting on you. My friends are watching.”

She struggled to keep her face even. Just what she needed. A horny guard. “Yeah? What did they want you to say?”

The man cleared his throat and looked away.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I worked in a bar in Nashville for five years. I’ve heard it all.”

His eyes met hers, and she noticed his cheeks were red. “They, uh… they wanted me to tell you that if you really want to get into prison, you’ll have to let me frisk you…”

“Go on.”

“And you’ll have to frisk me, too. Nice and slow.”

“Lovely.” She turned the key and started the engine.

“No. Wait. It’s not like that.”

She adjusted her rearview mirror and stepped on the clutch. “Oh yeah? What’s it like?”

The man looked back and forth as if scanning to see if anyone was close by. He didn’t look pervy to Sophie anymore; he looked nervous. “It was an excuse to come talk to you. I know who you are. Who your sister was. I followed the case pretty closely back then.”

She took her hand off the stick shift and set it on the wheel. “You and everyone else.”

“Yeah, well, the difference is I remember. I remember what that monster did, and I never let him forget it while he was in here.”

Sophie looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He wasn’t bad looking. She glanced down at the ID badge hanging from his shirt pocket, and she saw the name Timothy Rodgers.

The man shook his head. “It’s not right the way they’re covering everything up. The way they pretend the last eight years don’t matter. Taylor’s proof they do. All the damn scientists and government types in town, looking in every old lady’s cupboard for the secrets of the universe. And here a man, a killer, disappears and nobody sees the connection.”

“Okay,” she said, “what’s the connection?”

He shook his head. “Not here. I’ll talk to you, but if the guys find out I did, I’ll wake up in a burlap sack being beaten with bars of soap, you know?”

“Not really. Listen, man, I want to hear what you have to say, but I’m not an idiot. Somewhere public, okay?”

He nodded. “There’s a pizza place called Leon’s downtown. We can grab a slice and I’ll ruin your appetite with what I have to say. I’ll be there at five thirty. Sound okay?”

It sounded like she’d struck gold and fallen into a trap all at the same time. “When you go back to your buddies, will you at least tell them I spit in your face?”

He grinned. “I don’t like lying to my friends.”

She spat in his face and threw the car into reverse.

3.

Sophie stopped at the first gas station she saw and grabbed two bottles of water, a bag of Doritos, and—after a moment’s hesitation—a frozen burrito. No way was she showing up at this pizza place hungry. If she was hungry, she would order food, and then she’d be committed to sitting there eating it even if this Rodgers guy turned out to be a complete nut job.

She popped her burrito into the food-splattered microwave, hit the START button, and looked around while the microwave hummed. The gas station was oddly crowded for a Wednesday afternoon. The two cashiers were ringing up customers and handing out change and lottery tickets as fast as they could, but the line still snaked down the candy aisle and past the microwave station where she stood.

She eyed the kid in line standing closest to her. He looked like he was maybe fifteen years old. She glanced down and noticed a large tattoo on the back of his right hand. It featured the face of a clock with a jagged crack running down the center of it.

Sophie looked up and saw his eyes were on her. He’d caught her looking. Probably thought she was checking him out. With her slight build and her playfully-styled brunette hair, she was often mistaken for ten years younger than her age, and she constantly had to fend off guys far too young for her tastes.

She gave him a polite, thin-lipped smile. The kid grinned back at her.

He gestured to the long line in front of him. “This is crazy, right? It’s always like this now.”

Sophie gave him a disinterested look. She supposed it had been hard for this kid, going from cut off from the world to being at the center of a media circus. “Yeah. Not like the good old days, I guess.”

The look on his face changed at that. His smile narrowed, but something about it looked a little more genuine. The line in front of him moved forward. He gestured to the man behind him. “You can go ahead.” He stepped out of line and held his hand out to Sophie. She gave it the briefest of shakes.

“I’m Grant. I’m pleased to meet you.”

“I’m Sophie. I’m waiting for my burrito.”

He pointed to the back of his right hand. “I saw you checking out my tattoo.”

She shrugged. “Kinda jumped out at me, I guess.”

Grant grinned. “I know, right? That’s the whole point. To not live in the shadows anymore.” He gave the tattoo a rub like it was a lucky rabbit’s foot. “I like what you said before. About the good old days. I agree.”

“Swell,” she said. She stared hard at the timer on the microwave, willing it to move faster.

The kids nodded vigorously. Then he leaned closer and spoke a bit more quietly. “You know about the second coming, right?”

She raised one eyebrow. Maybe she had this kid’s intentions wrong. Maybe he was about preaching rather than flirting.

“He’s coming back. All these people want to pretend like he’s not important, but they have a surprise coming. He’ll be back, and there’s nothing they can do about it.”

“Yeah, man, that’s cool. Jesus is coming back. I get it. I’m on board.”

The kid looked confused. “What? No, not Jesus. I’m talking about the way things were, like you said. Zed’s coming back to set things right. He’s coming back, but there’s work to do before he gets here. That’s what my tattoo is about. We’ve done a lot already, but our work’s just beginning and—”

“Grant!”

A bigger kid, probably a year or two older than Grant, marched toward them. He reached out and grabbed Sophie’s right wrist. He pulled her hand in front of Grant’s face. “You see a broken clock here?”

Sophie jerked her hand away, then pushed it against the kid’s chest and shoved him backward. “What the hell, man?”

The guy regained his balance and shot Sophie a disgusted look. Then he stared back at his friend. “Well? Answer the question. You see a tat?”

Grant looked away. “No.”

The bigger guy stood chin-to-chin with Grant and shoved him. “Then what the hell you running your mouth about?”

Grant rubbed his chest where the kid pushed him. “Look, Colt, I’m sorry. She was talking about the good old days. I got excited is all.”

Colt leaned into the smaller guy’s face. “You know who else talks about the good old days? My grandma. She lives in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Maybe you want to call her up, confide in her too?”

The microwave beeped. Sophie pulled out the hot burrito and ripped open the package. “Maybe lay off, Colt. Let’s all pay for our burritos and—,” she glanced down at the bottle in his hand, “—our Mountain Dews and call it a day. Cool?”

Colt looked her up and down as if she were something dead on the side of the road. He lifted his right hand, making sure Sophie could see the broken clock tattoo that matched Grant’s. He held it there like Sophie was supposed to be impressed.

When Sophie didn’t react, he said, “You’re not even from Rook Mountain, are you?”

She shook her head. “Just here for the day.”

Colt shot Grant a fiery look, and Grant’s face reddened.

She moved to the back of the line, wanting to put as much distance as the gas station allowed between her and these weirdos.

Colt called back to her, “Get out of Rook Mountain soon. You won’t like what’s coming next.”

4.

She slipped into the pizza place at five thirty-five and saw Rodgers sitting at a table in the corner, staring at a menu. He was wearing jeans and a tee shirt, and his wet hair was slicked back, as if he’d either just stepped out of the shower or stuck his head under a faucet.

She marched to his table and slid into the seat across from him.

He nodded a greeting. “You want to order something? The calzones are great. They use fresh ricotta.”

“I’m not eating. I just want to hear what you have to say about Taylor.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. Me? I’m getting the calzone. With mushrooms and sausage.” He set down the menu. “So, why’d you come here, anyway? Did you think you could bat your eyelashes at the warden and he’d hand over Taylor’s files?”

“I wanted to get in the door. I thought maybe if I reminded him what my family’s been through, he’d be willing to at least tell me what happened.”

Rodgers chuckled. “Yeah, well, that isn’t how Warden Cades works. He’s a hard man. He had to be, the things that happened. You know how long I’ve worked at the prison?”

“Mr. Rodgers, you said you had information for me. Something about a cover up? Can we talk about that?”

Rodgers grimaced, and she saw the rough prison guard edge underneath his boyish good looks. “We are talking about it. I’ve worked at the prison thirteen years. Since 2011.”

She started to correct him and then stopped herself.

“Yeah, see what you did there?” he asked. “This town aged eight years while the rest of you experienced one second. Big deal, right? The news cycle moved on, and the only people still thinking about it are the scientists, the government, and the nut jobs. Nobody cares. Nobody from the outside, anyway.”

She glanced around the crowded restaurant. “Looks to me like the town’s still full of people from the outside who care.”

He shook his head. “These are the bottom feeders. They’re waiting for another fight to break out so they can write about how violence is on the rise in Rook Mountain.” He shifted in his seat and leaned toward her. He lowered his voice when he spoke again. “Let me ask you a question. You ever heard that urban legend about Sanctuary?”

She tilted her head, puzzled at the non sequitur. “Yeah, of course.”

“When did you first hear it?”

Sophie thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s one of those things I’ve known my whole life. Like saying Bloody Mary in the mirror. Kids talk about it to scare other kids. We’d dare each other to try it at slumber parties and stuff.”

He leaned forward and looked into her eyes. She saw emptiness in those eyes, a hollow sadness.

“I’m gonna tell you something now,” he said. “Something you aren’t going to believe. But I’d appreciate it if you’d hear me out anyway.”

“Okay.”

“That legend about the Sanctuary didn’t exist before March twenty-seventh of this year.”

She waited for some indication he was kidding, but none came. He sat there looking at her with those sad eyes. What he was saying wasn’t true. There was no doubt about that. She had played Sanctuary with Heather when they were kids. They would stand on the balcony outside of their parents’ bedroom and lean over as far as they dared. When they felt like they’d leaned a little too far, they would shout the word Sanctuary.

Of course, nothing ever happened. Just like Bloody Mary never came out of the mirror no matter how many times they said her name. Granted, the urban legend said your life had to be in danger. Leaning over the railing of a second story balcony wasn’t exactly a death-defying situation, but still.

She took a sip of water before speaking. “Do you mean you hadn’t heard about it before March twenty-seventh?” She asked the question even though she knew perfectly well that wasn’t what he meant. “It’s possible the story didn’t make it out to these parts, I guess.”

He shook his head. “I mean what I said. It didn’t exist.”

She smiled even as she wondered how to politely extract herself from this odd conversation. “Well, that’s just not true. Like I said, I heard about it when I was a kid.”

“When I was a teenager,” Rodgers said, “I went through this phase where I was obsessed with urban legends. I had a shelf full of books on modern folklore. It was mostly garbage, people looking to make a quick buck by writing down stories everyone already knew. But I devoured those books. I knew it all. Candyman. The headless Lincoln. The song that steals your free will. The standardized test that secretly checks you for psychic abilities.”

Sophie had heard of the Candyman, but not any of the others. “You’re telling me none of those books mentioned Sanctuary?”

He grinned his crooked boyish grin. “They didn’t the first time I read them.”

The waitress set a tall skinny beer glass in front of him. He thanked her and took a long sip before wiping the froth from his mouth with the back of his hand and continuing. “I heard somebody mention Sanctuary on TV back in April, so I looked it up online. There were a bunch of different versions, but they all had the same basic idea. If your life is ever in immediate danger, you can say the word ‘Sanctuary’ and you’ll be saved. You’ll be taken to some other place. No one knows where it is or what happens there, but you can never return. That sound like what you heard as a kid?”

Sophie nodded. This was all common knowledge, of course. There was even a saying people used when presented with a risk they couldn’t help but take. Close your eyes and ask for Sanctuary.

Rodgers said, “You know that thing where you hear a word for the first time, and then you hear it a bunch of times over the next week or so? It was like that with Sanctuary. I started seeing references to it everywhere. In movies, online, in books. I felt like I was going crazy. So I brought it up to the guys at work. Most of them hadn’t heard of it either. One guy knew of it, but he said he’d first seen it on TV a couple weeks back.”

She grimaced. She wasn’t here to learn about this prison guard’s strange obsession with urban legends. “That’s a weird story, but it happens. Sometimes stuff passes us by. We all have blind spots. They did an episode of This American Life about it. One lady didn’t realize unicorns weren’t real animals until she was thirty years old. Is it odd? Yes. But I need you to focus. Let’s talk about Charles Taylor.”

“We are talking about Taylor. This has everything to do with him. You don’t see what the story of Sanctuary might have to do with a guy disappearing out of a locked prison?”

It was at that moment Sophie realized she was sitting with a crazy person. She put her hands on the table and pushed herself up to a standing position. “I appreciate you taking the time, but I better be going.”

“No,” he said. He grabbed her hand and pressed it tightly against the table. “Please. Listen for five more minutes. I can tell you what happened that night. It isn’t what Warden Cades told the press.”

She sank back into her seat and pulled her hand out from beneath his. “Talk fast.”

“A few days before he disappeared, Taylor punched a guard, a buddy of mine named Brian Dayton. Taylor was on the wrong side of the prisoner/staff line, and Brian told him to step back. That was it, just told him to move. Taylor freaked out and punched him in the face.”

“How has this not come out already?”

He looked away. “There are two ways we can deal with these types of situations. There’s the official way, with the paperwork and the hand slapping and time in the SHU. But what the hell does a guy like Taylor care? It’s not like we can extend his sentence for bad behavior. And he’s pretty damn isolated on death row already.”

“What’s the unofficial way?”

He cleared his throat and leaned closer. “A few of us decided to take our batons and pay Taylor a late-night visit. It’s not something we do a lot, but guys like him have to occasionally be taught a lesson. It’s hard to explain if you haven’t worked in a prison, but it’s really for the best.”

“That asshole bashed my sister’s head in while she was walking home from school. You think I’m gonna object to him getting a beat down?”

Rodgers scratched his chin and grinned. “Yeah, I guess maybe you wouldn’t. When something like that happens, the smart prisoners curl up in the fetal position and take their beatings.”

“I take it Taylor wasn’t one of the smart ones?”

He shook his head. “Idiot fought back. After that, I’ll admit, we got a little carried away. We whaled on him a bit too hard and a bit too long. The fight never went out of him, but he did eventually stop punching and kicking at us. When I thought he’d finally had enough, he looked up at us and grinned. It was creepy. We’d knocked a couple of his teeth out at that point. He looked like a jack-o'-lantern or something. And then he said it and disappeared.”

“He said Sanctuary? And it worked?”

Rodgers spread his fingers out on the table like a magician showing there was nothing in his hands. “That was it. He was there one second and gone the next. He blinked out of existence.”

She leaned back in her chair and pondered how far this man’s madness went. Was there truth to his ramblings or was it all nonsense? “How much does the warden know?”

“He knows it all. We called him right after.”

“Okay, say you’re right. Despite the fact that who knows how many people have said Sanctuary in life and death situations and it’s never worked before—”

“We don’t know that. People disappear all the time.”

She sighed. “Okay, fine. It happens all the time. Even if that’s true, why would the warden cover it up?”

“Why wouldn’t he? This is Rook Mountain. Secrets are what we do.”

Sophie shook her head. “That’s exactly why I don’t buy it. This is the ideal place to claim something unexplainable happened. He had to know losing an inmate, a death row inmate, would make the whole prison staff look like idiots.”

“You don’t understand,” he said. “You think this town wants more attention for being a hotspot for the unexplained? You think we want more weirdos coming here on sightseeing trips?”

“Seems like a ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card to me. No pun intended.”

He grimaced. “You’re just like the rest. You know how many people died while you slept on March twenty-seventh?”

“But that’s over now. It’s time to find the man who killed my sister.”

“That’s where you're wrong,” he said. “It isn’t over. It’s only getting started. You remember those urban legend books I collected as a teenager? I pulled one of them out a box in the basement a few weeks ago. Guess what story was featured on the cover?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line. “Sanctuary?”

He nodded. Beads of sweat stood on his forehead. He leaned closer. “We were gone for eight years, and we came back different. But you changed too while we were away. The world changed. That Sanctuary story’s in every one of those books now. I can’t prove it, but it wasn’t there before. And that’s only one example. This world we came back to is all wrong.”

Sophie stood up, careful to keep her hands out of his reach.

“Wait,” he said. “There’s more.”

“I’ve heard enough. Thanks for wasting my time.”

He took a deep breath. “I’m asking you, Ms. Porter. Don’t leave yet. Please.”

“Sorry, man. Places to be.” She turned and took long strides toward the door of the pizzeria, careful not to look back.

She’d almost made it to her car when she felt the gun against her back.

“Get in the car,” Rodgers said. “We’re going for a ride.”

5.

They took her car, Sophie driving and Rodgers in the passenger seat, sticking the gun into her side harder than was necessary. She’d been sure he was taking her to his house so he could lock her up in his torture chamber or something, but instead he took her to the center of town. City Hall was closed for the evening, but Rodgers produced a key and walked them right through the front door. Why a prison guard had a key to City Hall, she did not know.

After directing her up three flights of stairs, he waved his gun toward a ladder. “You go first.”

Sophie grimaced and pulled herself up. She counted ten rungs before she reached the trapdoor at the top. She twisted the handle and shoved it open, struggling against the heavy metal of the door. Sunlight poured into the dim hallway below. She squinted against the sun and climbed out onto the roof of Rook Mountain City Hall.

She looked around the rooftop, hoping to see another trapdoor she could escape through, but there was nothing. Just a flat roof, some air conditioning units, and a long drop on four sides.

Rodgers pulled himself onto the roof, stood up, and brushed off his pants. He smiled at Sophie.

“Why are you doing this, Rodgers? What do you want from me?”

He pointed the gun at her. “That is an excellent question. And I’m not sure I know the answer. But I’m hoping to figure that out right quick.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a round object Sophie recognized as a compass.

“You see this?” he asked. He flipped it around so Sophie could see both sides of it. On the back was the symbol she’d seen tattooed on the two kids’ hands. A broken clock.

He waved the compass in front of her as he spoke. “I found this compass in the prison yard about ten years back. Right after Zed came to town, actually. Back when we all thought he was a crazy drifter. No idea how it got in the prison yard. Shouldn’t have been possible. But there it was. I thought it was beautiful, so I hung on to it rather than turning it into the warden.”

Sophie backed away. Rodgers seemed to be losing control of the composure he had displayed earlier. He might freak out and shoot her at any moment. On the other hand, it also upped her odds of being able to take him out.

He continued, “Later, after the Unfeathered came, we had this rule that said we were supposed to turn over anything with the broken clock symbol to the selectmen. By then I thought of this thing as my good luck charm.”

He looked at her, and she saw there were tears in his eyes. “That’s my biggest regret. Not turning in this thing when I had the chance. Maybe if I had, maybe if Zed had this compass, things wouldn’t have gone down like they did on this rooftop. That son of a bitch Hinkle and his freak show of a family somehow sent Zed away. I keep thinking maybe this compass could have helped.”

Sophie spoke cautiously. “Maybe… maybe I can help. Charles Taylor and this Zed guy both disappeared, right? Maybe the disappearances are related. Maybe we can—”

“You don’t understand!” he shouted. “You weren’t here. To you, Zed’s a name in a story on some news website. You never heard him speak or knew the way it felt when he smiled at you. He was a great man.”

She held up her hands. “Okay. Great man. Got it.”

He giggled, a surprisingly high-pitched sound coming from this big man. “You know the crazy part? This compass never even worked right. Instead of pointing north, you know where it pointed? At Charles Taylor.”

She squinted at him. “What?”

“Until the day Zed disappeared and time started again. Then the compass started pointing here. Toward City Hall. The place where Zed disappeared.”

“So that’s why you brought me here?”

He shook his head. “No. The reason I brought you here—the reason I talked to you at all in that parking lot at the prison—is because the compass changed. The minute you showed up this morning, the needle stopped pointing at City Hall and started pointing at you.”

She stepped back again. Her feet were close to the edge now, mere inches away. “Why the hell would it do that?”

“I don’t know!” Rodgers screamed. “Look.” He paced back and forth while staring at the compass. “Still pointing at you. Wherever I go, it’s locked on you. I hoped if I brought you here, to the place the compass used to point, something would happen. But it’s not working!”

He stomped toward her and pushed the barrel of the gun into the center of her chest. “Who are you really? What’s so special about you? Why did you come to Rook Mountain?”

“You know.” She struggled to keep the quiver out of her voice. “You know why I’m here.”

He shook the compass wildly through the air. “Come on! I’ve done everything right, everything I possibly could do. Why aren’t you working?”

Her eyes darted to the trap door. Rodgers stood between her and it, but there was a chance. If she took off running, darted around him, maybe—

He flashed a joyless grin. “He’s coming back, you know.”

“So I keep hearing,” she muttered. “Some kids at the gas station were saying the same thing. They had these tattoos. Maybe you need to talk to them.”

He groaned. “You think I haven’t already? They’ve been loyal to Zed, I gotta give them that. But they’re dangerous. People think they’re nothing to worry about because they’re kids, but the things they’re planning are no joke, I promise you that.”

“Okay. So let’s go to them. Maybe they can help.”

Rodgers gave his head a violent shake. She could feel the presence of the edge of the building. Her stomach clenched at the thought of the gun in front of her and the drop inches behind her.

“You don’t understand,” he said. “They still believe in the Regulations. Do you know what that means?” He pressed the gun barrel harder against her chest and vertigo washed over her. “It means they’d take my compass. It’s one of the Tools. That’s what they called them, Tools. And they’d kill me for hiding it all this time. No, we can’t work with them.”

She put her hand over his. “Rodgers… Tim… I can help you. The compass is trying to tell you I can help.”

He shook his head. “It’s not like that. The compass has chosen you. I think it wants justice. What Regulations have you broken, Sophie Porter?”

At that moment, Sophie decided she’d had enough of being held at gunpoint by a crazy person. Heather had died when she was struck in the back of the head with an aluminum baseball bat. She probably never knew what hit her, and she never had the chance to react. Sophie did have the chance, and she was sure as hell going to take it. She sucked in a quick breath. The surge of adrenaline rushing through her gave the world an over-saturated quality.

She planted her foot behind her, hoping it would find solid ground rather than air. She pushed off that back foot and drove the heel of her hand upward into Rodgers’ nose with all her strength.

He howled in pain and stumbled backwards.

She watched him stagger for only a moment before she took off toward the trapdoor. She pumped her arms and ran with all her might. When she was nearly there, she dove and slid as she'd been taught in softball so many years ago. But this wasn’t dirt, and the rough concrete dug into her arms and hands as she slid. She felt her pants tear and the skin of her knees being stripped away.

It didn’t matter. She was here. The handle of the trapdoor was in her hand. She pulled on it and found it was heavier than she’d expected. She wasn’t about to let that stop her. She pulled harder and the door rose with a satisfying moan.

Something grabbed her around her waist. An arm was wrapped around her, flinging her backward, and suddenly she was on her ass six feet away from the trapdoor. She grunted in pain, surprise and frustration.

Rodgers glowered down at her, dark blood streaming from his nose into his mouth and down his neck. His face was streaked with wet lines of tears, but his teeth were gritted. He still clutched the compass in his right hand. The gun was jammed down the back of his pants.

“Leaving isn’t an option. The compass wants you here.”

She scooted backwards away from him as fast as she could, then stumbled to her feet. If she couldn’t escape, she’d have to fight him. He took a step toward her, and she threw a punch. Her feet weren’t set like last time, though, and her swing was wild and desperate. The blow ricocheted off his cheek, barely slowing him down.

He was almost to her now. She feigned another punch and used the moment it bought her to set her back foot. She stomped, driving her front foot into his knee, putting all the adrenaline coursing through her into slamming her foot against him as hard as possible.

He yelped in pain and crouched down, grabbing for the injured knee.

She kicked again, this time aiming for his chin, but he ducked and she hit his shoulder. She staggered to keep her balance. Rodgers growled, and sprang up off the ground, crashing into her. She toppled backwards grabbing at him as she fell, hoping to bring him down with her. The expected impact with the ground never came, and she realized they’d gone over the edge a moment before she saw the side of the building rushing past her.

Her stomach somersaulted as the air rushed past her face. She clutched at Rodgers as they fell, groping for something, anything, to hold on to. Her hand closed around something hard and cold—the compass, she realized—and she gripped it hard, holding on as if the object could save her.

“Sanctuary!” he screamed.

Unbidden, Sophie’s voice joined his. She whispered the word just as she had so many times with Heather on the balcony outside her parents’ bedroom.

“Sanctuary.”

And then it was nighttime, and she was lying in the mud in a strange and unfamiliar place as the rain fell around her.

IN THE WOODS (PART ONE)

Frank swallowed hard, pushing down the lump in his throat.

He looked at Mason. What did he really know about this man? He hadn’t offered up any real information so far, other than claiming Jake was dead. He’d only used the term uncle after Frank revealed his own relationship to Jake. And saying Jake was dead? Seemed like a pretty good plan if you wanted someone to stop looking for him.

“You’re lying.” Frank was surprised at the choked, throaty quality of his own voice.

“I’m not,” Mason replied softly.

“You say he’s been dead more than fifty years.”

Mason nodded.

“My brother’s not even forty years old. You see how I might have some trouble believing he’s been dead that long?”

Mason gave a weary laugh. “I’ve lived in these woods all my life. I’ve never set foot in Tennessee or any of the other places my dad and mom used to tell me about. But the way I understand it, time has its wires crossed between here and there.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means fifty years here doesn’t exactly add up to fifty years on the outside. The way my dad told it, you might have some experience with time getting weird.”

Frank clenched his fists. The air felt thick in his lungs, hard to push in and out, and the sour taste in his mouth was only getting worse.

“You don’t want to believe me, that’s your affair,” Mason said. “But I’m guessing you came through the mirror, same as my dad did. I’m guessing you were hoping to take him back to Rook Mountain. Back to his wife, Christine, and his son, Trevor.”

Frank said nothing. He blinked back the tears pooling in his eyes.

“See?” Mason asked. “I do know a thing or two about a thing or two.”

“H-How’d he die?” Frank asked. The words stuck in his throat like they didn’t want to be said, like saying the thing might make it true.

“He died protecting his friends.” Mason turned away from Frank and started down the trail. “Come on. Let’s head to my place. I want to collect a few things. Then I can show you where it happened.”

Frank nodded absently and followed the older man. His nephew. Frank heard his own feet thumping against the trail as he walked, but he didn’t feel it. He felt numb. Hollow. If what this man said was true…No, he wouldn’t allow himself to believe it. He’d come too far, endured too much, to be fifty years too late.

Something came back to him. While he was in the hell of the Away, the Ones Who Sing had revealed three truths to him, though they had seemed more like riddles than truths to Frank. The first was how to escape the Away. The second was how to defeat Zed. But to his third question, how to find Jake Hinkle, they’d been unable to provide an answer.

“Ah, we know this name, too. We know it well. He is our—” Here the voices split once again and Frank heard multiple words at once.

“Friend.”

“Enemy.”

“Rival.”

“Champion.”

“Oppressor.”

“Brother.”

The voices joined back together. “The one you speak of stands outside the river of time. He stands on its edge like a fisherman, pulling out those who swim by as it suits him...We do not know all, but we do know this: you will never see Jake Hinkle again.”

A chill ran through Frank.

Mason glanced over his shoulder and frowned when he saw Frank falling behind. He slowed his pace.

Frank had so many questions and this man with the weathered face had the answers. He decided to start with something generic. “Tell me what you remember about him.”

Mason shrugged. “It wasn’t easy. Growing up here, I mean. My dad tried, but spending time with me didn’t exactly come natural to him.”

“Jake could be distant at times…I’m sure he cared about you.”

“There wasn’t a lot for us to do together. Like I said, the woods were different in those days. Dangerous. So he couldn’t exactly take me out for a hike. The one thing he did do was tell stories.”

Frank tilted his head, trying to picture Jake sitting on the end of a kid’s bed telling fairy tales. “What kind of stories?”

Mason chuckled. “Oh, King Arthur. Robin Hood. Luke Skywalker. Battlestar Galactica. Dune. All the classics.”

Frank let out an unexpected laugh. Though few knew it, Jake was a hardcore sci-fi geek.

“But you know what my favorite stories were?” Mason asked. “The ones he told about growing up with you.”

Frank stopped walking. “He talked about that?”

“Of course.” He waved his hand as if batting away the ridiculous idea that it could have been otherwise. “How about the time you two snuck out of the house to go camping? Carried the tent and the sleeping bags on your bikes. How old were you when that happened?”

Frank hadn’t thought about that in years. “I guess I was nine or so. Jake must have been eleven. We didn’t take anything other than the tent and sleeping bags. No food. No matches for starting the fire. Not even a flashlight.” They had left their bikes at the edge of the woods and hiked until they found a flat, half-way clear spot and set up camp. It wasn’t until the sun went down and the temperature started to drop that they began to question the wisdom of their plan. They’d made it through the night, huddling together against the cold and the dark, and in the morning they’d broke camp and exited the woods to find their bikes gone and their parents beyond frantic at their unannounced night out.

“He talked about you a lot,” Mason said. “I know he cared about me in his own way. I just wanted to make sure you knew he cared about you, too.”

Before Frank could respond, something over Mason’s shoulder caught his eye. It was so unexpected, so out of place, that he had to blink a few times before he was confident in what was right in front of him.

It was a man. His face was encircled in a wild nest of long hair, both on top of his head and growing out of his face. His eyes were a chalky gray, and there were deep lines around them. The rest of him was hidden in the foliage.

He looked at Frank with distant curiosity, seeming oblivious to the fact that Frank was looking back at him.

Mason squinted at Frank. His voice was quiet when he spoke. “Tell me what you see.”

“A man,” Frank said. “He has a beard and—”

As he was still speaking, the face disappeared into the foliage.

“He’s gone!” Frank said. He stepped toward the place he had seen him.

Mason grabbed his arm. “We have to go. Now.”

“You know him?” Frank asked.

Mason gritted his teeth. “I know of him. But he was banished back before my dad died. It seems to me you might have woken something up when you came through that mirror.”

CHAPTER TWO: SANCTUARY

1. Rook Mountain

Officer Sean Lee was the first on the scene, which was saying something considering the police station was a block and a half away. For some odd reason, nobody was rushing to investigate the jumper whose broken body was now lying on the sidewalk outside city hall. The memories of what had happened on that roof last March were still too strong. Many of them had been in the street below when the Unfeathered attacked and Zed and Frank Hinkle faced off on the roof of city hall.

Many of them weren’t sure how they felt about Rook Mountain rejoining the normal world.

Sean knew how he felt about it, though. He was damn glad Zed was gone. He hoped wherever the guy was now, giant bird creatures were pecking his eyes out. Even seven months later, you had to be careful saying things like that out loud. People didn’t wear their colors on their sleeves. You had your Zed Lovers and your Zed Haters, not to mention the closet Zed Lovers and the closet Zed Haters. Everyone had been toeing the official Regulation line for so long most Rook Mountaineers didn’t yet feel comfortable voicing their honest-to-God opinions.

That was fine with Sean. He’d never been one for over-sharing, even in the pre-Zed days.

The uncertainty of the situation made people uncomfortable. Most tended to shy away from anything the slightest bit controversial or any situation where they might be expected to voice an opinion. That was probably why the five cops on duty didn’t exactly pour out of the station when word came in about the jumper.

Sean had been three blocks away, playing with his radar gun and trying to get up the gumption to drive out to the exit ramp off the highway, park under the sign, and ruin speeders’ days.

The only thing he missed about the Regulations was the lack of speeding ticket quotas. Even thinking about radar gun duty made him glum. So, when the call came over the radio about the jumper, he answered double quick and hustled over to city hall.

There was a small crowd of five men and women standing around the body when Sean arrived. Of course, the dead guy was smack-dab in the middle of the concrete sidewalk. He couldn’t have landed in one of the many grassy areas around the building. Someone had laid a coat over man’s head and torso. Sean waved the spectators back, squatted down beside the body, and lifted the coat, using his body to block their view.

The man’s head was lying on his shoulder at an unnatural angle. His skull was misshapen, like the shell of a hard-boiled egg dropped from a great height. His eyes were open, and blood seeped around the edges. The building was only four stories tall; he must have landed headfirst.

Even through the blood, Sean recognized the man: it was Tim Rodgers. Tim worked over at the prison. The Rook Mountain police didn’t have a ton of interaction with the Correctional Officers, but a little bit of path-crossing was inevitable. There was the occasional training session the two services did jointly in order to save money. And there were annual training exercises that let them practice how their teams would work together in the event of an escape or a riot at the prison.

Sean had never liked the man. The other CO’s at NTCC looked at Rodgers like he was a big deal, and Rodgers looked at the Rook Mountain cops like they were all idiots. It had gotten a little better during the Zed years, when the police had been at least technically in charge of enforcing the Regulations, but it had never gone away completely. The COs had a complicated relationship with the police force. Many of them had aspirations of becoming cops. Some had even tried and been turned down. At the same time, the COs felt like they dealt with the worst of the worst everyday—which, in fairness, they did—while the police spent their time dealing with drunks and parking tickets. And Rodgers had been the worst of them.

Sean’s stomach turned at the sight of the familiar face under the coat.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to remember the correct procedures for this type of situation. It was difficult after eight years living under the Regulations to re-adapt to the laws and guidelines of the great state of Tennessee. The State had brought in people to retrain them and even stationed a couple of advisors at the station to help, but old habits were tougher to break than COs’ skulls. In the Zed years, Sean would have radioed for the hearse, had the body hauled to the clinic, and called Christine Osmond to give it a cursory inspection. Now there was probably some sort of investigation that should be done here at the scene.

He forced himself to take a hard look at the body. What he saw made him frown. By the time he covered it again, two other officers, Graves and Banks, were meandering up the steps of city hall. Sean felt his knees pop as he stood.

Graves and Banks nodded in greeting as they approached.

“Anybody we know?” Graves asked.

Sean gave the briefest of nods and leaned in close before he answered. “Tim Rodgers. The CO.”

“Shit,” Graves said.

“Listen,” Sean said, his voice even quieter than before, “we need to close off the building. And question these looky-loos. And, hell, I don’t know what else.”

Banks raised an eyebrow. “This procedure or you got reason to believe Rodgers didn’t jump?”

“He’s got dried blood on his chin and his neck. On his shirt, too. Not splattered on there. More like it was running down his face. Thing is, he landed head first. He’s on his side now. So unless blood runs sideways, we’ve got a problem.”

Graves’ eye drifted to behind Sean and suddenly grew wide. “Hey! Get away from there!”

Sean spun around and saw a teenage boy kneeling next to the body, his hand in Rodgers’ pocket. The three cops sprinted toward him. The boy sprang to his feet and held up his hands, showing they were empty. Sean recognized the kid.

“Colt, what the hell are you doing?”

“Sorry!” he said, his hands still in the air. “I thought he was someone I knew and I panicked.”

“So you went through his pockets?” Graves was in the kid’s face, practically yelling.

He grinned sheepishly. “I was looking for his wallet. Trying to ID him.”

“Christ, kid,” Graves said. “Step back, will ya? We’ll deal with you in a minute.” Colt lowered his hands and Sean saw the broken clock tattoo.

Sean nodded toward the tat. “I didn’t know you were one of those.”

Colt smiled a little more widely, showing his orthodontically straightened teeth. Must have gotten those braces off recently. “I didn’t know you weren’t.”

These young self-proclaimed Zed Heads were a new phenomenon in the past couple of months, and Sean wasn’t sure what to think of them. His general philosophy was to let kids rebel a bit, let them have their music and their edgy hair-styles—whatever edgy happened to be at the particular point in time. Kids needed to blow off steam and, as long as they weren’t breaking the law or hurting anyone, Sean was all for it, even if it did offend some of the more conservative sensibilities of the adult folks. Sean himself had dabbled in the rave scene in his younger days.

But this Zed Head thing seemed different. On the one hand, it was classic teen rebellion. Pick an icon that would freak out your parents and plaster him on your wall. On the other hand, Zed wasn’t some ruler of the distant past to be used for shock value. These kids knew Zed. They’d seen the impacts of Zed’s rule of law up close and personal.

And then there was the fact that most of these kids had been former students at the Beyond Academy. The government inquiry into Rook Mountain had taken special interest in the Academy, and terms like ‘brainwashing’ and ‘Hitler youth’ were thrown around in the media. Sean didn’t know everything that went on in that school, but he did know the curriculum went beyond the usual high school fare. Graduates knew the Regulations like the backs of their previously un-tattooed hands, and they weren’t slow to enforce them.

Sean had been spending a lot of time at the Osmonds’ house over the past few months, and he tried to ask Trevor about his experiences at the school once. The kid hadn’t wanted to talk about it. Like Sean could blame him. Everyone in this town was sick of answering questions by that point.

Whatever went on at that school, Sean did know two things to be true: Zed had spent almost as much time at the Beyond Academy as he did at city hall, and seven months ago the Beyond Academy kids had been fighting the Unfeathered while the majority of the town huddled inside waiting for it all to end. Now their guns had been taken away and they were supposed to go back to being normal kids. It was no wonder they were acting out.

Colt leaned forward and spoke softly. There was an odd light in his eyes that made Sean uncomfortable. “You find anything on that body?”

Sean squinted at him. “What? I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Colt grinned again, showing off his perfect teeth. “If you have anything to give me, or tell me, now’s a great time. You’re not a Regulation breaker, are you Officer?”

Sean stared into his eyes for a long moment, trying to figure out what the hell the kid was going on about. Colt met his gaze without blinking.

A squad car rolled to a stop at the bottom of the stairs and Chief Yates climbed out of the driver’s seat. He left the lights flashing and trotted up the steps.

“Officer Lee, what did I miss?”

Sean nodded toward the building. “Our jumper might not have jumped. We need to search city hall.” By the time Sean looked back, Colt was gone.

2. Sanctuary

Sophie closed her eyes tight, whispered “Sanctuary,” and waited for impact.

The material against her face suddenly felt different. A moment ago it had been the cotton of Rodgers’ shirt. Now it was something else, something squishy. Rain pelted her back.

She opened her eyes, and what she saw caused her to experience the worst sense of disorientation she’d ever felt. She expected to see Rodgers in front of her and the bright sky behind him. Instead, she squinted into darkness. She was lying on her stomach, she realized. Her left hand still held the compass, but her right hand was resting on the muddy ground six inches in front of her face. Rain fell around her, splashing onto the wet ground with heavy plops.

She felt sick to her stomach, but she tried to rise. She quivered for a moment, trying to hold herself up through the shock, then gave in and collapsed in the mud below. She rolled onto her back and stared up in the sky. It was pure darkness. The smell of the rain was thick in her nose.

She breathed hard and let the raindrops splatter against her. Where was she? What was happening to her? She held the compass in front of her face. Did this have something to do with what had happened?

But she was alive. A smile crept onto her face.

A light fell across her, and a voice said, “What the hell?” Then, louder, “Baldwin, get over here!”

The man crouched down next to her. He was tall and thin, and he wore a headlamp strapped to his head, the kind Sophie used when she went camping. The light coming from his forehead made it difficult to look at him. “You okay?” His voice had a soft breathless quality that barely reached her over the sound of the rain.

Sophie groaned, then struggled to her hands and knees. It wasn’t easy with nothing but slippery mud to cling to and her mind still spinning.

“Where are we?” she asked.

The man scratched his head. “Lady, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

Another voice came from the darkness. “Leonard?”

“Over here!” the man crouching next to her yelled. Then to Sophie, “You got a name?”

She nodded and started to answer, but then another beam of light fell on her.

The man next to her shifted the beam of his headlamp toward this new arrival. He was short and stocky, and he had an umbrella. He too wore a headlamp. He froze when he saw Sophie.

In the glow of the headlamps, Sophie was able to make out a bit about her surroundings. A tree stood next to her, a thick tangle of roots at its base.

“What the hell’s this?” the new arrival asked.

“That’s what I’m wondering,” said the other man. “She was lying here in the mud.”

The short man scratched at his nose. “We weren’t expecting anyone, right?”

The crouching man snorted. “You really think they wouldn’t let us know?”

He reached down and held out a hand to Sophie. “I’m Leonard. This here’s Baldwin.”

She squinted at the hand for a long moment before taking it. She gripped it hard, her hand slippery with mud. “Sophie Porter.”

Baldwin gave a little nod and then looked at Leonard. “Can we do this, please? You know how I feel about this part.”

Leonard patted Sophie’s shoulder. “Stay strong for a bit. Things’ll be better tomorrow.” He looked back at Baldwin. “You want me to do it?”

Baldwin nodded.

Leonard rose to his feet. “Alrighty.” He cleared his throat. and when he continued it was as if he were speaking for an audience of a hundred people rather than a single woman less than five feet away. “Do you seek sanctuary and protection?”

She raised herself up on her elbows. “Are you telling me this is the actual real Sanctuary? Like in the urban legend?”

“He’s not telling you anything,” Baldwin said. “He’s asking you a question. Did you come here for sanctuary?”

Sophie thought for a moment. She’d said the word. In the stories, once you’d said the word, you could never go back. But it sounded like they were giving her a chance. “What happens if I say no?”

Leonard said, “We leave. You’re free to get up and go…wherever. I wouldn’t recommend it though. These woods aren’t the safest place. Especially after sun up.”

She gazed out into the darkness. If this was really happening, if it wasn’t some weird afterlife or hallucination, that meant Sanctuary was real. And if it was real, maybe Rodgers wasn’t as crazy as she had assumed. If Sanctuary was real, Taylor could be here. He might be in these woods at this very moment. And she had the compass. If it pointed to Taylor as Rodgers had said, she could find him.

“Yes. I want Sanctuary.”

Leonard cleared his throat loudly. “Your request is denied.”

The men stepped toward her.

Leonard said, “Until you’re accepted into Sanctuary, your belongings will be confiscated and you’ll be held for questioning.”

Baldwin bent down and grabbed her legs. She twisted, trying to squirm out of his grasp. At the same moment she felt another arm, it had to be Leonard’s, wrap around her waist.

Her arms flailed as she desperately felt in the darkness for something to hold on to. Her fingers laced around a tangle of roots at the base of the tree next to her. She knew she wouldn’t be able to fight them much longer. Wherever they were taking here, they wouldn’t get the compass. That was her key to finding Taylor, and they wouldn’t take it from her. She shoved the compass under the roots just before Leonard grabbed her arms and wrapped them up under his own, pinning them to her side.

She kicked and thrashed wildly, but their hold on her was too strong. She felt weak; the fight with Rodgers on the rooftop seemed like it had happened both moments before and a lifetime ago. She wasn’t going to be able to squirm out of their grasp, even as wet and slippery as she was.

They carried her through the darkness in near silence, only the dim beam of men’s headlamps illuminating the trail ahead; the only sound was her own groaning and cursing and the labored breathing of the men. They moved slowly, Baldwin going first, one of her legs held on either side of him like he was pulling a wheelbarrow. They stopped a few times, and she could have sworn they doubled back more than once.

After what seemed like ten minutes of trudging through the rain, the men stumbled to a halt, and she heard a sound like knuckles rapping on wood.

“Yeah?” The voice was muffled and distant.

“It’s Baldwin and Leonard. We’ve got a new arrival.”

There was a long pause. Then, “There’s not one tonight.”

“Open the door, Frasier,” Leonard yelled. “We found her in the woods.”

Another long pause, then the squeal of metal on metal as the hinges reluctantly opened and a slowly widening rectangle of light appeared. The door was only a quarter open when Baldwin pushed into the room, shouldering it open the rest of the way.

They brought her into a sparsely furnished room. Leonard shut the door behind him.

Sophie squinted against the light, not wanting to wait until her eyes adjusted before taking in her new surroundings. There was a card table in the center of the room. A checkers game that appeared to be in progress was set up on the table. There were four wooden chairs, a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels, and an open paperback on the floor. The room had the look of an old log cabin.

The man standing next to the card table was rail thin and looked older than Baldwin and Leonard put together.

Leonard said, “Get the door. Then get Logan.”

The old man nodded and rushed to a door on the other side of the room. Baldwin and Leonard carried her into a new room, which was empty but for a garden hose on the ground and three work lamps clamped to the exposed overhead beams. And a chair with four sets of handcuffs attached to it, one on each leg.

The fear that had been racing through Sophie’s veins since Rodgers pulled the gun outside the pizza place suddenly reached a new pitch. The men dropped her into the chair. Leonard held her down while Baldwin snapped the handcuffs into place, one on each wrist and one on each ankle.

Leonard smiled. “Look…,” he paused and scratched his head. If Sophie didn’t know better, she’d have guessed he was embarrassed. “We’ll talk soon, okay?”

She hurled a few of her more creative strings of curses at him by way of response. Baldwin shook his head and chuckled. “Logan will be along.”

The two men marched out of the room without another word. The door shut, she heard a click, and the lights went out. She was once again in darkness.

She took a deep breath and tried to stop the panic racing through her brain. She had to think clearly now. No telling when this Logan person would arrive. She tested her wrists against the handcuffs and choked back her desperation. She couldn’t so much as twist her arm in the cuff, let alone slip out of it. She took a deep breath and pulled as hard as she could with both hands, then cried out in pain as the cuffs cut into her wrists. She tried the same thing with her feet and achieved the same painful result.

Sophie squirmed and felt her rain-soaked pantsuit squish wetly on the seat. She’d been so proud of the outfit only a few hours ago. Picked out special to impress the warden, a man she would never even meet.

The chair was bolted to the floor. The cuffs were too strong to escape. She’d have to talk her way out of it when Logan arrived. Appeal to his sense of humanity. Or something.

The years spent under her mother’s optimistic tutelage—even in the hard times—suddenly came back to her. She tried to think of something positive. “A happy mind is a clear mind,” her mother had always said, and, God help her, Sophie believed it.

So, happy thoughts.

For one thing, she wasn’t splattered on the pavement outside city hall. That was something. She wasn’t dead or even hurt much. Best of all, there was a chance Charles Taylor, the Curbside Killer himself, was here in these very woods. Or, at least he’d been very recently.

The work lights clamped to the ceiling suddenly turned on, flooding the room with hot white light and shooting daggers of pain into her skull. She snapped her eyes shut and then opened them a little, squinting to see what was happening.

She heard the creak of the door opening and the click-click of footsteps. She saw the silhouette of the new arrival, but couldn’t make out any of the features.

A woman’s voice said, “Do you seek sanctuary and protection?”

Sophie relaxed a little at the female voice. But only a little. “Yeah.”

“Request denied.” The woman’s voice was cold and hard. “What’s your name?”

“Sophie Porter.”

A spray of ice-cold water hit her in the chest and she yelled in surprise.

“No!” the woman shouted. “That’s not your name. We don’t use full names here. How’d you get here? What were you doing when you said the word?”

Sophie spat the cold water out of her mouth. “I take it you’re Logan?”

Another stream of water blasted her.

“Answer the question! What were you doing?”

The water was still slamming against her and she shouted to be heard over it. “I was falling! I fell off a building.”

The water shut off, leaving her shivering. The woman said, “Sophie Porter’s as good as dead. She might as well have hit the ground and died on impact. All that’s left is you, a new person. You have the chance to start fresh here. You can be Sophie or Porter. Take your pick.”

Sophie shook her head hard to clear the water out of her face. “Listen, I’m happy to answer any questions you have, but can we behave like civilized human beings and stop spraying me with water?”

A blast of water to the face was her only answer.

“Okay! Okay! Sophie! I’ll go by Sophie.” The spray stopped, and she spit out another mouthful of water. “Listen, there’s something you need to know. There’s a guy named Charles Taylor around here. He was on death row, and—”

Water hit her in her open mouth, causing her to cough and choke.

“There’s not any Charles Taylor here. Charles Taylor’s dead, just like Sophie Porter. No one here has a past.”

“Are you kidding me?” Sophie screamed through the water. “He was the Curbside Killer! He smashed strangers’ heads in with baseball bats!”

“You’re not listening! We don’t care if you were the pope or Satan himself in your past life. All that matters is whether you can follow the rules.”

“Some comfort that’ll be when he kills you in your bed.”

The angle of the water changed and it shot up her nose. She twisted her head, but the water followed.

“Do yourself a favor, and shut up,” the woman said.

The door creaked open and another silhouette darkened the doorway.

“Really, Logan?” a male voice said. “Is this necessary?”

“She’s lippy. Talking about people’s pasts. I’m telling her the rules.”

“That’s not your job.”

“You weren’t here.”

“True enough. What’s she go by?”

“She goes by Sophie,” Sophie muttered through the water.

“Will you turn off the water, please?” the man asked. “And get the lights?”

The water stopped, and Sophie gasped for air. A moment later the work lights turned off, and the softer light of an overhead bulb replaced them.

The man walked over, his feet squeaking as he came. Sophie squeezed her eyes shut tight to blink away the water, and then opened them. He looked to be in his late-thirties. Most of his hair was gone and an expansive belly hung over the front of his pants. His smile shone bright as he leaned down toward her.

“I’m sorry about all that. Logan gets a bit carried away with the whole hazing thing.”

Sophie was shivering hard now. “Apology accepted. You gonna unlock me now so I can kick her ass?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. There’s one more thing.”

She gritted her teeth and waited.

“Sophie, do you come here seeking sanctuary and protection?”

She glanced over the man’s shoulder and got her first good look at Logan. The woman was tall with fiery red hair, and she wore a tank top that showed off her well-muscled arms.

Sophie looked back at the man. She’d asked this question before, but she had a feeling she might get a straight-forward answer this time. “What happens if I say no?”

He waved toward the door. “You walk out of here and go on your merry way. Though, I must say, I seriously doubt you’d survive long in those woods. And you’d never be welcomed back into our fold. This is a one-time offer.”

Sophie looked at the pool of water around her feet. “Your fold, huh? That’s what you call it?”

“Answer the question, Sophie,” Logan said.

Sophie bit back a snide retort. “I’m looking for a man named Charles Taylor. Is he here?”

“I won’t answer that question,” the man said. “Not until you answer mine.”

Sophie took a deep breath. “Yes. I want sanctuary.”

The man broke out in a wide grin. He bent down and unlocked the cuffs around her ankles, and then the ones around her wrists. He held out his hand to her. “Sophie, my name’s Nate. Welcome to Sanctuary.”

3. Rook Mountain

The doorbell woke Sean. He looked around the room frantically, filled suddenly with a mix of adrenaline and confusion. He glanced at the clock. 3:12 AM. He sat up, swung his feet out of bed, and rubbed his eyes.

Had that really been the doorbell? Or had it been the tail end of a dream that spun so neatly into reality he thought he’d heard something?

He stood up and stretched. Only one way to find out.

The doorbell rang again, a series of three chimes that each felt like ice picks driving panic into his chest. There were few things scarier than an unexpected caller at three twelve in the morning.

He hurried to his dresser and grabbed his service revolver from the top drawer. Maybe not the best idea considering the adrenaline rushing through his veins and the sleep still clouding his mind. This was the exact type of situation where the wrong person could get shot. Still, he’d feel mighty dumb if he interrupted a home invasion and left a perfectly good gun in a drawer in the bedroom.

But, really, how many home invaders rang the doorbell?

Sean crept out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and toward the front door. He kept the lights off, not wanting to ruin his night vision. He slid his feet along the ground, moving swiftly and carefully to avoid anything he might have left on the floor.

As he moved through the house, he thought about the last time he’d woken in the middle of the night to find an unexpected visitor at the door. It had been his old friend Frank Hinkle. Frank had a crazy look in his eyes that night, and he’d been blabbering about the items with the broken clock symbol. At least this couldn’t be any worse than that. An hour after that visit the Unfeathered had made their return to Rook Mountain.

He took a deep breath and flipped on the porch light. Pushing aside the curtain, he looked out. A single, thin figure stood on the porch. Colt Bryant. The kid from the crime scene earlier that day.

He pulled the door open. The chain was still latched, and he opened it wide enough to look out at the kid.

“Colt, what is it?” Sean asked. He tried hard to mask the irritation in his voice, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded.

Colt wore only a tee shirt and jeans. His arms were wrapped around his chest, and he looked much younger than he had this morning. “Hi. I’m really sorry to wake you up.”

Sean shook his head. “It’s okay. What’s going on?”

The kid stared up into Sean’s eyes, a pathetic look of despair on his face. “Remember when you told me I could come talk to you if I was ever in trouble?”

Sean searched his memory for when he might have said that to this kid, but he came up empty. To the best of his knowledge, he’d never even spoken with Colt Bryant before today. Maybe he’d said it when talking at Colt’s school or something. Of course, if that was the case, he would have been talking to the class about the Regulations, telling them to turn in any Regulation Breakers to the first police officer they could find.

“Yeah, I remember. Are you in trouble?”

Colt shook his head. “No. Well, maybe. I’m not sure yet.”

“Okay. Tell me what you need.”

Colt squinted into the black space between the door and the door frame. “Can I come in and talk?”

Sean paused, suddenly aware that all he was wearing was his boxers. “How about I come out there?”

“Okay.”

“You want me to bring you a jacket?”

The kid shook his head. Sean shut the door and unhooked the chain. He grabbed his blue hoodie off the back of the recliner where he’d thrown it last night and slipped it on. He hesitated, and then shoved the gun into the pocket of the hoodie, keeping his right hand in there with it. Just in case. Something about Colt Bryant creeped him out a little, even when it wasn’t 3:12 AM.

He stepped outside and gestured to the two rocking chairs on the porch. “Have a seat.”

Colt shook his head. “This won’t take long. I wanted to talk about the crime scene today. I have some information that might help you. With the case.”

They needed all the help they could get on this one. The blood and the injuries made it clear Rodgers had taken a beaten before plunging off that roof, but their search of the building and interviews with bystanders had turned up nothing. A little help could go a long way. He’d prefer to not have evidence handed over on his porch in the middle of the night, though.

“That would be great,” he said. “Why don’t I get dressed and we can head down to the station?”

“No, I want to talk here. I don’t think the station would be the safest place for me. Like I said, I might be in some trouble.”

Sean nodded. “Okay. Let’s talk here.”

Colt paused, looking out into the night. “First, I have to ask you a question. Did you find anything on the body?”

Sean gripped his gun a bit harder. Was this why Colt had gotten him out of bed in the middle of the night? “We already talked about this at the scene. I can’t give out that information.”

Colt lowered his head, and his voice came out choked when he spoke. “I know he had something. Please. I need it.”

“Tell me what kind of trouble you’re in, son.”

“Everyone’s gonna think he killed himself because that death row inmate escaped while he was on duty. But that’s not what happened.”

Sean raised an eyebrow. “And you know what did happen?”

Colt’s body shook for a moment as if he was crying. He cleared his throat. “You…you remember Regulation 2? The items with the broken clock symbol?”

Even hearing mention of that Regulation sent a jolt through Sean. That was the last thing he had expected to hear. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Rodgers had one of the objects. A compass.”

“How do you know that?”

Colt shrugged. “He wasn’t exactly subtle about it. Ever since so-called Deregulation Day, he’s been drinking in bars, running his mouth. The wrong person overheard him.”

“And how exactly did you get involved?” Sean asked.

“I’ve been running with Zed Heads lately.”

“Yeah, I saw the tat.”

“The Zed Heads want that object. Day before yesterday, they sent me and a couple of the younger guys to take it from him. Thing is, we didn’t expect him to be armed.”

“What happened?”

“We asked for the item. He admitted he had it. Even told us it was a compass. He pulled out a gun and I chickened out and left. He must have realized the Zed Heads would never let it go and offed himself.”

Maybe this kid didn’t know as much as he thought he did about what had happened. “Thank you, Colt,” Sean said. “That’s valuable information.”

Colt nodded, and then he smiled a crooked smile, and a sudden light danced in his eyes. “The thing is, Officer Lee, Rodgers wasn’t dumb. I respect him for that. He understood his situation and he acted on it. See, the Zed Heads aren’t the kind of people to let something like this go. This joke of a government, these arbitrary laws we follow now, they’re meaningless. The Regulations are the true law. They must be upheld. Regulation 2 is no exception.”

Sean felt a chill in the air.

Colt continued. “Take you, for example. You were the first one at the scene today. Everyone there saw you bending down, pawing at the body. I happen to know the Zed Heads have friends in the police department, friends who are still loyal to Zed and what he stands for. Those friends tell us the compass wasn’t on the body. I also happen to know the Zed Heads searched Rodgers’ house. And his car. And a Zed-loyal guard searched his locker at the prison. The compass wasn’t in any of those places. Some people might think you decided to keep the compass for yourself.”

Sean leaned in close. “Is that why you came here? Are you trying to threaten me?”

“Officer Lee, it would help me out, and you too really, if you would hand over the compass. We would highly appreciate it.”

“I don’t have the compass. I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Colt’s smile widened a little. “Okay. I’ll go. I can’t speak for my friends, though.” He gestured toward the road.

Sean squinted out into the night. It took a moment, and then he saw them. There must have been two dozen dark shapes standing on the sidewalk facing the house. The Zed Heads. How long had they been there, silently watching, listening to the conversation? Sean’s heart raced. He pulled the gun out of his pocket and held it down at his side, making sure Colt could see it.

He spoke loudly so they all could hear him. “Everyone needs to move along now. I don’t have what you’re looking for.”

Colt nodded toward Sean’s gun. “You gonna shoot us, Officer? Kids standing on the sidewalk at night? For what? Being out past curfew? Pulling a gun on kids breaking curfew sounds a little Regulationy to me.”

The words were sharpened like a dagger. The department had zero-tolerance for officers enforcing Regulations. Two cops had been fired in the last few months for minor Regulation enforcement, and one had been fired for publicly stating that some of the Regulations might have been a good idea. The department was doing everything it could to distance itself from the perceived police state that existed under Zed’s rule.

“Of course I’m not going to shoot anyone. But I will write citations for each and every person who isn’t gone in the next thirty seconds.”

“Citations?” Colt spat the word back in Sean’s face. “The rules used to mean something. This town used to mean something. You think we care about your citations? Your pieces of paper are meaningless against what’s coming. And I’ll tell you something else: your gun isn’t gonna be so helpful either. When the second coming happens it ain’t gonna be like last time. There’s gonna be a clear dividing line between those who upheld Zed’s message and those who stood against it. You want to be on the right side of that line.”

“It’s time to go,” Sean growled. “I’m not asking again.”

Colt nodded. “You’ll be seeing a lot more of us. Real soon. I gave you the chance to hand over the compass.” With that, he turned and walked away. The rest of the Zed Heads followed, seeming to melt into the darkness.

Sean stood on the porch, his heart racing. He gazed out into the street, watching for any shapes that remained on the sidewalk. He saw none.

He was about to go back into the house when he heard a crash, quickly followed by the blaring of a car alarm. He leapt off the porch, skipping over the three steps and landing on the sidewalk mid-stride. He sprinted toward the driveway and then froze. The window of his police cruiser was shattered and a brick lay on the driver’s seat.

He spun on his heels, searching, listening for some sign of which way the perpetrators ran. There was none. He was alone.

4. Sanctuary

Nate led Sophie along a broad path through the woods. His flashlight was small and he walked in front, so the beam of light was too far ahead of her to be of much help. She concentrated on his back, trying to follow him as he zigged and zagged toward wherever he was leading her.

At least she was dry. The rain had stopped, and the only reminder of it was the way her feet squished into the mud with each step. Nate had given her dry clothes: underwear, a tee shirt, jeans, sneakers, and a light jacket, all the right size. They’d been waiting for her in another room in the cabin along with a towel, a hairbrush, and even a ponytail holder. Nate had shown her to the room and told her to take her time, to come out whenever she was ready. He’d waited outside while she dressed.

And now he was taking her somewhere. Nate had been quiet since they left the little cabin, simply plodding along the path, not even looking back to make sure she was still with him.

They rounded a sharp corner, and Nate paused. “This is it,” he said. He turned and looked at her, as if watching for her reaction.

The building in front of them was a large, Victorian-style home. The lights inside illuminated the many windows, and she saw movement upstairs. The wrap-around porch was dotted with at least ten rocking chairs. Large white columns stood along the front of the house.

“Is this where you live?” she asked.

“Nah, not me. This is the boss’s place. He lives upstairs, and most of the business that needs doing gets done downstairs. I have a much smaller, less obnoxious house down the path a ways. You’ll get your own too, in time.” With that, he turned and strode toward the house. Sophie looked at it for another moment and then followed.

The trail led straight to the front of the house. As far as she could see, there was no driveway, sidewalk, or garage, unless it was behind the house. She ran her hand along the banister as they ascended the stairs to the porch. This place was in perfect condition. The white paint was clean and unchipped. The bushes in front of the house were carefully manicured. The rocking chairs on the porch looked like they’d been hand built, considering the intricate details in the woodwork. The house seemed out of place in the dense forest. It was like finding a teacup in a tree branch; she knew there had to be a crazy story behind how and why the house had been built here.

Nate gestured toward one of the rocking chairs. “Nice night. You mind sitting out here and talking for a couple minutes before we head inside?”

She shook her head and eased herself into the rocking chair closest to her. It had been a long day/night, and her body was beginning to complain from the beating it had taken. In the last few hours, she had experienced the fight with Rodgers, been carried through the woods by Leonard and Baldwin, and gotten cuffed to the chair and hosed down by Logan. She hurt all over. And Nate was right; it was a nice night. A cool breeze cut through the trees. There wasn’t the usual humid muggy haze that hung in the air after it rained. She hadn’t been bitten by a single mosquito on the walk through the woods, and mosquitoes were generally drawn to Sophie.

“You doing okay?” Nate asked. “It must have been quite a shock. I know it was for me. First almost dying, then showing up here, then Logan with the hose.”

Sophie nodded. “I’m doing okay.” And she realized it was true. She was doing okay. She’d set out this morning to find Charles Taylor, and, whatever other craziness had happened, she could honestly say she was much closer to finding him than she’d thought she’d be at this point. For all she knew, he could be in that house right now. “You know, it’s funny. I don’t even know why I said the word. I didn’t believe Sanctuary was real. Not even a little. But the word still came out of my mouth.”

“It was the same for me,” Nate said.

Sophie suddenly remembered something. “The man I was with. His name was Rodgers. He said the word, too. Is he here?”

Nate shook his head. “You think everyone who shouts ‘Sanctuary’ in their hour of need shows up here? This place would be overrun. We’re the lucky ones.”

“How’s that work? Why us?”

He smiled. “The boss picked us. The way I understand it, he hears the cries of ‘Sanctuary’. Every one of them. He can’t save them all. We don’t have the room. But every once in a while he plucks someone out of wherever they are and brings them here, gives them a new life.” He reached forward and patted Sophie’s knee. “We’re truly a chosen people.”

She gritted her teeth. How many good, decent folk had called for Sanctuary and had their call go unanswered? And the Curbside Killer gets chosen instead. “It certainly doesn’t seem to be based on merit.”

A shadow fell across Nate’s face. “No. It isn’t.”

“How’d it happen for you? The almost dying thing.”

“Well, Sophie, that’s not something we talk about.”

“Why not? I’ll bet you're missing out on some hilarious stories. Who wouldn’t want to talk about their near death experience?”

“It’s not like it’s against the rules. You can talk about yours if you want. It’s sorta considered rude to ask. That’s the way it is here. I don’t know anyone's past but my own, but I’d guess most of the folks here didn’t have it easy. You can see it in their eyes. They’ve seen things. Done things, some of them. But that’s the beauty of this place. It doesn’t matter. Everyone gets a fresh start.”

She felt her face grow hot at the thought of Charles Taylor getting a clean slate. He might have his own little house in these woods. Probably laughed himself to sleep every night. “Maybe some people don’t deserve a fresh start.”

“I won’t say I disagree with you. But the boss does. Everyone here starts with the same blank slate. He makes sure of it.”

“Is that why you brought me up here? To meet the boss?”

“Yeah. Just a quick hello for now. We’ll do that in a few minutes, but there are some things we need to discuss first. I need to prepare you.”

She paused. “That sounds ominous.”

“Nah. Quite the opposite, actually. Some people find him to be a little… let’s say, intimidating. He takes his work here very seriously, and he gets a little intense about it. But underneath it all, he’s a sweetheart. Really. And it’s important work, so maybe he has reason to be intense about it.”

“What work is that?” She suddenly envisioned herself hauling stones over a mountain to build a statue to the great and mysterious boss.

He nodded toward the woods. “We tend to the forest. We maintain the trails.”

“What if I don’t see myself as the park ranger type?”

“What do you see yourself as?”

She thought for a moment. That was a tough question. She was twenty-seven years old, and she couldn’t say she had much of an identity. For years, she’d concentrated on not thinking about what happened to Heather. But she’d thrown that away when she drove to Rook Mountain.

Rules weren’t her thing. She’d walked away from jobs when she’d butted heads with her bosses. There were always other jobs, and no paycheck was worth her freedom.

“I guess I see myself more as the type who steals picnic baskets,” she said.

He chuckled. “There’s room for all kinds here, bear and park ranger alike. We’ll help you find your place, and in time I think you’ll find it’s far more rewarding than anything you did in the outside world. The boss believes in hard work, but he also believes in letting people figure out what type of work they should be doing. What type of work fulfills them.”

“Where are we? I mean, like, where in the world? These trees are huge. Are they redwoods?”

He paused for a moment before answering. “Sorry, I’ve been here so long I forgot the crazy things that go through your head when you’re new.”

“Let me guess,” she said. “I’m not supposed to ask that question.”

He held up his hands. “No, no. You can ask. It’s not something I spend a lot of time thinking about these days. Fact is, I have no idea where in the world we are. And I don’t care. We’re never leaving. Most of us wouldn’t want to. So why’s it matter?” He nodded toward the house. “Listen, he’s probably waiting for us, so let me tell you about the rules.”

Sophie smirked. “Rules, huh? I was waiting for that part ever since you mentioned a boss.”

“Chill, Yogi. It’s not a big deal. The boss isn’t a fan of rules and regulations. For the most part, it’s live and let live around here. I guarantee you’ve never had as much freedom in your life. But there are two rules you cannot violate. We take them very seriously.” He nodded toward the house again. “He takes them very seriously.”

Sophie leaned forward in her rocking chair. What kind of a place was this?

“Rule one. Don’t hurt anyone. Simple as that. Fist fights, unprovoked attacks, murder. We treat them all the same.”

“Except hosing down new recruits. You let that slide.”

“That was different. You were an outsider. You’ve been accepted into Sanctuary now. But don’t even think about getting back at Logan or Leonard or Baldwin. When we say don’t hurt anyone, we mean it. It’s a hard line rule, but it works. We don’t have any fights, because everyone understands the consequences.”

“And the consequences are?”

“Banishment. Understand the rule?”

She nodded.

“And you’ll follow it?”

She pictured herself driving a knife into Charles Taylor’s chest all the way to the hilt. “Yeah. I’ll follow it.”

She gazed at the window and wondered if this mysterious boss was looking out at her through one of those curtains. Did he know? Did he know what Taylor had done to her? Was he watching her, waiting to see how she’d react?

“What’s the second rule?”

Nate smiled. “Never go into the boss’s office. Except now.” He stood up. “Come on. He’s waiting to meet you.”

She clenched her fists. She felt the anger welling up inside of her, the familiar rage she’d felt so many times over the years. But she had become an expert at suppressing it, at smiling through the pain and going to class or going to work and no one being the wiser. She’d do it again now. She’d follow their rules and be the perfect citizen of this creepy little commune until she saw her way out. It didn’t seem likely she’d be able to haul Taylor through the woods and back to civilization. If she could, she’d leave this place and bring the authorities back with her. But if she had to, she’d carry out Taylor’s sentence herself. It made her a little sick thinking about it, but she would do it if it came to that.

She followed Nate through the double doors on the front of the house and into a large living area. The room was decorated in a simple and rugged style that didn’t exactly fit the old southern charm of the exterior, but she had to admit the furniture looked top quality.

She glanced at the chandelier overhead with its many glowing light bulbs. Was this house running off a generator or was it on the grid? Even if it was a generator, they had to be getting the fuel somewhere. Maybe this place wasn’t as cut off from the outside world as Nate implied. And where there was contact with the outside world, there was a chance at escape.

“This way,” Nate said. He led her to a door on the far side of the room. He rapped on the door three times.

“Come,” a voice from within said.

Nate winked at Sophie. “Don’t worry. He’ll love you.” He opened the door and went into the room. Sophie took a deep breath and followed.

The office was dominated by a large oak desk. The man behind the desk stood as they entered. He was a tall, solid-looking man with shaggy blond hair streaked with gray. He was handsome in an unkempt kind of way, and his wide smile added to his boyish charm. He wore a simple plain black tee shirt and jeans.

He held out his hand to her.

“Sophie, welcome to Sanctuary. My name’s Jake.”

IN THE WOODS (PART TWO)

They waited in Mason’s cabin until nightfall.

The exterior was rough, with trees growing uncomfortably close and boards covering most of the windows. But the inside was nice, if not exactly spacious. The large main room was decorated with a couch and an easy chair. There was a king size bed in the corner, and one of the walls was lined with boxes sporting the logos of everything from Hormel to Ramen to Nike.

When Frank asked him where he got all this stuff, Mason shrugged and told him they’d been here his whole life. Whatever that meant. Frank didn’t press the matter. Not now. He was still reeling from the news that his brother was dead.

According to what Mason said, Frank had arrived at least sixty-five years after Jake. It seemed crazy, but it did make a certain amount of sense. The mirror had the broken clock symbol on it, just like the pocket watch. Frank and his friends hadn’t discovered any time-altering properties of the mirror—or any of the other Tools—but Zed told them they had only scratched the surface of what the Tools could do.

Then there was always the possibility time passed differently here, wherever here was. Frank thought back to The Chronicles of Narnia books he’d read as a kid. Peter, Susan, Edmond, and Lucy spent years in Narnia while only a few hours passed back on Earth. He supposed fictional wonderlands probably weren’t the best way to find the truth, but maybe they could help him find new ways to look at it.

Mason stood near the one window that had glass covering it instead of boards.

“Who was that man with the beard?” Frank asked. He’d kept quiet about it on the walk here since Mason clearly seemed disturbed by the sighting, but Frank needed to know.

Mason shook his head. “Not yet. It’s hard to explain unless you understand what happened to my parents. And that’s hard to explain without showing you.”

He looked out the window, then waved Frank over.

Frank shuffled to the window and looked out, following Mason’s gaze. They had a view of the nearest mountain top through a thin gap in the trees. The sun was slipping behind the peak.

“We should be good to go now,” Mason said. “The Larvae aren’t the bravest of creatures. They don’t come out of their hidey-holes once it gets dark.”

From the almost defensive way he said it, Frank could tell Mason had affection for the creatures. And why not? He’d spent his whole life around them.

“If they’re larvae, does that mean they’re babies?” Frank asked. “What do they grow up to become?”

Mason shook his head. The way his shaggy hair brushed the tops of his eyebrows reminded Frank of Jake. “They grow to a certain point, and then they leave. I don’t know where they go or how they do it. Hell, if I knew I would have followed them years ago.”

Mason picked up two flashlights and handed one to Frank.

They left the cabin and headed down a trail that had been worn down, Frank guessed, by Mason’s feet alone. It was wide enough that they could walk side-by-side with room to spare.

“How far is it?” Frank asked.

“Not far. Probably.”

Frank decided to let that odd statement go for now.

After five minutes of walking, Mason said, “It’s right ahead.” They rounded a bend and Frank saw it, a hulking shape in the dark. He pointed his flashlight at it to reveal more.

From the bits that weren’t covered in vines and ivy, Frank could see it had once been a beautiful home. Old dilapidated columns supported the sagging roof over the wrap-around porch, and long blades of grass grew through the slats.

“This is it,” Mason said. “My dad’s house.”

Frank’s eyes scanned the area. “Tell me what happened.”

Mason took a long moment before speaking. “You gotta understand, he could be a difficult man at times.”

Frank grinned. “You don’t have to tell me. I used to share a bunk bed with him.”

Mason chuckled. “He never told me that. At least not that I remember. I was so young. Sometimes the memories get fuzzy.” He stared into the ruins of the house.

“You were saying he was difficult?” Frank prompted.

“Yeah. Sometimes he was. But he was also dedicated. If he believed in something, he’d fight for it.”

“What did he believe in?”

Mason smiled. “That much I remember. He believed in his friends.”

Frank cocked his head at that. Obviously, for Mason to exist there had to have been a woman here at some point. But friends? How many people had lived in these woods?

“My dad led a little community here. They called it Sanctuary. They worked together to keep the forest safe. They kept everything in place, if that makes sense. It wasn’t always perfect, but it was always peaceful. Until I was eight.”

“So what happened?”

Mason sighed. “New people would show up here occasionally. My dad always took them in and put them to work. He was kind like that. But one day a woman showed up, and everything changed.”

“Changed how?”

“Dad kept me sheltered from most of it, but even I saw what was happening. She had new ideas, a new way of dealing with things. There were a couple fights, and I know my father had to punish some people. And there was a tension in the air. Like something bad was coming.”

Frank looked out over the rubble and tried to imagine it as it was then, groups of people fighting and squabbling and living their lives right here in these woods. And Jake leading them.

“One night,” Mason continued, “there was a battle. Mom told me to go lock myself in the bathroom and not to come out until she came to get me. I waited what felt like hours. When I finally came out, there were bodies everywhere. Including mom’s.”

Mason pointed his flashlight toward a stand of trees twenty yards away. “I ran and hid in the woods and waited, praying for it all to end. I heard yelling, so much yelling.”

He waved his hand towards the woods to the right of the house. “There used to be cabins all along here, a couple dozen of them. The woman and her friends burned most of them. The fires burned for hours. I could feel the heat of it from where I sat. I hid in the woods and watched the flames. I kept waiting for my dad to come find me. It wasn’t until later that I found his body in the woods.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Mason,” Frank said. “I’m sure Jake did everything he could to protect you.”

“I know he did,” Mason said. “He was a good father. The best I’ve known, anyway. Besides, it wasn’t all bad luck. They left a few cabins standing, including the storage cabin. So I had shelter and supplies. Supplement that with plants and berries and I’ve managed to get by. As I grew a little older, I hunted when I had the opportunity. Sometimes deer wandered into these woods. Or squirrel. We had a bear once. I just had to kill the animals before the Larvae got at them. Like I said, the forest was more lively back then.”

Frank was still trying to decide what to think of his nephew.

“Let me ask you something,” Frank said. “Have you been alone all this time? Because you don’t talk like someone who hasn’t had human contact since he was eight.”

Mason grinned, showing yellowed teeth with plenty of gaps between them. “Oh I never said I was alone. There’s a man who comes sometimes. I might have sat in the woods looking at those fires forever if not for him. He taught me how to live out here. Which plants to eat. How to hunt on the odd occasion an animal showed up. I spent a lot of time with him when I was growing up.”

Frank felt a cold chill. “Who was it? What’s his name?”

Mason’s grin widened. “The way he tells it, you know him already. His name’s Zed.”

CHAPTER THREE: ARTIFACTS

1. Sanctuary

It was two days later the first time Sophie saw him.

They kept her isolated. Jake told her she needed time to adjust before meeting the others. She lived in the cabin where she had been hazed by Logan. The handcuff-enhanced chair and the hose had been replaced with a nice queen-size bed, a dresser stocked with simple and practical clothes, and a small bookshelf stocked with popular fiction from a variety of eras.

She spent the first day mostly unsupervised. She could hang out in the house. She could work in the vegetable garden out back. As long as she didn’t step outside the tall wooden fence that caged off the backyard. She occasionally heard people walking past the fence, usually alone and quiet, only the sounds of their feet shuffling on the hard dirt giving them away. But sometimes there were groups, and she heard talking and laughing. She was forbidden from calling out to them. It was against the rules to talk to anyone outside this cabin. She got the feeling climbing the fence and peaking over it at them wouldn’t be appreciated either.

Just for now, Jake told her.

So much for there only being two rules.

Jake had been much like Nate had described. Friendly and pleasant, but in a surface way. There was something distant about the man, like he was only partially there in the room with her. But it wasn’t like his mind was wandering. She never got the sense he wasn’t paying attention. It was more like a vital part of him, of his personality, his soul maybe, was missing.

Her only companion in isolation was Frasier, the man who had been in the cabin when Leonard and Baldwin brought her in. He was always around, not following her, but not avoiding her either. He was a quiet man, and she was dying for some conversation.

“Was Frasier your first name or your last name?” she asked him. They were in the garden. She had already pulled all the weeds she could find, and not having a lot of gardening experience, she didn’t know what else to do. She wanted to talk to Frasier, and she hadn’t been able to think of a good question despite wracking her brain for the past twenty minutes.

He grinned a toothy grin. “See, this is exactly why you need time to adjust before joining up with the rest of the crew. It’s not polite to ask that kind of thing.”

“I didn’t ask about your past. I asked about your name. Your name is who you are. Always.”

Frasier shook his head. “Not anymore. Now it’s just the one name. Get it through your skull. The old life’s gone.”

Sophie grunted. “Man! You’re a stone wall.” Her eyes combed the garden for the twentieth time, hoping to find a weed to pick.

“It’s kind of freeing though, isn’t it?” he asked. “Not having the weight of the past on you. You can be anything you want here. Look at it as an opportunity to reinvent yourself.”

Sophie looked at him. “Am I allowed to ask about Jake?”

The old man stretched, cracking his back loudly. “Sure. No rule against that.”

“Does he bring us here? This is gonna sound stupid, but does he have some kind of machine or something? Or, I don’t know, some power?”

Frasier chuckled. “You figure that one out, you tell me. He’s pretty tight lipped. All I know is he has this book. I think it lets him know when a new person is coming. He tells us a couple of days in advance. Usually anyway.”

“I remember Leonard saying they weren’t expecting anyone the other night.”

Frasier nodded. “Either Jake didn’t know, or he had some reason for not telling us.”

“If people get here by asking for Sanctuary in unexpected, life-threatening situations, how does Jake know it’s gonna happen ahead of time?” Sophie asked. Frasier started to speak, and she held up a hand to stop him. “I know. He’s tight lipped. I’m making conversation. Asking you to speculate.”

Frasier shook his head. “Like I said, if you figure it out, you let me know.” With that, he turned and went into the cabin.

Sophie groaned. Of all the people to be stuck with for an indeterminate amount of time, she got Stonewall Frasier.

If the purpose of this time in isolation was to make her more comfortable in Sanctuary, it was having the opposite effect. She had far too much time to think. She thought about her parents, the way they’d already lost one child, and how they must be frantic at the disappearance of their remaining daughter. It made her sick to her stomach. She had to find a way to get back, and not just to bring Taylor to justice. Her parents deserved better than to be left wondering for the rest of their lives.

The next day, Frasier let her sit on the front porch with him. It wasn’t much, but it beat the hell out of being stuck in the backyard, fenced in like an animal. Here she had a view.

The trees in front of her were unlike any she’d ever seen. They were unbelievably tall, and the trunks were as thick around as her Honda Civic. They first reminded her of redwoods, but they were different. Part of it was the color. The bark reminded her of butterscotch. And they were twisted. The trunks bent and spun and angled out in odd directions in their journey skyward. The shadows of the massive trees fell over everything.

The trail, she assumed the same trail she had been carried up three days ago, snaked out of the woods, past the porch where they sat, then wrapped around the back of the cabin, off to who knew where. The people she’d heard the day before must have been walking on that trail.

It was dusk, and people occasionally passed the cabin. Either they knew not to talk to newcomers or this was an especially introverted community. Most of them didn’t even acknowledge her. A few gave a curt nod. One, a boy who couldn’t have been more than eight, waved at her shyly.

Frasier introduced her by proxy after the walkers disappeared around the corner. “That woman in the red tee shirt’s Abby. She’s a hard worker. Had a baby about six months ago. Cute little girl. Named her Gavin. The man with her is Vance. They’re together. Though he’s not Gavin’s daddy. Baldwin’s the father.”

Sophie reached over and playfully slapped his knee. “Guess there’s no rule against gossiping.”

His face turned beet red. “Just giving you the lay of the land,” he muttered. “Thought you might want to know.”

Sophie smiled. “No, no, please continue. Who was the kid who waved?”

He cleared his throat, making a show of his reluctance to gossip further. “Him you’re gonna want to know. That’s Jake’s boy. Mason.”

“Huh,” Sophie said. “Who’s the mother?”

Now Frasier grinned. “You met her.” He leaned forward, clearly enjoying this. “Logan.”

Sophie groaned. “Doesn’t surprise me. She gave off a queen bee kind of vibe.”

Frasier shrugged. “She comes on strong at times, that’s for sure. Officially, she and Jake are broken up, but unofficially not much has changed.” He gave her a wink. “She’s good people. You should cut her some slack. She’s been through a lot.”

“Considering how people get to Sanctuary, I’d say been through a lot applies to every person here.”

Frasier chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

That was the moment it happened. He rounded the corner, and there he was, right in front of her. Charles Taylor.

He looked older than Sophie remembered. His scraggly beard was as much salt as pepper now. But that made sense. It had been nearly a decade since she last saw him. The picture they’d been flashing on the news the past few days was the old one, the famous one from his trial, where he was sitting behind the defendant's table, smirking as if the proceedings were a joke. But his most defining characteristic, his thick arms and his huge, catcher’s mitt hands, remained the same. Sophie could never look at those hands without picturing a baseball bat in them, couldn’t look at those arms without imagining them swinging a bat into the back of Heather’s head so hard her skull broke into a hundred tiny shards of bone.

He froze when he saw her. The sun was behind Sophie, and Taylor’s squinted into it, as if not sure of what he was seeing. He took a few steps forward and fell under the shadow of the cabin. He stared at Sophie for a long while, his head tilted slightly, as if trying to place her.

Sophie felt the old familiar anger flow through her. She wanted to leap out of the rocking chair and dig her fingernails into his throat, to squeeze the breath out of him, to stand on his face as he died. But she felt something else too. Something stronger. Something unexpected. Fear.

She wanted to move, but she couldn’t. She was frozen under his terrifying gaze. All the old fears came rushing back. The Curbside Killer had finally come for her.

Charles Taylor slowly smiled. He tipped his baseball cap at her. Then he moseyed down the path. Sophie’s eyes followed him. She didn’t breathe until he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

Frasier gently cleared his throat. “That was Taylor. But I’m guessing you already knew that.”

Sophie kept her eyes on the path, as if Taylor might come charging back around at any moment. “We don’t talk about the past,” she said.

“Fair point,” Frasier said. “And I wasn’t going to ask.”

She felt the life come back into her limbs, and with it something else: shame. It was a moment she’d been waiting for the last seven years. She’d planned a thousand things she’d say if she ever got the chance. A thousand things she’d do. But, instead, she’d acted like a scared child who saw the boogeyman. Worse still, Taylor had seen her fear.

She’d lost the element of surprise. She’d lost her edge. Taylor knew she was here, and he knew she was afraid.

“Piece of advice.” Frasier spoke slowly and softly, his fatherly side coming out for the first time. “Taylor? The man’s not right. I don’t know what’s between you, and I don’t want to know. Whatever it is, let it stay in wherever the hell you came from. Steer clear of him as much as possible. When you do see him again, pretend like you’re meeting him for the first time. If he has any smarts, he’ll do the same.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Maybe, but it’s what you need to do. I can help.”

Sophie looked at him, finally pulling her eyes away from the spot where Taylor had disappeared. “Help how?”

“I can keep you busy. It’s time we start talking about the work we do here. But first, an important question. You any good with a knife?”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to cook?”

Frasier stood up, a noisy process involving groans, cracks, and pops. “No, I’m not. We use our knives for more than cooking here. I think it’s about time I showed you.”

2. Sanctuary

Jake stood, as he often did these days, staring out his office window toward the trees at the edge of the woods.

The one benefit of living in a clearing in the middle of a constantly shifting forest was that your view was new every day. But over time, he had learned to identify some of the trees. The way a low branch crooked out a certain angle, the way the trunk took an unnatural twenty-degree turn about fifteen feet off the ground. These were the things that distinguished one tree from another. It always made him a bit queasy looking at those trees. Each one of them represented another memory he couldn’t forget.

There was one that was worse than the others. He paused at the window each morning before he looked out, hoping he wouldn’t see that particular tree. When it was at the edge of woods, it cast the shadow of a foul mood over him for the rest of the day. Something about that one tree, a tree a bit taller and a bit gnarlier than the rest, disquieted Jake at a deep level.

Thankfully today that tree was not at the edge. It was buried somewhere deeper in the forest, which was fine with Jake. It could stay buried in there forever for all he cared. He glanced over at the small bookshelf in the corner. How long had it been since he’d gotten himself a new book? In the old days, he had torn through novels like it was a mission from God to get to the last page as quickly as possible. But in the last few years he’d had a hard time concentrating while reading. The top shelf currently contained two John Scalzi books, one Scott Lynch, and one Patrick Rothfuss, all unread.

Sometimes Jake wondered if maybe the book with the broken world symbol had somehow sapped his love of reading anything else.

There was a knock at the door, three quick taps. Jake never locked the office door unless he was leaving the house, and everyone respected his privacy. People rarely disturbed him, and, when they did, they always knocked. Everyone but Mason. Mason burst into his father’s office like it was his own bedroom. Which was as it should be, as far as Jake was concerned.

Sanctuary. Had any father every given his son a more awful birthright? A childhood of isolation in a place he would never be able to leave.

From the sound at the door, Jake knew it wasn’t Nate, who always used a distinct knocking pattern to identify himself.

“Come in,” Jake said.

The door opened and Yang walked in, a sheet of yellow legal paper in his hand. Yang was a thin man who was quick with a smile but generally kept to himself. He seemed happiest when he was in the kitchen preparing the communal meals.

He handed Jake the legal paper. “Just dropping off the shopping list, boss.”

Jake grimaced. It seems Nate’s nickname for Jake was catching on with some of the others. “Thanks. You need it today?”

Yang shrugged, a wicked smile playing on his lips. “If possible. If not, I can always make meatloaf tonight.”

Jake couldn’t help but smile himself. Yang knew Jake loathed meatloaf. “Message received. I’ll get to work.”

Yang winked and ambled out of the office, swinging the door shut behind him.

Jake pulled the curtains shut, returned to his desk and took the book out of the faded red lockbox. He ran his hand across the symbol on the front of the book, a globe with a jagged crack running through it. The image was slightly raised and running his hand over it somehow calmed him.

He’d found the book only moments after arriving in these woods, and for a long time—close to two years by his calculation—it had been his only companion. The first time he’d looked through it, it had been nonsense, a series of strange, seemingly unrelated drawings surrounded by text composed of letters unlike anything Jake had ever seen. But, slowly, the book revealed itself to him. Line by line, page by page, the nonsense words became English. It was as if the book were learning to trust him.

The book showed him how to survive here. It instructed him in uncannily specific terms on how to find water and food. And it was the book that finally convinced him that he would never leave this place. That his mission in coming here would fail. Instead of saving his family back in Rook Mountain, he had abandoned them.

And, years later, it was the book that had helped him realize there may be a way home after all, but that it would be a very long road indeed.

Eventually, the book had taught him how to bring objects from elsewhere into Sanctuary. Pages of the book could transform into windows to the world. When he saw something he wanted, he could grab it and bring it through, like a kid pulling a toy out of a toy box. At first, it had been only small things. A little food here. An item of clothing there. But as more of the book was revealed to him, he found the size of the object didn’t matter. He felt like Luke Skywalker struggling to raise his X-Wing ship out of the bog in Empire Strikes Back the first time he brought something large through, but he slowly got the hang of it. He found he could bring through anything from a can of soup to the house he was sitting in right now. And eventually, he’d learned he could bring people.

In his weakest moments, he’d considered trying to bring Trevor and Christine to Sanctuary, but he knew subjecting his family to that wasn’t love; it was sickness.

And then the book began to reveal people asking for help in their moment of most extreme need. Asking for sanctuary. So he had started helping them.

Every person here represented a life Jake had saved. He’d pulled each of them through the book and granted new life. Every person but one, the most recent addition. Sophie.

Jake couldn’t think about that now. He had spent most of the last few days worrying over that. Worrying came natural to him and he had to consciously fight it lest it overtake him.

He picked up the piece of legal paper off his desk, opened the book, and began tracing a window on the page with his index finger.

3. Sanctuary

A week later, Frasier said Sophie was ready. He handed her a knife and told her to hook it on her belt. It was the knife she’d been practicing with all week, a week where she’d learned more about knives than she had ever wanted to.

It was a six-inch fixed blade knife made of tempered steel with a coating of hard chrome.

“It’s the same model the Navy Seals use,” Frasier had proudly told her.

Sophie took the knife and looked at it sadly. “Not sure why I’m taking this. I’m just as likely to stab one of my team as I am anything else.”

“Well, if you do have to stab someone, make sure it’s not Logan. She’s irritable enough already.”

She’d grown fond of Frasier and his dry sense of humor, and she thought he enjoyed her company too, though he’d never say it. He had been a hard nut to crack, but she felt like she’d finally managed it.

Frasier put a hand on her shoulder. “Relax. You won’t see anything. It’s the middle of the night. The Larvae are in their deepest sleep now.”

Sophie nodded. The way she understood it, their mission was simple: walk the trail. There were dozens of trails through the woods that Sanctuary crews maintained, but tonight Sophie and her team would be walking the biggest and most highly traveled of them. It seemed stupid to her, but Frasier claimed it was the most important job in Sanctuary.

“These woods are hungry,” he told her. “If we don’t walk the trails for a few days, they disappear.”

“You mean they get grown over?”

He shook his head. “They disappear. They’re not there anymore. It’s like they never were. Like I said, these woods are hungry.”

He’d explained it to Sophie a dozen times over the last week. According to Frasier, the purpose of the Sanctuary was to keep the woods at bay. The reason it existed was so it could keep existing. It seemed like circular logic to Sophie. Frasier insisted it was important. If they weren’t vigilant, the forest would envelop them. It would swallow them whole.

“The forest’s always shifting, always moving. It’s changing every moment. The trees you see tonight through your window won’t be there tomorrow when you look out. The forest changes its strategy and shifts its angle of attack. The only constant is the trails. And they only remain if we force them to. We keep them nailed down by walking them each and every day.”

When he saw the skeptical look on her face, he said, “Well, maybe it’ll be easier to understand once you’ve walked a few trails yourself.”

Now she was preparing to do just that. A group of three was gathered in front of The Welcome Wagon. All of them wore headlamps like she’d seen Baldwin and Leonard wear that first night. She strapped on her own headlamp and walked over to them.

She recognized two of the group: Baldwin and Logan.

She was happy to see a couple of familiar faces, and at the same time angry she had to work with two of the people who’d hazed her. Baldwin gave her a sheepish nod, perhaps feeling her out to see if she’d punch him on sight. She returned the nod, squinting in a manner she hoped looked cold and angry. In truth, she was mostly glad she would soon be talking to someone other than Frasier. As much as he’d grown on her, it would be great to meet other folks.

But she had to be careful not to form any attachments. She didn’t intend to stay at the Sanctuary long. Once she got the lay of the land and figured out how to escape, she’d grab Taylor and bring him to justice. One way or another.

Logan had yet to acknowledge her existence, and that was fine with Sophie. She had nothing to say to the woman.

The group stood in the light of The Welcome Wagon’s porch, and Sophie introduced herself to the other member of the group, a man named Carver. He couldn’t have been more than twenty. He had a buzz cut and wore a tank top that displayed his well-defined arms. He gave Sophie a look that was a bit more than friendly. There it was again, the way she attracted younger men. Not that Carver was too young, necessarily. She had to admit he was pretty cute.

She cast a wary eye toward Logan. The woman was probably in her early forties. She, too, wore a tank top and, while her arms didn’t quite compare with Carver’s, they were certainly impressive. Sophie made a mental note to ask about the workout regime here. The 30 Day Sanctuary Shred?

After the introductions were over, Logan cleared her throat. When she spoke, it was all business. “Listen up, Sophie. I’m lead on this walk, so that means once we cross the tree line, my word’s law. Understood?”

Sophie nodded.

“Good. You have one job and one job only tonight. Watch and listen. That’s it. This is the safest walk we have. This is the most populated trail and the Larvae are deep in their sleep cycle now. However, that doesn’t mean we’re gonna screw around. Things have gone south on this walk before. Not often, but the forest occasionally throws us curve balls. Any questions?”

Sophie shook her head. The Larvae. Frasier had told her about them, too.

“Good. Keep your headlamp pointed at the trail. Keep your knife in its sheath unless I say to draw it. Most of all, watch and listen.” She looked around at the others. “Okay, let’s go. Fall in behind me.”

She turned and headed down the trail at a brisk pace. Baldwin went next. Sophie came behind him, and Carver went last.

“You excited?” Carver asked.

Sophie shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m excited to be getting out of that cabin. But I’ve been on hikes in the woods before.”

“Not like this.”

Baldwin and Logan were pulling ahead. Sophie couldn’t help but notice the way Carver was hanging back with her, sticking a bit closer than he probably needed to. “Geez,” she said. “They go fast, don’t they?”

Carver said, “It’s a ten-mile walk, sometimes more. Got to move fast if we want to get done while the Larvae are still in their deepest sleep.”

Sometimes more? Sophie thought.

A few minutes later, Baldwin dropped back and pointed his headlamp at a tree past the edge of the trail. “Hey Sophie. You see that tree over there? That’s the one we found you next to.”

She shined her own light on the tree. “No. We were much deeper in the woods. That’s not it.”

“Oh, it’s the one alright. Didn’t Frasier tell you? The trees move here. After a while, you’ll be able to identify some of them. This one you can recognize by the tangled roots.”

Sophie stared at the roots. If this was the tree, then Rodgers’ compass was under there. The compass that pointed to her and, according to Rodgers, pointed to Taylor. She’d always be able to locate Taylor with that compass.

“One sec.” She stepped off the trail and bent down next to the tree.

“Whoa!” Carver yelled. “Sophie, get back here!”

She ignored him. With her light, she searched for an opening in the tangle of roots. She saw the spot and thrust her hand into it. She felt around, and her hand passed over dry pine needles and sticky clay earth, but not the compass.

“Sophie, what the hell?” Baldwin shouted.

She ignored him too. She leaned forward, sticking more of her arm into the gap until her shoulder touched the base of the roots. She felt cold metal and closed her hand around it.

Suddenly, she was yanked backwards. Her first insane thought was, Rodgers! She landed on her back on the trail, and she saw Logan standing over her. Logan lifted her foot and set it on Sophie’s throat.

“What in the name of holy God was that?”

Sophie struggled to speak with the boot on her throat. “I…Sorry…That’s the tree where…”

“Didn’t Frasier do his job? Didn’t he warn you to stay on the trail?”

“Yes! I’m sorry! I forgot!”

“Forgot?” Logan asked through clenched teeth. “There’s no forgetting. Forgetting is how people die. No one dies. Not on my team.”

“Logan,” Baldwin said, his voice almost a whisper. “Eyes on the tree.”

Logan spun, turning her light toward the tree. Sophie’s eyes followed the beam of light, and her breath caught in her throat when she saw it. A black round creature the size of a basketball was sluggishly squeezing out of the hole where her arm had been only moments ago.

Logan whirled toward Sophie. “On your feet. We’re all gonna back away slowly and head down the trail. It should go back in its burrow.”

Sophie eased herself to her feet, her eyes never leaving the creature at the end of Logan’s headlamp beam. She shuffled her feet with the others, heading down the trail as quickly as they dared.

She almost allowed herself to believe they were safe. Then, with no provocation that Sophie could see, the creature gave itself a violent shake.

“Shit!” Logan yelled. “Let’s move!”

The creature contracted to half its original size and launched into the air. It spun with a freakish speed. As it flew, the soft-looking fur on its body stood up into clumps that resembled spikes. It was heading toward Logan, but then it slowed in the air, made an impossible turn, and shot toward Carver.

Carver screamed as the Larva hit him in the upper arm. It struck him with a sickening thud. The creature gave another violent shake, burrowing deeper into Carver’s arm, and he screamed again.

Sophie was frozen with fear. She glanced around and saw the others had their knives out. Sophie clumsily pulled her own from its sheath.

She took a deep breath and reminded herself what Frasier had said. He’d told her exactly what to do in this scenario. The Larvae were, for all practical purposes, indestructible. They were bulletproof, which was why the teams of walkers didn’t carry guns. The only thing that could be damaged was their thick spike-like fur. Hence the knives.

“One of your buddies gets stuck by one of those bastards, you gotta cut through the spikes one by one. There will be dozens of them, and it’s not the easiest stuff to cut through. It’ll take ten, fifteen minutes of cutting, all while your buddy’s screaming and bleeding all over you. Your best bet’s to work as fast as you can and pray he doesn’t bleed out before you get the creature off him.”

Logan ran to Carver and went to work on the spikes. The Larva gave another shiver and pressed itself tighter against Carvers arm.

Carver grabbed at the thing, trying to pull it off his arm, but he only succeeded in impaling his hands on the spikes.

Logan grunted in frustration and kept cutting. “A little help?”

Blood seeped around the edges of where the Larva was attached to his arm.

Sophie realized she still had the compass in her left hand. All this because she’d wanted the stupid thing. If only she’d listened to the rules, Carver wouldn’t have a monster burrowing into him. She squeezed the compass as hard as she could, and she felt something click like a button had been pressed.

She opened her hand and saw the needle of the compass was pointing at Carver and the Larva. But somehow Sophie knew more specifically where it was pointing. It was like a needle in her mind was pointing too. Pointing at the spot she was supposed to…

She gripped her knife and took three quick steps forward.

“Start at the top, Sophie,” Logan said. “Cut as fast as you can.”

Sophie ignored her. The needle in her mind pointed to a specific spot on the Larva. It a small bulge on the bottom of the creature, almost invisible to her eye. Somehow she knew it was the closest thing the creature had to a head.

She pulled her knife back and then drove it upward with all her strength. She felt her blade sink into the creature and stick there. Then she felt her blade wiggle a little, and the Larva began to melt. Its black flesh ran down her blade. She pulled the blade away and took a step back.

The black sludge ran down Carver’s arm and chest. He stared at the disappearing creature, his mouth agape as the ooze ran down his legs and onto the ground. He grabbed his arm and fell to his knees.

“Carver,” Baldwin said. He sank to the ground next to his friend.

But Sophie barely noticed. The needle in her head was pointing somewhere else now. She spun and pointed her headlamp toward the tree. Another creature was squeezing out of the hole in the root structure. Sophie sprinted for it.

Now that she knew what to look for, she saw the head immediately. It was like an exposed wound.

The Larva was wiggling free of the last root when Sophie reached it. She drove the knife into it like a hammer, and the creature melted even faster than its brother had.

“My God,” Logan said. “You killed it. You killed two of them.”

But Sophie wasn’t listening. Her internal needle was pointing elsewhere now. It was pointing at the tree itself.

She circled around the back of the tree. She looked up and saw something carved there. Four little words.

Don’t trust them Sophie.

She froze, staring at the message that had been carved into the face of this tree for all time. A message apparently meant for her.

The bark around the words was bent outward, almost as if the words had been carved from the inside.

The words wouldn’t be visible from the trail. They were hers and hers alone.

Logan and Baldwin stared at her. They both wore troubled looks on their faces. But something else danced behind Logan’s eyes, something gleeful.

“How’d you do that?” Logan asked. “How’d you kill them?”

Sophie shook her head. “I don’t know. I just…saw where to stab them.”

Baldwin gritted his teeth. “You asshole. Carver’s hurt bad thanks to you. We need to get him back to the house now.”

4. Rook Mountain

Sean parked his squad car, complete with shiny new windshield, in the empty lot next to an old gnarly tree. He sat for a long moment looking at the building. It was a little sad. This place had been state-of-the-art a few years ago. Still was, really. But the new powers-that-be weren’t keen on using facilities that had so recently served as the headquarters, armory, and military hospital for an army of students fighting a war against bird monsters.

Understandable, Sean supposed. It seemed like a waste the way the facilities stood unused.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out the key, and unlocked the door. Technically, he was supposed to fill out a request form before checking out a key, but over the last eight years he’d learned sometimes it was easier to lie than to ask permission you knew would be denied.

The chief had been less than pleased after the incident at Sean’s home. Colt and his parents had been called in, and Colt had been questioned. The boy admitted to showing up at Sean’s house that night, but he denied having anything to do with the brick through the windshield. And, of course, he had a half-dozen friends who claimed they had been with him the whole time and not one of them had seen a brick in his hands.

In the pre-Zed days, Colt would have been looking at some time in juvenile lockup. In the Zed era, he’d probably have lost an ear. Now? The chief gave him a two-hundred dollar fine for breaking curfew and sent him on his way. Maybe the Zed Heads weren’t so wrong about the good old days after all.

“You have any idea how many eyes are on us?” the chief had asked Sean after Colt and his parents left. “You know how many people read each and every incident report I file? The State and the Feds are both looking for an excuse to come in and take over Rook Mountain law enforcement. Kids running around smashing cruiser windshields isn’t something they need to see. We’ll get it fixed off the books. And, please, let’s not go starting a war with these junior Zed Heads, okay?”

The chief wasn’t completely wrong. There was so much going on in town. Maybe vandalism, even against a police vehicle, shouldn’t be the priority right now. Sean knew the police should be concentrating on the string of disappearances.

There had been five since Deregulation Day. The first had been a former selectman. Then it had been a teenage boy and a teenage girl, both Zed Heads. Then the death row inmate. And now Sophie Porter, who had been visiting town to investigate the disappearance of her sister’s killer. Her parents were raising all sorts of hell and appearing on cable news eight times a day asking for help finding their missing daughter.

Some of the things Colt said on his porch last week stuck with Sean, nagging at him like a bit of popcorn in his teeth. The Zed Heads were planning something, and it was going to be a lot bigger than a brick through a windshield. The chief might be content to look the other way, but Sean knew that was the wrong move. If they didn’t stay on top of this thing, filling out incident reports would be the least of the chief’s worries.

Sean clicked on his Maglite and entered the Beyond Academy. Most of the Zed Heads had gone to school here, and it had popped into Sean’s mind this morning that they could be using this place as a sort of clubhouse.

The hallways were long, dark things that seemed to stretch for miles. No one had bothered to clean out this building, and remnants of the Zed era that had been scrubbed from the rest of the town remained in place here. Sean passed under a banner hanging from the ceiling that read, Trust is a Must.

He took his time, searching each classroom for signs it had been recently used. They all wore coats of dust, like blankets. Most of them looked like they had been abandoned mid-session. Words like RESPY and Regulation were still written on dry erase boards.

Sean paused at the door to the auditorium. Somehow he knew this was it. If the Zed Heads were congregating at the school, this is where it would be. He opened one of the double doors and stepped inside.

He almost fell down the steps leading toward the center of the room. He’d only been here once before, and he’d forgotten about the stadium seating. He shined his flashlight toward the front of the room and saw a white board had been rolled to the center of the stage. It stood next to a podium. He saw a something written on the board in crooked handwriting.

He squinted at the board as he approached. What he saw sent a chill up his spine.

It was a list of names.

Trevor Hinkle. Will Osmond. Ty Hansen. Christine Osmond. Gus Hansen. Frank Hinkle.

The last name on the list was crossed out: Timothy Rodgers.

What was this? Some kind of hit list? A tally of those who hadn’t been faithful to Zed? A list of those who had helped bring him down? If that last theory was true, why was Rodgers’ name there?

Sean climbed the steps to the podium, willing the dry erase board to tell him something more. Would the chief even care when Sean showed him this? Would he take any action at all? Sean wasn’t sure. The man was in full-on job retention mode these days.

He saw a notebook on the podium. He picked it up and flipped through it. The handwriting was tiny and slanted. Probably written by the same hand that scrawled the list on the board. He’d need to get in some better lighting to read this mess.

He took one last look around, confirming there was nothing else of interest here. He snapped a quick picture of the whiteboard with his cell phone, though he wasn’t confident it would turn out in the dark auditorium. He scooped up the notebook and headed for the door.

He made his way to his car, and he had his hand on the door handle when something caught his eye. The old, gnarly tree next to the car. Something was carved into the bark of the tree, staring him right in the face.

He reached for his radio. This would definitely get the chief’s attention.

The words carved into the tree could be a joke, a clue, or a strange coincidence. He read the four simple words one more time.

Don’t trust them Sophie.

IN THE WOODS (PART THREE)

“Zed?” Frank asked. “He’s here in these woods?”

Mason nodded. “It’s hard to tell exactly where. He wanders. But he’s around here somewhere.”

Frank stared at Mason in the dim light of his flashlight. If this man had really been raised by Zed, who knew what had been done to his mind? For all Frank knew, it could be twisted beyond repair.

Frank thought back to his last meeting with Zed on the roof of city hall. If Zed knew, or even suspected, that Frank would come after him, what would his move be? Would he try to kill Frank? Try to use Frank to find a way back to Rook Mountain? As usual with Zed, Frank had no idea.

“Mason, does Zed ever talk about me?”

Mason chuckled. “Of course. He talks about how bravely you fought against the Unfeathered. And how you protected the town when he had to go away that time. And how you even found your way back from the Away. Which, according to him, had never been done.”

Frank grunted. “Did he say anything else?”

Mason shrugged. “He said you two didn’t always see eye to eye. He told me about how you stood up to him on the roof of city hall and helped send him here. But, from what I can tell, he has nothing but respect for you.”

“Huh. Well, just so you know, the feeling isn’t mutual.”

Mason chuckled again. “He said you weren’t friends. Not like he was with my father.”

Frank let that one slide. He didn’t want to push things too far. Mason was practically raised by Zed, from the sound of it, and he’d only just met Frank.

Frank had come here to find Jake, but Jake was long dead. He’d come to make sure Zed couldn’t return to Rook Mountain, but now it seemed he was the one who wouldn’t be able to return.

He surveyed Jake’s dilapidated old house. “Did your dad build this? Or did he find it here?”

“He found it.”

“Jake never was much of a builder.”

“He was a finder though.” Mason’s eyes lit up as he spoke. “He used to do this thing where he’d choose someone in Sanctuary, a different person each week, and he’d let them pick an object. Anything at all. As long as it wasn’t large enough to cause a spacing problem here. They could pick anything they wanted, and he’d bring it here.”

“What do you mean he’d bring it here? How’d he get it?”

“He had this book he used.” Mason trotted through the open door and into the house. Frank followed. “He’d go in his office. It was right over here. He’d shut the door. A few minutes later he’d come out of the office with whatever the person had requested. Sometimes it was a nice bottle of wine or a nice article of clothing. Sometimes it was something more exotic. We had a painting by Da Vinci once. I guess that was a big deal.”

Frank felt a dull ache in his chest. Not only had Jake not needed to be saved, he’d spent his time playing some mystical version of ‘pull the rabbit out of the hat’. Why hadn’t Frank stayed in Rook Mountain? He could have built a life for himself. He had friends there. He had family.

Instead, he was standing in the ruins of an old house in the middle of the night with a crazy person.

Frank shuffled over to where Mason stood and looked into the room that had once been Jake’s office. An old desk stood in the middle of the room. He shined his flashlight on a box sitting on the desk. “What’s that?”

Mason paused. “Sorry, what’s what?”

“That box.”

The older man paused longer this time. He shined his flashlight beam around the entire area. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Maybe Mason’s eyes were getting old. Frank guessed the woods didn’t come equipped with a vision plan. From the look of Mason’s teeth, he certainly didn’t have dental.

He brushed the dirt off the old lockbox. Most of the paint was gone, but there were still flecks of rusty red clinging to the metal. The box looked like the one Jake had as a boy. He’d eventually upgraded and handed the older one down to his kid brother. Frank had spent many hours with that box. It had served as baseball card storage, piggy bank, Matchbox car garage, and tackle box. Seeing this one sent the memories flooding back into Frank’s mind. Racing toy cars down the sloped driveway with Jake. Fishing with their father. Fighting with Jake over their favorite lures. He felt the beginnings of a lump in his throat.

He saw something dangling from the front of the box, and he understood why Mason hadn’t been able to see it. It was one of Frank’s original designs. The Cassandra lock. In fact, it looked exactly like the one in Frank’s pocket. He paused, wondering how Jake had gotten the Cassandra lock in wherever-the-hell they were.

There was something else. Frank’s locks could be used to hide things from people, at least that’s how it worked back in Rook Mountain. Why would Jake want to hide the box from his own son?

Frank turned back to Mason, holding the box in the air. “You really can’t see this?”

Mason shook his head, his faced scrunched in confusion.

Frank rapped on the box with his knuckles, and the box gave out a ringing clang. Mason jumped back a little.

Frank performed a quick twist on the Cassandra lock, squeezed it, pulled at just the right angle, and it popped open. Mason gasped.

“You see it now, I take it?”

Mason reached a shaky hand forward and brushed his fingertips against the box. “I’ve been out here hundreds of times. Thousands, probably. How have I never seen this?”

“It didn’t want to be seen.” Frank unhooked the latches and lifted the lid. It opened with a high-pitched squeak. Frank shined the flashlight inside. The first thing he saw was a picture of Jake, Christine, and Trevor. Trevor was a baby in the picture. Frank had the same one hanging on the wall of his cabin back home. He had before he went to prison, anyway.

Frank moved the picture aside and saw another photo, this one of the previous generation of Hinkles: Jake, Frank, and their mom and dad.

There were other items in the box. An old pocket knife. Some guitar picks from a band Jake played in during college. Under all of that, there was a book. The symbol on the cover was partially obscured, and Frank almost gasped when he saw it. He moved the pictures aside. It wasn’t a broken clock symbol as he had first thought. The crack was exactly the same, but the image under the crack was different. It was a circle with roughly shaped continents sketched inside it. Instead of a broken clock this was a broken world.

Mason craned his neck to see what Frank was looking it. Frank quickly shuffled the pictures to cover the book.

“What’s in it?” Mason asked.

“Old pictures,” Frank said. “It’s Jake’s old family. From Rook Mountain.”

Mason was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “I think I’d like to see those.”

Frank nodded. “Look, he probably didn’t want to make you feel bad. I’m sure that’s why he hid them.”

“Yeah, no big deal. You can show me at the cabin. We better start heading back if we’re gonna make it before sunrise.”

Frank blinked in confusion. The walk here had only taken fifteen minutes, and they’d left at sundown. “What do you mean?”

“My parents told me about your world,” Mason said. “The way things are always in the same place. It’s not like that here. Things change. They move. I know my cabin was close by when we left, but it might be all the way across the woods by now. Could be a five or six-hour walk. We wouldn’t be able to find it at all if it weren’t for this thing.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a round object. He held it up for Frank to see. Frank pointed his flashlight at it and saw it was a compass. Then Mason flipped it, showing Frank the backside of the thing.

It was the broken clock symbol.

Mason smiled. “It’s more than what it looks like, I’ll tell you that. All I have to do is think about where I want to go. The cabin. The stream. Whatever. I click the little drawing of the cracked clock on the back, and the needle on the compass points me in the right direction.”

Frank stared at the object. Though it seemed hard to believe, just earlier today in Will and Christine’s house he had destroyed those objects with the broken clock symbol. Now, here was another one, and he didn’t exactly have access to Christine’s knife.

“Does Zed know you have this?”

Mason chuckled. “Of course. He’s the one who showed me how to use it when I was a kid. I wouldn’t have survived out here more than a few days otherwise.”

Frank tried to wrap his mind around the idea of Zed as a kindly mentor figure, showing the boy how to use this Tool like other men might teach a kid to fish. Why hadn’t Zed taken the compass for himself?

“Where’d you get it?”

“You remember the woman I told you about? The one who came to Sanctuary and ruined everything? I pried this compass from her dead hand.”

CHAPTER FOUR: THE PULSE

1. Sanctuary

Jake walked through the forest, a cold beer in his hand. He wouldn’t open it until he got to the tree.

It was the dead of night, the time when he was least likely to be disturbed by Larvae. He’d made sure no patrols would be walking this path tonight. He needed to be alone. Alone with the tree.

A few minutes later he reached the tall tree with the trunk so twisted it looked like it was spinning toward the sky, and he leaned his back against it, cracked open his beer, and saluted the upper branches with the can, same as he did every week. “Here’s to ya, you gnarly old bastard.” He took a long drink and remembered better times.

He closed his eyes for a long moment and enjoyed the sounds of the forest. The buzz of the crickets. The rustle of a light wind through the trees. In the distance, the chatter of a fast-moving stream.

He needed this. Leading the Sanctuary, being the boss, took its toll on him. He’d only wanted to save people’s lives. He hadn’t realized at the time that he was also signing up to take care of them forever. To give structure to their lives. To help settle their petty squabbles. And, worst of all, to provide for them. He had the endless job of bringing over food, clothing, furniture, and all sorts of other necessities for every resident of Sanctuary. And it was getting more difficult. At first, the book had been fun to use—each new page it revealed to him was a new toy to play with—but it was growing more difficult over time. First, the book had revealed its secrets to him, and now it seemed to be using him up. Bringing over the weekly food supply tired him and the bigger jobs drained him completely. Sometimes he felt like Frodo carrying the ring to Mordor.

At the same time, he was grateful to the book, and not just for the food and clothes and supplies it allowed him to bring here. He was grateful to it for giving him the tree he was leaning against.

He knew he would eventually have to teach someone else to use the book. He should have done so already. If he suddenly dropped dead of a heart attack, they would all be in trouble. He’d considered teaching Logan. Or Nate. Or Mason, now that he was old enough to read but still young enough to be teachable. But each of those candidates had their drawbacks.

As much as he had come to dread using the book, he knew it had a hold on him. Deep down, he liked the power it gave him. He was the sole provider for this place. They needed him and he provided for them.

Jake turned and stepped back so he was facing the tree. “So…how was your week? Another seven days buried in the dirt. Hope you’re enjoying it as much as I am.”

He sighed. Having your worst enemy be a tree was great from a practical perspective, but it did make the banter less fun.

“I know I always say it, but I hope you’re comfortable. You’re going to be here a long, long time. See, I’m getting out of here. We all are. I can’t tell them that, not yet. But I’m getting closer to finding the answer every day.”

Jake could read almost ninety percent of the book now. Every little bit revealed was another step in the right direction. Currently, he could pull objects through the book, but not send anything back in the other direction. Which meant there was no way home. But he was confident that if he stuck to his plan this would not always be the case. And these trees were the answer.

“I’ll be back in Rook Mountain and you’ll still be cooling your heels here in the dirt,” he continued. “Until one day hundreds of years from now when a tree disease, or a lighting strike, or the weight of your own branches brings you down. And then you’ll decay into nothing but a home for insects and small animals. How you feel about that?”

The tree didn’t respond, and every time that happened, every time he asked the tree a question he knew it couldn’t answer, it made him smile. Childish maybe, but there it was.

Jake finished the beer. It would be morning soon. He needed to go back.

He gave the tree trunk a pat. “Good talk. I’ll see you next week. In the meantime, don’t go anywhere.”

2. Rook Mountain

Sean sat in his car with Wendy Caulfield, parked a block away from the Post Office.

“This place is special to Zed,” Wendy said. “This is where you first saw him, right? Weren’t you there when he was arrested?”

Sean nodded. “Yeah. He was naked and confused. And he had that pocket watch of his clutched in his hand.”

“Do you think he brought the pocket watch with him or found it here?”

Sean shook his head. “I don’t know. But he was holding it in a death grip. He wouldn’t let it go for anything.”

Wendy shook her head. “Remember what he said when you first approached him? You told me years ago at that party at Jake and Christine’s.”

“Yeah. He said, ‘this will do nicely’. I thought it was weird even then. He was looking around like he was surprised by his surroundings.”

“Exactly. And remember the stilted way he talked at first? It was so formal. He was even like that when I first started to hear him speak in the parks.”

“He really reinvented himself,” Sean said.

“He got better every time I heard him speak. It was like...he was learning. Like he didn’t know how a person was supposed to act or something. Like he was adapting to his environment.”

Sean and Wendy had been dating for over a month now. After the Tools were destroyed and they had no reason to keep their distance from each other, Sean noticed the feelings creeping up. It was like a wall between them suddenly came down. As far as Sean was concerned, Wendy was the hottest girl in town. When he got up the courage to ask her out, he quickly found out she thought he was pretty hot, too.

And, today, having a kinda/sorta girlfriend with insider knowledge of the Beyond Academy didn’t hurt.

Chief Yates had his best men investigating the carving on the tree outside the Beyond Academy. Sean wasn’t one of them, so here he sat. At least he still had the book. It was the book that had brought them here. There was a rough map of Rook Mountain drawn on one of the pages, with an 'X' near the Post Office.

Wendy was paging through the book now.

The first half was filled with Regulation violations. Each Regulation had four pages dedicated to it, front and back, and the pages were filled with lists of names and descriptions of their violations.

The first page, devoted to Regulation 1, said simply: “Only the Zed Heads remain faithful.”

“They still consider the Regulations to be law,” Sean said. “And, from the looks of this, they won’t even leave town.”

“Hardliners,” Wendy said. “Nice to know Zed’s legacy isn’t dead. He succeeded in creating a weird new political party, if nothing else.”

She looked up from the book. “So what do we do? Should we tell Christine and Will they’re in danger?”

“No.” The word came to Sean’s lips quickly. “They’ve been through enough with Jake and now Frank. They need to concentrate on building a normal life together. They don’t need to get pulled into…” he gestured toward the book, “whatever this is.”

“I agree. But if they’re in danger—if Trevor’s in danger…”

“We’ll tell them if we have to. But not before.”

Wendy nodded. She leaned in close to him. “You’re cute when you’re protecting people.” She gave him a long, slow kiss.

He pulled away and grinned. “Serve and protect.”

She elbowed him in the ribs playfully and went back to paging through the book.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Wendy said. “There was a group at the Academy. Kind of a like an Honor Society, but less…”

“Honorable?” Sean asked.

“Yeah,” Wendy said. “Zed used to come talk to them every couple of weeks. He’d pull them out of class and take them into the auditorium for a private pow wow. The teachers were always welcome if it was during their free period. I went once.”

“What did they talk about?”

“It was about what you’d expect. Zed told them they were the next generation of leaders. That the future depended on them. That they’d be tested.”

“You’re right,” Sean said. “That’s what I expected.”

“Thing is, I’ve been noticing that a lot of the kids with the broken clock tattoos used to be in that group. Colt. Sam. Megan—all the leaders of the Zed Heads now.”

“What do you remember about Colt from the Academy?”

“He was always popular. I remember him being a leader even before he was in the Academy. Other kids looked up to him and followed him. He was a bit of a goody two-shoes though.”

“How do you mean?”

Wendy thought about that for a moment. “He was a stickler for the rules. He was always quick to turn in his friends for the smallest infractions.”

“I don’t hardly see how that would make him popular. Snitches wind up in ditches, and all that.”

“Rats get hit with bats.”

“Exactly. People who talk get outlined in chalk.”

“Tattlers get bit by rattlers.” Wendy smiled. “You’re thinking about it wrong. That’s how it worked when we were kids. But things were different for kids who went to school under the Regulations. Not turning someone in was seen as a truly shameful act.”

“Nobody likes a tattletale. That’s just human nature, right?”

“Maybe so,” Wendy said. “I’m sure some kids would have taken shit for doing the things Colt did. But everyone liked him. He was charismatic. I remember thinking he’d be able to run through as many girls as he wanted in high school.”

“Guess he’s decided to use his charisma for other things. Anyway, whatever he was like back then, he certainly has no problem breaking the rules now.”

“That’s not how he sees it,” Wendy said. “For us adults, the Regulations were a sudden seismic shift in our lives. Every man and woman in Rook Mountain knew the laws we were following were wrong, even if we didn’t want to admit it. But it was different for the kids.”

“They grew up with the Regulations.”

“Exactly. Colt would have been, what, eight years old on Regulation Day? His brain was still developing. The Regulations are buried in there, rooted deep. And now the world’s telling him the Regulations are wrong. It’s like if tomorrow morning someone suddenly told us it was okay to kill anyone we wanted, and our friends and neighbors started murdering random people in the streets. We’d probably push back too.”

“I would hope so,” Sean said. “So Colt’s a true believer. I saw that in his eyes when he came to my door the other night.” He thought for a moment. “You know, in a way, I kind of admire Colt and his friends.”

“Because they can throw a brick through a police car windshield with no consequences?”

He smiled. “Not exactly. It’s their resolve. They’re standing up for their beliefs.”

“That isn’t always a good thing. Look at terrorism. It’s generally motivated by strong beliefs.”

“Yeah. But if we would have had a little more resolve when Zed came to power, if we would have stood up to him like those kids are standing up to us, maybe none of this would have happened.” He rubbed his eyes. “Makes my head hurt just thinking about it. I guess everything has its possible positive and negative outcomes. And its gray areas.”

Wendy nodded. “That’s exactly what these kids are missing. An understanding of gray areas. Do you remember how black and white morality seemed when you were young?”

A chill went through him at the thought.

“Yeah. I do.”

She shifted in her seat to look at him. “Have you ever stopped to wonder what Zed really is? How he was able to do the things he could do?”

“Yeah. Of course.” He paused, trying to think of how to continue. “Whatever he was...is…I think we can agree he’s not human.”

“Exactly. So why should we assume he walked into town or drove into town like a human would? I think maybe this spot is more than just the place you ran into him. I think maybe he somehow entered the town here.”

He nodded slowly. “That would make sense. That could be why the Zed Heads have this place marked in their little book. Maybe they think if he entered the town here once—”

“This is where he’ll return,” she finished.

He suddenly sat up straighter in his seat. “Wait. That’s not right. When we first got the call about the naked man downtown, he was two blocks east of here. Over near the pawn shop. He had wandered over here by the time we arrived.”

She arched her eyebrows. “So, you gonna take me there or what?”

He shifted the car into drive and pulled onto the street. When they reached the pawn shop, he jumped out of the car. He stood and looked around. It seemed like any other street corner in this small downtown. A boy of no more than ten stood leaning against the brick wall outside the pawn shop.

“It would have been right around here,” Wendy said.

Her eyes landed on a tree near the corner. It was older than the other trees on the street. Almost inconveniently big for the downtown. Sean was surprised it hadn’t been taken down.

Wendy wandered toward it. She studied it for a long moment, then called Sean over.

There were a series of numbers carved into the tree. 730. 814. 1020. Each number had a check mark carved next to it.

Sean said, “I’ve seen something like this before. The way the bark’s dented outward around the letters. On a tree outside the old Beyond Academy. You know that Sophie Porter girl who disappeared? It was about her. Or to her. Or maybe from her. The chief has people looking into it.”

He ran his hand over the bark. Just like the tree he had seen near the Beyond Academy, it looked almost as if the numbers had been carved from the inside of the tree.

“What do you suppose the numbers mean?” Wendy asked.

Sean glanced back and noticed the boy who’d been leaning against the wall was gone.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s some kind of signal. Maybe someone’s leaving messages.”

Wendy’s hand moved over the carvings again. “These check marks were carved with a different knife. See how the numbers bulge outward? The check mark’s more like a normal carving. Like the bark was cut away.”

He rubbed his chin. “So maybe the number’s the message and the check mark means ‘message received’. What’s the date today?”

“The twentieth.”

“October twentieth.” He tapped the 1020 carved into the tree.

Wendy nodded slowly. “You think they’re dates.”

Sean shrugged. “It’s a theory.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Swiss Army knife.

“My boy scout,” she said. “What are you gonna do?”

He grinned. “On my honor, I will do my best. I don’t remember any more of it.” He flipped open the knife. “I’m gonna leave a little message of my own and see if anyone responds. I think I’ll try 1029.” He bent down and brought the blade to the face of the tree.

“Don’t!” someone behind him screamed.

Sean spun and saw a teenage boy, maybe fourteen years old. The boy’s fists were clenched and he was shaking with anger. “You don’t know what you’re doing. Don’t touch that tree.”

He stood up and made a show of closing his knife. “Okay. Why don’t you go ahead and tell me.”

The kid shook his head. Sean noticed the broken clock tattoo on his hand. The smaller boy, the one who’d been leaning against the building when they arrived, stood beside him.

“Alright. Why don’t you tell me what you know about this tree?”

The kid’s voice shook when he spoke. “I know if you cut a single line in that tree, bad things will happen to you. Things that’ll make a brick through your windshield look like nothing.”

Wendy put a hand on Sean’s shoulder. He brushed it off and stepped forward. “You trying to scare me, son?”

The kid’s face was beet red now. “You think we’re just a bunch of kids, don’t you? You have no idea. There are more people loyal to the Regulations than you would believe. You think because the feds showed up, this is over? It’s just getting started.”

“Grant,” Wendy said. “You know me, right? Ms. Caulfield? I’m sure you’ve seen me around school.”

He nodded.

“You want to be careful now. I understand you’re upset. If you don’t want us to cut the tree, we won’t. But Officer Lee isn’t your enemy.”

“The way I heard it, he’s everybody’s enemy. Everybody who cares about Rook Mountain, anyway.” With that, Grant grabbed the younger kid by the arm and dragged him into the pawn shop.

“Seems like a nice kid,” Sean said.

“A lot of them are like that these days. You still want to carve up the tree?”

He shrugged. “No point now. I wanted to see if they’d respond, but they’ll know it was me now. Seems pretty clear the Zed Heads are the ones doing this.”

Wendy paused for a moment. “But why? There are a million ways to communicate. This hardly seems like the most efficient.”

“Maybe they’re communicating with someone else.”

Her head snapped around suddenly. “Like someone who went through a mirror?”

His brow creased. “Come on. You don’t actually think they’re talking to Zed, do you?”

She didn’t answer. She kept staring at the tree. “I’ve seen something like this before, too.”

He smiled. “You gonna take me there or what?”

3. Sanctuary

Jake sat in a large wooden chair in the living room of his home. The chair had a high back and was a bit taller than any of the others in the room, giving it a throne-like appearance. Sophie sat on the couch next to the chair. She felt like a kid in the principal’s office.

Logan and Baldwin stood near the couch. They’d each finished sharing their versions of what had happened earlier in the night. It was still dark outside, but ten or so people Sophie had never met were gathered in the living room with them. Sophie was starting to realize the nocturnal nature of the society she was now living in.

“Maybe Frasier should be answering for this,” Baldwin said. “He’s the one who said she was ready.”

Jake frowned. “He’s a little busy tending to Carver. Anything else, Baldwin?”

The big man shook his head. “I’m ready.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Ready for what?”

“You’re kidding right?” He paused, but Jake said nothing. After a moment, Baldwin leaned closer to Jake. “I’m ready to hear your sentence.”

“Oh come on,” Logan said. “It was an accident.”

They’d left Carver with Frasier. Apparently he served as the doctor here as well as the orienter of newbies.

Frasier had made it clear how serious the situation was. He’d said he wasn’t sure whether he’d be able to save the arm. Sophie felt sick when she heard those words. It hurt Sophie’s brain to even consider it; the idea was just too big. She’d caused this. It felt like a swarm of bees buzzing around in her head. She couldn’t think straight. So she listened and did what she was told.

Logan had yelled at Sophie plenty on the long walk back to the house. She’d told her they needed to explain the situation to Jake, and she’d warned her to expect the worst. But then Logan surprised her. When telling the story to Jake, Logan defended Sophie at every turn. She told the truth, but it was a version of the truth that painted Sophie in the best possible light. Baldwin fumed through the telling, and then told his version, a version that probably erased all the benefit of the doubt Logan had built.

Baldwin shook his head. “It wasn’t an accident. She disobeyed a direct order, and Carver might lose his arm because of it. That fits the definition of hurting someone. Hence she broke the rules. Hence she should be banished.”

“Are you kidding me?” Logan responded. “Was it a stupid move? Yes. I’d like to beat the shit out of her right now. If it wasn’t against the rules for me to do so, she’d be a walking bruise by sun-up.”

So much for the goodwill, Sophie thought.

Logan continued. “But it was in no way malicious. She didn’t know what she was doing.”

Jake turned to Sophie. She’d been quiet until now. “You got anything to add?”

“Just that I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t count for much, but it’s true.”

“You’re right,” a voice from the back of the room said. “It doesn’t mean much.” Murmurs of approval swept through the room.

I’m off to a great start here, Sophie thought.

“She loves the Larvae so much, maybe she should stay with them for good,” someone else said.

“You’re all forgetting something.” As soon as the man spoke, ice clutched Sophie’s chest. She recognized that voice, though the last time she’d heard it had been years ago in a courtroom. It was Taylor. Sophie hadn’t known he was here. “May I, Jake?”

Jake nodded. “Of course. Have your say.”

“You’re all forgetting the other part of the story. If what Logan and Baldwin are saying is true, she killed two of the Larvae. Not scared them off. Killed them dead. Think of what that means.”

Sophie was frozen, almost unable to move as she watched Taylor. The man moved like a snake. He put his mammoth hand on Sophie’s shoulder. It was all she could do to not vomit. Or break down in tears. Or grab his hand and break every finger. But she knew that wouldn’t go over well at this exact moment. Not now. But soon.

“It’s a damn tragedy,” Taylor continued. “No one here would argue with that. But let’s not condemn this woman. Today she brought us tears. But tomorrow...”

“Tomorrow what?” Baldwin asked.

Taylor shrugged. “If she can do it again, if she can kill the Larvae and teach the rest of us to kill them, how many lives has she saved in the long run?”

“How about it, Sophie?” Jake asked. “Did you get lucky, or can you do it again?”

“I can do it again,” she said softly.

The room was silent now. Every eye was on her. A tension hung in the air, but it wasn’t the agitated tension that had been there a few moments ago.

Taylor took his hand off her shoulder, and Sophie felt a wave of relief. She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been gritting her teeth.

After a long silence, Jake pointed at Sophie. “You learned a terrible lesson tonight about leaving the trail. Even in the dead of night. I take it you won’t do any such thing again?”

Sophie gave her head a quick shake.

“And you’ll listen to your walk leaders like their voices are the voice of God?”

She nodded.

“Good.” He turned to the group. “As far as I’m concerned, her mistake tonight counts as part of her past. That means it’s off limits. Don’t discuss it. Don’t hold a grudge. I know I’m asking the impossible, but the impossible is what we do here. Right?”

Sophie saw a few hesitant nods around the room.

“Good.” Jake pushed himself to his feet. Then he spoke softly in a voice meant only for her. “I’ll stop by the Welcome Wagon this afternoon. We need to talk.”

He marched into his office and shut the door.

4. Rook Mountain

Getting the key to the Beyond Academy hadn’t been simple, but nothing worthwhile ever was. Zed had told them that in one of their assemblies, and Colt believed it. The more difficult the challenges, the bigger the chance to prove yourself.

Colt’s mom had been branded as a Regulation 10 breaker back when he was eleven years old. She had been hoarding food. Hoarding wasn’t exactly the right term. Colt’s father was terribly allergic to shellfish. However, Colt’s mom had been taking her full, allowed ration of seafood and selling or trading the shellfish to friends. This had been going on since almost Regulation Day, and it probably would have continued until the end of the Zed era, if not for Clara Summers. Mrs. Summers was caught for an infraction of Regulation 6 and tried to avoid punishment by squealing about Colt’s mother’s black market fish operation. The police showed up at Colt’s door a couple hours later, and Colt’s mom was branded with the number 10 on her cheek right there in the living room. Colt, his father, and his sister had been spared because his mom swore they had no knowledge of the situation.

Colt had felt an odd combination of feelings watching as the branding iron pressed against his mom’s cheek, hearing the flesh sizzle, and seeing the smoke roll off her skin. Of course, he didn’t enjoy seeing his mother hurt. Her screams made him feel sick. But there was also another feeling. Relief. For years, he had felt a constant sense of dread, a persistent nag of worry. Everything he was being taught about the Regulations at school was being defied right here at home. His own mom, who helped him memorize the Regulations for school, was the one breaking them. So as he watched her being punished, he felt relief. Something wrong in the world had been made right. He no longer needed to feel the discord of criminal behavior in his own home. Justice had won the day.

When Colt got a little older, he decided to look into Officer Benson, the man who had branded Colt's mother and, in effect, made things right in Colt’s world. Thing is, Colt noticed something interesting. Benson had doled out punishment for plenty of Regulation infractions, but every Regulation Breaker Benson punished, at least every one Colt could find, was a woman. Then Colt thought back to that day in his living room and the look of barely masked glee in Benson’s eyes as he applied the branding iron.

And Colt realized something. Officer Benson enjoyed hurting women.

So Colt wrote a proposal for a magazine article. This was in the days shortly after the so-called Deregulation, and all the magazines and websites were dying for Rook Mountain stories. They were willing to pay very good money for it, too. Colt knew his compositional skills were above average, and he knew the article about his personal experience watching his mother be scarred for life by a sadistic, woman-hating cop would find a semi-prestigious home.

However, before submitting it to any magazines, he sent the proposal to Officer Benson. He made it clear he was willing to rethink writing the article if Benson was willing to compensate him with a few small favors.

By noon the following day, a key to the Beyond Academy had made its way from the police station into Colt’s pocket, along with a handful of favors to be named later.

Since that day in May, this new generation of Zed Heads had met in the Beyond Academy two to three times per week. But events such as the one tonight had only happened twice before. Tonight was special. They’d received another message on the tree downtown. A message with today’s date. Tonight, Zed would be attending the meeting.

Colt stood by the door, greeting each person as they arrived, giving them a hearty handshake and a sincere welcome. He tried to run this group the same way he imagined Zed would have. He was positive but not unrealistic. He was gentle when possible and heartless when necessary.

All eighteen full members were required to attend tonight. Not that they would have missed it. There were more than eighteen young people who called themselves Zed Heads, but only the core group, the ones who’d been dedicated enough to get the broken clock symbol permanently inked onto their hands, were invited tonight.

Still, he did worry some members would get cold feet, so he kept count. When his count reached eighteen, he locked the door and went to join the others who were waiting in the auditorium. He nodded toward Grant who was standing near the stage.

“Everything ready?” Colt asked.

Grant nodded. He held up a red shoe box. “Good to go.”

Colt took a deep breath and then trotted up the steps to the stage. The kids went silent. Every eye was on him, but Colt didn’t rush. He paused, enjoying the moment. He always felt an odd combination of feelings while standing up here, the very stage where Zed had stood and delivered the speeches that opened and closed the school year. Now he stood on the same stage, preparing to address many of the same students. He felt unworthy, but he also felt proud to have the opportunity. He didn’t have Zed’s gift for eloquence—who did—but he’d do his best.

“Hello, my fellow Zed Heads.” He paused there, waiting to see if there would be a response, like the pastor greeting his congregation on Sunday, but there was none. “As you know, this is a special night. We’re expecting a guest one or two of you might be familiar with.”

A stir went through the crowd. Some laughing. Some shifting in their seats. But all were smiling.

“With that comes another opportunity. The greatest honor our group has to give. I’d ask for volunteers, but you all remember what happened last time.” During the last special session, Colt had been touched and surprised when every one of the eighteen members had volunteered. “So instead, I’ll do this the other way. Is there anyone who would like their name taken out of consideration?”

He waited a long moment. It was so quiet a single footstep would have echoed through the room. “Speak up now if you want out. There’s no shame in it.” Of course there was, but he had to say it. It made the volunteers feel braver.

Colt waited a full minute and then nodded. “Good. I want you to know I am proud of you. No matter who gets selected, I am proud of each and every one of you. Any questions before we do this?”

“Will it be like last time?” The voice came from Grant. Colt silently cursed him. The two of them had spent all afternoon preparing. He couldn’t have asked his question then? The last thing this group needed at this already tense moment was to be reminded of what happened last time.

“Honestly, Grant, I don’t know.” He let the uncomfortable silence linger for a moment before continuing. “But let’s look at the evidence. In most ways, Zed’s arrival was better last time than the time before that. Zed’s getting stronger. So I can’t say for sure what will happen and I can’t say how long it’ll last, but I do think we’ll see an improvement. Anyone else?”

Thankfully, no one else asked a question. Colt motioned for Grant to bring him the shoe box. Colt took the box and held it aloft so it was clear he couldn’t see into it. In reality, it didn’t matter. Grant and Colt had prepared the box alone. They could have stuffed it with any names they wanted. They could have rigged this thing a dozen different ways. They wouldn’t do that, though, and their friends knew it. Colt trusted the process, and his friends trusted him. Trust was still a must.

Colt thrust his hand into the box and stirred it around, feeling the slips of paper brush against the tattoo on the back of his hand. He ran his fingers through the paper like it was a lover’s hair. He was waiting for something, though he didn’t know what. He wanted to feel some indication of which piece of paper he should choose. He didn’t believe it was actually him making the choice, and he didn’t want to get in the way of the process.

Then he felt it. A tiny twinge as his index finger rested on one particular slip. And he knew. This was the paper he was meant to draw. He wrapped his fingers around it and pulled it out of the box with a flourish. As he did so, relief washed over him, a relief not unlike the one he had felt while his mother was being branded a Regulation Breaker. The paper had been selected. All was right with the world.

He unfolded the slip and read the name aloud. “Sam Graverton.”

Sam made a strange sound that was half laugh and half gasp. Every eye was on him, but no one spoke. The Zed Heads all looked at him with compassion. No judgments would be given, no matter his reaction. Every person in this auditorium understood Sam Graverton must be experiencing an almost unfathomably complex combination of emotions. They all understood, because it could have been any of them. They’d all imagined the moment their names would be called, and they all had experienced a tiny pretend version of what Sam must be feeling.

Colt let the moment play out. After a few moments, Sam stood on wobbly legs and shuffled toward the stage, as Colt knew he would. If Sam tried to flee, the others would grab him. There was no going back once your name was selected. But Colt knew it wouldn’t come to that. Sam was a good man. A strong man. He was faithful to the core.

Sam was one of the older boys in the group. He was Colt’s age, and he and Colt had gone to school together their whole lives. While they hadn’t always been friends, they’d been acquaintances who liked each other well enough. And last March, fighting the Unfeathered together, they had become something more. They’d become brothers. Colt couldn’t help but feel a little sad that it was Sam’s name that had practically leapt into his hand. A little jealous, too.

Sam hesitated at the bottom of the steps. Colt’s heart went out to him. It must have taken a tremendous act of will to make it this far. The mind and the heart might know the good and the honor in what was happening, but the flesh was programmed with a fierce survival instinct that wasn’t easily overcome.

Colt held out his hand to Sam. Sam looked up at him, and Colt saw the water in his eyes. Colt smiled, trying to pass a bit of resolve to the other man, and gave him the slightest nod of encouragement. Sam reached out and took Colt’s hand. Sam’s hand was cold and sweaty. Colt gripped it tightly and pulled ever so gently, encouraging his friend.

As if his legs had been unfrozen, Sam stepped forward. He climbed the steps and moved to the center of the stage with long confident strides.

Colt breathed a sigh of relief. Sam had passed through his moment of crisis and made it to the other side.

Sam took his place at the center of the stage. Colt put a hand on his shoulder.

“Anything to say before it begins?”

“Just...when the coming happens, know I’m with you in spirit.”

Colt nodded. As far as last words went, those seemed mighty fine. “Well said. Let’s begin.”

This was their third time, and Colt still had no idea how it worked. Was Zed listening somehow? How did he know when they were ready? Whatever the method, as soon as Colt called for the change to begin, it did.

It started with Sam’s feet. It was like he was shrinking or crouching down until you noticed the puddle of goo spreading out under him. The melting process worked its way up the body. Since Sam wore long pants, it didn’t look as bad as it had on Brent, the lottery winner last time —he’d been wearing shorts.

Sam’s mouth was a thin white line. He clenched his fists as his lower half liquefied and spread out on the stage. The process reached his torso. The skin dripped off his arms and hands. The bones were exposed for a moment before they too melted and dripped into the growing puddle.

This was the bad part, but Colt forced himself not to look away. If Sam could endure it for the cause, Colt could sure as hell bear witness. The skin of Sam’s lower jaw melted, exposing muscle and bone and his bottom teeth. As the jaw melted, his teeth fell into the puddle with tiny plops before melting and joining the rainbow-colored liquid. Watching the eyes melt was always the worst. Colt saw a final flash of panic in Sam’s eyes, eyes that seemed to stay alive even as they liquefied and ran down his face.

A moment later, it was over. All that was left of Sam was a thick puddle of liquid.

The Zed Heads waited in silence. Then it happened.

The surface of the liquid quivered. A round thing like a bubble appeared in the middle of the pool, and, like a man rising from the water, Zed appeared. His skin glistened for a moment, and then the wetness fell away like scales. All that had ever been of Sam was gone, and Zed stood in its place.

Zed spread his arms wide like he wanted to embrace them all in a giant hug. He looked solid, but Colt knew from personal experience he wasn’t. The first time Zed had appeared two months ago, Colt had been overwhelmed with emotion and ran to Zed to hug him. His arms had passed through Zed like the man was made of smoke. Colt had been embarrassed by the incident, but at the time he hadn’t been able to control his actions. It all happened without a single conscious decision.

“My friends,” Zed began. There was a crackle in his voice, as if he was speaking on a radio station that was not quite in range. Colt was instantly relieved though. Last time the Zed Heads had only been able to discern every third word. “Thank you for your continued faith and perseverance. I wish I could be here with you more, but as you know the cost is high. Who was it who paid the price this time?”

“Sam,” Colt answered.

Zed squeezed his eyes shut as if he were in pain. “Ah, Sam. I always enjoyed his jokes. And his bravado. I hope someone will make sure his collection of Unfeathered feet goes to a worthy home.”

Colt hadn’t thought of that. During the fighting in March, many of the Beyond Academy students had collected the feet of their enemies. But Sam had been the most zealous. Not only did he collect the feet of his own kills, he took the feet of Unfeathered killed by students who weren’t collectors, people like that traitor Trevor Hinkle. Before long, Sam was even talking people who did want the feet out of their well-deserved prizes. He kept the feet hidden from the media and the government even though he certainly could have traded them for a boatload of cash and attention.

It was too soon to think about such things. The memories brought a lump into Colt’s throat.

“Let’s not let Sam’s sacrifice be in vain,” Zed said. “Tell me the latest.”

Colt cleared his throat. “We have a lead on one of the Tools.”

Zed cocked an eyebrow. “Really? Which one?”

“The compass.”

A smile crept onto Zed’s face. “Okay. Tell me more.”

“Tim Rodgers. He was a guard at the prison.”

“I remember him. He was a believer, but too much of a loose cannon to be of much use. I notice you’re referring to him in the past tense.”

“Yes,” Colt said. “Turns out he had the compass. Priscilla Nettles heard him mouthing off about it in a bar one night. How it always pointed to City Hall where you disappeared rather than North. She told us about it. Anyway, we were planning our strategy to take it from him. Thing is, he offed himself, and we can’t figure out what he did with it. We think maybe this cop Sean Lee took it, but we’re not sure.” Colt paused, feeling another lump rise in his throat. Why did he always feel so emotional around Zed? It’s like all of his feelings intensified. “I apologize. And I take full responsibility. If we’d only acted faster—”

Zed waved his words away. “Nonsense. I taught you to be cautious. Keep looking for it. In the meantime, we have something else to discuss. I need something different from you now.”

“What do we have to do?” a voice from the crowd asked. Colt looked up and saw it was Megan. At fourteen, she was one of the youngest members of the Zed Heads, but she’d already proven herself resourceful and dependable.

Zed smiled. “Great question. And I’m happy to see you taking a more active role, Megan. I have big plans for you, if I haven’t mentioned it already. Something big’s coming soon, my friends. We need to remind the people of Rook Mountain about what happens when the Regulations aren’t upheld.”

Colt looked out over the faces in the auditorium, and he couldn’t help but feel pride at what he saw. Every face was alight. Everybody was leaning forward. These kids wanted to please Zed like a thirsty man wants water.

They listened in rapt silence while Zed explained what was required of them.

“There’s a tree somewhere in this town with a certain message carved into it. I need you to find it.”

5. Sanctuary

Jake showed up at exactly three o’clock. Sophie knew by the cheap digital watch Frasier had issued her a few days ago. In her old life, her Sophie Porter life, she’d never worn a watch. She’d considered them old fashioned. But in this new world of no cell phones, a watch turned out to be pretty important. The one she’d been given wasn’t fancy, but it did say it was water resistant up to fifty meters, so that was something.

She was waiting on the porch when Jake arrived. He waved her towards him by way of greeting. “Let’s go for a walk,” he said, and he pointed down the trail leading into the woods.

She cocked an eyebrow. “In the daytime?”

Jake smiled a crooked smile. “There’s no rule against it. It’s just stupid. And today I’m not feeling all that smart.”

She hesitated, and then nodded and followed him toward the cover of the trees.

“You got your knife?” he asked.

She patted the blade dangling from her belt. “You know it.”

“Then I’m not worried.”

The silence hung heavily in the air. Finally, Sophie broke it. “I am sorry about Carver.”

“I know you are. That’s why I sided with you in the meeting. And, Taylor isn’t wrong. Having you show us how to kill the Larvae will be a huge boon.”

Her eyes scanned the forest floor for the black round creatures. Come to think of it, the ones she’d seen last night had been sleeping. Who knew where they hung out during the day? They might be up in the trees waiting to fall on her. Or hiding in a tree’s shadow, waiting to attack her from behind after she passed. She suddenly felt much less at ease. “Is that why you brought me out here? So I could show you how to kill them?”

“No. I mean, if we see one and we have the opportunity, sure. But I brought you here to discuss something else. I’ve been debating whether or not to bring this up. I’m not sure if it’s fair to ask while you’re working on cutting ties with the past and starting a new life. On the other hand…I really need to know.”

Her heart sank deeper into her stomach. This guy was basically the patriarch of this entire society, the society she was forced to live in, at least for the time being. And he was about to ask her something he was clearly uncomfortable bringing up. If this place turned out to be a sex cult, she was gonna be pissed. “Okay,” she said tentatively.

“I’m sure Frasier told you it’s considered rude to ask about a person’s past here. I’d like your permission to be rude.”

She cocked her head, bemused at the request. “You don’t need to ask my permission.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “I do need your permission. What I’m asking is no small thing.” He rubbed his chin for a moment before continuing. “The past is like a shadow. It follows us everywhere. For good or for bad, it’s attached to us. And too often we’re defined by our pasts. By the things we have done or the things we didn’t do. When I started bringing people here, I knew that the types of people who would knowingly accept a life sentence in this weird forest would be the types of people who would need a clean break from the past. In normal life, that’s almost impossible, but I knew I could offer it. Here there’s no past. This is a place without shadows. So, you understand when I ask you to discuss your old life, even for one conversation, I don’t do it lightly.”

She nodded slowly. Much of what Jake was saying made sense. To escape her past and the horrors that lived there was a long-time fantasy of hers. And Jake seemed to have truly accomplished that here. But a complete break with the past for someone like Taylor? That was something she simply couldn’t abide. But what else could she say but yes? “I understand. You have my permission.”

A wide smile broke out on his face. “Good. Thank you. And, the offer goes both ways. You know those things they used to do where minor celebrities would go on the Internet and answer any question from random fans?”

Sophie smiled. This was a topic she knew a little about. “Ask Me Anythings?”

“Exactly. Consider this my ‘Ask Me Anything’. But I’ll start if you don’t mind.”

“Fire away.”

He cleared his throat. He was obviously nervous. It was actually kind of cute. “Based on the tree we found you under, I assume you’re from Rook Mountain.”

She paused, momentarily confused by the question. How did the tree they found her under reveal where she was from? “No, sorry. I live in Nashville.”

Jake’s smile disappeared.

“But I, um, got here by way of Rook Mountain. That’s where I almost died and said Sanctuary and all that.”

His smile returned with a vengeance. “Excellent. I was hoping you could tell me a little bit about what’s been happening in the town lately.”

Sophie suddenly wished for a Larva to leap out at her neck. “Well, geez, I don’t really know where to start. Some seriously weird stuff went down in Rook Mountain last March.”

“Yeah, I know. I was there for that. Part of it anyway. I’m looking for information on what happened after. June through...what month was it when you left?”

“October. Wait, you couldn’t have been there in March. Frasier says you’ve been running this place more than ten years.”

His smile looked forced all of a sudden. He resembled a starving man who is being asked to instruct some slow child before being given bread. “Time works differently here. Very differently.”

This was some Harry Potter-level weirdness. If she went back home now, how long would have passed? A week? A month? Her stomach turned at her the thought of her parents left wondering about her fate for all that time. There was no time to think about that now. She had to concentrate on getting back to them. “Okay, let’s see, June through September...I’m not sure. Rook Mountain’s been in the news a lot, but I haven’t followed it super closely. Shame my mom isn’t here. She reads all the tabloids.”

He smirked. “They’re writing about Rook Mountain in the tabloids?”

“It’s a different theory every week. Strange metal found in Rook Mountain. Scientist claims he built a machine that sent Rook Mountain outside of time. New study reveals Rook Mountain Incident was all an elaborate hoax. That kind of thing. You know things have gotten weird when the tabloids are arguing the weird stuff didn’t happen.”

“Hmm. I was hoping for a little bit more specific information.”

She kicked a rock out of the path. “Well, I wasn’t in town long, so I doubt I’ll be of much help. But try me.”

He took a deep breath. “I was hoping for news about my wife and son. Christine Hinkle and Trevor Hinkle. Those names mean anything to you?”

She shook her head.

“Wait, her name’s Osmond now. I almost forgot. Christine Osmond.”

She shook her head again. “Sorry man. Like I said, I was only there for a day.”

Jake sighed. “Okay. Thanks anyway.”

“Listen, it’s none of my business but…”

He spread his hands. “Ask me anything, remember?”

She grinned. “Yeah. Okay. If you want to find out about your wife and kid, maybe man up and go visit them. I’m sure they would appreciate it.”

He squinted at her. “Sophie, don’t you understand? There’s no leaving. Not for any of us. Not ever.”

She looked into his eyes, and she suddenly knew it was true. There would be no leaving here. No seeing here family again. Or her friends. Or anyone other than the couple dozen weirdos here at Sanctuary. There would be no taking Taylor to justice.

“Damn,” she said softly, hoping he didn’t notice the tears standing in her eyes. “I was really hoping that was just an act you pulled for the newbies.”

“Guess we’re both disappointed, then,” he said.

She looked off into the trees. No fuzzy ball-of-death monsters in sight. “You asked me a favor before. Can I ask you one in return?”

“Of course.”

“I want you to tell me what’s going on here. Don’t be cryptic or cute. Tell me straight up like a human being. What the hell’s going on here? How are you bringing people here? And why can’t we leave?”

He nodded slowly. “I don’t know what the media and the government said about Rook Mountain, but the truth is it was taken out of time. I didn’t find that out until I was here, but that’s what happened. This place, Sanctuary, is kind of like that. Except instead of being outside of time, it’s outside of place.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“This place wasn’t always like this. It was used up somehow.” He put his hands on his hips and stared up into the sky. Whether he was looking for Larvae or just trying to collect his thoughts, Sophie didn’t know. Eventually, he said, “I came here trying to find help for my family. We’d exhausted our resources and we were almost out of hope. There was this mirror, and all I knew about it was it would send me far away. Maybe I would be able to find help for my family and maybe it would be a one-way trip. I rolled the dice and came here.”

“Guess that was a bad roll.”

Jake moved his head back and forth as if considering. “Yes and no. It did cut me off from my family, which was my greatest fear realized. On the other hand, it might have saved the world.”

She sighed. “What did I say about being cryptic?”

He held out his hands. “Hear me out. When I first got here, I found a book. It was a special book. Using it, I could look into a few select places. Rook Mountain was one of them. There’s a small town in western Wisconsin called King’s Crossing. One in Texas. One in Florida. A few others. I found I could bring things through the book. I brought food, clothing, furniture. Fuel for the generators. I could also bring things from this place’s distant past into the present. Like the house I live in, for instance. But I spent the first few years watching. I watched everything that happened in Rook Mountain. And it was both wonderful and torturous. I could see my family anytime I missed them, and I could even take things from their world and bring them here to ours. But I couldn’t send anything back the other way. I had no way to communicate with them. Eventually, I watched my wife remarry. As difficult as that was, I couldn’t blame her.”

“Damn, that’s pretty big of you.”

“Not really. It was the right thing to do. It protected her and our son. Besides, I can never go back there and she deserves to be happy. Eventually, I had to stop watching them. It was too painful for me, and it wasn’t fair to them to have me constantly spying.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “After a while, I tried to bring a person through. It didn’t work. It turns out, unlike inanimate objects, humans can resist being brought through. For it to work, they have to want it.”

“So everyone here came from one of those special towns you can see in the book?”

He nodded. “There are fifteen towns in the book. All the people here are from one of them.”

“And the trees…You said you knew I was from Rook Mountain because of the tree they found me under.”

“Yeah. I can pull inanimate objects through the book. It doesn’t work that way with people. It’s more like I’m opening a door. They appear somewhere in this forest. There are some trees that seem to be connected to the towns somehow. I can usually guess which town folks came from based on the tree they appeared under. Usually.” His face darkened. “You ever heard of Zed?”

“Sure. The Rook Mountain boogeyman. Or scapegoat. Depends who you ask. A lot of the folks from Rook Mountain blame what happened to the town on him. But, conveniently, no one outside the town has ever seen him.”

“He’s real enough. Trust me on that. I believe the towns in the book all have something special. Something Zed desperately wants. That special something is the reason for what happened in Rook Mountain. Which gets us back to the saving the world thing.”

“I was wondering when we’d get back to that.”

Jake took a deep breath before continuing. “Zed was trying to do something in Rook Mountain. He had an endgame. I don’t know what it was exactly, but my wife, my brother, and some of my friends stopped him before he could finish. Thing is, he’s gonna try again.”

“How do you know?” she asked.

“Because Rook Mountain wasn’t his first time. Whatever he was trying to do in Rook Mountain, he did it successfully here first.” He waved his hand at the forest around him. “He somehow used this place up. And now it’s a sick thing. It’s like a nuclear test site. It’s radioactive.”

Sophie took a step closer toward the center of the trail.

“Not literally. It’s a different kind of sickness. Spiritual maybe. Or metaphysical. I don’t know. But those things that grow here, the Larvae, they feed off the sickness.”

“Geez, man. Thanks a lot for bringing everyone here.”

He grimaced. “I wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t important. Leaving my family was the most painful thing I’ve ever done. Watching my wife remarry and move on was a close second. The third was bringing all the people here. But I can honestly say it was worth it.”

“Because of the saving the world thing?” Sophie found she could actually say it with a straight face now.

“Yes. The sickness here is hungry. It wants to spread. And where do you think it’s gonna spread to first?”

“Those fifteen towns the trees are connected to?”

Jake nodded.

“So when you say this place is hungry—”

“I mean it’s literally hungry. It wants more land in order to grow its trees and develop the Larvae.”

“So that’s the problem. How do we go about stopping it?”

His brow suddenly tightened. “The book I found? I can use it to fight the sickness. A little bit anyway. What the sickness wants above all else is chaos. It’s constantly changing the land, rearranging it. Flowing it back and forth like water. But using the book, I can insert tiny bits of order into the chaos. Your job, and the job of everyone at Sanctuary, is to help keep the order intact.”

“You’re talking about the trails.”

He nodded. “When I create the trail, it’s a tiny thing, barely even noticeable. But as more people walk the trail more often, it grows larger. If we don’t walk it, it starts to fade.”

She thought that over for a moment. “So you think if you make enough of these trails, you can destroy the sickness?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. That might be too ambitious. But we can fight it back. Keep it from growing.”

Sophie looked around at the thick trees surrounding her. They were nearly countless. Above her head, the branches tangled so thick they blocked out the sun. “No offense, but that seems like a pretty shitty plan. It’s like you’re trimming the weeds instead of using weed killer.”

His eyes shone with emotion. “Weed killer’s in short supply these days. You got a better suggestion?”

She silently cursed herself. Here she was, her second day on the job and she was already criticizing the way the boss did things. And her first day on the job she had caused an injury that could cost a man his arm. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like it came out.”

“No, no. I wasn’t being sarcastic. I really want to know if you have a better idea.”

“Sorry, man. I really don’t.” Sophie bit her lip and thought. “You said Zed caused all this, right? Any idea where he is?”

He shook his head.

“Maybe he’s dead.”

He chuckled. “I highly doubt that. I have it on good authority the man’s unkillable.”

She decided to let that slide for now. “Best guess?”

Jake shrugged. “He didn’t finish his work in Rook Mountain, so he’s likely hiding out in one of the other towns waiting to make his next move. I’d say the only place we could rule out is here. He’s already squeezed all the juice out of this place.”

“Do you know what it was before it was ‘out of place’ or whatever you said?”

“No. These trees are a side effect of what Zed did. They’ve wiped out everything else. Nothing remains of whatever was here before.”

He turned and started walking down the path. She followed.

She saw something out of the corner of her eye, and she froze. It was another message carved into a tree with that same odd technique that caused the bark to bend outward. The tree was close enough to the trail that she could read it without stepping off. Once again, it seemed to have been written specifically for her.

He lies. Ask him about the banishments.

She paused, took one last look at the strange message, and then hurried to catch up to Jake.

“So…I can still ask you anything, right?”

He didn’t turn to face her, but even from behind she could tell he was nodding.

“If you knew where I came from based on the tree I appeared under, I’m guessing you also know where Taylor’s from.” She paused to see if he’d respond. He didn’t, so she continued. “Since we’ve got this whole pause on the ‘no talking about the past’ thing, there’s some stuff you should know about him.”

He shook his head briskly. “I gave permission to discuss my past, and you gave permission to discuss yours. It’s not our place to talk about someone else’s.”

She felt her pulse quickening. Screw Jake and screw his rules and screw Sanctuary. “He’s a killer.”

Jake spun on his heels. His teeth shone in the light of the forest. “Didn’t Frasier tell you what would happen if you broke the rules? I swear to God, Sophie, if you hurt another person here or breathe a word about Taylor’s past again, I will banish you. Understand?”

She managed to nod.

“Tell me about the banishments,” Sophie said. “What happens when you banish someone?”

“I’m not ready to tell you about that yet. After you’ve been here a while, we’ll discuss it.” He sighed. “Look, I’m sorry I yelled. I appreciate your help today. I badly needed an update on Rook Mountain.”

“Why didn’t you ask your buddy Taylor?”

Jake paused, as if unsure whether to answer. “I did. I made him the same offer I made you. I asked if he’d be willing to discuss the past.”

“And?”

“He declined.”

Sophie laughed. “If that’s not a red flag, I don’t know what is. You don’t know what it’s like—”

“I do know,” Jake said. “Back in Rook Mountain, Zed has these…let’s call them disciples. When he took power, they got elected into office. They became the selectmen that ran the town’s government. They enforced Zed’s rules. They hurt people I cared about.”

“Yeah, I read about that,” Sophie said. She didn’t see the connection.

“A while back, I brought someone here. I didn’t know who it was. Just another person yelling Sanctuary, asking for my help. Turns out, it was one of the selectmen.”

She squinted at Jake. “What’d you do about it?”

Jake shrugged. “I welcomed that person to Sanctuary. We both pretended like we didn’t know each other, and over time we’ve even become friends.”

“If you think Taylor and I are gonna be friends, you are out of your mind. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

Jake put his hand on her shoulder. “Please Sophie, listen to what I’m telling you. Follow the rules. If you have a problem with Taylor, stay away from him. If you lay a hand on him, I’ll pass judgment on you. Even if you are special.”

She tilted her head at him. That was the first time in a long time anyone had called her special. “How am I special? Because I killed the Larvae?”

Jake smiled. “I knew before that. See, the book lets me know in advance when someone’s gonna request Sanctuary. Sometimes I let them through. Sometimes I don’t. But you were different. I never got any warning. You just showed up in the middle of the night.”

“So what the hell does that mean?” she asked.

“It means I didn’t open the door to let you in. It means someone else did.”

IN THE WOODS (PART FOUR)

Frank followed Mason down the thin line of dirt that had probably once been a wide trail. Today it was nothing more than a faint sketch in the woods. Frank had trouble seeing it at times in the dim beam of his flashlight.

Mason, on the other hand, was having no such trouble. He wove his way down the trail like a much younger man. There was a spring in his step and every time he looked back to see if Frank was keeping up, the look on his face spoke of sheer delight. Frank was reminded of the Tolkien character, Tom Bombadil, the man of indeterminate age who was so quick he could go out in the rain without getting wet.

The beam of their flashlights bounced on the trees and roots ahead of them. Frank wiped the sweat off his brow with his free hand. They’d only been going for about twenty minutes, but their pace was such that Frank didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to keep this up. Part of it was the heavy lockbox that dangled from his right hand. The box had a durable handle built into the top, and it fit Frank’s hand like an old baseball glove. He’d hauled a box like this one down to the river and over mountains and God only knew where else. It had been his near-constant companion for a few years when he was a kid. It sure felt heavier now than he remembered.

Mason rounded a curve and stopped. He bounced back and forth from foot to foot, too excited to stand still. “This is it. Right up here.”

Frank shined his flashlight where Mason pointed, but he couldn’t make out much more than the vague shade of the cabin.

Mason continued on without waiting for a reply.

The shape of the cabin grew more distinct as they approached, and before long he could see a hole, blacker than the rest of the structure, that could only be an open door. When they were ten feet away, a figure emerged from the darkness.

Even though he couldn’t see more than a silhouette, and even that was only faintly visible, he knew. His senses were suddenly a bit sharper. The tang of the forest burned in his nose and the dark figure’s every footfall rang like a gong in his ears. His hands were cold and clammy.

Frank reached down with a shaking left hand and clicked the Cassandra lock into place on the latch of the box.

The shadowy figure raised something to chest-level. Frank heard a click and the object illuminated, covering a twenty-foot radius with light. He blinked against the harsh illumination of the lantern. It was a moment or two before his vision adjusted enough for him to clearly see the man standing before him.

Zed said, “Hello, Mason. I see you’ve brought company.”

Mason practically danced forward. Zed squinted in Frank’s direction, his eyes apparently adjusting to the light the same as Frank's. Maybe the man was human after all.

“Why, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that was Frank Hinkle.”

Frank stood frozen on the spot. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. He wanted to lunge at Zed, gouge at his eyes, but he knew such a gesture would be worthless. The man wouldn’t die and couldn’t be hurt. Or, was that still true now that he no longer had his beloved pocket watch? He certainly seemed to have healed from the incident on the top of city hall.

While Frank was still mulling over how best to test Zed’s vulnerabilities, Mason spoke. “He did it, Zed! Just like you said he would. He found a lock box in my dad’s office. And he brought it with him.”

As Mason spoke, Frank bent down as far as he dared and dropped the lock box onto the ground. He hoped Zed had been too focused on Mason to notice the move.

“Please, Mason, let’s not jump right to business. I know you grew up in the woods, but that’s no reason to forget your manners.” Zed took three long steps forward, encircling them all in the light of his lantern, and extended his hand. “Frank. Last time I saw you, you looked a bit worse for the wear. But the mirror and its time-shifting ways are peculiar. I’m not sure if the last time I saw you was the last time you saw me.”

Frank stared at the hand like it was made of vile, rotting meat. Then he looked Zed up and down. The man looked exactly like he had the day he sent Frank Away, right down to the wide smile and the brightly colored tee shirt. Not bad for fifty-some years later.

Zed slowly lowered his hand. “Well then. It’s going to be like that, is it?”

Frank still held his tongue. There were things he wanted to say to this man, but everything that came to mind seemed so inadequate to express the utter despair he felt. In the last few hours, he’d learned that the man he’d given up everything to save was long dead, and the only man in the world he truly wished was dead was alive and well and standing in front of him.

Zed sighed. “I felt you arrive, you know. I’m pretty tuned into this place, and I felt a,” he paused, as if looking for the right word, “crackle. It crackled when you arrived. The time you spent in the Away marked you, and the woods sensed it. As soon as I realized it was you, I began hoping things could be different between us this time.”

Mason said, “I found him down by the creek. One of the Larvae was locked in on him. I put it down and brought him here.”

“Fine, fine,” Zed said, his eyes never leaving Frank. “It can happen, Frank. We can work together. I know it seems unlikely, but alliances do change.”

He waited, his eyes wide and hopeful. Frank said nothing.

Zed waved a dismissive hand at him. “Okay then. Let’s forgo the howdys and the fat chewing and get to it. Where’s this lock box?”

Frank met Zed’s eyes. He tried to put all his hatred into that look. “Zed, Mason’s crazy as all hell. After a couple hours with him, I’m getting nostalgic for the Ones Who Sing.”

Zed met his gaze. The smile never left his face, but his eyes were ice. “That can be arranged. But, really, is that any way to talk about family?”

Frank’s heart sank. Until that moment, he had been open to the possibility that Mason was a crazy person. But even though he had no reason to trust Zed and many reasons not to trust him, something about hearing him say it made it more real to Frank.

He glanced at Mason and saw the hurt look on the man’s face. He felt bad for the guy. It wasn’t Mason’s fault he’d been raised by the worst foster father in history. He hadn’t picked his circumstances. Still, choice or not, that didn’t make him any less dangerous to Frank. Who knew what sick ideas and programming Zed had put into his head?

“How long have you been here, Zed? I came through the mirror a couple months after you did, but from what Mason tells me you’ve been here much longer.”

Zed smiled, neither confirming nor denying. “How are things back in Rook Mountain? You all keeping the place warm for me?”

Frank suppressed a laugh. “You think you’re going back there, is that it?”

“I left once before, if you remember. After you opened the box.”

Frank shook his head. “I don’t buy it. Seems to me you would have gone back already if you were able. Besides, you don’t have your toy anymore. The pocket watch.”

Zed’s smile wavered for only an instant. “I’m not going to lie. Losing that hurt. I’ve had it a long time. Longer than you could imagine. There are other Tools. The mirror. The lighter. The knife. Perhaps you’ve even seen the coin. Little silver thing. You’d know it if you saw it.”

Now it was Frank’s turn to smile. “I did see it. Right before I came through the mirror, in fact.” He paused to take in the hungry look on Zed’s face. “I stuck the knife through the coin. It made the worst sound when it shattered.”

Zed drew a sharp breath, making a noise that could almost have been described as a gasp. “You’re lying.”

“Not at all. We also destroyed the lighter. And the key. And the cane.” He counted them off on his fingers as he listed them. “And Christine was going to destroy the mirror as soon as I came through it. Hope you weren’t counting on that to get back.”

Zed’s lips curled, making his smile look like it was painted on his face. “But she wouldn’t have been able to destroy the knife, would she? I think when I get back to Rook Mountain, the first thing I’ll do is pay the Osmonds a visit. Then I’ll show them how that knife really works. Oh, the things that can be done with that knife. If I’d had that from the get go, I wouldn’t have sent you Away at all. I would have made things so much more painful.”

Mason looked back and forth between the two men, as if he were trying to figure out the rules of a sport he had never played. “Uncle Frank’s brought us the hidden box. That’s what you wanted, right?”

Zed nodded. “It is. But your uncle has the strange talent of being able to hide things. Even from me. And he doesn’t seem to want to tell me where the box is. Frank, I believe there is a book in the lockbox you found. I can use the book to get us out of here. You may have noticed that this forest is not well. It’s used up. The animals have died out. Even the Larvae are sluggish. This place is dying, and we will die with it unless you give me the box.”

Frank said nothing. No way was he going to put his trust in Zed to save them. Wasn’t that how the Regulations had been passed into law to begin with?

Mason’s breath quickened. He said in a soft voice, “Uncle Frank, please give Zed the box. You don’t want to make him angry.”

“It’s okay, Mason,” Frank said, though he knew it wasn’t.

“Yes,” Zed said. “It’s fine.” He turned toward Mason. “Use the compass.”

Mason’s face lit up. “Of course.” He pulled the Tool out of his pocket and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, his face fell. “The compass can’t find it either.”

“Impressive,” Zed said.

“There’s something else,” Mason said, his voice suddenly urgent. “Frank saw someone in the woods.”

Zed’s eyes narrowed.

“The man with the beard.”

Frank had seen Zed in some extreme situations. When he was attacked by the Unfeathered in Rook Mountain. At the end of the battle on top of city hall when Zed knew he had lost. But Frank had never seen Zed truly afraid. Not until now.

When Zed spoke, his voice was slow and quiet. “We need to move quickly.” He turned to Mason. “Frank has the box. We have to make him give it to us. He has to reveal it of his own free will. I can’t dig it out of his head unless he lets me.”

“Okay,” Mason said. “How do we do that?”

“We’re going to have to hurt him.”

Frank took a short step backwards. He knew he should run now. He should run into these woods and hide. But Mason and Zed had lived here for years. He didn’t think he could evade them for long. And then there were those creatures. The Larvae.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Zed asked.

Mason nodded.

“It may not be quick,” Zed continued. “Frank doesn’t break easily. I know from experience. But we need that box if we’re ever going to learn your father’s secrets. We might have a long night ahead of us, and I need to know you’re with me all the way.”

Mason pulled a rusty knife from his belt. His voice sounded tired when he spoke. “I’m with you.”

“Good.” Zed rubbed his chin as if deep in thought. “We’ll start with the feet. It’s amazing how much pain can enter the body through the bottom of the feet.” He looked at Frank. “Unless you want to give us the box. We can look through it together.”

Frank felt his heart speed up. He slipped his hands into his pockets, hoping to find something, anything, to help, to buy him a little time. He was surprised when his hand closed around something metal. The thing his brother had asked him to bring. The Cassandra lock. He’d forgotten he had two of them now. The one he’d brought with him and the one he’d found on the lockbox in Jake’s office.

Something Zed had said moments earlier now came rushing back to him. Your uncle has the strange talent of being able to hide things. And it was true. The locks Frank made could render objects invisible to prying eyes. It was how Will and Christine had hidden the Tools from Zed for so long.

“Sounds like you’ve got a fun evening planned,” Frank said, “but I’ve gotta run.”

The fingers of Frank’s right hand snapped the Cassandra lock shut. As it closed, he concentrated with all his might and imagined the thing it was locking was him. He squeezed it tightly in his fist and willed himself locked away from Zed and Mason.

Zed’s jaw fell open.

“Where is he?” Mason asked. “Where’d he go?”

Frank bent down and carefully picked up the lock box. He backed away slowly. He knew he was invisible to their eyes, but he wasn’t sure if the lock would also mask his sounds.

As Zed and Mason searched for him, Frank slipped into the forest.

CHAPTER FIVE: THE PRICE

1. Sanctuary

Sophie watched the Larva as it gathered itself into a tiny ball and prepared to launch into the air.

“On its lower left side,” she said. “Do you see it?”

Logan gritted her teeth. “Where? Be more specific. What am I looking for?”

“It’s a little bump. You don’t see that?”

Logan glared at her. “If I saw it, you think I would have asked the question? The thing’s covered with hair. How am I supposed to see a bump?”

“Fair point. Okay, you see that spot with slightly less hair?”

Logan squinted at the creature. “I really don’t.”

The thing began to quiver.

Sophie stepped toward it, her knife extended.

“Come on!” Logan yelled, but by that point, Sophie’s knife was already buried to the hilt in the Larva.

Sophie flicked the resulting sludge off her knife and looked back at Logan. The woman was beyond frustrated.

“You said you wouldn’t do that again!” Logan bellowed.

“It was about to leap at you. What was I supposed to do?”

“Maybe let me learn the hard way.”

They were entering their third hour of this. In that time, Sophie had killed a dozen of the Larvae while trying to show Logan their weak spot. The plan was for Sophie to teach Logan and then for Logan to teach the rest of Sanctuary, but the plan wasn’t playing out too well so far. Maybe if she could have pointed out the spot on a dead or immobile Larva, it would have been easier. But the way the things melted when killed wasn’t conducive to a proper learning environment. Whenever Sophie got near a live one, it pounced at her and she was forced to put it down.

“It’s not your fault,” Logan said. “Sorry I snapped. Let’s find the next one.”

They were walking one of the thinner, less well-kept trails and it was the middle of the day, so the Larvae were plentiful. Between the events of the last few days, switching day shift to night shift and back again, and the stress of trying to teach Logan, Sophie was exhausted. But from what she knew of Logan, the woman wouldn’t agree to stop until she’d mastered the strange art of Larva killing.

As they walked, Logan said, “You been to see Carver yet?”

Sophie shook her head. “Not yet. I wasn’t sure if he’d want to see me.”

“Good call. He’s a little torn up right now. Send him a note and then wait a day or two before you go.”

That wasn’t the advice Sophie had expected, but she was quickly learning she never knew what to expect with Logan. Even though the hazing was only a week ago, Sophie found herself starting to like the woman. Given time, they might become good friends.

Frasier had removed Carver’s arm that morning. An amputation was a terrible thing in the best of circumstances; Sophie couldn’t imagine how horrible it must have been in this under-equipped location. Apparently, all talking about the past aside, Frasier was a man who knew his way around traumatic injuries. Carver was expected to pull through.

As a weird side effect of the injury, Sophie had gotten her own cabin. Carver was recovering at the Welcome Wagon, and so she and all her possessions, scant as they might have been, were moved into a vacant cabin. It just so happened to be the one next to Logan’s.

Sophie had laid in bed last night for hours, unable to sleep in spite of her tiredness. She’d stared at the compass with one thought in her mind. Taylor.

Now that she knew she would never see her family or friends again, the idea of dealing with Taylor had grown in her mind from simply something that should be done into something that had to be done. Coming here—putting her parents through losing another child, forfeiting whatever shot at a normal future she might have—it had to mean something. It couldn’t just be a random, freakishly strange series of occurrences. Something good had to come of it.

And the more she thought about it, the more she came to realize that carrying out Taylor’s punishment was the only positive outcome possible. Maybe all of it, Heather dying, Taylor escaping, had happened to put her in this very place at this very time. Maybe she was the only one who could do what needed to be done. She couldn’t get squeamish now.

As she watched the compass, she had seen his position moving throughout the night. It wasn’t surprising considering he was working the night shift, but there was something satisfying about constantly tracking his position. It made her feel like she had one up on him.

One aspect of the compass troubled her. Whenever she wasn’t thinking of something specific she wanted the compass to find, its needle pointed at her. Just like Rodgers had said.

She’d been using the compass for other things, too. She’d found that by thinking of something and pressing the broken clock symbol, the compass would point her to it. It came in handy for everything from finding her way around the strange, shifting landscape of Sanctuary to finding a missing sock.

She could have used the compass to point them to the nearest Larva, but she had no intention of revealing it, not even to Logan. If she had been willing to share the compass, this could have been over with much more quickly. Logan could have held it and seen the Larva’s kill spot as quickly as Sophie had. But it was Sophie’s secret, her edge, and she wasn’t ready to share it with anyone.

“How long you been in Sanctuary?” Sophie asked. Then she quickly added, “That’s an okay question to ask, right?”

Logan revealed a rare smile. “Yeah, it’s fine. Some people are touchier than others about the whole past thing. Me? I couldn’t care less. I’d tell you my story, how I got here, but I wouldn’t want to bore you to death. It’s like I said to you during the hazing. Life starts the moment you arrive here. The rest isn’t really worth talking about. At least not for me.”

Sophie thought about her mundane life in Nashville. The woman did have a point. This was certainly more exciting.

“Nine years,” Logan said.

“Wow,” Sophie said. “And Mason’s what? Eight?”

Logan scowled. “Yes. Jake and I got right to it. Don’t get judgy.”

Sophie held up her hands in mock horror. “Trust me, I’m the last person who should be judging anyone.”

Their eyes scanned the trail for Larvae, but they came up empty.

“How many people were at Sanctuary when you got here?” Sophie asked.

“Four, including Jake.”

“That’s all? Who hazed you? Anyone I know?”

Logan shook her head. “No one you know.”

Sophie gave her an indignant look. “Oh come on. That’s all I get? I want to hear about it. You got to haze me. The least you can do is let me hear about yours.”

Logan slowed to a halt. “Things were different then. Very different. We didn’t have hazings. We didn’t even have the rules.”

“Really? So I take it there was an incident or something?”

She nodded. “There was an incident. Two of the people didn’t like the way Jake kept the book to himself. They thought we should all share it. When he wouldn’t hand it over, they attacked him. Almost killed him. They did kill one man, a guy named Davis. Thankfully, they underestimated me.”

Sophie couldn’t imagine anyone underestimating Logan. One look at her told you she was a badass.

As if reading her mind, Logan said, “I was different then, too. I’ve come out of my shell a lot since those days. Anyway, we eventually overpowered those two. Their names were Rosenberg and Harris. They were the first two banished. It was just me and Jake here for a while after that.”

“The Adam and Eve of Sanctuary,” Sophie said.

“More like Hatfield and McCoy. Jake and I didn’t always get along so well. Still don’t, I guess. We butted heads on a lot of things. I guess that’s why we’re not together now. That and the fact that he never fully got over the wife he left back home.”

“Wow. So you’ve been here through it all. Longer than anybody.”

“Almost everybody. Don’t forget Rosenberg and Harris. They’re still out there somewhere.” She looked around, scanning the trees, whether for Rosenberg and Harris or Larvae, Sophie didn’t know.

“How many have been banished in all?”

Logan shrugged. “A dozen. Maybe a little more.”

“But they’re still out there, right?”

Logan nodded.

“You ever worry they’ll come back? Like for revenge or something?”

“No.” Logan looked away. “They won’t come back. They never come back.”

“But if they did—”

“They won’t come back,” Logan repeated.

A whiny hum cut off the conversation. Sophie spun and saw the Larva near the edge of the trail, less than two feet from Logan’s foot.

“Logan,” Sophie began, but the other woman cut her off.

“I got it.” There was something strange in her voice. If it had been anyone else, Sophie would have characterized it as a laugh. “I do. I think I’ve actually got it. Near the top. It’s like a small protrusion.”

“That’s what I said.”

Logan drew her knife. “You said bump. It’s definitely a protrusion.” With that, she thrust the knife into the Larva. She looked at Sophie. She was positively glowing. “Holy hell. I just killed a Larva.”

Sophie smiled at her. “That you did. About time, too. I was starting to think you were unteachable.”

“It’s a poor teacher who blames her student.”

Sophie couldn’t help it. She grabbed Logan and gave her a hug. And, to Sophie’s surprise, Logan hugged her back.

Sophie stepped back and watched the liquefied Larva run off Logan’s knife. “So, what do we do now?”

“First, we kill another one or ten to make sure I’ve got the hang of this,” Logan said. “Then we start teaching the others.”

2. Rook Mountain

Sean frowned at the tree and the message carved in it: Use the Tool and the book and you can bring him home.

It was raining lightly, coming down just hard enough to moisten the skin but not enough to soak through clothes. Rare for eastern Tennessee. Normally, the sky suddenly went dark and the precipitation was a hard angry rain that started without warning, and ended as quickly.

“By Tool, do you think they’re talking about the, you know, Tools?” Sean asked.

Wendy nodded. “Yep.”

“And the him in bring him home is Zed?”

“Yep.”

“Huh. And when did you see this?”

They were standing in front of a tree in a front yard on the far west side of town. It would be inaccurate to say Rook Mountain had a bad part of town. The rough elements were mixed in with all the rest like someone had dumped everyone into the town at random and given it a rough shake. That said, the west side had a higher percentage of late night police calls and drug deals than the rest of town.

“Day before yesterday. I swung over to the library after school and noticed it on my way home. I saw it through the window of my car. I didn’t think much of it at the time. But after what we saw earlier…”

“Yeah,” he said. He noticed the way the bark around the letters bulged outward again. Truly strange. After everything they’d seen and heard over the last eight plus years, it was always tempting to jump to a supernatural conclusion when seeing something out of the ordinary. Sean was careful to avoid that trap. Most things, even in Rook Mountain, had a perfectly logical explanation. There was no call to assume the letters had been carved from inside the tree or by someone in the great beyond or something.

“Hey, we’ve got a fan.” Wendy nodded toward the window of the house where a curtain was fluttering as if it had been hastily moved back into place.

Sean grunted. He wasn’t in uniform. A couple of strangers in the yard staring at a tree—they had probably freaked out some little old lady or something.

“I’m gonna go knock on the door,” Sean said.

“Why?”

“I want to let her know we aren’t casing her house. Besides, maybe she knows something about all this. You coming?”

Wendy hesitated, then nodded.

He rapped on the door and waited for what seemed like an eternity. He concentrated on acting non-threatening.

“What’s that look on your face?” Wendy asked quietly.

“What do you mean? It’s my non-creepy smile.”

She shook her head. “It isn’t working.”

He dropped the smile.

“If it’s a woman, you better let me do the talking,” Wendy said.

The door opened the tiniest of cracks.

“Help you?” The voice was distinctly female.

Wendy took a slight step forward. “Sorry to bother you ma’am, but we’re investigating some vandalism going on around town, and we happened to notice your tree.”

The door opened a smidge wider, enough for Sean to see a sliver of a pale face and a single blue eye. “Investigation, huh? Investigation for who? You some of those federals?”

Sean shook his head. He didn’t want to get into whether or not they were here on official police business. “No, ma’am. I’m Rook Mountain PD.”

She relaxed visibly at that and swung the door wide enough for Sean to see both of her eyes and even some of her dirty blonde hair. The woman was short and thin and probably under thirty. “That so? I guess you’d better come in then.”

She pulled the door open the rest of the way, and Sean followed Wendy into a living room cluttered with toys, partially folded laundry, and a dozen short stacks of paperback novels.

“You’re a reader,” Wendy said with a smile, like she’d found one of her own tribe.

The woman nodded. “Mysteries, mostly. I like the ones that keep me guessing. You’d think after reading all these I’d have sense enough not to let strangers in without asking for ID even if they claim to be cops. Especially if they claim to be cops.”

“I don’t have my badge, but maybe this’ll do.” Sean pulled a business card out of his wallet and handed it over.

She took the card and looked at it for a long moment. “Nice to meet you, Officer Sean Lee. I’m Christy Havert.” She looked at Wendy. “You got a card?”

“I’m not a cop,” Wendy said.

“Huh. Amateur sleuth then.”

Wendy turned on her best smile, and Sean had to admit it was very non-creepy. “Isn’t that the best kind?”

The woman let a smile of her own slip out. “I’m partial to Nick Stefanos. You ever read any of George Pelecanos’ books?”

Wendy shook her head.

“Shame.” Christy set down Sean’s card on a bookshelf near the front door. “You wanted to know about the carving in the tree?”

“Yeah, anything you could tell us would help,” Sean said. “Do you know who did it?”

“I don’t. My husband noticed it about three days ago. He saw it first thing in the morning. Though I can’t say for certain it happened during the night.”

“How about the message itself?” Wendy asked. “Any idea what it means?”

Christy let out a mirthless chuckle. Sean noticed there were tears in her eyes.

“What is it?” Wendy asked.

“This damn town. It makes me so tired. I’m sick to death of watching my mouth and not knowing who to trust. It was bad with the Regulations, but this is almost worse in some ways. Nobody shows their true colors.”

“Maybe it’s time to take a chance,” Wendy said.

Christy paused for a long moment, as if considering. Then she said, “I’m glad it was you who showed up here. I was afraid it might be someone else. Maybe those kids with the tattoos on their hands.”

“Why would they come here?” Sean asked.

“There’s something I’ve been living with for a long time. A burden, you might say.”

Sean opened his mouth to speak, but then he caught the look Wendy was giving him and closed it.

There was a new light in Christy’s eyes as if an idea had occurred to her.

“Would you take it, Officer? Would you take my burden from me?”

Sean was about to ask her what the hell she was talking about when Wendy said, “Of course, honey. We’ll take it for you.”

She nodded excitedly and ran out of the room.

Sean whispered to Wendy, “What the hell’s going on?”

“I have no idea. But if she has some crazy secret, I wasn’t about to tell her not to show it to us.”

Christy ran back into the living room, clutching something wrapped in cloth. “My husband’s gonna kill me.” She glanced at Sean. “Not literally. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s gonna be fuming mad though. Kept this thing hidden for years. But now, with somebody carving that message, I know they’re on to us. It’s even more dangerous than it was before.”

She held out the cloth to Sean. He took it, and the unexpected weight of the thing almost made it slip from his hand. It was an object wrapped in a tee shirt. He opened it.

“My husband found it at a construction site. He brought it home and kept it in his tool box all these years.”

It was a ball peen hammer. On the head of the hammer was the broken clock symbol.

“It’s something, isn’t it?” Christy asked. “Just think, that thing could have got us killed during the Zed years. You ever seen anything like it?”

Sean wasn’t sure how to answer, so he just smiled his best non-creepy smile.

3. Sanctuary

On her twentieth day in Sanctuary, Sophie tried to kill Taylor.

Life had fallen into a comfortable rhythm. Logan had asked Sophie to join her team of walkers full time. She was rebuilding the team from the ground up. Carver was going to be out of commission for a good long while, and Baldwin refused to work on a team with Sophie. He’d given Logan an ultimatum: pick Sophie for her team or pick Baldwin. Logan hadn’t hesitated before selecting Sophie. Leonard, who along with Baldwin had carried Sophie that first night, volunteered to take his place. Since there were no newbies to mentor now that Sophie had moved to her own cabin, Frasier also joined the team.

They walked the trail every night. Usually, it took about four hours, but sometimes they completed the loop in fifteen minutes. Sometimes they hustled to make it home before dawn. There were very few encounters with the Larvae. Apparently they slept through the night as long as someone wasn’t sticking her hand into their nests.

As they walked, Sophie kept her eyes on the trees. She looked for more of the strange carved messages, but she didn’t see any.

Sophie and Logan had spent a few days teaching the rest of Sanctuary how to kill the Larvae. It turned out Logan was a much better teacher than Sophie, and it went faster than they could have hoped. Every adult in Sanctuary was now able to find the weak spot and kill them.

Sophie didn’t sleep much during the day, though she tried. Knowing Taylor was so close by certainly didn’t help, nor did the switch to sleeping in the day and working at night. But the main cause of her insomnia was the weighty sense of uncertainty that hung over her. She’d long fantasized that, through some unlikely twist of fate, she’d be the one to turn on the lethal drip when he received his final injection. Now she had been given something even better. Not only did she have the opportunity to be Taylor’s executioner, she’d also be the one to select his means of execution.

Yet, still she waited.

Sometimes she spent hours thinking about how she’d do it. There was no end to the methods and techniques of death and torture that went through her head in vivid color and detail. Sometimes the level of creativity she was able to come up with frightened her. But, while she had no trouble envisioning his death, it was imagining the moments after his final breath that caused her trouble. What would she do? Escape into the woods? Turn herself in to Jake and throw herself on his mercy?

None of the options seemed perfect. Ideally, she’d cover up the crime, but she knew that would be difficult in Sanctuary. There were only thirty-five residents, but it seemed like someone was always nearby. There was almost no privacy. Even sneaking into Taylor’s cabin during the day while most of the community slept would be risky. She hadn’t ruled it out, but it didn’t seem like the ideal option.

And then there was Jake.

Half of what he had told her in the woods sounded like the fantasies of a madman. Or a cult leader. Telling your disciples they could never leave and building circular trails that all led back to the same place seemed like a nice technique for keeping them loyal. But Sophie had seen too much to deny that his explanation made a strange kind of sense. She’d been transported here in an impossible way. She’d seen the Larvae and heard their other-worldly voices. She’d walked the trails that changed lengths night after night.

What was the real extent of Jake’s power? Had he been honest with her in the woods? Would she even have a chance at covering up her actions, or would he be able to see what happened using that book of his?

And who was leaving her those messages?

None of that mattered in the hour before dawn when she saw Taylor standing on a tall ladder.

The majority of the residents in Sanctuary spent their working hours walking the trails, but there were exceptions. There was Yang, who made wonderful dinners for the town and served them each day before dawn. There was Nate, who handled logistics and kept the schedules. Jake spent most of his time locked away in his office.

And then there was Taylor. He served as sort of a handyman, taking care of repairs and upkeep on the grounds and the cabins.

“His disposition is best served by working alone,” Logan had told Sophie. Sophie had bit her lip to stop the flood of automatic responses to that observation.

Sophie didn’t know what he was doing up on the ladder, but he was leaning against a third story window of Jake’s house. She didn’t think. She turned on her heels and marched toward the ladder.

She was almost there when Taylor saw her. He looked down, and his eyes widened. The knowing, terrified look on his face gave her a feeling of deep satisfaction. He didn’t move; he just stared down at her.

The ladder drew her like a magnet. She felt calm, no anger or adrenaline rushed through her. She was doing what needed to be done. She was almost there now. She reached out her hand, and her fingers brushed against the cool aluminum.

“Sophie!”

The voice startled her, and she snapped her head around to see Logan behind her, a troubled look on the woman’s face. Sophie froze, her fingers still resting on the ladder.

Logan looked up. “You too, Taylor. Get down here.”

Taylor looked at Sophie, a slow grin spreading across his face. There was a moment where Sophie almost did it anyway, damn the consequences, just to wipe away that smug look. But she managed to control her hands, and she took a step back as he scurried down to the ground.

Logan looked back and forth between them. “We have a problem.”

Sophie’s heart was racing.

“Baldwin’s dead,” Logan said. “Vance attacked him. Apparently they were arguing. My guess is it was about Abby, although we haven’t been able to confirm that yet. Anyway, things got heated and Vance picked up a brick and used it on Baldwin. Abby saw the whole thing, but Baldwin was dead before she could get help.”

Sophie’s mind was spinning, trying to catch up with this new information.

“That’s all the info I have at the moment,” Logan said. “Vance will be banished tonight. Be at the main trail head at sundown.” With that, she spun on her heels and marched away, and Sophie was left standing alone next to Taylor.

After a long quiet moment, Taylor said, “Strange thing about this place. They hate violence unless it’s the official kind dished out by the authorities. Then everybody shows up to watch.”

Sophie clenched her fists. That voice grated on her like gravel across her face.

“I remember you,” he continued.

Without looking at him, Sophie said, “We’re not supposed to talk about the past.”

He shrugged. “I won’t tell if you don’t. Besides, that’s not true. We aren’t supposed to ask about others' pasts. I’m talking about my own. Sharing some memories.”

She glared at him. She’d forgotten how short he was. She stood five foot five, and he wasn’t much taller. His face was a lumpy thing with thick lips and eyes that always looked swollen. His hair was the color of dirt, and his skin had the pink complexion of a slight sunburn.

“When my verdict was read, there was a lot of cheering in that courtroom. But, I’ll never forget, there was one voice that jumped out at me. The first cheer came from a girl. And, again, when I was sentenced to death, that same girl was the first one cheering. So, I gotta ask, what made you so blood thirsty?”

An image passed through Sophie’s mind: a coroner’s photograph of the back of Heather’s head, a smashed in, ruined thing. Sophie wasn’t supposed to see it, but she had snuck a peek and spent the next ten years wishing she hadn’t.

“You did.” The words came out of Sophie’s mouth as little more than a whisper.

Taylor grunted. “I’m a patient man. I sat in that hellhole in Rook Mountain for eighteen years, including while the town was outside of time or whatever. I never hurt a single person while I was there, not until the time I hit the guard. But I did think about that girl and the way she cheered. I thought about it a lot.”

Sophie noticed her legs were shaking.

“I waited a long time, until the moment felt perfect, and then I took my shot at Sanctuary.” He spread his hands in front of him. “Worked out pretty well. So I don’t mind being patient again.”

“Go to hell.” She choked out the words.

Taylor looked her in the eye for the first time. “You’re gonna learn something tonight. You can’t touch me here. No matter how much you miss that sister of yours or how much you wish you could see me bleed. After tonight, you’ll understand.”

“I’m patient too.”

Taylor curled his lips in an attempt at a smile. It looked unnatural, and it only served to accentuate the misshapen nature of his face. “Something tells me that ain’t the case.”

She felt venom rising inside her, a poisonous anger she’d worked so hard and so long to suppress. It had seeped out anyway, souring so many things in her life: relationships, jobs, friendships. But standing there, she realized she didn’t have to hold it back anymore. It had a direction now. It could be useful to her, helpful even. It would keep her pointed toward her goal, the one and only goal that mattered. She’d spent the last few weeks worried about consequences. But consequences came after the action, and the action was the important part. There was an ache in her chest, a fury and a shame that made her wish she ignored Logan’s voice and knocked over the ladder.

“My sister died without understanding what was happening or why,” she said. “It won’t be like that for you. You’ll know who’s responsible. And you’ll know why.”

The quasi-smile melted off Taylor’s face. “Killing ain’t as easy as you think. It takes strength. Maybe tonight we’ll find out if you’re really as bloodthirsty as you pretend to be.”

He gave her a parting wink and headed toward the front door of Jake’s house. Sophie watched him go, her legs still shaking.

4. Sanctuary

Banishments were rare in Sanctuary, but not rare enough for Nate’s liking. It reminded him too much of the years he’d spent serving Zed.

Time was, back in Rook Mountain when he’d been one of Zed’s selectmen, he’d relished the opportunity to witness a Regulation Breaker get the justice that was coming to him.

These days, things were different. It was partly due to the bizarre, stomach-turning nature of the punishments in Sanctuary, sure, but holding a branding iron to a kid’s face was pretty stomach-turning, too. The bigger difference was the leaders of each community. Zed had feigned concern and regret at the punishments, but in truth he was indifferent. And, every once in a while, it almost seemed like he enjoyed it.

But Jake never enjoyed the banishments. He showed no emotion whatsoever, but Nate knew each banishment weighed on him.

It had only happened four times since Nate had arrived. He’d never forget the first one he’d witnessed. It was a woman named Suzanne who’d broken into Jake’s office and tried to steal the book. Dumb move. Jake caught her and did what needed to be done.

The residents of Sanctuary weren’t required to attend the banishment, but everyone did anyway, even the few who had kids. Some enjoyed it. Some came to say their goodbyes to the convicted. Some just felt it was their responsibility.

To Nate, the banishment represented an organizational nightmare. It fell to him to find a fairly empty place in the woods where the ceremony could take place. It couldn’t be in the Sanctuary itself and it couldn’t be so far away that the Larvae would be drawn to attack them. With the ever-changing landscape of the woods, this was no easy task, especially since it had to be done during daylight hours. The ceremony would take place at sundown, and there were a hundred little things to get ready before that.

The other difficult part was getting everyone to leave after the ceremony was over. People tended to linger, as if they didn’t want to depart from the final meeting they would have with their banished brother or sister. It was essential life get back to normal as quickly as possible, and it was up to Nate to politely but firmly send people away and get them back on their nightly routines. He generally gave them ten minutes or so to disperse naturally before he took action.

Today, he’d gotten lucky on a location. The forest had shifted last night and there was a nice big clearing only twenty yards from Jake’s house. It would be the perfect spot, and there was plenty of room for the thirty-four spectators who would gather tonight. It was as if the woods had known what was coming and done Nate’s job for him. Almost as if the forest was hungry for the banishment.

Nate stood for a moment, arms crossed, looking at the spot. It was almost anticlimactic the way the solution had been so easy this time. His eyes combed the area for any flaw that would make the spot unusable. He found none.

Nate decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. This was the spot for Vance’s banishment. He trotted the short distance back to Jake’s house.

Jake’s office door was closed as usual, so Nate knocked, rapping with his knuckles quickly and softly, in the distinctive cadence he always used to let Jake know it was him at the door.

“Come in,” a voice called through the heavy wood.

Nate entered and found Jake sitting at his desk, his eyes closed and his head resting against his peaked fingers. The book was sitting beside him, haphazardly pushed aside. Nate felt the familiar pang of concern. Jake had been using the book to prepare for the banishment, and that always took a lot out of him. He wouldn’t be himself for days after tonight. These ceremonies were hard on Jake. Too hard.

Nate knew himself well enough to realize he wasn’t a leader, but he did have one skill that was a rare commodity. He’d discovered it during the years he’d worked for Zed, and he’d honed the skill here working with Jake these last few years. Nate had the ability to sense what a leader needed and provide it before the leader even asked.

“Hey boss,” Nate said. “I’ve got the location set. It’s out in front of the house.”

Jake sighed. “So I’m gonna have to look at it for the next however long it is until the forest shifts again?”

Nate didn’t take it personally. Sometimes a leader needed to vent. He allowed himself a small smile. “You could always close the curtains.”

Jake chuckled and eased his eyes open. “So, tell me, should I be concerned? Was this thing with Vance an isolated incident?”

Nate paused. He hadn’t anticipated that question. “It’s been, what, six months since the last banishment? I don’t think we’re looking at an epidemic of violence or anything.”

Jake leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know. There’s something in the air lately. A sort of...discontent. Have you felt it?”

Nate nodded. Taking the pulse of the community was his bread and butter. Of course he’d felt it. But he hadn’t thought Jake was perceptive enough to sense it.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s probably one of those cyclical things. Maybe the banishment will let out some of the tension.”

Jake looked up. The dark circles under his eyes stood out in the harsh light of the desk lamp. “Is that what we are now? We need our fix of violence every now and then or people start getting antsy?”

“Is that so bad?”

“Yes.”

Nate tapped his foot. “Listen, I know you don’t want to hear this, but people need a purpose. Maybe if you clued them in on what it is you’re actually trying to accomplish here—”

“They have a purpose. They know they’re protecting the world from the forest. Saving the world isn’t a big enough goal?”

“Maybe it’s a little too big.” Nate took a breath and reminded himself to proceed with caution. Jake didn’t like discussing this, but Nate knew Jake needed him to bring it up from time to time, if only to play the devil’s advocate. “Look, boss, the people care about you. They’ll fight for you if you let them. If they realized what they’re doing is for you, they’d have something more tangible to hold on to.”

Jake grimaced. “Do you have any idea how it would go if I told them? Everyone would have an opinion on how we should proceed. You of all people should know that. You lead the scheduling meetings.”

Nate couldn’t argue there. It took forty-five minutes of discussion to get the group to agree to a single route adjustment on the trail-walking schedule. “I know committees aren’t always the most efficient way to run things—”

“Then we agree.” Jake’s tone said this topic of conversation was closed. He glanced at the book on the desk and a look of weariness passed over his face.

Nate knew Jake had hours of work left before tonight. He left without saying another word. He knew when the boss needed silence.

5. Sanctuary

Sophie joined the rest of them in the small clearing outside Jake’s house. She stood between Frasier and Logan. The little boy, Mason, stood in front of his mother. She had her arms around him, pressing his back against her. She leaned down and whispered something in his ear, but Sophie couldn’t hear what it was.

Frasier leaned over to Sophie. “If you start feeling dizzy or sick in the middle feel free to hold my hand. I won’t take it the wrong way.”

Sophie frowned. “Is there a chance I’m gonna get sick?”

Frasier nodded. “There’s always a chance. Especially the first time.”

Sophie shifted her feet and crossed her arms. What the hell kind of thing was this going to be? “And if I am sick, how exactly is holding your hand gonna help?”

Frasier winked. “I don’t know. But it’ll make me feel better. Holding a pretty lady’s hand always does.”

Sophie rolled her eyes, but she had to suppress a smile.

She looked around. Everyone was here. Even the kids. Besides Mason, there was a four-year-old boy and a baby girl. The only one missing was Jake himself.

“Is this ceremony long?” Sophie asked.

“Not long at all,” Frasier said.

“Feels plenty long, though,” Logan muttered.

Vance stood alone in the center of the clearing, his face pale and his eyes wide. Sophie had never spoken with the man, but she couldn’t help feeling the tiniest bit sorry for him.

On the other hand, he’d killed Baldwin. She hadn’t exactly liked Baldwin, but murder was murder. He deserved what was coming to him.

“If this whatever-it-is is so bad, why doesn’t he run?”

Frasier shook his head. “Wouldn’t matter. He’d still be banished. Better to do it here where he has a clear view of the sky.”

Sophie let that go. She knew he enjoyed being cryptic. It was an annoying habit, but over the time she’d spent with him, first in the Welcome Wagon and later walking the trails with Logan’s out team, she’d grown used to it.

She scanned the crowd again, and her eyes stopped on something, caught like cotton on a barb. It was Taylor. He was the only one who wasn’t facing Vance. He stared at Sophie, a slight smile on his face.

She wasn’t the type to let a creep leer at her without saying anything. She started to take a step forward, but, before she could, Jake walked through the crowd toward the clearing. He held a book in his hand. The book had a crudely drawn image on the cover: a globe. There was a crack running through it, just like the crack on the clock etched into the compass.

Jake didn’t look like the same man she’d walked through the woods with a few weeks ago. This man had circles under his eyes. His hair hung in wet ropes and his face was covered with sweat.

Sophie turned to Logan. “Is he okay?”

She nodded quickly. “It takes a lot out of him. He’ll recover in a few days.”

The response troubled Sophie, but she didn’t push for more information. Not now. She glanced over at Taylor. He was still staring at her.

Jake reached the center of the clearing. He leaned toward Vance and put a hand on the man’s shoulder. He spoke to him for a few moments and Vance seemed to relax a little.

Sophie felt a shift in the crowd with Jake’s arrival. Before, there had been tension, anticipation, and anger. Now that was gone. It felt calmer. As she looked around, all she saw was sympathy on the faces around her. She had some experience being in the courtroom when a killer was convicted—she supposed Taylor did as well. This felt completely different.

This felt like the man standing in front of them had already paid his debt. Like he was forgiven.

Jake gave Vance one more pat on the shoulder and then took three large steps back. He didn’t turn or address the crowd in any way. He just opened his book.

He held the book in one hand, and his other hand moved across the pages. His index finger moved in a fast scribble as if he were tracing a picture.

A hand grabbed Sophie’s. She looked over at Frasier, but he didn’t meet her gaze. His eyes were on the clearing.

She felt a slight rumble. At first she thought it was her imagination. Maybe her nerves were playing with her. But the feeling grew stronger until she was certain the ground was quaking beneath her feet.

“Stay still,” Frasier whispered. “It’ll be over soon.”

Sophie’s head whipped around as she tried to fight the panic rising within her. She looked behind her and saw Jake’s house was shaking. She turned back and saw the trees quiver. She squeezed Frasier’s hand.

The trees shook faster and faster, so quickly they seemed to be moving, trading places. The ground heaved and bucked as if it was trying to throw them.

The only place of stillness was the center of the clearing where Vance and Jake stood. Vance drew a deep breath and then looked down at his fingers. He stared at them with wide eyes, as if seeing them for the first time.

Then Sophie saw it too. His fingers were lengthening.

But it wasn’t just his fingers—it was all of him. He was stretching. His skin seemed to be drying out in front of her eyes. Hardening. Cracking. Changing into something else.

He let out a piercing scream. As he held the scream, it became lower, more throaty. Almost hollow. His open mouth lengthened slowly, stretching to an impossible tallness. A dark liquid filled the hole of his mouth, and a single drop spilled over and hung on his lip. The substance hardened into dark amber.

Sophie realized she was craning her neck now, looking up—how far?—twenty feet to his face. It hardly resembled a human face at all now. It was something else. Something older. Harder.

There was a pop-pop as his sneakers burst, first one and then the other. His clothes were tearing, falling away from him in shreds. His legs were pressing together as they grew, melding into something else, something familiar.

A trunk, Sophie realized.

His arms were stretching, dividing, splitting, growing, into hundreds of branches.

The tree-thing gave a final, very human shake, and then it straightened with an audible snap and was still.

Where Vance had been only moments before there now stood a tall, twisted tree.

Sophie had no words. Even taking a breath was challenging.

The crowd parted in front of Jake. He trudged silently back to his house.

“He’s a real orator,” Logan said under her breath.

The crowd stood silently for what felt like an hour, staring at the forest’s newest tree. Then, Nate stepped forward.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he said. “I appreciate you bearing witness. Time to get back to work.”

The crowd dissipated slowly, each member drifting off in their own time.

Taylor approached her, and he said quietly, “Now you understand. You might want revenge, girl, but you can’t take it. Not in Sanctuary.” As he passed, he bumped his shoulder against hers.

A shudder ran through her. What was this place, this horrible place, she had come to? Who were these people? Who was Jake, what was Jake, to do that to someone?

Soon, she was the only one left. She felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked away from the tree, Vance, whatever, and saw Nate standing next to her.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked. “You have any questions?”

She shook her head.

“Okay. You will later. God knows I did.” His eyes drifted up to the tree, about where Vance’s face had been, and he quickly looked away. “Anyway, you should go.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s hard not to judge him. Jake, I mean. Doing something like that to someone.”

She grunted noncommittally.

“But you gotta understand, he does it for a purpose. He doesn’t have time to police this place, and we don’t have the manpower for a full-time sheriff.” He paused. “I read this book once, The Savages. It’s about these drug dealers. You heard of it?”

She shook her head.

“Well, there’s this one line that always stuck with me. If you let people think you’re weak, sooner or later you’re going to have to kill them. That struck me as true. We don’t have time for games. The work we’re doing here’s too important.”

“Yeah. Saving the world. I heard.”

“Okay. Well. You should get to work. Logan’s team will be leaving soon.”

Sophie’s eyes scanned the trees. Something inside, the same part of her mind that tingled when she used the compass, told her there was something else to see here. And then she saw it. Something carved into a tree directly across from her. Another message.

Use the Tool and the book and you can bring him home.

IN THE WOODS (PART FIVE)

Frank watched Zed in the glow of the man’s own lantern. The man moved slower, more carefully, and his smile was a bit thinner than usual. Zed knew Frank was out here, and he crept through the undergrowth like a man who knew he was being watched.

Frank considered his options. The idea of picking up one of the many pieces of downed redwood and taking a swing at Zed’s head—or, hell, using the lockbox—was mighty appealing. Zed wouldn’t see it coming. But, again, Frank didn’t know the extent of Zed’s current powers. If he was still as invulnerable as he’d been in Rook Mountain, Frank would be doing nothing but giving away his position.

Still, it might be worth it to hear the satisfying thud of the wood hitting Zed’s skull.

Frank held his position, his back pressed up against a tree so large it would have taken ten men to wrap their arms around it. He was frozen with indecision.

Zed stopped fifteen feet past the tree. “I don’t know if you can hear me. I’ll be honest and admit I have no idea where you are. That’s why I’ve said this ten times over the last two hours I’ve spent searching for you.”

Frank tried to counter the thunderous beating of his heart by taking the shallowest breaths he could manage.

Zed’s voice was gentle. “Frank, we’ve been through a lot, you and me. I want this to end. Your prospects here are grim. This is my place. I know it like you’d know your childhood bedroom. I’ve spent a long time here, even by my standards. But you’re alone, and without shelter or food. And daylight’s coming. It’s so close I can feel it.”

He twisted in a circle as he spoke. “Show yourself, and I promise you I’ll treat you fairly. I truly respect you, and I can show you things. I can show you how to use your abilities in ways you’ve never imagined.”

Frank squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on the sharp bark pressing into his back. He was so cold. His tongue was thick with thirst. Only inertia and indecision kept him from falling for Zed’s appeal.

After a long moment, Zed turned in one more circle, his flashlight and his eyes scanning for any sign of Frank, and then he moved on.

Frank waited a full minute before allowing himself to move. He took a deep breath and staggered forward, placing his hands on his knees.

He stood like that for a while before dropping to the forest floor. He sat with his back against the tree and put his head in his hands.

It wasn’t just his thirst and the cold that had made him briefly consider Zed’s offer. The man was right. Other than running, he had no idea what he was doing out here. He had no plan, no goal other than to avoid capture. He needed shelter. He needed water. After that, he’d need food.

His best bet would be to pick a direction and start walking. But, it was dark, and, even if it hadn’t been, he had no compass. He’d read somewhere that most people lost in the woods end up walking in circles in the direction of their dominant hand, all the while thinking they were going in a straight line. Maybe he'd compensate by veering slightly to the left? But how far?

He sighed and rubbed his temples. He didn’t buy what Mason said about this place being inescapable. The man had been raised by Zed, after all. Who knew what kind of crazy his head had been filled with? That said, this forest must be pretty vast if Mason had never reached the edge of it in his wanderings.

And, if it was possible to walk out, what was Zed still doing here?

Frank sat like that for a long time, until he saw the faint glow of light over the horizon. At least he knew which direction was east. Assuming the sun rose in the east in this weird place.

Even with the sun rising, he felt no great desire to move. He’d lost all sense of direction. If he started walking now, he’d be just as likely walking toward Mason’s cabin as away from it. Maybe that would be a good thing. Maybe he should take advantage of his invisible state, head there, and grab some supplies.

As the sun rose, Frank noticed a sound rising with it. It was a strange sound, a cross between a hum and a chirp. It was a rapid sound and it came from multiple directions.

He knew what made that sound, but he wasn’t afraid. He clutched the Cassandra lock tight in his hand and visualized himself locked away from the Larvae.

He sat silent as the hum to his left grew louder. He concentrated on remaining quiet. A small black sphere inched into sight. It crawled out of the undergrowth less than three feet from his left foot.

The way the creature moved reminded him of a snail. It compressed its body toward its forward-most end and then expanded forward. This method of movement was painfully slow, and Frank sat transfixed watching the thing’s persistent, methodical movement.

When it was almost past him, the creature paused. Frank watched it, wondering what it would do next. The Larva shivered and its long strands of thick fur rippled. Then, though it made no perceivable movement, Frank sensed it turning. He was sure it was looking at him.

The creature compressed and stretched, inching forward. But it wasn’t moving past Frank now. It was creeping toward him.

Frank’s pulse quickened. He tried to reassure himself he was safe, that the Larva couldn’t possibly have seen him, that something else had triggered its sudden change in direction.

As he watched, the creature’s fur gradually straightened outward, until its body was covered in spike-like appendages.

He staggered to his feet, cursing himself. He’d waited too long. Sure, it was moving slowly now, but, from what Mason had said at the stream, they had the ability to move much more quickly.

Why had he assumed his lock would protect him from these creatures? How could he assume anything in this bizarre land? Zed had called it his own place, after all.

Frank could almost see the wide smile that would be on Zed’s face when he found Frank’s bones, the flesh stripped away by the Larvae.

Or would he stay invisible, the Cassandra lock clutched in his hand as his remains turned to dust over the centuries?

Frank didn’t want to think about it.

What he did next came from habit. He did what he’d always done in the Away when he needed to distract the Ones Who Sing. He whistled, long and loud, the tune that summoned the Unfeathered.

The reaction was instantaneous. The Larva began to shake, but not like it had before. There was a fury in its movement. It had moved slowly and deliberately before; now it began to roll haphazardly this way and then that way. It changed directions suddenly and launched itself toward Frank’s face. It whirled through the air like a buzz saw.

He had just enough time to throw his arm up to protect his face before the creature reached him, burying its long spiky appendages into his arm.

CHAPTER SIX: THE BROKEN WORLD

1. Rook Mountain

Sean was driving home from a movie in Elizabethton when he decided to swing by Christy Havert’s house. Something about the message on the tree called to him. It was stuck in his mind. Maybe the Tool it referenced was the hammer, and maybe the him it referenced was Zed. But what was the book? Was it the notebook he’d found in the Beyond Academy? Or was it something else?

He felt like if he could see it again, maybe it would make more sense. Besides, the Haverts’ house was only a few blocks out of his way.

The movie had been a dud, filled with giant robots, explosions, and action scenes that cut so fast it made his head hurt. Maybe he’d gotten old over the last eight years. This was his first time seeing a movie at the theater since the Deregulation, and he had a feeling it might be his last for a while.

Wendy had some PTA function, so he flew solo. He was hoping she’d call him when she was finished and maybe they could get together for a late night drink or something.

He slowed to a roll as he reached the house. There it was. The tree with the words carved into it. Even in the dim glow of the streetlight, he could make them out a little. Not well enough to read them though.

Had it said, Use the Tool and the book to bring him home, or, Use the book and the Tool to bring him home? It probably didn’t matter, but he thought he might as well check since he was already here.

Something about this whole thing bothered him. He needed to talk it out with someone he could trust. He texted Wendy: Can you stop by my house when you’re done? I want to chat about the tree.

He got out of the car and walked toward the tree, but something else caught his eye before he reached it: the front door to the house was open. And it was dark inside.

He felt a buzzing in his pocket. His cell phone was ringing.

He looked at the illuminated screen, so bright on this dark night the people across the street could probably read the words ‘Private Caller’. He stabbed the answer button and held the phone to his ear.

Before he had a chance to say hello, the voice on the other end of the phone said, “Officer Lee! What brings you to the Havert residence this fine evening?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. He’d known who it would be the moment he saw the blocked call.

“You watching the house, Colt?” As he asked, he spun around, looking for a parked car the kid could be hiding in. Of course, he could easily be inside the house.

“This is actually super convenient. I was planning to have to go hunting for you, and here you are.”

“Here I am,” Sean said, still turning in a circle. “And where are you?”

Colt chuckled. “We found your card in the house. Mrs. Havert was a little reluctant to talk about you. We had to ask both her and her husband quite a lot of times. Thankfully, we didn’t have to resort to asking the kid. They’re here with me now. Want to talk to them?”

“Colt, stop for a second. Think about this. You’re holding an entire family against their will. This is a whole lot worse than throwing a brick through a car window.”

“Officer, we’re talking about Regulation Breakers here. Not regular people. But you know all about that, don’t you? She told us about the hammer.”

“Think really hard before you do something you can’t take back.”

There was a long pause. “I have thought hard. That’s why I’m doing this. I’m not a sheep who follows whatever government happens along. Not like you.”

Sean gripped the phone. Best to let the kid think he was in control here. Which, if Sean was being honest, he’d have to admit was totally the case. “So what do we do?”

He could almost hear the kid’s smile when he spoke. “In just a minute, a car’s gonna swing by. You get in the car and tell the driver where to go to get the hammer. We already searched your house.”

Sean’s mind was spinning fast. What was his best chance to help the Haverts? Should he get in the car? Or should he run and get help?

“After you get the hammer, you’ll bring it to me. When it’s in my hand, I’ll let them go.”

Sean took a deep breath and thought about the woman who lived in this house. “Okay. I’ll take you to the hammer. But how do I know you’ll let the Haverts go? You gotta give me something here.”

“Give you something?” Colt sounded genuinely surprised. “I’m giving you the Haverts. I’m letting them go. Do you understand how much I’m giving you by doing that? They’re Regulation Breakers, and they deserve to die.”

Sean tried to think of something else to say to buy a little time, but a car rolled to a stop in front of the house.

“Looks like you’re ride’s here,” Colt said. “I’ll see you soon.”

Sean heard Colt hang up. He took a deep breath and got in the car.

2. Sanctuary

Sophie stood in front of the door, the key in her hand. Once she opened the door and crossed the threshold, she’d be breaking one of Sanctuary’s rules. She’d be subject to possible banishment. And she sure as hell didn’t want to spend the next thousand years as a tree.

But in spite of the risks, she knew she had to continue.

It had been a week since the banishment. A week since she’d borne witness to Vance’s terrible transformation. A week since the message on the tree had changed everything.

Use the Tool and the book and you can bring him home.

The message had been simple enough to figure out. The Tool referred to the compass. Rodgers had told her that’s what the objects with the broken clock symbol were called. And the book could only be the one Jake kept locked in his office. And him…that was no doubt in her mind that referred to Taylor.

She wasn’t a killer, as much as she tried to convince herself she was. But maybe she could take Taylor back to justice like the message said. Maybe she could get home and see Taylor punished.

She’d known what she needed to do almost immediately, but it took her a few days to work up the nerve.

When she overcame her internal resistance, she took the compass, feeling its cold weight in her hand. She pressed the broken clock symbol on the back of it and thought as hard and as loud as she could, Spare key to Jake’s office.

It had taken a minute. At first the needle only quivered a little. But Sophie thought harder, so hard she felt a sharp pain behind her eyes, and even then she didn’t stop.

The needle had swung suddenly and stuck on a spot. Sophie followed the needle into Jake’s home, and, after confirming he was in his office, upstairs to his bedroom. The spare key was hidden in the bed frame under the box spring.

Next she had to wait for the opportunity. She couldn’t hang out at Jake’s house, watching his office door all day without arousing suspicion. Thankfully, she had another plan: she’d watch Logan instead.

Sophie wasn’t the keenest observer of human nature, but she certainly wasn’t oblivious to it. Either Jake and Logan’s undercover affair was something everyone pretended not to notice or they were all too wrapped up in their own drama to see the obvious.

But Sophie had noticed. She’d seen the way they were careful not to look at each other. The way they sat as far away from each other as possible at every group event. The way Logan disappeared and made overly elaborate excuses for her absence.

Sophie certainly didn’t begrudge them their secrets. It seemed odd that they were keeping it under wraps, especially since they had a child together. But maybe they craved the excitement of an illicit affair. Sophie didn’t know the reason, but she was glad for it. It would give her the chance she needed.

She’d watched Logan’s cabin, hoping to see her leave at an odd time. Today, it finally happened. Nate showed up and took Mason somewhere, and Logan had left. Right in the middle of the day.

Sophie headed to Jake’s five minutes later and lurked in the woods near the house. Ten minutes after that, Jake walked out the door, and Sophie knew this was her chance.

She took a deep breath and slid the key into the lock, doing it slowly, feeling the key slide past each pin. When it clicked home, she turned the lock and stepped into the unknown.

She shut the door behind her, locked it, and breathed a sigh of relief. She’d done it. She was inside.

She looked around the sparse office space. A large desk made of dark-stained oak dominated the room. The desktop was clear. It was odd seeing an office without a computer. But what use would it be here anyway? It’s not like there was Internet access. Two large filing cabinets stood along the back wall. A small bookshelf sat in the corner, a few paperbacks lining its shelves.

Enough messing around. She needed to find the book, and she needed to do it quickly. She briefly considered searching the drawers, but why not automate the process? She pulled the compass out of her pocket, pressed its back, and thought book.

The needle spun immediately this time. She didn’t know if it was because she was closer to the object she was seeking or if it was because she was getting better at using the compass.

The needle pointed at a rusty old lockbox under the desk.

She approached the desk, her heart feeling suddenly larger in her chest. This was still the first step, granted, but if she had the book she might have a real shot at making things right. There was a way to get the book to take her home, she knew there was. Maybe Jake couldn’t figure it out himself, or maybe he didn’t want the rest of them to know about it.

Besides, Jake didn’t have the compass.

She pulled up the lid on the box. It came open with a loud squeak. And there it was. The book.

The cover was a dark earthy brown. She ran her hand across the leather.

She picked up the book with her free hand. Suddenly the compass came alive. The needle spun with a speed and fury she hadn’t seen before. She hadn’t even pushed the button.

She’d intended to stuff the book under her shirt and wait until she was safely back in her cabin before opening it, but the needle made her more curious. Was she imagining it, or was the needle in the back of her mind telling her to open the book? It felt the same as when she thought at the compass, but the other way around; it was as if the compass was thinking at her.

Before she even realized what she was doing, she set the book down on the desk. She put the compass next to it so both her hands would be free. She lifted the cover and opened the book.

There was a poem on the first page.

Upward, outward, always spinning,

Always singing, faceless grinning.

As they open, time will close

In a place without shadows.

The writing on the next page was small and the language was one Sophie had never seen. It was handwritten in a strange, slanted hand. The pages were thicker than they looked, almost as heavy as card stock, but they turned easily. On the next page, there was a pencil drawing of some sort of strange bird creature.

As she flipped through the pages, she noticed the needle of the compass slowing. She flipped a bit farther. When she was about a third of the way through the book, the needle stopped altogether.

The two-page spread was filled with drawings. Drawings of trees.

Sophie picked up the compass and moved it near the page. The needle shifted as she moved the compass back and forth, and she realized it was pointing to one particular tree.

The drawing looked no different than any of the others to her, but it was clear the needle was fixed to that specific tree. It hadn’t steered her wrong so far.

She felt that tug again in the back of her head. It was like a voice she couldn’t hear, a song she couldn’t hum, but it was there. She knew what to do.

She saw a shape in her mind. The top of the shape was the letter z and the bottom of it was a circle.

Sophie reached out and touched her index finger to the drawing of the tree. She felt a small shock, like static electricity. Touching the paper ever-so-lightly, she traced the shape from her mind onto the paper.

3. Sanctuary

It was daytime, so no one from Sanctuary was there to see it happen. The only witnesses were the trees and the Larvae.

Near the center of the forest, if the forest had such a thing, stood an especially tall tree. A tree Jake visited once a week.

All the trees in this forest occasionally shifted locations, but this tree often seemed to move deeper into the wilderness, like it was trying to get farther away from the little gathering of people who called themselves Sanctuary.

Most of the trees in the forest had counterparts, reflections, in other places. Places like Rook Mountain, Tennessee, King’s Crossing, Wisconsin, and Bald Crop, Colorado. These trees were something more than trees. They drew their water, their food, their lives, from multiple places at once. And multiple times. Their root systems stretched across the ages.

This tree was different. It stood in only one place. It didn’t span time nor space. But it too was something more than a tree. Or perhaps something less.

The change started with the branches at the top of the tree, the ones so high the Larvae on the ground couldn’t see them. They began to recede, draw in on themselves. It was like a time-lapse video of a tree growing in reverse.

Soon most of the branches were gone, drawn into the trunk, and the trunk too began to shrink. It compressed in quick, jerky motions, seemingly withering away. The rough, cracked bark softened and puffed outward.

When the tree had shrunk down to no more than ten feet tall, the trunk began to split, developing what were clearly arms and legs.

And then it was over. The Larvae on the ground looked on, frozen with what might have been horror or shock or awe. And there he stood, naked and shivering but a wide smile on his face.

Zed had returned to human form.

4. Sanctuary

Nate was on the ground, playing with Mason when it happened. They were building castles in the mud near the Welcome Wagon. Logan would probably kill Nate when her son came home covered in dirt. He smiled at the thought. Served her right, leaving him to play babysitter.

Truth was, he liked spending time with Mason. He felt sorry for the kid. No one his own age to play with. No playgrounds or swing sets. No G.I. Joes or Thundercats or whatever toys kids played with these days. The boy lived his whole life on the thirty acres or so that made up the Sanctuary. His parents rarely allowed him on the trails, even at night.

His mother tried her best, and she was a good mom in her own way. His dad was nice enough, but distant, his head always on the mammoth tasks he felt were his duty.

So, when Nate saw the mud puddle, it occurred to him that the boy had never had the opportunity to build a sandcastle. He’d decided that needed to be rectified immediately, even if it meant using alternate building materials.

The mud here was odd. It was sticky and thick and smelled strongly of decomposition. Nate didn’t mind, and he didn’t think the kid did either. The stuff packed wonderfully. They were building a castle that stood taller and had more structural integrity than anything Nate had built at the beach.

Mason had taken to it immediately. He was more focused than Nate had never seen him. He took over as the leader of the project without any discussion, planning each spire and moat, and directing—and occasionally correcting—Nate’s efforts. And, Nate had to admit, the castle looked pretty good for something made of mud.

“Hey,” Nate said. He waited until the kid broke his focus away from the mud castle before continuing. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Mason's face scrunched up and he tilted his head. “What do you mean? I’ll be a man.”

Nate felt a sudden sinking feeling in his chest. The kid had no idea what Nate was asking. He’d never been exposed to the concept of a career. Nate instantly regretted the question. It was a dumb question anyway, such old-world, pre-Zed, pre-Sanctuary thinking. What do you want to be? Like people’s jobs define them.

“Agreed, you’ll be a man. What I meant was, what job do you think you’ll want? Do you want to be a chef? Or lead an out team like your mom? Or run the whole show here like your dad?”

“My dad will still be running the show. My mom will still be leading out teams. And we already have a chef.” He paused for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. “Frasier is old as a goat, my mom always says. Maybe he’ll die and I’ll run the Welcome Wagon.” He turned back to his castle of mud.

The one thing Nate didn’t enjoy about hanging out with Mason was that the kid’s age made him think too hard about the future. Sanctuary was great for now. Jake had done an admirable job building the place from nothing. Not to mention the lives he’d saved. Every person here would be dead if it weren’t for Jake and his book bringing them here in their hour of need. But long term...that’s where things got dicey. Would they still be here fifty years from now, a new leader using the book and a whole new generation walking these trails?

Nate was one of the few, maybe the only one, who knew the scope of Jake’s plan, who knew there might actually be an endgame here, that they might not be stuck here for all of time. He knew their chances were slim, and hope was a frail thing. He mostly tried to put the distant future out of his mind.

He didn’t know how the rest of them, the ones without even that sliver of hope, coped. Maybe they were more optimistic than he was. Maybe they embraced the fact that they’d been saved from certain death and given a new life. Even if that new life could be tedious at times.

Mason’s eyes were focused on the in-progress tower that would serve as the castle’s prison. Without looking up, he said, “Leonard wants to talk to you.”

Nate twisted around and, sure enough, saw Leonard a ways down the trail.

In that glance, he knew something was terribly wrong. Leonard was likely the most easy-going person in Sanctuary, a gift that made him both a blessing and a curse to the community. He could be infuriatingly slow about things—things such as showing up for his shift on time. But his laid back attitude meant he was a nice guy to have around in a crisis.

Two things about what Nate saw now disturbed him: Leonard was pale as a ghost, and he was sprinting down the path toward them.

Nate struggled to his feet.

Leonard stumbled to a stop in front of Nate. “Oh, thank God.”

“What is it?” Nate asked. He tried to mask the concern in his voice, but he knew he had failed. His first thought was that another rule had been broken. Someone was hurt or even dead. His mind reeled in panic at the thought. There had never been two banishments this close together. He didn’t know if Jake could physically do it. It seemed to take him a longer to recover from each banishment now, and this one had hit him harder than most.

Leonard opened his mouth. No words came out, and Nate stood there for what felt like a minute staring into the thin man’s black gaping maw.

“Come on, out with it.”

Leonard shook his head. “I can’t...I don’t know how to say it. Let me show you.”

Nate nodded briskly, and then glanced back at Mason. “Is it safe to bring the kid?”

“I’m not sure...I’m sorry, I really don’t know.”

Nate groaned. “Mason, come on. We have to go.”

Mason didn’t look up. “I’m building my castle.”

“You can build it later!” The timbre of his voice surprised him. It was sharper than he’d intended. He sounded just like his own father had when he’d been angry.

Mason sighed and reluctantly got to his feet. He made a great show of brushing the mud off his hands. Nate put a hand on his back to guide him.

“Where we going?” Nate asked Leonard.

“Jake’s house.”

Nate kept Mason in front of him, and close. He had no idea what they were walking into and he wanted to be able to grab the kid if the need arose. Plus, Mason had a tendency to wander, and Nate didn’t want to keep looking back to see if he was still there.

Nate decided to try an alternate approach with Leonard. “So you were there? You were outside Jake’s house when it happened?”

“Yeah.” His voice was hollow. Nate realized the man was terrified. “I was walking and I saw him.”

“Him who?”

But Leonard would say no more. They passed the next two minutes in silence. Nate took a deep breath before rounding the curve that would bring Jake’s house into sight. He didn’t know what he’d see, but if it had spooked Leonard, it wasn’t likely to be pretty.

At first glance, he noticed nothing amiss. He’d expected something disturbing on a grand scale. Blood splattered everywhere or someone chopping up other people with an ax or something. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Then he saw a pale figure crouched by the side of the house.

He pulled Mason toward him and spun him around, looking him in the eyes. “Wait here. Got it?”

Mason nodded.

“I’m serious. Stay right here and don’t wander off no matter what happens.”

The kid nodded again.

Nate wasn’t sure of the man’s identity, but two things were very clear: the man was naked, and he was digging in the dirt. The man’s body was smeared with mud, and he was facing the house, giving Nate a clearer rear view than he appreciated.

Nate crept forward. When he was ten yards away, he said, “Excuse me.”

A low mumbling came from the naked man.

Nate took a step forward. “I didn’t catch that.” When there was no reply, he said, “What are you doing? You’re digging up the boss’s yard.”

This time he did hear the response. The voice was low and throaty, and it had a gurgle to it as if the man were drinking a glass of water while speaking. “I left something. Under the ground. In the dirt.”

Nate took another step forward. Was it possible Jake had brought this man over and forgotten to tell anyone? That could explain the confusion. “Okay. Maybe I can help. What did you leave?”

A strange, bubbling laugh came from the man. “There was so much of me down there. I was everywhere. I felt so much at once. All the bugs and creepy, crawly things. Some of them were bitey. And the water! I could pull the water right out of the dirt.”

The voice sounded suddenly familiar.

The man turned and smiled at Nate, revealing teeth caked with dirt. “I can’t do that anymore. I tried, I sucked the dirt as hard as I could, but it didn’t work.”

That was a smile Nate had seen before. The naked man was Vance.

Nate staggered backwards. “Vance, what happened?”

But Vance had turned his attention back to the black soil in his hands.

Nate marched back to Leonard. “What happened? Tell me everything.”

Leonard shook his head. “I- I don’t know. He just came out of the woods. I tried to talk to him, but he brushed past me. He dropped to the ground. He stuck his face into the dirt and started chewing.”

Nate’s head was spinning. How was this possible? No one had ever come back from banishment before. It was a one-way trip. What the hell was he supposed to do now? And where was Jake?

He took a deep breath. “Okay, listen. I need to find the boss. I want you to stay here with Vance.”

Leonard’s eyes widened. “You want me to what?”

Nate put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. Let him do...whatever he’s doing. And don’t get too close. Keep him in sight. Copy?”

Leonard nodded, eyes on his naked former friend.

Nate froze. What he saw drained the color from his face. Another naked, dirt-covered person was staggering out of the woods. This one Nate recognized immediately. It was Helen. Helen, who had been banished over a year ago.

“No,” Nate whispered. “No, no, no. This isn’t good.”

Leonard saw her too now. “Holy shit, Nate. What do we do?”

Nate didn’t answer. If these two were out, it stood to reason the others might be too. And if they were all out, that meant…

He grabbed Mason’s hand and sprinted down the trail.

5. Rook Mountain

Sean felt the cold metal of the kid’s gun pressing against his back. He took the hammer out of his closet, the same closet he’d kept the coin in for all those years. The door had one of Frank’s locks on it, so the Zed Heads wouldn’t even have known the closet was there when they searched the house.

Grant said, “Hold it up so I can see it.”

Sean held up the hammer, turning it so they could clearly make out the broken clock symbol.

A wide smile broke out on the other kid’s face. He was taller than Grant. Sean didn’t know his name and couldn’t remember ever having seen him before tonight. He supposed the kid had seen him, though. He’d surely been one of the creeps standing on Sean’s sidewalk that night when Colt came to talk. He might even have been the one who threw the brick through the windshield for all Sean knew. But, if Sean had to guess, he’d have said Colt probably reserved that honor for himself.

Grant took a step back, pulling the gun away from Sean’s spine. “Okay, we’re gonna walk to my car now. You first, me following. Go slow. If you don’t feel my gun on your back, that means you’re walking too fast. And if you’re walking too fast, I’m gonna shoot you.”

Sean glanced at the hoodie on the recliner. He’d left his Swiss Army knife in the pocket. Not much of a weapon, but better than nothing. “Mind if I grab my sweatshirt?”

The gun jammed into his back. “Yeah, I do. Start walking.”

Sean made his way out to the car, walking slowly and making sure his back didn’t lose contact with the gun.

The car was a newish four-door sedan. Sean wondered if this was Grant’s parents’ car, and, if so, how they would feel about it being used to abduct a police officer.

Grant opened the back seat door and waved him in. The tall boy slid in next to him, and Grant got in the driver’s seat.

“It won’t be long now,” Grant said. His voice sounded high and childlike. Sean wondered if he was trying to comfort Sean or himself. He actually felt bad for the kid for a moment, the way he was in so deep over his head. But only for a moment.

As they drove, Sean glanced back as casually as he was able, looking for headlights behind him. He saw none.

The car rolled to a stop on a darkened street in downtown Rook Mountain. A single streetlight illuminated a tree. The tree where he and Wendy had found the writing. A group of at least twenty teenagers stood on the sidewalk near the tree, waiting in the dark.

It suddenly occurred to Sean that he’d spent nine years successfully concealing his involvement in the Unregulated from Zed only to be brought down by a bunch of teenagers. Like a damn Scooby Doo villain.

Grant shut off the car. The tall boy got out, pulling Sean after him. Sean walked forward, the hammer in his hand, and made his way to the tree where Colt stood waiting for him.

Colt said, “What we’re doing here tonight will be remembered. They’ll write songs about it. I know you aren’t too psyched to be here, but soon you’ll understand you’re being given a great honor. A great privilege.”

Sean frowned. “Where are the Haverts?”

Colt ignored the question. “You spent nine years defending the Regulations. By all accounts, you did a good job. You weren’t a sadist like some of them, but you didn’t shirk from your duty either.”

Images flashed through Sean’s mind of the Regulations he’d enforced. Things he’d never told anyone, would never tell anyone. The things he’d done to protect the coin from Zed.

“It must have been tough for you too,” Colt continued, “going back to a pre-Regulation society. Throwing aside the world you’d been working so hard to build and pretending it never happened. In some ways, I think it was harder on you adults than it was on us. You have so much social pressure to conform.”

Sean looked at the kids standing around the tree. “I’m the one conforming, huh?”

“The point is, we don’t blame you. We know it’s not your fault, everything that’s happened. The media, the government, all the people who weren’t here, they’ll never understand what we went through.”

Sean sighed. He’d had enough of this. He was tempted to take a swing at the kid, but there were at least eight guns pointed at him, and those were just the ones he could make out in the darkness. “You want the hammer or not?”

Colt nodded toward the darkened pawn shop.

The door to the shop opened with a ding, and Christy Havert, her husband, and her little daughter staggered out. Two kids with guns came out right behind them.

Colt said, “Go. Don’t look back. Forget this ever happened.”

Mr. Havert nodded vigorously and led his family quickly down the street into the night.

The Zed Heads watched them go in silence. Then Grant said, “What if they go straight to the police?”

Colt snorted. “You think it matters at this point? By the time the police get here, it’ll be over.” He looked at Sean. “See? I keep my promises.”

Sean leaned toward the young man standing before him, hoping to find some humanity in him. “Let’s talk about what you want with this hammer. I know you think what you’re doing is right. You barely remember life before Zed.”

“Yes!” he said. “That’s what makes us strong. The good news is we have a chance to fix things, to put things back the way they should be. Right here. Tonight. We’ve been talking to Zed.”

Sean squinted at the kid. “What do you mean?”

“He’s trapped in another place. In a world inside a mirror or something. But we can communicate with him using this tree.”

“I saw the messages you carved.”

“Those are meeting times. But we didn’t carve them.”

Sean raised an eyebrow. “What meetings?”

Colt smiled. “You think something like a weak-ass mirror world can hold Zed? He can get out every once in a while, a little bit of him can anyway. He’s been coming to us. Giving us instructions.”

Sean wasn’t sure whether the kid was crazy or lying. But then he remembered the strange way the numbers had been carved on the tree, like they had been carved from within.

“Why you?” Sean asked. “Why not the selectmen? A couple of them are still alive.”

Colt shook his head. “Their time’s over. They failed him. It’s our time now. And we proved it to him. He told us there was a tree in this town with a message about a Tool carved into it, and he told us that’s where we’d find the hammer. We combed the city for days, but we finally found it. Bit of a shame that you found it first. The timing couldn’t have been better, though.”

He gestured toward the tree next to him. “We have someone watching this at all times, looking for new messages from Zed. I believe you met Grant’s little brother the other day while he was on duty. Helps the younger kids feel involved. Anyway, a few hours ago that message appeared.”

Sean crouched and looked at the tree. The same dates as before were there, but now something new was below them:

The time is now—Open the door.

Colt’s voice was alive with excitement. “We’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. I never lost hope.”

The night air had a sudden chill, and goose bumps covered Sean’s arms. “What’s it mean? What door?”

Colt giggled. “It’s the tree! The tree is the door.”

Sean nodded toward the hammer. “Wild guess, but you use that to open the door?”

Colt shook his head. His smile seemed a foot wide. “No, silly. You do.”

Sean looked at the Tool in his hand. It suddenly felt heavier. “Seriously? After all that, you don’t want to be the one to do it? Or, one of your friends here?”

Colt scratched his head with the barrel of his gun. “Ideally, of course. But, well, to be honest, it was Zed’s idea. We don’t know exactly what will happen. You could get sucked into the door. Or the process could kill you. And Zed needs each and every one of us now. So few have been faithful. He can’t spare a single one of us in the fight that’s coming.”

Colt turned to the group. “Guys, as you know I’m not big on speeches. I wish I could talk like Zed, but I can’t. Thing is, tonight you don’t need me to.”

As Colt spoke, Sean’s eyes scanned the street. He saw something—no, someone—peeking around the corner, watching. He gritted his teeth. Dark as it was, he knew that silhouette.

It was Wendy.

Sean didn’t know how she’d found them, but he hoped she would stay hidden while whatever was about to happen here went down.

Colt continued. “You all know what’s at stake here. You know how hard we’ve worked. And you don’t need me to praise you. Soon enough, in a few minutes, you’ll be hearing the thanks of Zed himself.”

A rush of excitement so tangible it was like electricity shot through the crowd.

Colt pointed the gun at Sean. “Officer Lee, I need you to press the broken clock symbol and hit the tree with that hammer.”

Sean took a deep breath. He could act the hero and refuse. But that would only serve to get him shot. They would grab someone else to do it. Maybe it would even be Wendy. No, he wanted to play this out, see how it ended.

There was one thing Sean knew that these kids didn’t. Zed wasn’t the only one in that mirror world. There were allies there. Friends. Jake and Frank. If this would release Zed, maybe it would release them too. His finger found the broken clock symbol.

He pulled back the hammer and swung it forward hard, hitting the trunk of the tree with all his might.

The tree split with a deafening crash. A jagged crack appeared in the trunk, not unlike the crack depicted on the broken clock symbol, and brilliant white light poured through.

Sean blinked hard to clear his vision and then squinted into the crack.

“Get back,” Colt shouted, pushing Sean out of the way. The boy crouched in front of the crack and leaned close. “Zed,” he called. “We’ve done it! Come home!”

There was a moment of silence as the group waited. Then a small round creature sprang through the opening. It whirled through the air and collided with Colt’s face with a thick, wet thud.

6. Sanctuary

Mason clutched Nate’s big hand and struggled to make his short legs move fast enough to keep up. He didn’t understand where they were going and he didn’t understand why. It was always like that. No one ever explained anything.

Today had started out okay. Breakfast with mom. She’d seemed especially happy. She’d even laughed at his knock-knock jokes, the ones Frasier had taught him, and that rarely happened. Then she’d taken him over to Nate’s and dumped him off like she did every week or so.

There was nothing wrong with Nate. He was nice and a little funny, although Mason didn’t think he was trying to be. The best part was he actually liked playing with Mason. He taught Mason games like hide-and-seek and tag, and Mason taught him some of the games he’d thought up himself like stomp-the-Larva and pick-a-tree. So it wasn’t like he hated hanging out with Nate. He always had a good time. But it wasn’t as good as hanging out with Mom. Or Dad. Dad was busy, Mason knew, and he spent time with Mason as often as he could, but Mason couldn’t help but wish it happened more often.

Now here he was being dragged off to somewhere else.

Nate started down the short path that led to the cabin Mason shared with his mother.

“Are you taking me home?”

Nate’s face looked different than Mason had ever seen it. More focused somehow, more intense. “I don’t know, kid. I’m trying to find your mom.”

Mason’s face brightened at that. Though he realized a moment later he had no idea where his mom was, and Nate didn’t seem to either. Certainly she wasn’t at home or she would have kept him with her.

Nate pounded on the front door of the cabin for three minutes, but no one answered. He sighed and looked around. His face was sweaty, as if he’d been exercising or something. His eyes settled on the next cabin over. “Come on.”

He led Mason toward the cabin, once again setting such a brisk pace the boy felt like he was being dragged. This time when Nate knocked on the door there was an immediate rustling from inside.

“Come on, come on,” Nate muttered. When there was no answer, Nate pounded again, louder this time.

He was in the middle of his third round of banging on the door when it opened. And there she was.

Mason had seen Sophie a few times before. At the banishment, of course, and at a few gatherings at Dad’s house. He’d never forgotten the first time he saw her. Walking the trails with Mom. A rare treat, even if it was only at the edge of the woods. It had felt like the day couldn’t get any better, and he’d rounded the corner and seen her sitting on the porch of the Welcome Wagon next to Frasier. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. She practically glowed. He felt inexplicably drawn to her. He wanted to touch her cheek and run his fingers through her hair.

Her face was red now, like she was angry and she wore a jagged scowl. To Mason, it made her even more beautiful. She glanced down at him, and he thought his heart might burst.

She looked back at Nate. “Any reason you’re trying to bust in my door with your bare hands?”

“I need your help. Something’s happened, something bad, and I need to deal with it.”

“Care to be a little more specific?”

“No. I’m in a bit of a hurry here. I need you to watch Mason for a while.”

Mason didn’t dare breathe. Could this really be happening?

Sophie’s face drained of color, as if maybe she wasn’t quite as excited about the possibility. “What? No, you have to find someone else.”

Nate slammed his hand into the door frame. “You’re not listening. There’s no time to find someone else. I need to deal with this now.”

Sophie shook her head. “I never babysat. I didn’t have any little brothers or sisters. I wouldn’t—”

“Sophie! I don’t have time to discuss this. Take the kid, and I’ll send his mother to collect him as soon as I see her. In the meantime, give him a snack and play with him a little. I think you can manage.”

Without waiting for an answer, Nate stormed off, leaving Mason standing on the porch with Sophie. She rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands and let out a noise that sounded like a carefully concealed scream.

She gave Mason a barely passable fake smile. “Hey, look, I’m sorry about that. It’s not that I don’t want to hang out. I was a little busy.”

Mason said nothing. He was afraid he might start to cry if he spoke. And if he started, he would be so humiliated he might not be able to stop.

Sophie stepped aside, clearing the doorway. “You want to come—”

He brushed past her and went inside before she could finish.

The inside of the cabin was a bit of a disappointment. The open main area was bare except for a small kitchen table, a couch, a rocking chair, and a few lamps. He’d expected something more...girly. Abby watched him sometimes, and her house was all frills and fancy things. On the other hand, Sophie hadn’t been here long. And there was something kind of nice about the minimal setup.

And the place smelled like her.

He heard footsteps behind him and the click of a door shutting.

“You know what’s got Nate so worked up?” she asked.

Mason nodded. He was suddenly excited to have something to talk to her about. And this wasn’t some lame kid’s stuff either. This was an adult conversation.

“You know Vance? The one who got banished the other day?”

Sophie nodded.

Mason paused, drawing out the moment before he revealed all. “He came back.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He wandered into my dad’s yard like he’d never been banished. He was naked and dirty, like he’d been crawling around in the mud, and he acted like he’d lost his marbles. He was eating dirt.”

Sophie bent down and grabbed his arms. He felt the heat of her hands through his shirt. “Mason, has this ever happened before?”

He shook his head. “That’s why Nate was freaking out, I guess. Once you’re banished, you can never come back. My dad told me that.”

Sophie stood up. She wandered over to the counter as if deep in thought, and slammed her hand against it. She grabbed a small bag off the counter. She marched to the couch and pulled something out from under a cushion. Mason only caught a glimpse of it, but it looked like his dad’s book.

“What’s that?” he asked.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she slung the bag over her shoulder, crouched down next to him, and touched his arm again. All thoughts of the book melted away.

“Mason, we need to go somewhere.”

He nodded slowly.

“It’s in the woods.”

He looked at her questioningly. No way would his mom go for this. She very rarely let him walk in the woods, but only in the night when the Larvae were asleep. She didn’t even go in the woods during the day herself.

“I know it’s dangerous, but did you hear how I can kill the Larvae?”

He nodded. It had made him fall in love with her even harder.

“Then you know I’ll protect you.”

He paused for a moment. Going into the woods in the daytime frightened him, terrified him actually, but no way was he going to chicken out in front of Sophie. In an act of unparalleled bravery, he reached up and took her hand. His heart soared when she didn’t pull away. Even better, she squeezed his hand.

After this, a walk in the woods would be cake.

She led him out the door, and they walked down the steps hand in hand. She stopped at the trailhead and pulled a round, gold object out her pocket. She held it tighten in her free hand while she squeezed her eyes shut. He heard her mutter, “The message. Take me to the tree with the message on it.” Then she opened her eyes.

She groaned and shook the object in her hand. “Come on. What’s wrong with you?” She shook the object, squinted at it, and groaned again. “What the hell? Okay, take me to the Rook Mountain tree.”

She looked at the object and smiled.

“What is that thing?” Mason asked.

She paused for a moment and then brought the object down so he could see it. “It’s a compass. Ever seen one?”

He shook his head.

“You see that little needle? It tells you which way north is. On most compasses, anyway.”

Mason had never heard the term north, but he decided to let that go for now.

They walked the trail in silence. To Mason’s surprise, the walk went without incident. He’d imagined the woods during the day would be teeming with Larvae, so many you couldn’t take five steps without being swarmed by the creatures. But they’d been walking more than five minutes and hadn’t seen a single one.

No sooner had the thought entered his mind than he saw a black shape in the center of the trail. His body tensed and his feet refused to move.

“It’s okay,” Sophie said. “Stay here.”

She pulled her hand out of his cold, sweaty grip and took a large knife from her bag. Then she approached the creature casually, as if going for a morning stroll in Sanctuary. She wasn’t hurrying, but there was also zero hesitation in her walk.

When she was almost to it, the creature compressed, and Mason drew a sharp, terrified breath. His mom had taught him the behaviors of the Larvae. He knew they compressed like that before they attacked.

But it was Sophie who sprang into action. She lunged with her knife, diving at the thing on the ground and plunging her weapon into it. The creature melted into a puddle of black goo.

She wiped her blade on a nearby fern and dropped the knife in her bag. She nodded at Mason. “It’s safe now. Let’s go.”

Mason felt himself move toward her, his body on autopilot, his mind enthralled with what he’d seen. He’d heard what she’d done, but seeing it with his own eyes was something different. No one had been able to figure out how to kill the Larvae before Sophie came here. Not even Dad.

“That was amazing,” he said.

She took his hand and continued down the trail.

A few minutes later, they rounded a corner and Sophie put out a hand to stop Mason.

They stood at the base of a large tree with an especially tangled root structure. Sophie stepped off the trail, and Mason let out a soft, involuntary, “Eep!”

She wandered all the way around the tree, muttering a string of curse words, some of which the boy had heard before and others he thought she might be making up.

As Sophie rounded the tree and came back into sight, Mason saw her face was pale and her eyes were filled with tears.

“What is it?” he asked. “Was this what we were looking for?”

“It’s gone,” she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. “The message is gone.”

IN THE WOODS (PART SIX)

1.

Mason crept through the undergrowth, his eyes scanning the ground for Larvae and his ears alert for any sounds of movement that might give away his uncle’s position.

The frustration was like a cold ball of steel in his gut. He’d been waiting and preparing for this day ever since he was eight years old, and it wasn’t going well.

At first it had played out exactly as Zed had scripted it. He met his uncle and earned his trust like Zed asked him to. He genuinely bonded with the man. Yeah, maybe he told a lie here and there, but most of it had been true. The stuff that mattered. And then, at Dad’s house, something amazing happened.

It had always been the plan to enlist Frank’s help to find the book. Zed knew the Hinkles had a way of hiding things from him—he’d told Mason about how they kept the Tools from him, probably for years—and he was hoping Frank would be able to use that same technique to find the book. They planned on slowly introducing the idea and enlisting his help over the course of weeks. They discussed the possibility that the search could take years.

But all it took was a single glance.

How had Frank located it so quickly? Even though Mason was delighted, he was also annoyed his uncle did something in mere moments he hadn’t been able to do in years of trying.

Still, mission accomplished.

He led Frank back to his cabin, knowing full well Zed would be waiting for them. He felt a little bit of sadness that Frank had to die, that he’d only gotten to know his uncle briefly. But there was nothing to be done about that. None of it was his fault. He was standing at the end of a long line of dominoes, watching them fall. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for the mistakes of his father. And his mother. And especially that woman, Sophie.

He remembered the crush he’d had on her and how she’d been the first to take him into the woods in the daytime. And he remembered the sharp, bitter pain in his heart when he learned she’d killed Dad. When he realized she’d betrayed them all.

And now Uncle Frank, the first blood relation he’d seen in over fifty years, had to die in order for Zed to make things right.

But they hadn’t considered the possibility Uncle Frank would be able to hide not only physical objects, but himself, too. Impossibly, he even managed to hide from Mason’s compass. The needle spun and wobbled with uncertainty when Mason tried to make it locate Uncle Frank.

The compass had never failed him before and its inability to locate Frank had his stomach in knots.

He looked up toward the tree to his right, the one he thought of as the King’s Crossing tree, and the one ahead of him, the Bluff Haven tree. These trees had been in the same position for days now. Things weren’t moving around as quickly as they used to. Not nearly as quickly as they had when he was a boy.

He glanced down at the compass. Almost there.

He walked fifty more feet to the base of the Bluff Haven tree. He pushed aside the ferns and opened the chest. He had similar caches hidden throughout the woods. With Larvae, you could never be too careful. He made sure he always knew the location of the closest chest.

He looked at the contents of the chest and considered his options. He’d need the .38. He strapped the pistol to his side.

With his gear in place and some extra ammo in his pocket, he closed the chest.

He was ready.

He didn’t like what he had to do. He’d rather have gotten to know Frank a little more. There were so many things he would have loved to ask him. But Zed needed Mason to do his duty.

Frank was blood, but Zed was family.

A scream rang out through the forest, and Mason knew it was Uncle Frank. He turned and ran in the direction of the noise.

2.

Frank screamed as the creature buried itself in the flesh of his forearm. It hit hard and stuck there like a dart thrown into a dartboard. He reeled, and his back slammed into the broad trunk of the tree behind him. He let out a groan as the creature squirmed, digging its quills deeper into him.

He shook his arm hard, trying to dislodge the Larva, but he only succeeded in increasing the pain tenfold. Waves of agony raced up his arm. He forced himself to be still, and he took a deep breath. Then, twisting it so the creature was against the ground, he slammed his foot against the Larva and pulled his arm away hard. It detached with a wet sound.

Frank yelled in frustration as blood poured from his arm. The creature compressed itself, preparing to launch back at him. He staggered to his right, hoping to duck around the tree.

A figure raced out of the undergrowth toward him. Mason.

The man held a pistol in his hand. Ignoring Frank, he stopped three feet from the creature, took a moment to aim, and fired. The gunshot echoed off the trees and bounced around in Frank’s head. The Larva deflated and dissolved into sludge.

“You have no idea how difficult that shot was.” Mason grinned at Frank. “That’s two you owe me.”

Frank was no longer holding the Cassandra lock. He cursed silently. He must have dropped it during the struggle. His eyes scanned the ground and he saw a flash of metal near Mason’s right foot.

Mason squinted at Frank’s arm. “Geez, it got you pretty good. I’ve got medical supplies back at the cabin. Had to learn to patch myself up. I’m not bad at it, if I do say so.”

Frank cradled his injured left arm. The amount of blood pouring out of it was alarming. Both his hands were slick with the stuff now.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mason. Not the way you’ve taken up with Zed.”

Anger flashed across Mason’s face. “You’re mad I took up with Zed? Does that offend your delicate sensibilities? I was a child. He took care of me. What would you have done?”

Frank took a step back. He didn’t like the way Mason was waving that gun around.

“I don’t blame you,” Frank said. “You did what you needed to do to survive. But things are different now. I’m gonna find us a way out of here.”

Mason chuckled. “I met you like twelve hours ago. I’ve lived here my whole life and you think you can just find a way out? If it was possible, I would have found it. Or Zed would have.”

“I found the box. How long were you looking for that?” He let the question hang in the air a moment before continuing. “Look, I get it. I’m just some guy you met a few hours ago. But I’m asking for your trust. Family’s important to me. That’s why I came here in the first place. And I’m good at finding my way out of these situations. I’ve done it before.”

Mason shook his head. “You’ve never been here before.”

“No, but I was in the Away. Zed sent me there. And he said it was impossible to escape. But I did it.”

Mason paused for a moment and then shook his head “No. You don’t know what it’s like here.”

Frank smiled weakly and held up his shredded arm. “I’m learning pretty quickly. Look, Mason, I need your help here. Turn around and walk away. You never saw me. I promise I won’t leave this place without you. I’ll find a way out, and I’ll come get you. We’ll leave together.”

A scene flashed through Frank’s mind: introducing Mason to the family back in Rook Mountain. Christine, this is your sixty-year-old stepson. He didn’t even want to figure out what Mason’s relation to Will would be.

“That won’t work,” Mason said. “Zed wants you dead, but listen. I think I can talk him out of it. Let me take you back to the cabin. I’ll see to your arm and we’ll talk about Zed.”

“I’m not going back there, Mason. That man wants to torture me, and I’ve experienced his brand of torture before. I didn’t much like it.”

Mason raised his gun. “Then I have to kill you.”

Frank grimaced. “How do you think Zed’s gonna feel when he finds out you killed me before you found out where I hid the box?”

“Fine. I won’t kill you yet. I’ll shoot you somewhere painful. Like the kneecap.”

“And then what? Carry me back to the cabin? See, the only way you can get me there is if I come willingly. And that ain’t happening.”

Mason sighed. “You’re starting to remind me more of my dad.”

Frank nodded toward the gun, still pointed at him. “So are you. He was a stubborn son of a bitch, wasn’t he?”

Looking at Mason, with his cold eyes and his ragged clothes, Frank couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. If what he’d said was true, he’d grown up alone except for occasional visits from a madman. What must that have been like? Frank had experienced a taste of something similar when he’d been in the Away with the Unfeathered and the Ones Who Sing, but at least he’d been an adult. To experience all that isolation, the constant threat of violence, as a child must have been horrible. And to have lost his family, too? Mason surely knew more about fear and grief than Frank ever would.

A stab of pain shot through Frank’s arm and he cried out.

Mason shook his head, his face drawn with what looked like genuine concern. “Please. Let me help you.”

“You heard what Zed said earlier about torture. The best way to help me now is to leave.”

Mason’s face hardened. “Fine. Then we wait.”

“For what?”

“For Zed to arrive. Or for you to bleed out. Whichever happens first.”

“Really? And how’s Zed gonna find us?”

“This is his place. He won’t have much trouble in that regard.” He looked at his compass and smiled. “It won’t be long now. I asked the compass to locate him for us. The needle ain’t moving, so he’s either standing still or heading straight for us. And Zed doesn’t stand still. Not when there’s work to do.”

While Mason was speaking, Frank noticed a dark shape on a branch behind Mason. It was one of the Larvae.

Frank ran a hand through his hair, considering the risk involved. He didn’t want anyone to die. He fully intended to keep his promise to find a way out of here, and he intended to take Mason with him. But that couldn’t happen if he was being slowly sliced and diced by Zed, or, worse yet, sent back to the Away. He had to get out of here, risk or no. For his sake and for Mason’s.

Frank took a deep breath and began to whistle.

Just like before, the Larva reacted to the whistle like it was being zapped with a kiloton of electricity.

“What the hell?” Mason asked. The creature contracted one final time and launched itself into the air. It rose in a high arch unlike anything Frank had seen the creatures do before. Mason glanced at Frank, then turned his gaze upward toward the creature. His eyes grew wide. As it descended, he flung himself backwards.

But it wasn’t enough. The Larva buried itself in his shoulder. Mason released a guttural howl of pain, but he didn’t stop moving. He pulled a hunting knife out of his belt and brought it up hard, stabbing the creature.

It may have been Frank’s imagination, but he could have sworn he heard a tiny squeal as the knife pierced the Larva.

It all happened fast, but it was enough time for Frank to act. He dove at the ground and scooped up the Cassandra lock. He squeezed it in his hand and willed himself invisible to Mason.

Mason yanked out the knife and the remains of the creature dripped off his shoulder. “Uncle Frank! Don’t do this!”

Frank couldn’t wait any longer. He planted his feet and delivered an uppercut that had all his weight behind it.

Mason careened backwards and fell to the ground.

Frank put his foot on his nephew’s chest, pushing his body flat. Then he leaned down and yanked the gun away. He paused for a moment, then took the compass out of the stunned man’s other hand.

Mason screamed in frustration.

Frank picked up the lock box.

“You’ll never survive,” Mason said. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to do what I just did? You’ll never figure out exactly where to hit them.”

Frank backed away, resisting the urge to respond.

“I tried to help you.” Mason’s voice came in a breathy moan. “Whatever happens next, don’t forget I tried to help you!”

Frank staggered away, deeper into the forest. He didn’t dare stop for fear of the Larvae, but he stuck the gun in his belt and the compass in his pocket and pulled off his shirt. He wrapped it around his injured arm as tightly as he could, hoping it would be enough to stop the bleeding.

When he was confident he’d secured the shirt, he pulled out the compass. He gripped tightly, pressed the broken clock symbol, and thought, Safety. Take me to safety.

To his relief, the needle spun immediately.

He followed the direction of the compass for ten minutes until he reached a cabin. The exterior was almost hidden with ferns and moss. It looked a lot like Mason’s except for the foliage.

He cleared the overgrowth away from the door and went inside.

It was musty and dim in there, but it was empty. He carefully searched the house until he was confident there were no Larvae inside. Then he found a spot where plenty of light was coming through a window. He took the lock off the box and pulled out the book.

His heart sank when he saw the text in the book was written in a strange language he couldn’t identify, an odd combination of hieroglyphics and tiny slanted scribbles.

There has to be something in here that can tell me about this place, he thought. The compass was still in his other hand, and the needle spun wildly at the thought.

He looked at the compass for a moment and then began turning pages. He was nearly to the end before the needle began to slow and finally stopped.

The words on the page were handwritten in a sloppy, hurried cursive. But it was English. And it was legible.

Frank began to read.

CHAPTER SEVEN: ALWAYS SPINNING

1. Sanctuary

Sophie gripped Mason’s small hand in her own and stormed down the trail, so angry she could hardly see straight. The message on the Rook Mountain tree—Don’t trust them Sophie—was gone. As if it had never been there.

The moment she saw the pristine, unmarred bark of the Rook Mountain tree, she’d known she’d been incredibly stupid, and that her stupidity and the return of a recently banished person to Rook Mountain were not unrelated.

All the messages. They’d been, what? Tricks? A way to make a naive woman follow orders?

All this time, she’d considered herself so smart. She’d thought she knew what was best. But now she knew the truth. She’d been used.

And below anger there was something else. The sinking feeling that not only had she been tricked, but that the trickery had resulted in something awful. That her actions had brought about consequences she didn’t want to think about.

Mason was quiet, his wide eyes fixed on her face. For that, she was grateful. She needed to think. The path back to Jake’s house was blissfully free of Larvae but also cruelly short.

They rounded the bend into the clearing and nearly collided with Logan. She dropped to her knees when she saw Mason, her face awash with relief. She pulled him into a tight hug, and the boy let out a surprised squeak.

Logan looked up at Sophie. “Thank you. I was so worried.”

Sophie nodded. “Where’s Jake? I need to talk to him.”

Logan nodded toward the house. “There’s a bunch of them up there. Planning what to do. This is jacked up, Sophie. I don’t know what caused this, but I’ve never seen Jake this scared. He’s all panicked. I think we have to prepare for the worst.”

“What’s the worst?” Sophie asked.

“Mommy,” Mason interrupted. “Sophie took me into the woods. She killed a Larva right in front of me. It was so cool!”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “You took my son into the woods? During the day?”

Sophie withered under Logan’s accusatory gaze. It was almost more than she could handle right now. Besides, she didn’t have time for this.

“I’m really sorry,” Sophie said. “I need to see Jake now.”

“Wait,” Logan yelled as Sophie brushed past her, but Sophie ignored her and kept moving.

There were eight of them in the living room when Sophie arrived. Jake and Nate were huddled close together in the corner, deep in conversation while the rest of the group chatted nervously among themselves. There was Leonard. And Frasier. And Gail and Evan, who Sophie thought might be a couple, but she’d never gotten around to asking. And another man whose name she couldn’t remember. And Taylor. Of course, Taylor would be there.

Sophie scurried through the group towards Jake.

“Hey, we need to talk,” she said.

He glanced up at her. “Good. Glad you’re here. Most of us haven’t actually killed Larva. We’re gonna need you.”

“Yeah, before that though, there’s something we need to discuss.”

Jake smiled a nervous smile. “I agree. That’s why we’re all here.” He looked at the group. “I know some of you have seen some scary things in the past couple hours. And those of you who haven’t have at least heard about them.”

“Is it true Vance came back?” Gail asked.

“Yes, it is. And not just him. All of them. All the banished.”

A terrible moan rolled through the group. Even though some of them had seen it, it hadn’t been real until they heard their leader confirm it in his own voice. Sophie felt a cold lump in her stomach. This was all her doing.

“They were wandering around Sanctuary,” Jake continued. “They seemed confused. Then, a few minutes ago, they wandered back into the woods.”

The door opened, and Sophie saw Logan and Mason squeeze into the room.

“There are still a lot of questions,” Jake continued. “Let me tell you what we know. In the last few hours, someone broke into my office and stole the book. Then this person used it to reverse all the banishments.”

“Why would someone do that?” Evan asked.

“That’s a good question,” Jake said. “A better one is how they did it. They would have had to find a way into my locked office. But it’s even more troubling that they knew how to use the book. It took me years to figure out how it worked. And they released all those people in one fell swoop. That isn’t an easy task. It would take a deep understanding of the book.”

Logan’s voice came from the doorway. “Look, I don’t want to minimize anything, but what are we talking about here? Twelve people? And from what I hear, they aren’t armed. They’re wandering around the woods naked. Let’s round them up.”

A murmur of approval ran through the group.

“Two things about that,” Jake said. “First, and less importantly, these people didn’t come back right. Nate saw Vance eating handfuls of dirt. We don’t know what they’re capable of. We have to be cautious.”

Logan said, “Seems to me their craziness could be a help rather than a hindrance. If they’re eating dirt, it should be easy to outsmart them.”

“There is a bigger problem,” Jake said. “I banished one person most of you don’t know about. To fully understand how dangerous he is and how careful we need to be, I need to do something I probably should have done a long time ago. I need to tell you about my past.”

So he did. He told them about Rook Mountain, and about the Tools. He told them about the Unfeathered and about the mirror. But mostly he told them about Zed. About the man who couldn’t be killed and wouldn’t be stopped. The man who always wore a smile as he twisted minds and manipulated people into hurting each other.

To Sophie, some of it was familiar. She’d read the reports along with everyone else when Rook Mountain had changed that day in March. But some of it was new. Like his explanation of the Tools. Sophie felt the metal of the compass growing colder in her pocket as Jake talked about the powerful objects with the broken clock symbol and about the terrible things Zed had done to acquire them.

“Zed arrived here at Sanctuary about a year and a half after I did. I’d spent that time living alone. I’d learned enough about the book that I was able to pull the items I needed through the trees. Things like food and clothing. The book was slowly revealing its secrets to me. The first time I opened it, it all looked like nonsense, but the words were gradually changing to English, as if the book was learning to trust me. By the time I had fully understood one section, a new section would reveal itself. It was a long, slow process, but it seemed like the book always gave me exactly what I needed to survive.”

He paced as he talked. The group had withered back from him now, giving him room to expose his past. “I had just read the section on how to develop the forest by transforming a person into a tree. Then Zed appeared. It was sheer luck that I found him the way I did. He was confused and angry. And he was injured. I didn’t wait. I didn’t try to talk to him. Instead, I went right to work. And it was a good thing I did. By the time the banishment was underway, his head was already clearing, and he was speaking coherently. He told me how this was his place. How he’d made it and he couldn’t be defeated here. He tried to take the book from me. He said it was his. But by that time, it was too late. He was already transforming.”

Jake stopped pacing and looked out over the group. “And that was that. He was just another tree in the middle of the forest.”

The room was silent for a long time. Then Nate spoke up. “You gonna tell them the rest?”

Jake paused for a long moment and then nodded.

“My goal was always to find help for my family. To save them from Zed. Now that I’d trapped Zed, I wanted to get back to them as soon as possible. And before long, the book showed me how.”

He marched to the window and pointed at the forest. “Many of those trees are more than what they seem to be. Many of them are doorways. They lead to all sorts of different places and different times. Using the book, I can open the doors and pull people through, which is how all of you came to be here. But it doesn’t work the other way. I can’t send anything from here to there.

“I could watch my family using the book. I could see every breath they took, the food they ate, every kiss they exchanged. But I couldn’t send them a simple note. I couldn’t touch them or be with them or even let them know I was still alive. I had given up. I decided to stop torturing myself and vowed to stop watching them. The book showed me another way. Using the book, I could open the doors the rest of the way and it could be used both ways. But there was a catch.”

“There always is,” Logan muttered.

“It was an all or nothing type deal. To open one door, I would have to open all of them. And that would release the banished. It would mean Zed would be free, and he’d be able to travel to any of the hundreds of times and places the trees led to. Including Rook Mountain. I couldn’t afford to take that risk.”

“Is that what happened today?” Sophie asked in a shaky voice. “Someone opened doors the rest of the way?”

“I don’t think so,” Jake said. “They reversed the banishments, but the doors are still closed. For now anyway. Who knows what they have planned next.”

“So when you figured out about the door, that’s when you decided to stay here?” Logan asked, her voice an impatient rush. “Forever?”

Nate and Jake exchanged a glance.

“It started out like that,” Jake said. “I intended to live out my life here in the woods. But then, once again, the book showed me something new. It taught me about the trails.”

“They weren’t here when you got here?” It was Taylor who asked that question.

“They weren’t. It was my greatest frustration, the way the forest was always shifting. The book taught me how to cut trails that would limit the movement of the trees. But there was a problem.”

“The trails had to be walked,” Logan said.

“Exactly. And there was something else. The book suggested that if the trails were deep enough, they might allow me to isolate certain parts of the forest and open some doors without opening all of them. So I cut a trail that would, if it were deep enough, allow me to open a door to Rook Mountain without freeing Zed.”

“Wait.” There was more than a hint of anger in Logan’s voice. “You’re telling us you brought us here as slave labor? So we could walk your trails and help you escape?”

Jake looked her in the eye. “Yes.”

The group was stone silent.

“Of course,” Logan said. Her voice was venom. “You always intended to go back. To hell with the rest of us. As long as we did your work for you.”

“You know it’s not like that,” Jake said.

Nate said, “Listen, we’d all be dead if it weren’t for Jake. We all came here voluntarily. We all said the word. He didn’t pull in anyone who didn’t say the word.”

“Wait a minute,” Sophie said. “If you couldn’t get anything back, not even a message, how did the Sanctuary legend start exactly?”

“I didn’t create it. It already existed.”

Sophie scratched her head. “The story I heard was that the legend never existed before Rook Mountain went out of time and came back.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” Jake said. “Look, the reason I am telling you about this is that Zed’s out there now. He’s free. And he’s gonna be pissed. He wants the book, and he’ll kill all of us to get it.”

Sophie thought for a long moment, her backpack clutched to her chest, before speaking. “Is there any way to stop him?”

Jake sighed. “Maybe if I had the book. But even then, we don’t know how to find him. He’s got every advantage. He’ll try to destroy us.”

Sophie slowly unzipped the backpack, feeling each tooth of the zipper release as she went. She wasn’t looking forward to this, but it was something she had to do.

She pulled out the book and the room gasped. She held the book out to Jake. “I’m sorry. I was looking for a way out of here. And one of the trees had writing on it, and it seemed like it was talking to me.”

Jake took the book, his face pale.

“She broke into your office. She put us all in danger.” Sophie didn’t even have to look up to recognize her friend’s voice. It was Logan. “She has to be banished.”

“There’s more,” Sophie said.

She held up the compass, its back facing out so Jake and Nate could see the broken clock symbol.

“Good Lord,” Nate groaned.

“Damn it, Sophie, where’d you get that?” Jake asked.

“It came over with me. It belonged to this guy who pushed me off a building. That’s how I got here, by saying Sanctuary while I fell. He had this compass. I grabbed it from him while we were falling.”

Jake’s jaw was set like stone. “We have to hide it. We have to hide both these things. Who knows the damage Zed could do with one of them, let alone both.”

A murmur of agreement rolled through the group.

“Okay, here’s what we do,” Logan said. “We all hunker down here at the house and defend our position.”

Nate shook his head. “I don’t think you understand Zed. Assuming he has all his powers back, he could materialize in the middle of this house at will. If we try to hide this stuff, he’ll torture the information out of us. Or, even easier, he’ll read our minds.”

“Then let’s not wait here,” Sophie said.

Logan scoffed. “No one wants to hear from you, traitor.”

“No, I’m serious.” She held up the compass again. “We can use this to find him. It can find anything. And we have the book. Jake, you can turn him back into a tree.”

All eyes were on Jake now.

“Maybe.” He spoke slowly, his eyes distant. “But, look, it’s not as easy as you make it sound. The book’s getting harder and harder for me to use. It’s like it’s wearing me down.”

“You got any better ideas?” Sophie asked.

Logan frowned at her across the room. “Kinda mouthy for someone who may have gotten us all killed.”

It was quiet in the room for a long moment. Finally, Jake said, “Sophie, come with me. Nate, go warn the others. Logan, you’re in charge of the defense here.”

“Wait, you can’t go off with her,” Logan said. “We can’t trust her after what she did.”

“All the more reason to keep her with me.”

“Then let me come with you. You need someone to watch your back.”

Jake put a hand on her shoulder. “Our son needs you here. I’ll be okay. If all goes well, we’ll be back in no time.”

Logan reluctantly agreed.

Jake dropped to one knee and gave Mason a tight hug. Then he stood and headed for the door. He didn’t look back. He didn’t need to; Sophie was right on his heels.

Sophie followed him, working her way through the group. When she was almost at the door, she felt a shoulder bump against her. She looked up and saw Taylor.

She froze, returning his gaze with an icy one of her own. From a certain perspective, all this trouble was his fault. She’d done it all, all the stupid mistakes and missteps, so she could bring him to justice. If she’d succeeded, at least she’d have something to show for this mess she’d made. And here he was, scowling at her, alive and free.

But maybe it didn’t have to be that way. Maybe she’d been over-complicating this all along. He was standing right there, his shoulder touching hers. And there was a knife hanging from her belt. A knife she was not unskilled in using. She could finish this right here and now.

He squinted at her as if reading her thoughts. “Don’t you think you’ve caused enough trouble already?”

“Sophie!”

She looked up and saw Jake at the door, glaring back at her.

“Let’s move.”

She nodded and followed Jake, not daring to look back at Taylor, afraid she wouldn’t be able to control her knife if she did. She marched toward the door.

They were about to exit the building when the attack started.

2. Rook Mountain

At first, Wendy hadn’t understood what she was seeing when she spotted the three men.

She’d gone to Sean’s house, just as his text had asked. She’d parked across the street and gotten out of her car. Then she saw three men come out of his house. In the darkness, she only recognized one of them. Sean. He was carrying the hammer. The other two appeared to be teenagers. They were leading Sean down the sidewalk at gunpoint.

It had to be the Zed Heads.

She slipped quietly back into her car and fished her cell phone out of her purse. She dialed 911 and told the operator Officer Lee had been taken hostage and that she was following the perpetrators. The operator had urged her to stay calm and to keep her distance.

Wendy followed the car when it left Sean’s house, staying on the line with the 911 operator the whole time. When they reached downtown and pulled over, Wendy knew exactly why they had picked this location. She politely relayed the address and hung up the phone over the operator's protests.

She didn’t care. She wanted to get closer. She needed to know what was happening. So she exited her vehicle and trotted around the block to the closest corner to the Zed Heads, where she’d be able to see them and even hear some of what they said while still being able to hide when the need arose.

She watched them, peeking out around the corner as far as she dared. At one point, she was almost certain Sean saw her, but she didn’t think the rest of them did. She tapped her foot nervously as she waited. The police would be arriving any minute, but would it be soon enough?

Then Sean hit the tree with the hammer, and a beam of white light poured out of it. And the next thing she knew, Colt was screaming.

She couldn’t help it. The responsible adult in her, the part that had been a school teacher for fifteen years, the part that held her genetic wiring to protect children, was too strong. She ran around the corner toward the scream.

Grant raised his gun and fired at the creature attached to his friend’s face. The bullet ricocheted off the thing, and Wendy gasped. Whatever the creature was, it was apparently bulletproof.

Wendy’s eyes frantically scanned each of the kids, making sure the bullet hadn’t hit anyone. Everyone but Colt appeared unharmed.

She stopped five feet away from Colt, halted by the gruesome sight. A strange black ball covered with two-inch spikes was embedded in the upper half of his face. His mouth was uncovered, leaving his scream of pain and terror unmuffled. The upper half of his face, including his eyes and nose, had to be ruined. The strange ball was wedged too deeply and too much blood poured out around it.

The ball gave a quick shudder and let out a tiny squeak. Wendy had the nauseating realization this thing was alive.

Colt reached up and grabbed the thing with both hands and pulled, trying to get it off. It didn’t budge, but Wendy could see from the way the muscles on Colt’s arms stood out that he was pulling hard. Suddenly, the spikes covering the creature grew an inch longer. Colt’s screams started anew as the spikes impaled his hands and, Wendy had to assume, dug deeper into his face.

The group of teenagers was frozen with horror and revulsion. Sean took a hesitant step toward the boy, his hand raised. What exactly he intended to do, Wendy didn’t know.

As he was still reaching out, a sudden noise filled the air, and the hairs on the back of Wendy’s neck stood on end. Her first thought was, the Unfeathered, but this was something else. This song came from a dozen places at once. This song had words.

“Why have you brought the little one to this place? This bad, bad place.”

“What the hell is that?” Sean whispered.

She followed his gaze up the street, hoping to see police cars. Instead, she saw a large black mass swirling through the sky. She squinted at it, trying to make out some form in its ever-changing mass. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw it was moving toward them.

The mass suddenly jumped fifty feet backwards in a second. It paused and began moving toward them once again.

“This is a bad place,” the many voices repeated. Somehow they seemed like they were coming from everywhere at once. “You shouldn’t have brought the little ones here.”

Colt’s screams had mellowed into a series of agonized moans. Two of the Zed Heads ran over to help him. The rest of them had their eyes on the black shape.

“Little ones?” Sean asked. “What are they talking about?”

“I don’t know,” Wendy said. “But I think we need to get out of here, like right now.” There was a tickle in the back of her mind, as if she were missing something. The voices had said ‘little one’ the first time. The second time they’d said ‘little ones’.

Suddenly, it clicked. She looked down and had to suppress a scream. One of the round creatures was on the ground near Sean’s feet. It was quivering and drawing in on itself, making itself smaller.

“Sean, look out!” she yelled.

He turned in the direction she was pointing and then yelped and jumped back. But he wasn’t fast enough. The creature launched into the air, its spikes extending as it went, spinning in a crazy spiral toward Sean’s face.

He swung the hammer wildly and somehow managed to hit the creature mid-air. Wendy had no idea how he did it. He must have been operating on pure instinct. When he connected, a loud snapping sound split the air.

The creature fell to the ground and lay still.

Wendy squinted at it. “Sean, look. You cracked it.”

A long jagged crack zigzagged down the side of it. As they watched, the crack grew wider, then wider still.

“You don’t think—” Sean said, but he never got to finish the thought. The creature cracked in half like an egg. Something slipped out of the shell and glided into the air. It was like a shadow, and its form shifted and flowed like water as it moved skyward.

“What the hell is that thing?” one of Zed Heads asked.

Wendy shot the kid a look. “You idiots brought us out here. You tell us.”

The shadow creature spun around them haphazardly.

“A new voice for the song!” The black swarm moving toward them was going faster now, and there was excitement in their voices.

The shadow creature made a tentative, soft try of its voice. “Hurts...time hurts.”

The other voices answered quickly. “Do not try to speak alone, little one. Join the song. Join and we will take you to a place with no time. A good place that does not hurt.”

Still the solo shadow spun and wobbled through the air.

Wendy realized Colt was still whimpering. He’d fallen to his knees now. His hands were still impaled on the creature’s spikes. The tattoo on the back of his right hand had a spike sticking through the middle of it. His friends looked on helplessly.

Wendy said, “Sean. Use the hammer.”

A crooked smile grew on Sean’s face. “I’ve wanted to hit that kid with a hammer for a while now.”

He swung and connected dead center. Colt let out his loudest scream yet, and Wendy felt a twinge of sympathy. That couldn’t have felt good. The creature split down the middle, and Colt groaned as the shadow creature wormed its way out.

“Hurts,” the new arrival said. “It all hurts.”

The two halves of the shell fell off Colt’s face. Wendy had to look away from the mess of puncture wounds and oozing liquids that had once been his eyes and nose. The boy fell to the ground, moaning.

Suddenly, another sound split the air. A sound that made Wendy’s heart soar. Sirens.

Two police cars skidded around the corner five blocks away and sped toward them. Wendy wasn’t exactly sure why the sight made her so happy. After all, what exactly were a few cops going to do against the abominations that were circling overhead? Or the mass of black shapes coming out of the hole in the tree?

She didn’t know. But the normalcy of police answering the call, of officers of truth and justice coming to her aid, made her feel better. Of course, she’d had an officer of the law here with her the whole time, and he was doing a mighty nice job with that hammer.

But the police cars weren’t the only ones racing toward them. The dark mass of clouds had almost reached them now. “We can help, little ones. We will stop the pain.”

“Officer Lee!” one of the Zed Heads shouted, pointing at the door in the tree.

Wendy glanced down. Three more of the creatures had slipped through onto the pavement while they had been distracted.

“Damn it!” Sean shouted. He swung his hammer, striking the three creatures in quick succession. Soon three more moaning shadow creatures were slipping out of their shells and rising up to join their brothers.

The black mass was circling now, and the voices were still singing. “We will help you. We will stop the pain.”

The discordant newborn shadow creatures were singing too. “It hurts. The seconds hurt. They bite as they pass.”

Then Wendy noticed something even stranger than the creatures above her. The pitch of the police sirens was lowering. She stared at the police cars, and she could have sworn they were traveling much slower than before. Barely moving, actually.

The breath caught in her throat. “They’re stopping time. These creatures are taking us back out of time.”

“No, no, no,” Sean said. Four more of the round creatures had passed through the gate. Sean went at them one by one. The sky over their heads darkened as the number of shadow creatures grew, blotting out the moon and the stars.

One of the shadow creatures brushed past his hand as it escaped its shell, and Sean cried out and dropped the hammer. Blood began to seep from a large cut between his knuckles.

The creatures overhead spun faster and faster. “Time hurts, little ones. It kills all things. But we are not of time. It is not our master.”

Wendy reached down and scooped up the hammer. The creatures were coming through the gate faster now.

“You have to press the broken clock symbol when you hit them,” Sean said. He gripped his hand, applying pressure to the wound.

Wendy nodded. She pressed the symbol and swung the hammer. It landed with a satisfying thud, and a crack ran across the creature. She found another creature and swung again. And again. They were passing through the gate in the tree almost nonstop now. She could keep going forever, and she wasn’t sure if they would ever stop.

One of the Zed Heads, Wendy thought it was Megan Hassle, ran forward and kicked one of the round creatures, then cried out in pain as she got a foot full of spikes.

At least she was trying, Wendy thought. The rest of the Zed Heads stood dumbly, looks of terror on their faces.

Something new caught Wendy’s ear. Something she hadn’t heard in months but would always recognize. The song of the Unfeathered. At the same moment, she realized she no longer heard the police sirens. She glanced over and saw them standing still, less than a block away.

“There, little ones. Your pain is over. You are home.”

Wendy looked at Sean, and she saw her own terror reflected in his eyes.

The shadow creatures had done it. Time had once again stopped in Rook Mountain.

3. Sanctuary

The window next to the door shattered, and a Larva flew through the air, spinning and sending a stream of glass shards in front of it.

Sophie had been observing the Larvae for weeks now. She’d killed dozens of them, most of them during the daytime when they were at their most active. But she’d never seen any of them move like this. Usually the creatures spun through the air at a fairly slow rate, using the unpredictability of their flight patterns to cause confusion. But this one was moving like a fastball right down the middle. There was no curving or twisting as it sped toward its target, which appeared to be Nate.

He dove to his left, sliding face first onto the floor. His desperate dive worked, and the creature sped past him. The victory didn’t last long, though. The creature turned a quick button hook before reaching the wall. It again headed straight for Nate, who was now defenseless on the floor.

The one dodge had given Logan the time she needed to regain her battle sense. She had her hunting knife in her hand, and as the Larva careened past her, she stabbed at it, landing a deadly-accurate blow in just the right spot.

The creature deflated, and tar-black sludge oozed down Logan’s knife. She flicked her blade, sending the thick liquid splattering to the floor.

“How many of you are armed?” Logan asked.

Only Leonard and Sophie raised their hands.

Logan glared at Sophie. “Yeah, you would be.”

The words hurt, but Sophie tried to let them roll off her back.

Logan turned to Jake. “I doubt that will be the last. We need weapons.”

Jake nodded and pulled a key out of his pocket. It looked exactly like the one Sophie had in her own pocket. He unlocked his office and threw the door open. “There are knives, guns and a few other things in the cabinet on the left. Take whatever you need. Sophie? Let’s go.”

The others looked at each other, shocked at the invitation.

“You aren’t gonna...banish us if we go in there?” Leonard stammered.

Jake smiled weakly. “Not today.”

Logan nodded toward the office. “You heard the man. Get your asses in there.”

The men hustled to the office.

There was a crash as another Larva smashed through a window. This one buzzed toward Sophie. She cleared her mind, forgot about Taylor, Logan, Jake and all of it, and acted on instinct. When the creature was almost to her, at the last possible moment, she dropped to the floor. As it whizzed over her head, she stabbed upward.

The blade sank to the hilt, and a stream of black sludge hit Sophie in the face. She spat and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

Logan didn’t even try to suppress her smile.

The group emerged from the office. Each person carried a pistol and knife. Taylor held an ax.

Nate handed a pistol to Logan, then said to Leonard, “You come with me. We’ll round up the others.”

Logan said, “The rest of you, let’s circle up and figure out a defense strategy.”

Another creature buzzed through the broken window next to the door. It headed for Logan, but Jake turned without waiting around to see how she dispatched it.

“Sophie, let’s go,” he said.

She gave a quick nod and spat again. Her mouth tasted like an oil refinery.

Jake hustled to the door. Sophie slipped her backpack on and quickly followed. Jake threw the door open and then froze, causing Sophie to slam into his back. She leaned to the side to see what had stopped him.

A naked, dirt-smeared man stood in the doorway. His dirty blond hair was long and unkempt. A Larva perched on each of his shoulders, and he held another in each hand.

“Simon,” Jake said.

The man’s only response was a sick, gurgling moan. Faster than Sophie would have thought possible, the man Jake had called Simon brought up his left hand and slammed the Larva into Jake’s belly.

Jake grunted and fell backwards, clutching his stomach.

Simon pulled back his hand and the Larva came with it. Sophie fought the urge to gag as she realized how the creatures were attached to him. Its spikes went clean through each of his hands. They were similarly impaled on his shoulders, and a thin greenish-red liquid ran down his arms and sides. Sophie wasn’t sure what the liquid was, but it sure didn’t look like human blood.

Sophie shoved Jake aside and brought her knife around hard, stabbing Simon in the neck. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Get out of the way!” Logan yelled.

Sophie staggered to her right, dragging Simon with her.

Logan fired. The room exploded with the noise of the gunshot and a bullet hole appeared above the man’s right eye. His head snapped back.

Sophie staggered backward as the sticky, not-quite-blood substance from the man’s head splattered onto her arms.

Simon paused for a moment and then shook his head as if to clear it. His eyes were now fixed on Logan. He began walking toward her.

Logan fired again, once again landing a clean head shot. This time the man paused only a moment before staggering forward.

She fired again. And again. It barely slowed Simon.

“Damn it!” Logan shouted. “Anybody want to give me a hand here?”

Jake lay on the ground, clutching his stomach. “Kill the Larvae first. Then subdue him.”

Logan paused for a moment, then gave a quick nod and pulled out her knife.

Sophie yanked her knife out of Simon’s neck. She thrust the knife back at him, stabbing the Larva on his right shoulder. Logan took out the one in his right hand. Frasier came forward and took care of his left hand.

Sophie killed the final Larva and nodded at Frasier. “Nicely done, old man.”

He smiled. “I learned from the best.” Then, as if suddenly remembering her new traitor status, he quickly looked away.

Sophie turned to Jake. “You okay?”

He grunted and pushed himself to his feet. “Yeah. It’s not deep.” He held up a hand covered in the blood that had leaked from his wounds. “Just messy.”

Simon threw a wild punch at Logan. She easily deflected it. “Not so tough now, are you?”

Sophie noticed Mason peeking around his mother, his face pale with fear.

Jake’s eyes searched for a frantic moment before resting on Mason, who was huddled behind Logan. Relief washed over his face. “You two okay?”

“Yeah,” Logan said. “But what do we do with Simon?”

Jake shook his head. “I don’t know. He doesn’t die easy, that’s for sure. Maybe we lock him in my office for now? Then we can gather all the others, make sure everyone’s safe and—”

A loud whining noise from Simon cut Jake off. The naked man’s head was thrown back and his arms were stretched out at his sides.

The sound pulsed in Sophie’s ears like a painful drum.

“What the hell are you doing?” Logan yelled at him.

Sophie heard a chirping noise behind her and glanced over her shoulder. Two Larvae were rolling as fast as bowling balls. Another two flew through the air.

“Look out!” she yelled. She rolled to her side as quickly as she was able, and she felt a breeze as the Larvae sped past her.

The two on the floor leapt suddenly, impaling themselves on Simon’s palms. The two in the air collided with his shoulders, taking the place of the ones Sophie had killed.

This time, the group moved as one. Logan took the left hand, Frasier took the right, Sophie took the one on the left shoulder, and Leonard dispatched the Larva on the right shoulder.

Simon was now streaked with the sludge left behind by the creatures. He snarled and threw back his head again.

Logan leapt at him, tackling him to the floor. She held his inky-black-smeared shoulders to the ground. He snapped at her with his dirt stained teeth. Her hands were barely out of his mouth’s reach.

“We can’t let him make that noise again,” Logan said. “Bullet to the head didn’t work. How about we try taking the head off altogether?” She looked at Taylor. “You mind?”

Taylor raised the ax over his head. For a terrible moment, Sophie was sure he was going to bring the ax down on Logan. It took everything she had not to stab him.

He brought the ax down hard, burying it in Simon’s neck. The man’s head rolled onto its side as it separated from his body. It came off a bit too cleanly, more like splitting wood than hacking flesh.

“Nice shot,” Logan said.

Taylor nodded.

They all waited in silence, watching the body for any signs of life. After a full thirty seconds, Nate said, “Well, that seems to work.”

“Yeah,” Frasier said. “Now if we can get them to all lie down nicely, they shouldn’t be much of a problem.”

Sophie took a deep breath. Her heart was still racing. Just when she’d gotten used to taking on the Larvae, here came the zombie plant monsters.

“How many of those things are there?” she asked. “How many more people have you banished?”

Jake glanced out the door. “Eleven. Not counting Zed.”

“Great,” Sophie said. “As long as they keep coming one at a time, we can handle them.”

“Don’t forget lying down nicely,” Frasier said.

“Actually, that does raise a question.” Nate glared down at the body. “Did Simon wander in here? Or was he sent?”

The room considered that in silence for a few moments. Then Jake said, “Nate, you know Zed better than anyone. Is such a thing possible?”

Nate thought about that for a moment. “On normal people, probably not. He can dig around in their heads, and he can manipulate like crazy. But he can’t actually control a person’s mind. These guys seem to be damaged though. So it’s certainly possible.”

Logan shook her head. “I don’t buy it. If he’s controlling them, why not send them all at once? There’s no way we could stand up to all eleven.”

Sophie said, “Unless he’s trying to distract us. Or keep us busy.”

Jake struggled to his feet. “Either way, we need to stick to the original plan. Sophie and I will go take care of Zed. Nate and Leonard, you knock on doors and let people know what’s going on. I don’t want anyone killed in their sleep by one of those bastards. Logan—”

“Yeah, I know.” She clutched her gun with one hand and ruffled her son’s hair with the other. “Protect the home front.”

Jake nodded. “Maybe you all should hole up in an interior room. There’s the bathroom upstairs. No windows.”

Logan grimaced. “That’s a damn tight spot. If a couple of those things come calling at once, we could be cornered.”

Jake put his hand on her shoulder. “Okay. It’s your call. I trust you. I know you’ll protect Mason no matter what.”

She smiled. “You better believe it.”

Jake scooped Mason up in a giant bear hug. The kid looked a little dazed, but he hugged his father back and smiled. “I love you, kid. Listen to your mother.”

“Okay, daddy.”

“See you soon.” He set Mason down and then nudged Sophie. “Break out the compass.”

Sophie fished the compass out of her pocket, pressed the broken clock symbol, and thought of Zed. The needle moved immediately. “Got him. Let’s do it.”

Nate and Leonard followed Jake and Sophie out of the house. The two groups split at the path.

Jake patted Nate’s shoulder. “Stay safe.”

Nate nodded. “I appreciate you not asking, boss.”

“Not asking what?”

“Whether you can trust me now that Zed’s free.”

Jake said, “No need to ask.”

The groups went their two separate ways, one toward the cabins of Sanctuary and one toward the man who called himself Zed. Five minutes after they had left Jake’s house, the next wave of attacks began.

4. Sanctuary

Jake marched down the trail. He hadn’t even glanced at Sophie in five minutes. All these years, all the sacrifices he’d made, first coming here, and then capturing Zed. Deciding to live here forever rather than risk letting that madman loose on the world. Then realizing there may be a way home. Building the Sanctuary. Constantly second guessing himself. The hours spent lying awake at night, wondering if he was becoming a new version of Zed himself, with his rules and his banishments. Finding comfort in Logan’s arms. Then breaking up with her. Then going back to her, over and over again.

What was it all for?

All he’d spent years building, and this woman had torn it down in less than a month.

“Jake,” she said. “I’m so sorry for taking your book. For all of this.”

He didn’t reply.

“You wouldn’t listen to me about Taylor,” she said.

“I told you the score right away. This is a place without shadows. Someone wants their past to be known, they have to be the one to share it.”

“He killed my sister,” she blurted out.

He flinched.

“He didn’t even know her. He picked her out at random and bashed her head in. Do you know what that’s like?”

Jake didn’t answer. He kept his eyes fixed on the trail.

“And you wouldn’t listen to me. You threatened me. And then there were these trees. Messages started appearing. Messages for me. They told me how to bring Taylor to justice. All I had to do was follow their plan.”

“Let me guess. The plan didn’t work out quite the way the trees promised.”

“I feel so stupid.”

He sighed. “Look, you’re not the first person Zed has fooled. He did it to my whole damn town. Got us to agree to everything he said.”

“Yeah, but you stood up to him.”

He shrugged. “Eventually. But that was my wife’s doing as much as mine. If it hadn’t been for her, I wouldn’t have had the courage.” His eyes scanned the trees, searching for more Larvae. Or more naked men wielding them. “I was there in the crowd on Regulation Day. I listened to Zed. I voted for his Regulations. So you could say I took the bait just like you.”

“So...you’re not mad?”

He glared at her. “Oh, I’m mad. I’m beyond mad. I’m furious. But I also need you. Zed took an interest in you, leaving you those messages. Say what you will about him, but he’s got an eye for talent. Nate was a dumb stoner when Zed found him, but Zed saw his potential. So I think you might have something Zed’s scared of. Or something he wants.”

“I do,” she said, and she held up the compass.

“That’s not what I meant. But that doesn’t hurt either.”

Sophie looked at the compass and frowned.

“What is it?” Jake asked.

“He must be moving. The compass is pointing to the left now.”

“There’s a fork up ahead,” Jake said. “That’ll lead us in the right direction.”

As they walked, Jake said, “Sophie, I have to tell you something.” He paused, but she didn’t respond. So he continued. “I don’t think I can do it.”

“Do what?”

“The thing we’re on our way to do. Banishing Zed.”

“What are you talking about? I saw you do it the other day.”

His feet suddenly felt heavy. It was like he was moving through knee-deep mud rather than over a beaten dirt trail. “I did it, but I had time to prepare. And it hurt. I was coughing blood for two days after that.”

Sophie’s brow creased at that, whether in concern or worry for her own safety, he didn’t know.

“The book wasn’t meant to be used by someone like me. A normal man. Or maybe it wasn’t meant to be used so often. Either way, it’s taking its toll. The words are getting cloudy. Harder for me to read. I’ll try my best. I’ll keep going until it kills me. But I’m not confident. I don’t know if I could banish a normal man in the state I’m in, and Zed, well, that nearly killed me the first time, when I was fresh and doing the things in the book came easy to me.”

“Then what the hell are we doing here? If you can’t do it, then let’s not do it. Let’s figure out something else.”

“What else are we supposed to do?”

Sophie bit her lip. “Show me how to do it.”

Jake shook his head.

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not that. It’s not exactly something I can teach you in ten minutes.”

“I did okay unbanishing everyone.”

“Don’t remind me. Besides, that’s different. It’s like...untying a knot versus tying one. You could probably figure out how to untie most knots. It takes practice to tie a perfect one, though.”

Sophie sighed. “So you can’t do it. And you won’t teach me to do it. Where’s that leave us?”

How could he explain to her everything he was feeling...the way he knew this would end? The inevitability of it all weighed on him. Maybe standing up to a force of nature like Zed had been a mistake all along. Who was he anyway to defy a being who could bend and twist the very laws of nature? Jake was just a man. And not a very good one at that. He’d lucked into some good things, sure, like his family back home and his family here, and he’d avoided prison unlike some Hinkles he could name, God bless them. But at the root of it all, he was an average man.

He flashed back to that riverbank in Rook Mountain where Zed had held the gun to his head that day so long ago, only hours before he’d crossed through the mirror and came here. Maybe he should have died on that bank. A part of him wished he had. This, having lived so many years and suffered so much, only to die at the hands of the same madman, seemed too cruel.

But then he thought of Mason. The accidental son he’d never meant to bring into the world. He thought of Logan and the strange, passionate, and wonderful relationship they shared. He thought of his unlikely friendship with Nate. And all the other relationships he’d had here in the place he’d built.

“I didn’t make up the name Sanctuary, you know,” Jake said. “It was already in the book. It was the secret name for this place. It was the book’s name for it. When I saw that, I knew what I needed to do. I needed to create a safe place. A place where everyone was welcome. What I said before about Zed? He looks for talent. He finds the best people and twists them until they’re doing his work and loving it. He finds the diamonds in the rough. But I wanted to be different. I took anyone. The book alerted me when someone was going to call for Sanctuary. It even allowed me to look at the person, to learn about them before I let them in. But I never did. Who am I to make that kind of choice? So I left it up to chance. I pulled people in at random. I never knew anything about them until they appeared.”

“And what about me?” Sophie asked. “You said you never pulled me in. How’d I get here? How’d it work for me?”

Jake shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe it had something to do with that compass.”

“Maybe.” She glanced down at it. “Turn right ahead. So what’s the plan? We hope he just stands there while you do your thing with the book?”

Jake couldn’t help but smile. “The man does love to talk, so we’ve probably got five minutes while he gets around to saying hello.”

He saw Sophie look down at the compass, then give it a shake.

“The needle,” she said. “It’s spinning like crazy.”

A cold sweat broke out on Jake’s skin. “We’re too late. He’s gone. He’s back in Rook Mountain.”

“You don’t know that. Let me try again.”

But Jake wasn’t listening. Something had caught his eye. There was smoke in the sky. It was coming from the direction of the cabins. The blood drained from his face. Mason. Logan.

“We’ve gotta go back,” he said. He pointed to the smoke rising from the forest.

Sophie gasped. “I’ll lead the way. The compass will show us the fastest route.”

They ran through the forest, sprinting down a winding trail until it spat them out of the woods in front of the Welcome Wagon.

Jake gasped when he saw the flames devouring the cabin. And it wasn’t just the Welcome Wagon. Judging by the pillars of smoke, at least ten other cabins were on fire.

“My God,” he said. “We have to get back to my house. Now.”

“Jake,” Sophie said. “Look.”

He turned back to the Welcome Wagon. There was a dark shape in the doorway. And it was moving.

A man stepped out of the house. He was covered in soot but appeared to be unburned. Like the other banished people they had seen, he was naked, but there were no Larvae perched on his shoulders or hands. He had long dark hair and a massive bushy beard.

“Is that Zed?” Sophie asked. Her voice was a choked whisper.

“No,” Jake said.

“Is it one of the people you banished?”

Jake shook his head. “I’ve never seen that man in my life.”

The man walked toward them. “Where is Zed?”

5. Rook Mountain

Sean clutched the cut on his hand and watched the hypnotic swirl of the shadow creatures spinning overhead. They had done it. They had stopped time. Anger and panic bubbled up inside of him.

A few of the Unfeathered streaked across the sky, but they seemed to be keeping their distance. Perhaps they were afraid of the shadows creatures. If so, it would be the first time Sean and the Unfeathered had agreed on something.

He tried to clear his head. It wasn’t the whole town. It couldn’t be. The police cars less than a block away were paused. It was just them. Alone. Cut off from the world. Him, Wendy, and a dozen zealot teenagers.

He turned to the Zed Heads, and yelled, “Is this what you wanted? Congratulations. Things are back to the good old days!”

They looked at him, their eyes wide, a bunch of scared kids.

Wendy yelled, “Watch out!”

He looked down and saw another one of the round spiky creatures near his foot. He jumped back. “Damn it! These things just keep coming.”

Wendy swung the hammer, cracking the creature in half. An image popped into Sean’s head of going to Chuck E. Cheese as a kid and playing Whack-a-Mole.

The shadow creature wormed its way out of the broken shell.

“The little one joins us! The little one!” The sing-song collective voices sounded excited now. They spun faster and faster.

Sean put his hand on Wendy’s shoulder. “They’re waiting. Waiting for us to crack more of those things and hatch their babies or whatever.”

“What do we do?” Wendy asked.

Sean shook his head. More of the round creatures were spilling through the doorway. If Wendy killed them, the population of shadow creatures would grow. They had already proven they could stop time. What would happen if they kept going faster?

Yet it wasn’t safe to let the creatures live either. Colt’s ruined face proved that. The boy lay on his side, curled in the fetal position and moaning.

“We need to run,” Sean said. “Get the hell out of here. Maybe the creatures will clear out on their own.”

He heard a crack as Wendy brought down the hammer, releasing another shadow. “You think time will start again?”

“I have no idea. But I think it’s our only chance at this point.”

Sean started to say something else, but then stopped. Something was approaching the doorway in the tree from the other side. Something much larger than the round creatures.

A dark figure filled the doorway and began to step through.

The Zed Heads murmured with excitement.

A girl Sean didn’t know knelt down and put her hand on Colt’s shoulder. “It’s happening. Just like he said.”

“I can’t see,” Colt said. “Tell me when he gets here.”

Sean drew a sharp breath as the figure stepped through the doorway. A familiar bald head emerged from the light, and then a long, well-muscled body. Zed.

He wore khakis that were a size too big and a worn tee shirt, a strange ill-fitting version of his usual attire. His face, arms, and feet were smeared with dirt. Even the teeth revealed by his wide smile were speckled with mud.

The Zed Heads gasped when he stepped onto the pavement.

“My faithful children,” he said. He looked at Sean and Wendy. “And you two. It’s good to be home. You won’t believe how I’ve spent the last few years.”

“Zed!” a girl yelled. “Look out! By your feet!”

Sean squinted at the creatures surrounding Zed.

Zed chuckled. He crouched down and ran his hand along the spikes of the nearest round creature. “The Larvae? No need to worry about them.”

Sean nodded toward Colt. “Tell that to your boy, here.”

Zed clucked his tongue. “That’s unfortunate. He probably spooked it.” He reached out a hand, and the creature on the ground leapt onto it. Sean could have sworn he heard the creature purr as it rolled up Zed’s arm and rested on his shoulder.

“They’re so easy to control at this age,” Zed said. “It’s later you need to worry…” His voice trailed off, and the smile melted from his face. He looked upward.

It was then Sean noticed the silence. The shadow creatures were no longer singing. They weren’t even spinning. They just hovered. It was as if they were surprised. Zed spoke again, quietly. “There’s no need for trouble here. Let’s all go our separate ways. You can return to your realm and leave this one to me.”

Sean realized he was addressing the shadows.

“It’s him,” the shadow creatures sang. “The one with the watch. He betrays. He hurts.”

Zed said, “We’ve been over that. I’ve made amends. Haven’t I helped? I provided a place for your young.”

“No amends,” the shadows said. “No amends!” Their voices were louder, so loud Sean wanted to put his hands over his ears. They started spinning now, and as they did they changed shape, forming into a funnel cloud.

“Go back to your own place,” Zed said, more loudly now.

“This is our place!” they roared.

Zed looked at the Zed Heads, and Sean saw something like love in his eyes. “I appreciate your sacrifice. If I knew how to survive them, I’d tell you.” He took another step backwards.

The girl who had warned Zed about the Larva spoke again. “What are you doing?”

Zed grimaced. “I’m going with Plan B.” He glanced up at the shadow creatures one more time. “I’ll send your young through the door. As many as I can. Think of it as a peace offering.”

“No peace!” the shadows wailed.

But Zed was already stepping backward through the doorway and into the tree.

“What’s happening?” Colt asked.

“He’s gone,” one of the boys whimpered. “He left us.”

Sean turned toward the Zed Heads and saw their faces fall as, one by one, they realized their savior had abandoned them.

“No!” Colt screamed. “That’s not possible. This is a test. He’s coming back for us.”

Sean couldn’t help it; he felt sorry for the kid. He’d been duped by Zed and his lies just like the adults had back in the Regulation days. Worse, really, considering he’d been brought up with Zed’s laws. He’d been faithful to what his parents, his teachers, and his town had taught him.

Another one of the creature Zed called the Larvae passed through the tree's doorway. Then another two, side by side. True to his word, Zed seemed to be sending them.

“Wendy, give me the hammer,” Sean said.

She put it in his hand.

He took a deep breath, pressed the broken clock symbol, and swung the hammer. It hit the doorway, and the hammer stopped like the door was made of rock, sending a jolt of pain up Sean’s arm. He swung again, harder this time, and he cried out in pain as the hammer hit the door. He could have sworn it felt a little different this time. Like there was a bit of give to it.

“What is the one with the hammer doing?” the shadows sang.

“Wendy, listen. Those things aren’t going away on their own. Not as long as their...Larvae keep coming through. I want you to take the kids and get the hell out of here.”

Wendy shook her head. “I’m not leaving. I’ll stay with you while you take down the doorway.”

He grabbed her around the waist with his free arm, pulled her close, and kissed her quickly but deeply. As they broke, he said, “Wendy, I love you, but that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Save these kids. Get out of here.”

She gritted her teeth and nodded. She gave him another quick kiss and turned to the kids. She pointed at the two largest boys. “You two, come help Colt. We’re getting out of here.”

The kids didn’t argue. The two boys hustled over and helped Colt to his feet, one supporting him under each arm.

Sean swung the hammer at the nearest Larva. He didn’t want to take another swing at the door until Wendy and the kids were clear. He had a feeling the shadows weren’t going to be pleased.

Wendy called back to him one last time. “Sean, do it quick and then run.”

He nodded. “I will. I promise.” Anything to get her moving. He wanted her safe. Her and those kids. That’s what he had to think about now.

There were six Larvae around his feet. He hit one of them with the hammer, but two more came through the doorway before the shadow even left the one he’d hit. He had to act now, or he might not be able to finish.

He swung again, putting everything he had behind the hammer. It hit the doorway, and a bolt of pain shot through his arm. Without giving himself time to think about it, he swung again.

“Stop!” the shadow creatures sang. “Let the little ones free!”

He tried to ignore their song, though it was so loud his ears rang and his head pounded. He swung the hammer again.

A sudden pain, like a dozen knives, shot through his right calf. He looked down and saw one of the Larvae buried in his leg.

There was no time to worry about that now. He swung the hammer again. This time, he swore he heard a crack as the Tool struck the doorway.

He cried out in pain and dropped the hammer as one of the Larvae crashed into his right arm. He wouldn’t make it much longer, he knew. He’d have to do this southpaw. He picked up the hammer with his left hand and swung again. And again. And again.

He could see tiny cracks spidering across the doorway now.

A Larva hit him in the lower back. He braced, willing himself not to fall. He knew if he did, he’d never get up again.

He swung the hammer again and again, making a little more progress with each hit. All the while, the shadow creatures were spinning faster and faster, singing more and more loudly.

He tried not to look around, tried not to notice the dozen or so Larvae around his feet. He could barely stand, and only three of them had attacked so far. How many more would it take to bring him down for good? He was all too afraid he knew the answer to that question: one. Or, none and a bit of time.

The creature on his back shivered, and Sean yelled in agony as the spikes covering the thing wedged themselves deeper in his flesh.

He took a deep breath and swung again. The cracks were spreading. It wouldn’t be long now, but how much longer did he have?

Another swing. Another bolt of pain running through him. Another encouraging spread of cracks in the door.

He pulled back the hammer. He’d give it everything he had this time, do everything in his power to make this swing be the last. But before he could bring the hammer forward, a Larva launched itself from the doorway. It came at him in an arch that seemed almost lazy, but that he was still unable to stop.

The creature hit him square in the throat.

He dropped the hammer and fell to his knees. He wanted to grab the creature and tear it off, but he remembered the way Colt’s hands had been punctured in a dozen places, and he forced himself not to touch the thing.

He concentrated on breathing. He was relieved to find he could still do so.

It was over now. He had failed.

He stayed there on his knees, his eyes growing cloudy. Everything in him wanted to lie down on the ground, but he was terrified of getting closer to the rest of the Larvae.

He heard a cracking sound, and he strained to see past the Larvae.

Wendy was swinging the hammer at the doorway. She looked back at him over her shoulder. He saw the pain and terror in her eyes, but she tried to keep her voice light. “The kids are safe. Now stay quiet and let me work.”

He watched, though it was getting more and more difficult to do so, as she smashed the hammer into the doorway three more times. On the fourth hit, it sounded like thunder and glass shattering. The tree split.

The doorway grew dark, now nothing more than a crack in a tree that looked charred, as if it had been struck by lightning.

But Wendy didn’t stop there. She hit the Larvae, one after another, taking the closest ones to her first and working her way outward.

Soon they were all gone. No, Sean remembered. Not all of them.

“This is probably gonna hurt,” Wendy said.

She started with the one on his leg. As the hammer hit, a stab of pain shot through his body like a bolt of lightning. Before the initial wave of pain had passed, she brought the hammer down again, this time striking the Larvae on his arm. Then the one on his back. Each blow was agony. Through the pain, he saw the shadows leak out each time the shell fell away.

Only the one in his neck was left now. She raised the hammer and paused.

“You ready?” she asked.

He wanted to yell hell no he was not ready, but he couldn’t speak. He could barely even move his head. Anyway, she wasn’t waiting for a response. She swung the hammer.

It felt like his windpipe was being torn out. It was the worst pain of his life. But then the shell fell away, and it was a bit better. The torture of the dozens of stabbing spikes was gone, but in its place, a dizzying amount of blood leaking out of him. He put his hands to his throat to try to stop it even as it poured down his chest.

Wendy stared at the shadows in the sky. “It’s over! That’s all of them! Now leave us be!”

“The little ones are home. They have joined the song. We will put you back in the river now.”

The shadows spun faster and higher, until they disappeared from sight.

The air filled with the sound of police sirens. Two cars skidded to a stop behind them, and four car doors were thrown open.

“Where are those kids?” one of the officers asked. “I just saw them, and then they disappeared.”

Wendy ignored them. She bent down next to Sean. “Hey, you’re gonna be okay. No way am I gonna let you leave me alone to explain all this.”

He tried to speak, to tell her he wasn’t sure she had a choice, but all that came out was a croak.

She put her hand on his cheek. “You did it, you know. You stopped Zed from coming back. You saved those kids.” She glanced down at the hammer in her hand. “Okay, maybe I helped a little. But you loosened it for me.”

His eyelids were getting heavy now. He smiled at her, trying to get his face to express what he couldn’t put into words anymore.

“Is that Sean Lee?” one of the officers asked.

“Ma’am, get away from that man!”

“Dispatch! We’ve got an officer down!”

Sean knew he only had moments left. He’d lost far too much blood already.

The voices blurred together. His vision was narrowing now, but he focused on her face. He concentrated on her eyes. He looked into them for as long as he could, until his own eyes closed. The pain faded, until it was like a distant speck of light. Then the world went dark.

6. Sanctuary

“Where is Zed?” the man with the beard asked.

Sophie nudged Jake’s arm. “You sure you don’t know this guy?”

Jake’s eyes didn’t leave the man. “Pretty damn sure.”

The man kept walking toward them.

“Sophie, give me the book,” Jake whispered. “Now.”

She fumbled with the zipper on the backpack. She got it open wide enough to shove her hand inside and grab the book, then yanked it out and tossed it to him.

The man looked at Sophie and tilted his head, as if seeing her for the first time. “You’ve done well.”

“What does he mean?” Jake asked.

Sophie shook her head. “I have no idea.”

Jake suddenly thought of Carver, poor one-armed Carver. He’d been staying in the Welcome Wagon. “What happened to the man who was in the house?”

“He’s still in there,” the man said. “I made sure he couldn’t leave after I started the fire.”

Sophie gasped.

“You started all these fires?” Jake asked, a quiver in his voice.

“Yes.”

“Why?” Sophie asked. “Why would you do that?”

The man shrugged. He was looking past them into the trees. “People aren’t needed here. I don’t like needless things.”

“Who are you?” Jake asked.

The man looked at him, and Jake could feel that stare, like a hot thing burning into him. “I’m your better. Where is Zed?”

Jake opened the book and flipped through the pages. This would hurt. Usually he spent a day or so preparing his mind for the task. He’d only done it once before without the preparation, the time he had banished Zed, and that had hurt him. But there wasn’t time to think about that now.

The bearded man squinted at the book. “How did you get that? It doesn’t belong to you.”

Jake ignored him and concentrated on the page in front of him. Usually, he could see the shape he needed to trace on the page, but it was fuzzy now, like it was hiding from him. He concentrated harder, willing his mind to see what he knew was there.

“How many?” Sophie asked in a brash voice. She was trying to distract the man, Jake realized. Trying to buy him a little more time to do what needed to be done. “How many people did you kill?”

Jake thought he had the shape now. He was almost certain he could see it. He set his finger on the book and began to drag it across the page. He grunted in pain and surprise. It felt like a razor was cutting into his skull. It had never felt like this before. But he had to keep going.

The man’s voice sounded bored when he answered Sophie’s question. “All of them. I killed all the ones in the cabins. I will kill the people in the big house after I find Zed.”

“No!” Sophie screamed, and Jake pulled his eyes away from the book and looked at her. She had her gun pointed at the man.

The bearded man moved toward her with freakish quickness, caught her by the throat, and held her at arm’s length, staring at her like she was an unidentified substance on the bottom of his shoe.

Jake turned back to the book. It was Sophie’s only hope now. He worked faster, dragging his finger across the page. It was more difficult than it had ever been. Every millimeter of progress sent waves of agony through his brain. He felt wetness on his neck and realized both his ears were bleeding.

The man with the beard held up his empty hand and stared at it. His fingers were growing longer. He bared his teeth at Jake. “Stop that!”

Jake kept working. He wanted to help Sophie, but the best way to do that was by finishing. He was almost there, but it hurt so badly. This man was strong—maybe stronger than Zed—and he was fighting hard against what Jake was doing.

Jake thought of his family, both the one back in Rook Mountain and the one here in Sanctuary. For their sakes, he had to keep going.

“No!” the man yelled. “I command you to stop!”

But it was too late. Jake was almost done.

The hand holding Sophie grew, and she slipped from his grip and fell gasping to the ground.

Jake was almost there. All he had to do was connect his starting point to his ending point. But, no matter how hard he pushed, he couldn’t do it. His finger wouldn’t move any further. It was like trying to move through concrete. His mind felt like it would explode, but he kept pushing. He kept pushing until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Stop,” Sophie said in a scratchy voice. “You got him. You have to stop.”

“No,” Jake said. “It’s not finished.”

“But it is. Just look.”

He looked up and saw a short, broad tree where the man had been standing a few moments before. It wasn’t right. He knew it wasn’t. He could make out the man’s nose and mouth in the pattern of the bark. It wasn’t finished. It might not hold.

But Sophie was right. He had to stop. He couldn’t push any harder. He dropped the book and fell to his knees.

Sophie put her hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He started to answer, but a coughing fit came over him. When it passed he saw the hand that had been covering his mouth was wet with blood.

Sophie said, “Jake—”

A loud cracking sound interrupted her. Jake struggled to his feet and turned toward the sound. White light was pouring from the tree behind him. And a silhouette stood in the middle of the light. It was someone was trying to come through.

“What now?” Sophie asked in a weary voice.

“No,” Jake whispered. “I think it’s okay.” He staggered toward the tree. When he reached it, he squinted into the light.

“Who is that? What are you doing?”

A familiar voice came out of the tree. “Jake! It’s Frank.”

IN THE WOODS (PART SEVEN)

1. From the Book of the Broken World

I’m from Sugar Plains, but so is everyone else. I mean, technically that’s not true. Some of the older folk are from elsewhere. Some of them moved here when they were kids or whatever. But, seeing as Sugar Plains is the last town in existence (as far as we know), it’s a pretty safe bet you already knew where I was from.

They tell me Sugar Plains was part of a group of towns called Illinois. The last letter was silent. The old folks always make a big deal if someone says it wrong. There were fifty of these groups of towns, and together they made an even bigger group called a country. But that was a long time ago, back when people traveled from town to town and even to other parts of the world. I don’t really know why they even make a point of teaching that history stuff to us. It’s like algebra. I’ll never use it. That was a different time and a different world. People went wherever they wanted, even at night. The Unfeathered didn’t even exist. Or maybe they did, but people hadn’t discovered them. (Or they hadn’t discovered how tasty people are—ha ha).

Anyway, the whole point of this assignment is for me to pretend you aren’t from Sugar Plains. Like, maybe you found this paper a thousand years in the future and wanted to know what life was like in Sugar Plains in 2019. Like you don’t have better things to do than read some essay by a kid who barely passed Sophomore English. But, I’m trying to get into the spirit of things. I really am. My mom always tells me I am too literal. So, deep breath, serious face, here we go.

In 1985 (eighteen years before I was born, if you care), the Unfeathered showed up in Sugar Plains in the middle of the night. They killed a bunch of people. Everyone freaked out and hid in their homes. You get the idea. Have you seen Night of the Living Dead? (Do they have VHS in whatever year you are from?) It was like that, except with Unfeathered instead of zombies.

So, that all went on for a few days. Then this drifter dude named Zed goes to the mayor and says he can stop the Unfeathered. The mayor thinks he’s crazy. In the mayor’s defense, Zed supposedly slept on park benches and no one would go near him. But, what’s the mayor got to lose, right? So he goes with it. And here comes the twist. Zed actually does stop the Unfeathered. It’s like they’re locked out of Sugar Plains. So as long as no one leaves town, we’re all cool.

It turns out Zed’s some kind of genius, and he starts figuring out how Sugar Plains is going to survive long term. He comes up with the Regulations to keep the town safe. He sends a few specialists out to gather food and supplies from surrounding towns. He starts a special school to train all the brainiac kids in town. (Guess what? Yours truly wasn’t invited. Guess what else? His idiot sister was.)

Things went on like that for fifteen or twenty years. Sure, it wasn’t all as smooth as I’m making it sound. I’m sure there are tons of details my teacher, the beautiful and talented Ms. Jones who is sure to appreciate my efforts on this essay, would prefer I include. But, honestly, the only thing you really need to know about is the rebellion.

This one happened while I was alive. Granted, I was only two, but still. A bunch of people in town decided they didn’t like the way Zed was running the show, and they tried to kill him. They didn’t have the manpower to fight the town head-on, so they started engaging in guerrilla warfare. They captured one of the police officers, tossed him across the town line, and watched the Unfeathered tear him apart. Stuff like that. Real swell group of fellas. They started fires and killed people and raised general mayhem. It went on almost a month before the police were able to stop it. They say Zed himself got involved.

Now I know what you’re probably thinking. If things in Sugar Plains are as good as I am saying, why would anyone want to revolt? I guess we’ll never know the answer to that question. But it’s happened before, right? People don’t know how good they have it. They start imagining things could be better. Maybe after a while simply following the forty-three Regulations started to feel like a burden. Maybe having their food and clothes and everything else they might need provided to them by the RESPys each week started to feel too comfortable and they took it for granted.

There’s this story my mom told me. She heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend, so who knows if it’s true. But I’m gonna tell it anyway. Sometimes the story and what it means is more important than whether or not it’s true, you know? Zed has this pocket watch he always carries (that part is true for sure, I’ve seen it). Apparently during the rebellion the traitors stole Zed’s watch. They had it for a few days before the police got it back for him. And what did Zed do when he finally captured those rebels? He didn’t hang them or torture them or any of that stuff. He just made them disappear. Apparently a couple cops saw it happen. One second they were there and the next they were gone forever.

I tell that story to illustrate why the outlaws were wrong. They called Zed evil. Some of them even said he’d brought the Unfeathered here himself. But he proved them wrong with the efficient and merciful way he dealt with them. If he were evil, he would have made them suffer.

So if you’re wondering why I have hope for the future, that’s the reason. Forget everything that’s happened lately. Trust is a must. That’s what Zed always says, and I agree. While the rest of the world was being destroyed by the Unfeathered, Zed saved us. And he can do it again.

If you want the first-hand account of what happened next, here goes. I was eleven when it started. Things changed. Or shifted. I’m not sure of the best way to say it. I would be walking home from school and suddenly I’d be standing in a park on the other side of town. It wasn’t like I moved. It was more like the town did. It was sort of chaos there for a little while, but Zed stepped in again with a new set of regulations to make things right. And then it got better. I mean, Regulation 35, no more cars, trucks, or motorcycles, how many lives has that one alone saved?

Other things started to change. These little trees started popping up around town. Zed figured out they could help us. Just like normal trees remove carbon dioxide from the air, these trees would help stabilize the town. And he was right. The shifting thing started happening less often.

The trees aren’t so little anymore, of course. They grow much faster than any normal tree. The one in my yard has got to be fifty feet tall now. But the good news is the town’s getting bigger too. It’s like the land itself is growing with the trees. My walk to school used to be half a mile. Now it’s three-quarters. And the landscape is changing. Hills are developing. I remember when I was a kid this place was flat as a pancake (it is called Sugar Plains, after all). Now, not so much.

Zed has changed a bit, too. He used to be around a lot more when I was a kid. He was always making speeches at different events. He even talked at my grade school a couple times. Now, we don’t see him quite as much. And, when we do, he’s got this book with him. He says the trees are more than trees. They are locks. And he says the book is a way to unlock them.

Here’s where it gets exciting. Once the trees are fully grown, Zed says we’ll be able to use them as doorways to other special places, places that are important like Sugar Plains. He says we might even be able to use them to travel into the future. Or the past.

He did this little demonstration in town square last Regulation Day. One of the biggest trees is there. He did something with that book of his, and a tiny beam of light shot out of the tree. It was about the size of a pea, and it only lasted for a minute. But Zed says as the tree gets bigger, so will the hole. Eventually, it’ll be a doorway and we’ll be able to leave it open for days at a time.

I don’t know exactly how long it’ll take before that happens, and I’m not sure if Zed does either. All I know is I hope I live to see it. I would love to walk through a doorway and be on the other side of the world. Or maybe go back to before the Unfeathered came. I think I’d love to drive a car. Maybe a convertible, like in the movies. I’d speed down the street, wind in my hair, not a single Unfeathered in the sky. Or maybe travel into the future and see how society turns out. I could see all the statues of Zed and the leaders of Sugar Plains

So, hypothetical future man or lady, that’s the way things are in Sugar Plains in 2019. We live in a transitional time. That’s what Zed always says. I am proud to be alive in this strange time, and I am proud to be a citizen of Sugar Plains.

I don’t know what will happen next, but I trust it’ll be interesting. Trust is a must.

2.

The entry ended there. Frank flipped through the rest of the book, but all he saw were drawings of trees and words written in a strange language he couldn’t read. He closed the book and a shiver went through him.

The story of Sugar Plains eerily mirrored one that was all too familiar to him. The realization that Zed had done this before, that Rook Mountain wasn’t Zed’s first attempt to take over a town, hit Frank like a bowling ball to the gut. Those trees in the story...were they the trees that surrounded him now? Was he in the former Sugar Plains, Illinois?

He ran his fingers through his hair as he thought. It didn’t make sense. If Zed had taken another town outside of time in 1985, wouldn’t somebody have noticed? What about all the missing people? This should have been a huge news story.

Another chilling thought: what if Sugar Plains wasn’t Zed’s first time either? How many times had he done this?

He stood up and looked at the compass in his hand. He’d asked the compass for information on how to get out of here, and it had shown him those pages. Did that mean the trees were his way out? And if that was true...if the trees really were gateways to other times and places...if time was no longer an uncrossable barrier…

He pressed the broken clock symbol and spoke his direction aloud. “Take me to the tree that gets me to Jake.”

The needle on the compass spun clockwise a quarter turn and stuck there. Frank took a deep breath to quell the rising hope within him and stepped out of the cabin.

He followed the needle for nearly half an hour. It was a nerve-wracking journey, his eyes constantly flicking between the compass, the ground, and the trees, hoping he wouldn’t see any of the Larvae and at the same time hoping he’d see one so that it couldn’t catch him by surprise.

He spotted four Larvae on his walk, but he managed to skirt around them without incident.

Finally, he arrived at the tree. He walked around it once and watched the needle turn with his movements, making sure this was the tree the needle was locked onto.

The entry said Zed used the book to open the gateway. Thank God for this stupid compass, he thought. Once again, the compass guided him to the correct page.

The page was covered with a dozen drawings of trees of various sizes in various artistic styles. The compass pointed him to one particular drawing.

He paused for a moment. What did he do now?

“You have to trace the picture with your finger.”

The deep, baritone voice startled him. His head snapped up and he saw the bearded man, the man he had seen standing behind Mason at the stream, standing ten feet in front of him. Frank could see more than just his face now.

The man was dressed in what Frank could only describe as a tunic. It was a loose fitting bluish item of clothing that covered him from shoulder to ankle. It was sleeveless, revealing the man’s thick, well-muscled arms. His beard was a bushy, dirty thing with bits of twigs lodged in it. His face and arms were splattered with mud.

“Who the hell are you?” Frank asked. Zed had seemed afraid at the mention of this man. Anyone who didn’t get along with Zed could be an ally.

The man scoffed. “Please. Explaining myself to you would be like a mountain explaining itself to an ant.”

“Huh,” Frank said. So maybe not the friendliest of allies, then.

“Trace the picture with your finger, my little ant. Go to your brother. Serve your purpose.”

Then, as if he had never been standing there, the man was gone. Frank didn’t know if the man had quickly ducked into the foliage or if he had disappeared through some other means. All that mattered now was getting to Jake.

He put his finger on the page, then hesitated. What if he wasn’t doing the right thing? Or, what if he was doing exactly what Zed wanted? Hadn’t the entry said Zed wanted to open the gates?

The thoughts gave him pause for only a moment. To hell with all that; he wanted to see his brother.

He traced the picture with his index finger.

As he dragged his finger across the page, it felt like someone was dragging a finger across his mind. It was like something was being pulled out of him. Something vital.

Then it was over.

The bark in front of Frank split and hot white light poured through. Frank squinted at the opening, watching as it widened. Soon it was the size of a door. He reached toward the gap, slowly piercing the light with his hand.

Suddenly the dark silhouette of a man appeared. The shape was moving forward, but unsteadily, stumbling as it came. It paused near the doorway and tilted its head as if looking out at Frank.

“Who is that?” asked the silhouette. “What are you doing?”

Frank’s heart leapt at the sound of the voice he knew so well. The voice of the man he’d spent so long trying to find. “Jake! It’s Frank.”

3.

Frank squinted into the light at his brother’s silhouette.

“Frank?” Jake asked. His voice sounded weak. Strained somehow. “My God, is that really you? What are you doing here?”

Frank couldn’t help but grin. “I got your message.” He held up the Cassandra lock.

“How did you open this door?”

Frank shook his head. “I’m coming through. I’ll explain everything in a moment.”

He pushed himself into the light. And the light pushed back. It gave off a painful white heat and it seemed to solidify as he pressed against it. It was like wrestling against a wall of earth.

“Frank, stop. You can’t get through like that. I have to pull you.”

Frank fell backwards a step, recoiling from the force of the light. He looked down at his hands, expecting them to be burned, but they were unmarked. “Alright. Pull me through.”

There was a long pause. “Not now. Listen, some bad stuff is going on here. Very bad. Like, Zed bad. You need to stay in Rook Mountain. It’s not safe here.”

“No, you don’t understand. I already left Rook Mountain. I’m in...Sugar Plains. I just got here later than you did. Way later. I came through the mirror.”

Another long pause. “I thought you said you got my message.”

“I did. That’s why I came.”

“But I said to meet me at the quarry—” Jake’s words were cut off as a fit of coughing overtook him. Even through the muffled haze of the doorway, that cough did not sound good to Frank. Not good at all.

After Jake’s coughing subsided, Frank said, “Will and Christine told me meet me at the quarry was your signal the coin wasn’t safe at Sean’s house. Look, Jake, it’s not safe where I am either. I’ve got Zed problems of my own.”

“You...you don’t remember do you?”

Frank glanced over his shoulder making sure none of the Larvae were nearby. He’d spent all this time searching for Jake, and thirty seconds into their grand reunion, his brother was annoyed with him. “Remember what?”

“The quarry! When we were kids. Don’t you remember the quarry?”

Frank had no idea what his brother was talking about. He stared at the light in stunned silence.

“That’s why I used quarry as a codeword with Sean and the others,” Jake said. “Because of what happened to us when we were kids. Are you seriously telling me you don’t remember the quarry?”

Frank racked his brain. What Jake was saying didn’t sound the least bit familiar. And yet...there was something there. Like a blank spot. Like a hole where something should be. But he couldn’t think about that now. There was too much happening, too many moving parts. And if he was honest, he didn’t want to think about it. There was something scary about that hole in his memory.

“Jake, please pull me through.”

There was a long pause. Jake’s voice sounded weary when he spoke. “Yeah. Okay. And Frank?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for coming.”

Frank nodded, afraid he wouldn’t be able to get his words around the lump in his throat.

Frank heard another voice, a woman’s voice. Jake said something back to her. He couldn’t hear what they were saying—they must have been turned away from the gate—but it sounded like they were arguing.

After a moment, he heard Jake’s voice more clearly, as if he’d turned back toward the door in the tree. “Frank, I’m gonna pull you through now. You ready?”

Frank said, “Let’s do it.”

Then he waited in silence. He remembered his own experience with the book, the way it had pulled on his mind and his every bit of attention while he was using it. Was it the same for Jake?

He kept quiet. He didn’t want to distract his brother. At the same time, the adrenaline was pumping through his veins. He was about to see Jake at long last.

This wouldn’t be the end. They still had so much work to do. They needed to figure out what exactly it was Zed wanted, and they had to figure out how to stop him from getting it. They needed to deal with this woman, the one Mason said killed Jake. They needed to keep Jake from dying and keep Mason from growing up alone in the forest with only Zed to take care of him. And they needed to figure out how to get back to Rook Mountain for good.

But whatever they did, they would do it together. They hadn’t always been the closest of friends, but there was no denying their bond of blood. There was no one Frank would rather have on his side in a fight. Not Ty Hansen or Christine or Will or anyone. And that was saying something.

He felt a twinge, a slight push. It was as if a stiff wind was moving him toward the tree. He took a step forward and leaned into the light. It was warm now rather than hot, like slipping into a warm bath.

The bright light was all around him now, too bright to see in either direction, back or forward.

He heard someone yell.

Frank stepped out of the light and into the forest and froze. His brother’s body lay at his feet.

4.

Mason watched the light coming through the door in the tree, his jaw open in shock. Frank had done it again. How long had Mason and Zed worked to find a way out? How many avenues had they pursued? How many hours had they dedicated to considering the problem?

And here comes Frank Hinkle. Not only did he best Zed on the roof of City Hall in Rook Mountain that day so long ago. Not only did he find the book. Now he also found a way out, and he did it mere hours after arriving.

Mason had followed the voices and the light to this place, and now, crouching and hidden in the ferns, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

He had almost no sense of entitlement. He spent no time wondering why he, out of all the children in the populated world, had been born in Sanctuary. Or why his parents had died. Or why he had to grow up alone in the woods but for Zed’s occasional appearance. But this—Frank finding a way out of the woods so quickly—this didn’t seem fair to Mason. It should have been him. He was the one who’d grown up there, the one who knew the woods, even in its ever-changing state, like the back of his own hand.

If Mason had found a way out, he’d have humbly presented it to Zed. It would have allowed him to express his gratitude in a way words never could.

But not Frank. Oh no, not Frank. Even after all his promises of taking Mason with him when he left, there he was stepping through all by his lonesome. The evidence of Frank’s betrayal was right there before his eyes.

He shouldn’t have been surprised or upset by any of this. It confirmed what Zed had always told him. People were scum.

He rose and moved closer, the gun raised. He crept carefully, staying behind cover, but he quickly realized Frank was so enthralled with whatever was on the other side of the light that Mason probably could have tapped his uncle on the shoulder without the man noticing. He got as close as he could and switched to a two-hand grip.

Mason knew this wasn’t his fault. He’d warned Frank. Now Frank had to pay. And Mason would be the one to show the open gate to Zed. Exactly as it should be.

He lined up the sites on Frank’s head.

Frank stepped forward into the light. He was gone. And so was the light. The tree was just an ordinary tree again.

Mason sat crouched in the ferns for a long time, his own failure lingering like a bitter taste in his mouth. After a while—he wasn’t sure how long—he felt a presence behind him.

“I was close,” Mason said. “He opened a gate in the door. Light came out and he disappeared into it. I couldn’t stop him.”

“Yes,” Zed said. “It seems you’ve failed.”

Mason turned his head. The look on Zed’s face wasn’t anger; it was sadness. That was far worse. “I had him cornered. I had my gun on him and he was unarmed. I should have shot him.”

“That would have been a very bad idea. We still need him. How’d he get away from you?”

“He did this….whistle. And then one of the Larvae attacked me.”

Zed shook his head. “My friend, believe me when I say I have felt your pain. Almost exactly. I forgive you. We’ll be seeing your uncle again. Very soon.”

Mason felt a hand on his shoulder, and then Zed continued.

“Have you ever wondered why I helped you? Why I showed you how to take care of yourself and survive in the forest?”

Mason licked his lips. “I never had to wonder. It was because of your generosity. You’re a good person.”

Zed chuckled. “I may do good things at times, but whether I’m a good person is highly debatable.” He patted Mason’s shoulder. “No, I took care of you because I thought I might need you. In my experience, Hinkles are unique talents. Your dad proved that with the way he used the book in Sanctuary. And your uncle has his locks and his impenetrable mind. But you turned out to be one of the most ordinary and useless human beings I have yet to encounter. You’re completely worthless to me.”

Mason looked at Zed with wide eyes. The lump in his throat made it difficult to speak. “Zed...I tried...I tried to bring him to you.”

Zed’s signature smile was back now. “Ah, Mason, that’s exactly the type of incompetence I am talking about. Thankfully, Frank is proving to be much less clever than I remembered. The book can’t pass through the gate. He was carrying it when he went through. Which means it’s lying right in front of that tree.” He winked at Mason. “Let’s go get it, shall we?”

Zed walked to the tree where Frank had disappeared.

There it was on the ground. The book.

Zed picked it up and carefully brushed a bit of dirt off the cover.

A look of peace washed over his face. For the first time in the many years Mason had known him, Zed wasn’t smiling or frowning. His face was relaxed.

After a moment, Zed opened the book, and his wide smile returned.

CHAPTER EIGHT: A PLACE WITHOUT SHADOWS

1. Sanctuary

Sophie scanned the ground for Larvae as Jake staggered to the tree. He stood there for a long time, hunched over and bleeding, talking into the tree like some kind of idiot. She felt uneasy as she watched. A change came over him. He seemed different than she’d ever seen him. He was animated in his movements.

Then Jake opened the book and put his finger on the page.

“Jake! What are you doing, man?” She sprinted toward him.

He looked up at her. His eyes were so bloodshot, she could barely make out any white. The skin seemed to be hanging off his face. The man looked like he’d lost thirty pounds in the last ten minutes.

“Sophie, I’m not going to make it. The book has used me up. Banishing the guy with the beard broke me. You need help.”

“What are you talking about? Put the book away.”

He scrunched up his face in a pained smile. “Trust Frank. Protect Mason.” He turned back to the tree. “Frank, I’m gonna pull you through now. You ready?”

A voice from within the light said, “Let’s do it.”

Before Sophie could stop him, Jake dragged his hand across the page. As he did it, he yelled in pain. The light from the tree brightened ten-fold, enveloping them both. Then the light was gone.

Jake lay at her feet, his eyes wide open. He wasn’t moving. Wasn’t breathing.

She dropped to her knees and touched his cheek. His face was cold and stiff. It was like he’d been dead for hours.

Through the tears, she looked up and saw a man standing in front of the tree.

Sophie lifted her gun with a shaky hand and pointed it at him.

The resemblance to Jake was uncanny. This man was a little thinner, and his hair was a striking combination of black and gray instead of the blondish gray mix of Jake’s hair. He may have been a bit taller too. He was shirtless, and his arm was wrapped in a blood-soaked tee shirt. But around the eyes, this man looked like Jake.

The man stared down at Jake, his mouth agape.

“Don’t move!” Sophie yelled. The man looked up at her, and she saw the tears in his eyes.

“Did you shoot him?” he asked, his voice choked with emotion.

“What? No. Why would you ask that?”

He shook his head. “Who are you? What’s going on here? What happened to my brother?”

“Brother?”

He nodded. “My name’s Frank Hinkle. Jake’s my brother.”

Sophie suddenly realized she hadn’t even known Jake’s last name.

“Damn it!” Frank said. The tears were coming now. “I finally found him. I’ve been looking for so long. And now…”

Sophie wiped at the tears running down her face with an angry hand. Jake had told her to trust this man, but she couldn’t help but be furious at him. “He died bringing you through.”

Frank look stunned. “No. Why would he do that?”

“Because he needed your help. Bad things are happening here. So bad, I don’t even know where to—”

Sophie stopped. Frank was reaching for the book lying next to Jake.

She brought her gun back up. “You stay away from that book.”

Frank looked up at her. Tears streaked his face.

She said, “If you’re his brother, you must be from Rook Mountain. I take it you know about this Zed guy.”

Frank nodded. “I’m sorry to say I do.”

“Well, he screwed me over.”

“Join the club.”

“He’s loose. Jake was gonna try to use the book to banish Zed.”

“Banish him?”

“Yeah, um, turn him into a tree. God, that sounds stupid when I say it out loud. Do you know how to use the book? Could you banish Zed?”

He shook his head. “You’re from Sanctuary? And you say people are dying?”

She nodded.

“Well, Sophie, I’m not sure how to say this, but, you and I? We aren’t gonna live through this thing. You know that kid, Mason? He’s the only one who makes it.”

She shook her head. “How could you know that?”

He smiled weakly. “I come from the future.”

She started to say she didn’t believe him, but then she remembered she’d just suggested they turn a man into a tree.

“Wait,” Frank said. “There might be a way. Do you have the compass?”

“How do you know that?”

“Mason. He told me there was a woman who...who had the compass.” Something about the way he said it made her think Mason had told him more than that. “I was wondering if it was you. Anyway, that’s how I got here.”

“What do you mean?”

He held out a hand, indicating the forest around them. “These trees are doors. Well, I guess you saw that. But some of them take you to different times. I had the compass. All I did was hold it and ask it to take me to Jake.”

She nodded slowly. What he was saying made sense. If the trees could really take you to different times…

She pulled out the compass and thought, Jake. Living Jake, not the dead one here in front of me.

“It’s not working.”

Frank frowned. “Did you press the broken clock symbol? You have to do that.”

She glared at him. “Yeah, I’ve used this thing a time or two.”

“I’ll try too.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an identical compass.

“There’s more than one of them?” she asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

“No. This is the same one as yours. It’s the future version.” He tapped the side of it. “It’s not working for me either. We need to hide the book. That’s what Zed wants. And if he gets it…”

“What? What will happen if he gets it?”

“Well, honestly, I have no idea. But prior experience leads me to believe it won’t be good.”

“And you know where you can hide it?”

Frank nodded. “Yeah.”

He bent down and kissed Jake’s forehead. He said it quietly, but Sophie still heard. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” He paused for a moment, his mouth a thin line, his face streaked with tears. Then he took a deep breath and said, “Here’s the thing. I have reason to believe I shouldn’t trust you. Granted, it came from a very unreliable source. But still, I can’t take the chance. So, apologies in advance.”

He stuck his hand into his pocket and disappeared.

Sophie gasped. She brought the gun up and held it in front of her.

The book, which had been lying near her feet, disappeared too.

“Hey man, show yourself.”

Frank said, “I’ve got to fly solo on this one.”

She couldn’t even tell which direction his voice was coming from. She waited to see if he’d speak again, but he didn’t. She was alone.

2. Sanctuary

For the past few years, Nate had often wondered what would have happened if he’d never gone to see Zed speak in the park that day so long ago. He’d been drawn in from the moment Zed opened his mouth. What other people in town had seen as weirdness, Nate had recognized as genius. And the best part was Zed had seen something in Nate as well.

A fairly large group had been coming by then. Not huge, but probably two dozen. Zed had taken one look at Nate and invited him to talk one-on-one. And that had been that. Zed was the first person in Nate’s life that had seen him as special. Oh sure, a few others had said it. His parents. The occasional teacher. Mr. Rogers on TV. But there had been something different about the way Zed had said it. It wasn’t like he was saying it to make Nate feel good. He was simply stating a fact.

It had taken a long time, but, after watching Jake’s leadership style and thinking back on what had gone down in Rook Mountain, Nate had finally realized something: Zed was an asshole.

Now that theory was confirmed.

He was still reeling from the death and destruction he and Leonard had seen. They’d gone to warn the others, to make sure they weren’t caught unaware by the unbanished people and their Larvae. But they had been too late. The first cabin they came to was Yang’s. He laid dead the middle of his living room. Pieces of him were gone, presumably carved away by the Larvae. Or maybe their naked friends. Or both.

When they left Yang’s cabin, they saw the fires. Someone was burning the cabins. They saw shapes through the smoke, shapes with round things on the tops of their shoulders and the ends of their hands. At that point, Nate decided it was time to start thinking about survival, and he and Leonard retreated to Jake’s house.

“So what’s the plan?” Nate asked after they were inside. Three of the formerly banished residents of Sanctuary were slogging toward the house, each wielding four Larvae. Nate and Logan watched the approach through the window.

Logan nodded toward the two on the right. “The woman’s Rosenberg and the guy’s Harris. Old pals of mine.”

Nate recognized the other one. His name was Gilbert. Logan said, “Let’s see if they get through the door. If they do, Nate, Leonard, you take down Rosenberg. Kill the Larvae first. Then hold her down and Taylor will chop the head off. Evan and Gail, you do the same for Harris. Frasier and I’ll take Gilbert.” She turned to Mason who was still standing behind her. “Honey, I need you to go in the bathroom upstairs. Lock the door and don’t come out until I tell you. No matter what you hear. Try to be as quiet as you can. Understand?”

The boy nodded.

“Good,” Logan said. “Go. Now.”

He hurried off down the hall.

The three unbanished reached the house, and there was a banging, grinding sound. Larvae spikes broke through the door, splitting the wood, and then disappeared again, leaving long thin gashes.

“That door’s coming down in a minute,” Logan said. “Everybody ready?”

No one replied. Their eyes were glued to the door.

Fear hung thick in the air. Nate felt it penetrating his every pore. These weren’t soldiers. They were just people. And now they were being asked to fight monsters. It wasn’t fair, and it was a wonder they were holding up as well as they were.

The wood buckled inward, and Gilbert was the first through the gap. Logan and Frasier rushed toward him.

Nate looked at Leonard. “Ready?”

He had his knife gripped tightly in his hand. He nodded.

“I’ll take the right side, you take the left.” Nate didn’t wait for an acknowledgment. Rosenberg was through the door now. He rushed at her.

He saw the soft spot, the spot Sophie had shown them, on the Larva on Rosenberg’s right shoulder, and he stabbed at it. His knife sunk into the creature with a satisfying crunch. He felt spikes brush past his cheek as Rosenberg tried to grab him.

He grabbed the wrist as her right hand flew past him and dispatched that Larva too. The smell of the dissolving Larvae hit his nose, an intensely sweet stench like rotting fruit.

Leonard moved in, taking out the one on Rosenberg’s left shoulder.

Nate felt his arm go numb as Rosenberg slapped him in the shoulder with the creature in her left hand. His first thought was of Carver and how he’d lost his arm after a similar injury. He pushed the thought away. He needed to concentrate, and thoughts of amputation, let alone thoughts of how Carver was likely burning in the Welcome Wagon right now, weren’t helping.

Leonard stabbed the Larva.

“Thanks,” Nate said. He tried to block out the pain in his arm. He knew they had to take Rosenberg down quick before she could call for backup. He wrapped his arms around her, fighting the urge to recoil at the texture of her cold waxy skin, and threw her to the ground. “Grab the legs!” he shouted to Leonard.

Nate pinned her arms to the ground. “Taylor! We’ve got her.”

Taylor sprinted toward them, and Nate barely had time to lean back as the ax whizzed past his face and separated Rosenberg’s head from her body. A spray of greenish-red liquid caught Nate in the face, and with it a rotten smell like decomposing vegetables.

Nate looked at Leonard. “You all okay?”

The man nodded, but he was deathly pale.

Leonard pointed. “Looks like Evan could use a hand.”

Nate spun his head around. Evan held Harris by the wrists, and he was backpedaling while desperately tried to keep out of the reach of the Larvae on the man’s hands and shoulders. Gail was on the ground next to him, struggling to find her feet. Blood oozed out of a nasty gash in her left cheek.

Nate and Leonard ran to their aid. With Evan holding Harris’s wrists, they made short work of the Larvae.

Nate tackled Harris and the group held him down. “Taylor, we’ve got him ready!”

Taylor stood over Rosenberg, looking down at her. He slowly wiped the blade of his ax on his shirt, his eyes distant.

“Taylor, wake up!” Nate screamed. “We need you here!”

But it was too late. Harris threw back his head and let out the piercing whine Nate had heard earlier.

“Taylor, now!”

Taylor finally looked up. His eyes were alive, and Nate didn’t like what he saw there. It looked like a strangled mix of anger and pure joy. He galloped to them and swung the ax, removing Harris’s head in one stroke.

Four Larvae had answered Harris’s call and were speeding through the door of the building. Frasier was on the ground, still on top of the now headless Gilbert. He didn’t see the Larva rushing toward him. It slammed into the back of his skull, and he fell to the ground.

Logan quickly stabbed the Larva and it fell away. Nate, Gail, and Leonard dispatched the other three creatures.

Logan rolled Frasier over. “Frasier! You still with us.”

Frasier groaned weakly. His eyes were cloudy and unfocused.

Nate leapt to his feet. “Damn it, Taylor! What the hell’s wrong with you?”

He was once again wiping his ax on his tee shirt. “What’s the problem?”

Nate rushed toward him, getting up in his face. “The problem? I was calling you and you didn’t come! You just stood there!”

Taylor didn’t flinch. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he said, looking anything but. “I guess I spaced out for a second.”

Nate wanted to punch the guy, but he knew he needed to save his strength. “You spaced out? Really? In the middle of a fight for our lives?”

Suddenly, Nate felt something. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Back in Rook Mountain, Zed had given Nate and the other selectmen a bit of telepathy. The power had vanished when Zed disappeared on the roof of city hall, but Nate felt a tiny twinge of that old telepathy now. He saw a flash of something in Taylor’s mind. Something dark.

Then it was gone.

“Okay, enough,” Logan said. “Look.”

Darcy, a woman of fifty, came running into the room. Her clothes were torn in a dozen places, and her face was bloody. “They’re coming! They’re on their way!”

Logan grabbed her shoulders. “Whoa. Calm down. Explain.”

Darcy took a deep breath. “They went cabin to cabin killing everyone inside. They’re burning the cabins. There’s blood everywhere. Must have been seven or eight of them. And there was a man with a beard. He seemed to be leading them.”

Nate felt his heart sink. How many were dead? How many of his friends? Hell, he might as well say it: these people were his family.

“I went out the window,” Darcy said. “I thought I was dead, but I killed the Larva on its hand like Sophie showed us. Then I slipped away. They’re on their way here right now. They’re traveling like a pack.”

“What do we do?” Nate asked. “Run? Scatter into the woods?”

Logan shook her head. “It takes at least two of us to take down one of them. If we scatter they’ll pick us off one by one.”

“Alright,” Nate said. “Maybe I can talk to Zed. He and I were close once. Maybe I can bargain for our lives.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Logan spat.

“Why is diplomacy idiotic?”

“You really need me to list the reasons? First, you don’t know where he is. Second, Jake and Sophie are already out there trying to find him. Third, he probably sent a hoard of zombie plant monsters to kill us, so he doesn’t seem reasonable. Fourth, we don’t even know he’s the one controlling them. Maybe this is what people are like when they come back from banishment.”

Nate opened his mouth to respond but then paused. He couldn’t refute any of her points. “Okay. I give. What do we do?”

Logan looked out the window down the trail and Nate followed her gaze. There they were. A hoard of eight people wielding thirty-two Larvae.

She sighed. “Maybe we can do this different than last time. Their heads seem to come off pretty easy. Let’s gather near the door. They can only come through one, maybe two at a time tops. Taylor, give me your ax. I’ll take off their heads as quickly as I can. Then the rest of you’ll deal with the Larvae. Deal?”

She held out her hand. Taylor frowned at the ax for a long moment, his brow furrowed.

“Come on, man,” Logan said.

He handed over the ax, then pulled a knife out of his belt with what looked to Nate like melancholy.

“Logan,” Nate said, “you sure you don’t want me to take ax duty?”

“You don’t think I can handle it?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. At all. But that kid needs you.”

Logan smiled. “That’s exactly why I can’t trust one of you nerds with the ax. Or Captain Space-Out there. I want us to survive this.”

Nate held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Just thought I’d offer.”

The unbanished were almost at the door.

Nate gripped his knife. “Everybody ready?”

A chorus of tentative, vaguely affirmative noises came back to him.

Logan raised her ax. “If we make it through this, we really need to start having cadence drills or something. That was weak.”

The first naked man stepped across the threshold, and Logan swung her ax.

What happened next was a blur to Nate. The battle may have lasted three minutes and it may have lasted thirty. All sense of time and reality was lost for him. All he knew was the glint of his knife blade, the sharp cries of the injured, and the terrible sights and smells of wounds and death.

Logan neatly knocked off the heads of the first four banished. Leonard took a bad wound to the side, but, other than that, they killed the first twenty Larvae without trouble.

Logan moved like an unholy force of nature. There was no hesitation, no sign of concern for her own safety. It was as if she had been born for this moment.

The fifth man through the door was smarter or luckier than the rest. He lunged a step to the left as Logan swung at him, causing her ax to ricochet off the Larva on his shoulder.

“Logan!” Nate yelled, but it was too late. The man in the doorway grabbed the Logan’s ax and pulled, dragging her outside. There was a flurry of movement, and Logan went down. He never even heard her cry out.

He choked back his emotion. He couldn’t lose it. Not now. Not with the rest of them trying to survive. He saw the handle of the ax sticking inside the doorway. He reached out, intending to take over for the fallen Logan, but another arm snaked past him and grabbed the ax.

“I got this,” Taylor said, lifting the ax.

Nate paused, then nodded.

True to his word, Taylor quickly decapitated the next two who tried to pass through. The third one got by him as he was trying to pull his ax from the stubborn neck of the last man he’d taken down.

The man sprinted forward and drove a Larva-baring fist into Leonard’s face. He spun and shoved the other fist into the side of Darcy’s head.

Nate screamed in rage and dropped the two Larvae who were hurting his friends. Gail felled the two on the man’s shoulders, and Taylor quickly followed up with an ax to the neck.

It was too late for Leonard and Darcy, though.

Nate looked around. It was only him, Taylor, and Gail left. And Mason, of course, who was still locked in the bathroom.

They all turned toward the door. Only one of the unbanished left. He moved toward the doorway, seeming to walk slower than the rest of them had. Nate recognized this one. Dale. He’d been banished for attacking a woman a few years ago.

Taylor moved back to the door. As Dale approached, Taylor swung his ax hard, taking off the man’s head in a single blow. Nate and Gail dove forward, killing the Larvae.

Nate was almost sad as he stabbed the last of the creatures. He wished he could kill it again. Kill it a hundred times for the damage its brothers and sisters had done to the people of Sanctuary. Instead, he sat there, dazed, watching the black sludge run off his knife blade.

There was a flash in his head, another tiny bit of his old telepathy. Something powerful was happening in Taylor’s mind. Something primal.

Suddenly, Gail cried out in pain and surprise. Nate spun around. Had they missed one of the Larvae?

What he saw stopped him cold. Even now, even after all this, he wasn’t prepared for what he saw. Then there was a blur of movement, and it was his turn to cry out.

3. Sanctuary

Sophie made her way up the path toward the house, silently cursing Jake’s annoying, untrustworthy, and apparently magical brother. It hardly seemed fair; invisibility was cheating.

He had the book. He had a compass. He claimed he wanted to hide the book from Zed, but who knew for certain?

Worst of all, her own compass couldn’t seem to locate him. He’d somehow made himself invisible even to the Tool.

Jake was dead. The book was gone. She had no way to find Frank. All she could think to do was head back to Jake’s house. The men and women there could be fighting the unbanished people right now. She had to try to help them.

Thankfully, today the trail back to the house wasn’t long. It took her less than fifteen minutes.

When she was almost there, she stopped and gasped. She surveyed the carnage on the porch. Bodies. Heads. So many of the unbanished. Then she saw something else out of the corner of her eye, a swatch of clothing. She put a hand over her mouth.

It was Logan, dead on the ground. Tears sprang to her eyes.

There was Darcy. And Evan. And Leonard, sweet Leonard, who’d had such a crush on her. And, oh God, there was Frasier.

All dead. Them and more.

She had done this. It was her fault. It was all on her.

A sudden noise made her look up.

Taylor sat on the floor near the open doorway, a bloody ax lying across his outstretched legs.

“Hello, Sophie Porter.”

Sophie stepped back. “What happened here?”

Taylor smiled. “I think you know. You set them free, and they came here to kill us.” He picked up the ax and twirled it in his hands. “Hell of a thing, isn’t it? I’m the one person you wanted dead, and here I am the only one to survive the attack you started.”

Tears were running down Sophie’s face now.

Taylor pushed himself up and struggled to his feet.

Sophie saw Nate on the ground inside the door and let out another cry of sorrow. He lay on his stomach, his left cheek against the floor. The back of his head was split open. That was no Larva wound.

“Taylor, what did you do?”

He was walking toward her, sauntering forward, using the ax like a cane. She cursed herself for not running the moment she saw him.

“Come on,” he said. “It’s not like any of us were gonna survive anyway. I’m done playing house.”

She swung her backpack off her back and quickly unzipped it. She reached inside, searching for the gun. Her hand closed around something else instead, something metal. The compass.

Taylor was moving toward her now, much faster than she would have thought possible for such a big man. And he was swinging the ax. She tried to backpedal, but he was coming too fast.

He was holding the head of the ax and swinging the handle at her, she realized. He wanted to bludgeon her. Just like Heather.

The ax handle collided with her head, and she collapsed. Everything went dark.

She opened her eyes and saw two small legs in front of her. The boy bent down and took the compass out of her hand. She tried to speak, but everything went dark before she could.

The next time she opened her eyes, she heard Taylor whistling.

Her first thought was relief. She was alive. She reached up and felt her head. God, it hurt. But it wasn’t split open. There was no blood on her hand when she pulled it away from her head.

Taylor was crouched on the ground across the room, watching her. Had he been watching the whole time she was passed out? “Glad you’re awake. I was afraid I might have swung too hard. I get carried away sometimes. Like with your sister.”

She groggily raised herself to a sitting position. The world was swimming before her eyes. She blinked hard three times and things cleared up a little.

“You know, I actually like you. You’ve got a lot of fight. This is gonna be fun.” He smiled a toothy grin, his misshapen face wrinkling like a rotten apple.

Sophie looked around, searching desperately for her backpack, but it was gone. Her gun had been in there. She felt her belt. The knife was gone too.

Taylor got to his feet. “The challenge is to see how many times I can hit you in the head and keep you alive. Sort of an exercise in self-restraint. I gotta hit you hard enough that it’ll be satisfying, but not so hard that you die. Understand?”

“Go to hell!” Sophie yelled. She crab-walked backwards away from him. He followed, the ax over his shoulder, taking one long slow step at a time.

“I’m betting I can do four. Maybe five. But, like I said, I do get carried away sometimes.”

Behind Taylor, Sophie saw Nate’s body roll over. That was impossible. She’d seen the way his head was split open. There was no way he could be alive. It was almost as if someone were moving him.

Taylor shifted the ax to a two hand grip. “Okay, ready to get started?”

Something flew through the air and landed on the ground next to Sophie. A knife.

Taylor squinted at it. “What the hell?” He spun around to see who had tossed it. That was all the time Sophie needed.

She grabbed the knife, tucked her feet under her, and sprang up. Taylor turned back, a confused look on his face. The confusion quickly melted into shock as Sophie brought the knife around and stuck it in his neck.

He staggered backwards three steps and collapsed. Sophie picked up the ax off the ground. She paused wondering if she should say something. Something like, This is for Heather. But no, there was no joy in this. It was just something that had to be done. She wouldn’t gloat.

She lifted the ax and finished the job.

Looking toward the doorway, she said, “Thanks.”

Suddenly Frank was standing there next to Nate’s now face-up body. “You’re welcome.” He stepped forward. “I, uh, thought about taking him out. Seemed like maybe it was something you needed to do yourself. From what he said about your sister and all.”

Sophie shuddered. She suddenly wanted nothing more than to leave, to be away from all this death and destruction. “So, you got a Bilbo Baggins ring or what?”

“Huh?”

“The invisibility thing.”

“Oh. Come on, I’ll show you.” He ducked into Jake’s office. Sophie followed him, carefully sidestepping the bodies in her path. The old lockbox was sitting on the desk.

“I found this under the desk. I put the book inside,” Frank said. “Now watch this.”

He pulled a strange metal object out of his pocket. It was a silver hoop hooked into a metal square.

“What is that thing?” she asked.

“It’s a lock. To open it, you twist, squeeze, and then pull. Watch.” He demonstrated, and the lock popped open. “Now, here’s the cool part.” He put the lock on the box. When he snapped the lock shut, the box disappeared.

“No way.” Sophie reached out and touched where the box had been. Her fingers passed through the air as though nothing was there.

He looked at her. “It’ll be safe from Zed.”

“You sure?”

He smiled weakly. “I’m from the future, remember?”

She grunted in reply. “So you trust me now?”

Frank ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Turns out the info I had on you was a little off. I trust you more than Zed. I know that much.”

“What do we do now?”

Frank shook his head. “Mason told me you were dead by the time he took the compass from you. And he didn’t mention me being here. I don’t know how this ends.”

“Mason,” Sophie said. “We need to find him. Before Zed does. Then we need to search for survivors. Maybe try to put out the fires. I don’t know. I wish I still had the compass.”

“I’ve got mine.”

“What do we do if we run into Zed?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve got another lock. We can hide if we need to.” He pressed the broken clock symbol and closed his eyes for a moment. “Okay. Let’s go.”

They made their way out of the house, past the bodies of the people Sophie had known and the unbanished that she hadn’t. Past the bodies of strangers and friends.

“What are we gonna do when we find Mason?” Frank asked.

“I don’t know. But we can’t leave him alone out there.”

They didn’t have to walk far before they saw a figure standing in the middle of the trail. Zed.

“Well, this ain’t good,” Frank muttered.

Zed wore a set of loose, ill-fitting khakis and a tee shirt.

“Good Lord,” Zed said, a quizzical smile on his face. “Is that Frank Hinkle?”

“Nice outfit,” Frank said.

“Thank you. I got it out of one of the cabins before that idiot burned it.” Zed said. “Where in the world did you come from? I take it you came through the mirror?”

“Where’s Mason?” Sophie said.

“The kid?” Zed asked. “He’s hiding in the woods a little way from here. I’ll deal with him next.”

Sophie pulled out her knife. “Leave him alone.”

Zed waved a dismissive hand toward her. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Frank? You see now what I had planned for Rook Mountain. After the people are gone and the town is disconnected from reality, there are so many wonderful things you can do.”

Frank spoke through gritted teeth. “This is your master plan? To turn towns into weird little forests?”

Zed chuckled. “They’re so much more than that. These weird little forests are the only places I’m safe. Think of it as building a castle with a moat around it. And, the forests provide me what I need to do my real work.”

“What’s that?” Frank asked. “Babysitting Larvae?”

Zed’s smile wavered for just a moment. “The Larvae are an unfortunate side effect. They grow up to be the Ones Who Sing, after all. And trust me when I say I don’t want that.”

Sophie glanced at Frank. “What do we do?”

“I am still getting re-acclimated to my body,” Zed said. “My original plan for getting back to Rook Mountain today failed. I’m the weakest I’ve been in a long, long time. You might even be able to kill me right now. That’s why I’ve decided to deal with you later.”

Sophie felt something like a meat hook tear into her back. The air rushed out of her lungs. She felt herself flying through the air, and then the world changed.

IN THE WOODS (PART EIGHT)

“Glad to see you both,” Zed said.

Frank doubled over, gasping for breath. He saw Sophie next to him, doing the same. After a moment, he looked up and blinked hard. It was like decades had passed in a moment. Zed stood in the middle of the path, exactly where he’d been a moment ago. Now Mason—sixty-year-old Mason—stood next to him.

The path had changed. It was thinner now, and partially grown over.

The only thing unchanged was Zed. He was wearing different clothes, but, other than that, he looked exactly the same. No, that wasn’t quite right. He hadn’t been holding an open book in his hands.

Zed had the book. Jake had died bringing Frank to the past. And for what? The people of Sanctuary were still dead and now Zed had the book. Zed had won.

White light poured out of a door in the tree next to Frank. “You pulled us through the tree?” he asked.

Sophie shook her head. “Jake said that couldn’t be done.”

“It can if you know what you’re doing,” Zed said. “And if you don’t mind hurting people a little.”

Frank’s back felt like it was on fire from whatever mystical force had grabbed him and pulled him through. It seemed to be intact though.

“I’m in a better position to deal with you now,” Zed said. “A much better position. I’ve been waiting more than fifty years to be strong enough to pull you through and save my younger self.” He pointed toward Frank’s hand. “Is that the compass? If you don’t mind…” He slid a finger across a page of the book, and the ground under Frank shifted. It was like being on a moving sidewalk at an airport. The ground carried him twenty feet down the path, and in a moment he was standing in front of Zed.

He grabbed Frank’s wrist and squeezed with hellish strength. Frank cried out and dropped the compass into Zed’s outstretched hand. “Glad to have this one back. You know, if I’d had this in Rook Mountain, things would have gone very differently.” He glanced down at the compass. “Well, now, isn’t this interesting? The compass is pointing at Ms. Porter.”

“What does that mean?” Sophie asked. “Why does it do that?”

Zed’s smile widened. “It only points to the worst of the worst. If you press the broken clock symbol and concentrate, you can move the needle in another direction for a while, but evil is this compass’s true north. It would seem you have the potential for great evil, my dear. Maybe we should keep you around for a while.”

Mason raised a pistol and pointed it at Sophie. “You killed my mother.”

“What?” Sophie asked. “I’ve never even seen you before.”

Zed sighed. “Catch up, Ms. Porter. This is little Mason Hinkle, all grown up.”

“Mason, I was there,” Frank said. “I saw it. She didn’t kill your mother. Zed’s been lying to you.”

Mason’s eyes narrowed. “Like I’d believe you.”

Zed pushed the pistol down. “Mason, please. Not now. There’ll be plenty of time for killing her once I leave.”

Mason’s eyes widened. “You’re leaving?”

He nodded. “I have to finish the work I started before your uncle and his friends stopped me.”

Zed’s hands flew over the pages of the book. With each stroke of his finger, the forest changed. Trees zoomed around, reorienting themselves. Hills flattened. Paths grew and twisted and disappeared.

Frank wanted to throw up. It was like the world was spinning around him. It hurt his eyes, his brain more so. Even after everything he had seen, this was too much for him.

“What Jake didn’t realize when he…banished me,” Zed said, working the book as he talked, “was that he was connecting me to all sorts of other places and times. The roots of the trees here reach far beyond this soil. I found I could influence things very far from here. I could even appear briefly in an almost physical form with a little help. I did that a few times in Rook Mountain. So, I created the legend of Sanctuary and put it into as many times and places as I could. Sanctuary is the book’s secret name for this place. I knew the book would make sure Jake heard the people when they called for his help. And, kind-hearted fool that he was, I knew he’d help them. The more people he brought here, the better the chance someone would screw up and I’d be able to make my escape.” He smiled at Sophie.

Sophie glared at him. “Is that why you brought me here? Is that why you left me messages? So I could help you escape?”

A dark cloud passed over Zed’s face. “My powers were limited when I was banished. I could influence things in small ways. I left a few messages for my friends in Rook Mountain, but it hurt every time. Someone else brought you here and left you those messages.”

Sophie laughed. “Right. Who was it then?”

Zed grimaced. “The same man who killed your friends. The man who drove the banished people to attack. The man who started the fires.” He glanced at Frank and saw the skeptical look on his face. “Come on. Why would I kill all those people? You know I love working a crowd. I’m an idealist at heart. I believe in people.”

Zed tapped his fingers on the page like a pianist coaxing out a complicated concerto. Suddenly a man stood next to Frank.

It was the bearded man. The man Frank had seen over Mason’s shoulder when he first arrived here.

The man looked around, confused.

“I don’t understand,” Sophie said. “Jake banished him. Did you change him back?”

“Noooo,” Zed said. “I was the one who transformed him into a tree originally many years ago when this place was still called Sugar Plains. And then you released him. And Jake did his half-assed job of changing him back into a tree. It took a while, but our friend Vee here broke free. He did that…what was it, Vee…two years ago? That was impressive. He’s been sulking around the woods since then. Thinking he was hiding from me. Waiting for his chance to take me out. Well, here I am, Vee.”

The bearded man smiled, revealing dirty teeth. “Zed. I have a message for you.”

Zed waved his hand at the man. “I don’t want your message.”

“You need to hear it, nonetheless,” Vee said. “Come home.”

Zed scowled at the bearded man. “I am home. You tell them that. I am home.”

Vee said, “That message will not be well received.”

Zed shook his head as if dismissing the idea. “You gonna tell Frank and Sophie how you killed their friends? How you brought poor little Sophie to Sanctuary? Tricked her with your messages?”

“Why should I tell them anything? You’ve been living among them far too long if you think they matter.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Zed said. “They are wonderful tools. You just don’t know how to use them properly.”

Vee let out a bark that might have been a laugh. “You were always the smart one.”

Zed’s smile widened. “And you were always the strong one. The way you did all those things while you were in tree form, it was mighty impressive. I watched in awe as you made things happen here and in Rook Mountain. Your message even helped my friends locate the hammer.”

“I wanted them to open the door, same as you. I want out of this place as badly as you do.”

“I couldn’t have done all that,” Zed said. “Like I said, you’re the strong one. We both know I’m no match for you in a straight up fight.”

“Then why are you smiling?” Vee asked.

“Because I’m the smart one.”

Zed slid his fingers across the page in front of him, and light burst out of the two trees nearest to Vee. He flipped onto his back as if his legs were being pulled in one direction and his arms in the other. He hovered three feet off the ground, a pained looked on his face, his arms and legs stretched in opposite directions.

Frank remembered the irresistible force that had pulled him through the tree moments ago. It appeared a similar force was pulling Vee. Toward two separate trees at once.

Vee groaned, his eyes wide.

“You had to come after me,” Zed said. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone. They need me even if they don’t know it. Screw the Ones Who Sing. And screw you. They need me. You tell them that.”

Vee grunted, as if he were trying to speak but was stretched too far to let any words out.

Zed flicked the page, and Vee cried out, releasing a guttural shriek of pain. His body quivered, and then his arms were ripped from his body and flew through the door behind him even as the rest of his body flew through the door in front of him.

Vee was gone. Only a splatter of blood on the ground remained.

“There,” Zed said. “That’s taken care of.”

“Jesus!” Sophie yelled. “You tore him in half.”

“Hush now,” Zed said. He put his hand back on the book and his fingers started dancing.

Frank looked around and let out an involuntary gasp. The trees were lined up in orderly rows as far as the eye could see. White light poured from each of them.

Frank stumbled backwards toward Sophie and put his arm around her. As they clung to each other, he realized they were both shaking.

“I’m pretty good with this thing, right?” Zed asked.

“Who was that man?” Frank asked.

Zed grunted. “He was no one. Someone who thought he was entitled to power.”

“What is that book?” Frank asked. “Where did it come from? Did you make it?”

Zed paged through the book as if trying to find a particularly interesting passage. “No. Every special place has a book. I’m just skilled at finding the important ones.”

Frank asked, “Even Rook Mountain has one of these books?”

Zed looked up, his eyes wide with surprise. “Frank, your mind is a strange and beautiful thing. You really don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

Zed tilted his head and squinted at Frank, as if trying to figure out if the man was kidding. “Rook Mountain did have a book. You burned it.”

Frank shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He suddenly felt like the world was twisting again. Something strange was happening in the back of his mind, but he didn’t know what it was.

Zed chuckled and shook his head. “And that’s exactly why I’m not going to kill you. I might need some of what you have locked away in your head. If either one of us can ever figure out how to access it.”

Sophie nodded her head toward the tree next to her. It was an especially tall tree with a complex and twisted root structure. Frank didn’t know what she was trying to tell him.

Zed flicked the page with his finger, and the white light coming out of one of the trees disappeared. He flicked again, and another light went out. He did it again and again, faster and faster.

“Frank, give me your lock,” Sophie whispered.

Frank squinted at her, wondering what she was talking about. Then he remembered there were two locks. The one he’d brought with him from Rook Mountain and the one he’d taken off the lockbox. He still had one in his pocket. He passed it to her.

“Zed, what are you doing?” Mason asked.

Zed kept moving, putting out lights as he answered. “I only need one of these doors. And I might not be the only person trying to use them. Better to destroy them. Besides, there’s only one place left I need to go.”

Frank noticed Sophie was crouched near the ground, but he couldn’t tell what she was doing.

Finally, when all the lights were out but the one on the tree directly in front of Zed, he closed the book and looked at Frank. “I’ll come back for you,” he said. “I may have work for us to do together.” He stepped toward the doorway, and then paused. “I’ve set this door to burn out after I step through. But you have food and supplies. Try to stay alive until I get back.”

He gently set the book down in the dirt.

“Wait,” Mason said. “You’re taking me with you, right? Like we talked about?”

Zed smiled at him. “As much as I appreciate your loyalty, the answer to that question is a resounding no.”

Mason bit his lip. “Can I have my compass?” His voice was shaking.

“Son, it was always my compass. You were just holding it for me.”

Zed winked at Frank, then stepped through the door in the tree.

As soon as he’d passed through the tree, the light blinked out.

“No,” Frank whispered.

“What’s happening?” Sophie asked. “What does this mean?”

“He’s gone,” Frank said, struggling to keep his voice steady. “He’s probably going after my family. My friends. He’ll kill them all.”

“Well then we find him. We use the book. Like you did before when you found Jake.”

“No. I had the compass. And even then Jake had to pull me through. He said he destroyed the doors.”

Mason picked up the book and flipped it open.

“There has to be a way!” Frank said. “Maybe we can learn to use the book. Study it.”

Sophie said, “I don’t know. Jake studied it for years. Like, a decade. But if we can figure out the book, there might be a way.”

The tree in front of them suddenly moved. It shifted horizontally to the other side of the trail. Then it moved back again.

“Not bad!” Mason said. He dragged his finger across the page and the tree shot fifty yards away. He ran his finger the other way, and the tree raced back, stopping inches away from Frank’s nose.

“Why didn’t you tell us you knew how to use the book?” Frank asked.

“I didn’t know I did,” Mason said. “I haven’t seen it since I was a kid. It was locked in that box, remember? But it all looks pretty straight forward. The instructions are written right here.”

“You can read it?” Frank asked.

“Yeah.” He chuckled wearily. “Funny. I haven’t read a lick in more than fifty years. I wasn’t much good at it then, either. But this is all crystal clear.” He shrugged. “It just seems to make sense. This book is of this place, like me. And Zed thought I was useless.”

Frank put his hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Mason, you have to take us through the doorway. We have to follow him to Rook Mountain.”

Mason frowned, flipping through the pages. “The tree he went through doesn’t go to Rook Mountain.”

“Where’s it go?” Frank asked.

Mason scanned the page. “King’s Crossing, Wisconsin. He did something to all these trees, though. The doorways don’t open like the book says they should.”

“Maybe you’re not using it right,” Frank said. “It might take some time to figure it out.”

Sophie crouched down and fiddled with something on the ground. Suddenly a tree appeared next to her. And the white light was still pouring out of it.

She held up the Cassandra lock and smiled. “I figured we should hide one of the trees from Zed.”

Now Frank was smiling. It was the tree he had seen next to her before. The one with the twisted root structure. “You used the lock.”

Sophie nodded. “I put the lock on one of its roots. This is the Rook Mountain tree.”

Frank glanced at Mason. Mason flipped a page of the book and nodded. “She’s right.” A smile crept onto his face. “And the door seems to be working. I’ve never done this before. Give me a second.”

His finger twisted on the page. Sweat beaded his weathered brow. After a few moments, he looked up at them and said, “It’s ready for us.”

Frank grinned at Sophie and Mason. “Ready to go home?”

Sophie smiled back at him. “Hell yes.”

Mason frowned. “I was born here. I’ve never been anywhere else. I’m—”

Frank cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. “Come home.”

Mason nodded.

Frank, Sophie, and Mason stepped into the light and went home to Rook Mountain.

EPILOGUE

Rook Mountain—May 29, 2015

Mason stood at the window, peeking through the curtain.

“Geez, man, she’ll get here when she gets here,” Frank said.

Mason nodded. “I know. I’m just checking.”

Frank couldn’t blame Mason for his anxiousness. He’d had to adjust a lot of new things over the month since they’d returned to Rook Mountain. Running water. Cars. Toothbrushes. And people. Mason got pretty jumpy around them, and in the non-Sanctuary world, they were just about everywhere. Frank couldn’t blame Mason for being excited about seeing someone slightly more familiar.

But at least he got to go out and experience things, unlike Frank who’d been stuck in Sean's house for the last month, afraid he’d bump into Christine, Trevor, or Will. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see them. He did. Badly. But there was no way he was bringing them back into this. And if they knew he was back, they would insist on trying to help. Frank couldn’t allow that.

Frank had wandered out into town a few times, using the Cassandra lock to render himself invisible, but that had only made him feel more alone. The streets of Rook Mountain felt haunted; he saw reminders of Zed and the Regulations everywhere he went.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned. Sean stood behind him.

“You sure you won’t reconsider my offer?” Sean asked. “I do come in handy every once in a while.”

“That’s what I hear,” Frank said with a smile. “Still waiting to see proof of that myself.”

Sean pointed at the scars crisscrossing his neck. “There’s your proof. For real, though. It’s not too late. I can have a bag packed and be ready in ten minutes.”

Frank shook his head. “I need you here. This place is important to Zed. I know it. He’ll come back here, and I want you to be ready when that happens. Besides, you’ve got Wendy to think about.”

“True. No way would she stay behind.”

“You see? We just don’t have room in the car for all of you.”

The smile drifted away from Sean’s face. “Are you sure you want to do this? You’ve put in your time. Maybe it’s someone else’s turn to take a crack at Zed.”

Frank turned away. “No one else understands him like we do. And then there are the locks.”

Sean frowned. “You sound like Jake. He insisted we stand up to Zed.”

Mason turned away from the window. “And look how far that got him. He wanted to save people by bringing them to Sanctuary, and they all ended up dead.”

“Is that what you think?” Frank asked. He searched Mason’s face. The older man wasn’t speaking emotionally. He was just stating a fact he had learned long ago.

Mason turned back to the window. “Of course. Dad tried hard. And he had good intentions. It’s wasn’t his fault he failed.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Sean said. “If it wasn’t for your dad and his message, Frank wouldn’t have been let out of jail. Zed might still be ruling over Rook Mountain.”

“Exactly,” Frank said. “Look, he originally went through that mirror to find help for his family. Because of that, I got out of prison and was able to do my part. And when we sent Zed through the mirror, your dad was waiting there and he banished him.”

“Sure, for a little while,” Mason said.

“Long enough for his family here to be safe. And long enough to create a new family. Mason, your dad was all about keeping people he loved safe. He died doing that. So don’t think for a minute that he was a failure. He gave every person in Sanctuary a new life, even if it didn’t last forever. He gave me one too.”

Mason turned just enough for Frank to be able to see the hint of a smile on his face. “Yeah, I guess he did.”

Sean cocked his thumb toward the window. “Looks like your ride’s here.”

Sure enough, Frank saw a tan Honda Civic roll to a stop in front of the house.

Sean pulled a surprised Mason into a bear hug. “My friend, it was super weird teaching you how to operate a faucet. I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.”

Mason just grunted, clearly desperate to have the hug end as quickly as possible.

Sean hugged Frank. Then he handed Frank something.

“What’s this?” Frank asked.

“Pre-paid cell phone,” Sean said. “My number’s programmed in there. If you need help, I’m the first call you make. Deal?”

Frank smiled. “Deal. Thanks, man. For everything.” He slipped the phone into his pocket. “Same goes for you. Watch out for them. Christine and Trevor, I mean. If you need anything, or if they do, don’t hesitate. I’ll come back here on the run the minute you call.”

“Of course,” Sean said. “It seems like you are always leaving. Going off somewhere new and exciting.”

“Not forever,” Frank said. “I’m coming back here soon. For good. Just got to take care of this little Zed problem first.”

Sean smiled. “Oh, is that all?”

A few moments later, Frank and Mason threw their bags into the trunk of the Civic and climbed into the car. Mason got in the back seat slowly and carefully. He was still getting used to the idea of vehicular travel.

Sophie smiled at them. “Hello, my fellow idiots.”

“Right back attcha,” Frank said. “You get everything straightened out with your parents?”

Frank knew what she had told them about the time she was missing. She said she remembered being held at gunpoint by Rodgers and then she didn’t remember anything else until she reappeared in Rook Mountain. The story might have been easier to believe if the Rook Mountain tree hadn’t spit them out in April, 2015, a full six months after Sophie had disappeared. Still, she’d stuck to her story through all their confusion and questions, and she hoped they at least half-believed it. It was Rook Mountain after all. Weird was what this town did.

Sophie shrugged. “Near enough. I told them I got a job interview up north. They are all about job interviews so they liked that.”

“Let’s talk while we drive,” Mason said. “I want to get to the part where we kill Zed.”

Frank chuckled. True enough, he too wanted to kill Zed. He did feel it was his responsibility. He hadn’t lied to Sean about that. But there was another more selfish reason for going. Zed had gone to another one of the special towns. A place that was special, Frank had to assume, like Rook Mountain and Sugar Plains were special. And Zed had told him all special places had a book.

So maybe King’s Crossing, Wisconsin had a book. Maybe it was a book that would allow Frank to reach through time.

Maybe Jake didn’t have to end up dead on the forest floor.

Frank hadn’t spoken those words aloud to anyone; he kept that secret hope locked away in a special place in his mind.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. He tossed it to Sophie. “Made you something.”

She scrunched up her face. “Seriously?”

“Just open it.”

She lifted the lid on the box and pulled out a silver necklace with a tiny lock hanging from the end of it.

“It’s a new design,” Frank said. “Put it on. It’ll hide you from the compass. So Zed won’t see us coming.”

Sophie put the chain around her neck. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Frank said. “I made one for Mason and one for me, too. More manly versions, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Sophie,” Frank said, looking into her eyes. “I really appreciate you volunteering to do this with us.”

“I’m young and single. The ideal time in life to fight bad guys.” Sophie shifted the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. “So…King’s Crossing, Wisconsin. How do we know Zed didn’t already take it out of time?”

“For one thing, it’s still on the map,” Frank said. “Besides, Zed doesn’t have the pocket watch anymore. He has the compass. Whatever he does next, it’s gonna be something different.”

She fingered the lock dangling from her neck. “At least he won’t see us coming.”

Frank smiled. “No he won’t.”

Sophie, Frank, and Mason left Rook Mountain and headed north.

The Broken Clock

Book Three of the Deadlock Trilogy

P.T. Hylton

PROLOGUE

Boulder Creek, CO

January 2022

Christine Osmond eased her truck into the driveway, put it in park, and gripped the wheel. There was a stranger sitting on her porch.

She couldn’t make out all the details from here, but she could see enough. Stark white hair. A rumpled jacket that was at least a size too large. It was enough to let her know she didn’t recognize the man. Yet there he was, sitting on her porch, looking as comfortable as if he’d been here a thousand times.

She hesitated, then got out of the truck and took a few steps toward the house.

“Help you?” she called. She heard the Tennessee in her voice. She never tried to hide it—she was proud of who she was and where she’d come from—but over the past few years she’d noticed it fading ever-so-slightly. God help her, she was starting to sound like a northerner.

The man gave her a weak smile and she saw the deep lines on his face. The guy had to be sixty years old if he was a day. And a hard sixty. Those eyes of his had seen some things. He was thin and sinewy, but he looked strong. She could tell even through his too-large jacket. The way the cords stood out on his neck.

He rose and nodded to her. “Doctor Osmond, I have something for you.”

“That so?” she asked.

He nodded and held out a plain white envelope.

She took another step toward the porch. “You selling something?”

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’m just here to give you the letter. And to answer your questions, if you have ’em.”

She squinted at him. “I don’t foresee myself having any questions a stranger could answer. Maybe if you were a little more forward as to the reason for your call…” She let her voice trail off, hoping he’d take it from there.

He stretched out his arm, offering the envelope. “I’d rather you read the letter. It’ll make more sense after.”

She set her jaw. “No. Tell me why you’re here first.” Something about the sight of this man made her very afraid.

He sighed. “Maybe you know why I’m here. I think you knew I was coming. Me or someone like me. You keep looking over your shoulder, peeking out your window to see if an unfamiliar car is pulling into your driveway. You look at the sky in the nighttime half expecting to see streaks of white. Because you know it’s not over. And you’re right.”

She said nothing. Her hands were shaking now. The mountain air suddenly felt chilly against the skin of her bare arms.

“Who are you?” she asked. As soon as the words left her mouth she wished they hadn’t. She didn’t want to hear the answer to her question. She suddenly realized what it was about this man that made her uneasy. It was there around his eyes and in the curve of his chin. It was there in the peculiar angle of his ears.

This man looked far too much like her son Trevor.

He looked her square in the eye. “My name’s Mason Hinkle.”

“Bullshit.” The word sprang to her lips, unbidden. She suddenly wished she had her knife. She would feel so much better if she were holding it now. She wouldn’t feel so defenseless and alone. But the knife was in her bedroom and this man, this man who claimed to be a Hinkle, was standing between her and it.

He was still holding the envelope out to her. She stared him down for another moment, letting him know with her eyes she wasn’t up for nonsense. He didn’t look away.

She snatched the envelope from him and turned it over in her hand. Both sides were blank.

She slid a finger under the flap and tore it open. The letter inside was written on a single piece of legal paper. She unfolded it and started to read.

Christine,

I hope to God this letter finds you and Will.

I don’t have time to write it all down. There’s so much you need to know. That’s why I’m sending Mason. You can trust him. He’s one of us. He’s a Hinkle. Listen to what he has to say. I was hoping not to involve you, but it’s too late for that now. So, I’m asking for your help.

Leave Trevor out of it, if you can. There’s still a chance for him.

Ask the man who gave you this letter where you kept the Tools all those years. That’ll be your sign this letter really is from me. Mason’s the only one I told about that.

Christine…I’m sorry.

Love, Frank

Christine crushed the paper in her hand. She looked up at the man.

“The freezer,” he said. “You kept the Tools in the freezer. The knife, the lighter, the cane. Am I missing any? Oh, and the head of one of the Unfeathered. That part always made me smile.”

“You read the letter.”

“I was there when he wrote it.” The man grinned sheepishly, and her stomach cramped. God, he looked like Trevor. And Jake. So much like Jake.

Christine shook her head violently. “I don’t believe you. That answer, it doesn’t prove anything. Zed reads minds.”

“Not Frank’s.”

She thought back to that day in Rook Mountain City Hall, when Frank opened the box and unleashed the Unfeathered on the town. It was true. Zed couldn’t read Frank’s mind.

“He could have tortured the info out of Frank,” she countered. “And how do I even know Frank wrote the letter?”

The man sighed. “I don’t know what else to tell you. Frank asked you to trust me if I could answer the question, and I answered it. I guess when it comes down to it, you either believe me or you don’t.”

Christine glared at him. “I don’t.”

He looked away. “Ma’am, I’ve come a long way, and I wish you’d at least—”

“Let me finish. I don’t believe you. Not fully. But I’m sure as hell not going to let you walk away if there’s any chance you’re the real thing. So I’ll talk to you. But I have conditions. Two of them.”

The older man nodded slowly. “I’d like to hear ’em.”

“One, I’m going inside to call my husband. He’s a part of this too, same as me. And I wouldn’t mind getting his thoughts on this situation. You wait out here on this porch until he gets home. When he does, we’ll all three of us have a nice conversation.”

“Fair enough. I’ll wait. What’s number two?”

“I’ll tell you when we all sit down to talk.”

With that, she brushed past him and went inside. She locked the door and threw the deadbolt.

She touched her phone and said, “Will, come home.”

Barely twenty seconds later, her phone chirped in reply. “On my way.”

Will didn’t have to ask why. In the last eight years, she’d never asked him to come home without an explanation. He’d been looking over his shoulder and peeking out the window at the nighttime sky the same as her. He knew they weren’t out of it. It wasn’t over.

Christine’s heart was racing and her palms were damp with sweat as she made her way to the bedroom. But she felt something else, too. A tiny something she’d thought had gone out years ago. It was hope.

And with it, relief. She’d been waiting and worrying for so long that someone would find them. Maybe it would be Zed, or maybe it would be the Unfeathered, or maybe it would be someone else altogether, but she’d known it would happen.

Jake hadn’t come home. Frank hadn’t come home. They would have if at all possible. That meant either they were dead or someone was keeping them away. Or maybe it meant Zed had won.

And now there was a very good chance the answers to the questions that had been burning a hole in her heart the last eight years were sitting on her porch.

She went to her dresser and pulled open the top drawer. She picked up the knife and ran her thumb over the broken clock symbol. She was doing that a lot lately. It soothed her.

The last time she’d used the knife had been back in Rook Mountain. Sean Lee had brought her a Tool, a hammer. He’d said he found it. She knew from the look in his eyes there was more to the story, but, honestly, she hadn’t wanted to know. Not then. Not so soon after things had finally gone back to some semblance of normal. She’d been grateful for Sean’s lie. So, she’d destroyed the hammer and asked no further questions…

Christine paused, then grabbed her Glock and loaded it. She pulled out the shoulder holster and put that on, too. Yeah, that guy looked like Jake, and, yeah, he claimed to be a Hinkle. That didn’t mean Christine trusted him. Her and trust had a complicated relationship.

She walked out to the living room and brushed aside the curtain over the front window. The man was sitting there, looking as serene as if he was on his own porch. She watched him for a long while until she couldn’t look at him anymore. The longer she stared, the more she saw Trevor and Jake in him.

For want of something to do, she poured three tall glasses of tea.

When she saw Will’s Chevy pulling into the driveway, she opened the front door and carried out the drinks. He leapt out of the car and ran toward the porch. Christine met him at the bottom of the stairs.

Will’s voice was shaking when he spoke. “What’s going on? Who’s he?”

“He says his name is Mason Hinkle.” She handed him the letter.

He read it, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “Is this for real?”

“That’s what I’m aiming to find out.” She turned toward the man on the porch. “You want a glass of sweet tea?” She turned so he could see her shoulder holster.

He shook his head slowly, a smile on his face. “No ma’am. But I do appreciate the offer.”

Will’s eyes were still scanning the letter. “Drink the tea.”

Mason shrugged and took a glass off the tray. “You said there was another condition before you’d talk to me.”

Christine nodded. “I want to ask you something.”

“I believe I mentioned that’s part of why I’m here.”

Christine paused a moment. She was afraid to ask the question and more afraid what the answer might be. “Mr…Hinkle, do you know where Jake and Frank are?”

A sadness came into Mason’s eyes, and Christine’s heart broke. “Ma’am, I’m sorry to tell you this, but Jake’s dead. And Frank…well, he needs your help.”

After a moment, Will said in a scratchy voice, “Start talking. Tell us what happened.”

Mason cleared his throat. “Listen, I want you to know we tried our best. All of us did. Frank. Sophie. Me. Things got so messed up.”

“We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Will said.

“I’m sorry. There’s so much. I’m trying to figure out where to start. Everything went wrong. And now…” He trailed off, staring toward the distant mountains.

Christine gritted her teeth. She’d known in her heart Jake was dead, but hearing it out loud was something else.

Maybe there was still a chance for his brother. “Where is Frank?” she asked.

“He’s in a place called King’s Crossing, Wisconsin. And we need to save him.”

CHAPTER ONE: SWARM

King’s Crossing, Wisconsin

May 2015

1.

Frank, Sophie, and Mason drove north.

Frank adjusted his legs, trying yet again to find a semi-comfortable position. He’d been crammed into the too-small backseat for the last ten hours. Mason had been assigned sole possession of the front passenger seat after throwing up in Kentucky. The man hadn’t been in a car more than ten minutes before today, and the fourteen-hour trip from Rook Mountain, Tennessee, to King’s Crossing, Wisconsin, wasn’t agreeing with his stomach.

Frank had offered multiple times to take a turn at the wheel, but Sophie loved to drive. He’d also let it slip he hadn’t exactly been driving around these last eight years, so that may have also had something to do with her reluctance to trade spots.

Mason moaned again and Sophie glanced at him. “Do I need to pull over?”

“No,” he croaked at her. “Just get where we’re going.”

Frank shifted in his seat. “Hang on, man. We’re only about ten minutes out.”

They pulled off the interstate and onto a road that ran parallel to the Mississippi River. The sign at the city limits put the population at just over twelve thousand, which was three times the size of Rook Mountain. Was that why Zed hadn’t made his move?

Zed had a pattern. Show up in town, take it out of time, become the hero, and let the trees slowly take over the town. According to what Frank had read in the book with the broken world symbol on the cover, that’s what he had done in Sugar Plains, Illinois, back in 1985, and according to Zed himself, it was what he’d been intending to do in Rook Mountain. How many other towns had Zed destroyed? How many other places had vanished off the face of the Earth, forgotten by the rest of humanity? And why?

Why. That was the big question, wasn’t it? Frank still didn’t understand Zed’s purpose in pulling these towns out of time. He knew they were special, and that specialness had something to do with the books all those towns had…even Rook Mountain.

Rook Mountain did have a book, Zed had told Frank. You destroyed it.

Frank didn’t like to think about those things. The holes that seemed to exist in his memory. The destruction of the Rook Mountain book. The quarry. What else had he forgotten?

Still, even though Zed had a pattern, it was clear he was being forced to deviate from it. Zed no longer had the watch, so Frank had to assume he couldn’t use his usual technique for sucking the life out of towns. King’s Crossing, Wisconsin, hadn’t been pulled out of time. So what was his new strategy? What would he do now?

It all came down to the why. If Frank knew Zed’s purpose, he might be able to figure out what other methods the man would use. Zed had the compass, and he’d indicated it was powerful, maybe more powerful than his old watch. Zed had proven he could use the Tools in ways the rest of them couldn’t, or at least didn’t think to try.

Frank squirmed in his seat, his eyes scanning the landscape outside the window. All-in-all, it wasn’t that different from back home. The drive had been strange, particularly the section through Illinois. He’d never seen land so flat. He could see for miles in all directions, the landscape broken only by farmhouses, cell phone towers that jutted into the sky like long, bony fingers, and an eerie fifty mile stretch of slowly churning wind turbines. That section of the drive had made Frank uncomfortable. He’d felt exposed, like a creature in the sky would reach down with a giant hand and pluck him up into the heavens.

But as they entered Wisconsin, the flatlands gradually gave way to gently rolling hills. Now, here in southwestern Wisconsin, the bluffs almost made him feel like he was back at home in the Appalachians. Almost.

As they drove north through town, the comforting bluffs cradled the right side of the road, but the left side was something different. Just beyond the edge of the road, the land fell away, and the Mississippi River rolled past.

Frank felt his hand go to his neck for what felt like the thousandth time in the last hour. A small lock hung from a chain there. Mason and Sophie wore similar chains with similar locks. Frank called that model of lock the Beta, because it was nothing fancy. A simple twist would open it. But that was okay. It wasn’t meant to lock anything. Not physically. With the compass, Zed could potentially see them coming. The locks would make them invisible to Zed. It preserved surprise, which was the only weapon they had against him.

“Well,” Sophie said, “the town’s still here. It looks normal. No crazy trees or anything. Maybe Zed’s lying low? Waiting for something?”

Frank grunted noncommittally. “Maybe.”

They passed a car going the other direction and something tickled in the back of Frank’s mind. Something wasn’t right here. He just couldn’t place what that something was.

“Let’s find a restaurant,” he said. “Get something to eat. I could use a burger.”

“If we can find something open here in the sticks,” Sophie said. “It’s almost ten. I could go for some fish.” She suddenly sat up straighter. “And cheese curds! You have to try the cheese curds.”

Frank caught Sophie’s eye in the rearview mirror. She was the only one of the group who’d been to this part of the country before. She also seemed the least fazed by this bizarre road trip. Unlike the rest of them, she didn’t have a reason to hunt down Zed.

For Frank, it was about getting answers to the questions that plagued him. It was the weight of knowing he might be the only one who had the power to slow down Zed even a little. And deep in his heart he thought it might give him a chance to turn back the clock and save his brother.

Mason had spent his whole life with Zed, only to be betrayed by him when it mattered most.

But why was Sophie here?

Frank hadn’t exactly invited her. He’d called to let her know what they were doing, that they were going after Zed, because he felt she deserved to know. She hadn’t even paused. She hadn’t asked. She’d simply told him she was going. And, truth be told, Frank was glad. He didn’t know her well, but they’d been through some crazy things together. There was something about her. He couldn’t deny she was pretty, but there was far more to her than that. She had an aggressive, straightforward quality that fascinated him. Frank was accustomed to living inside his own head, to thinking things through before he opened his mouth to speak. Sure, he occasionally let his hot-headed tendencies get the better of him, but that was the exception. Sophie seemed to rush full-speed ahead as a way of life.

But it wasn’t just that. What they were doing, going after Zed, not defending themselves from him, but actually taking the fight to him, terrified Frank. And, while it was great to have Mason by his side, he still wasn’t sure the older man wasn’t crazy. A lifetime spent in the forest had planted some funny ideas in his head. Who was to say he wouldn’t flip back over to Zed’s way of thinking when he saw his father figure again?

Some father figure.

But maybe Sophie did have a reason to go after Zed. He’d said she had the potential for great evil. And, if he’d said that about Frank, Frank sure would want to get to the bottom of what exactly he’d meant by that.

Frank slapped Mason on the shoulder. The carsickness had taken it out of the older man, and he looked unnaturally pale in the flickering glow of the passing streetlights. “How ’bout you? Can you eat?”

Mason shrugged. “Maybe a little soup.”

“Beer cheese soup!” Sophie said, and Mason grew a shade paler.

A few minutes later, Sophie pointed to a restaurant on the river side of the road. The sign bore the face of a bear and read North Country Cafe. “How’s that look?”

Frank answered in the affirmative, and Mason weakly nodded his assent.

Sophie pulled into the parking lot and found a spot near the door. When she shut off the car, Frank said, “Don’t forget about the locks. You have to think about it to make them work. Lock yourself away from Zed in your mind, and the lock will do the rest.”

“Locked. Got it.” Sophie spoke in a way that made Frank think she might be making fun of him. It was at least the dozenth time in the last hour he’d reminded them to have their locks activated.

They opened the forest green doors and entered the dim restaurant. The place was nearly empty. A classic rock radio station played softly, and the savory smell of cooking meat filled the air.

A balding man with a neatly trimmed goatee stood behind the welcome station. He wore a long apron that perfectly matched the green door they’d just passed through. His smile was warm and genuine.

“Welcome!” he said. And something about his voice made Frank feel welcome, like the man was genuinely glad to see them. “Three today?”

“Yep,” Sophie said.

He grabbed three menus from behind the counter and snatched three sets of napkin-wrapped silverware from a basket next to him. Sophie nudged Frank with her elbow and nodded toward the man’s wrist. It took Frank a minute, and then he saw it.

A Roman numeral III was tattooed on the inside of his wrist in blue ink.

Frank’s eyebrows shot up. He remembered what Sean had told him about the young Zed Heads in Rook Mountain, the way they tattooed the broken clock symbol on the backs of their hands in support of Zed. This was far subtler, but still it seemed to be too similar to disregard as a coincidence.

“Tonight’s the night!” he said as he gathered the menus and silverware.

Sophie shot the man a confused look. “Sorry. Tonight’s what night?”

Now the man raised his eyebrows. “You haven’t been following the news?”

“Apparently not,” Sophie said.

“Tonight’s the night the mayflies are expected,” he said. “The swarm.” Then, without pausing to wait for a response, he turned and began walking. He called over his shoulder, “If you’ll follow me.”

He led them around a corner, past the bar, and to the back of the restaurant. Frank walked behind Sophie and Mason, and he heard them gasp a moment before he saw it.

The table was already set. It was a four top. There was a bowl of what looked to be chicken-noodle soup at one seat. At another, there was a burger and a tall beer. At the third seat, there was a beautifully cooked salmon fillet and a small plate of cheese curds.

And at the fourth seat, behind a steak and a glass of water, Zed sat smiling at them.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Zed said. “I took the liberty of ordering for the table.”

2.

Alice bit her lip as she listened to her parents argue.

They’d hardly ever fought until recently. For the first seven or eight years of her life, her family had been happy. Her parents often looked at her with delight. Sometimes they almost seemed surprised to see her. A couple of times, she caught her mother just staring at her with tears in her eyes. It had seemed normal at the time, but now, at the age of nine, Alice Campbell was old enough to realize most families weren’t like hers.

There was something wrong with her parents.

Sometimes she tried to figure out what it was, but she could never put her finger on it. There were the blue tattoos on the insides of their wrists—a IV on dad’s and a III on mom’s—but Alice had seen other people in town with those. Mrs. Brandon, Alice’s third-grade teacher, had a II, and she seemed normal enough.

Alice’s parents acted ashamed of their tattoos. It was almost as if they were afraid of them. They usually covered them up with long sleeves, and they looked upset whenever they caught Alice looking at them.

That stuff had been going on forever, but lately the arguing had started. The fights were always about stupid little things: the dishes, money, tones of voice. Young Alice didn’t know the word subtext, but she understood the concept. She knew her parents arguments weren’t really about chores or finances. There was something they weren’t saying. Something they never said.

And that was the worst part of it. If there had been a clear reason for the arguments, Alice could have Pulled Back and stopped whatever had caused the fight. It hurt to Pull Back. It felt like a tiny flame burning in the back of her skull every time she did it, but it would have been worth it if it helped her parents be happy.

Today was different. Today she had caused the argument. They’d been sitting at the dinner table eating meatloaf and green beans. Alice hated the meatloaf at school. It was wet and mushy and tasted like something that had been sitting out too long. But the way her dad made it was different. He used barbecue sauce and it tasted both sweet and tangy in a way that made her mouth happy. She wasn’t crazy about green beans, but even those were okay if she smeared them around in the extra barbecue sauce a little.

She and her mom and dad had been happily gobbling up their dinners, pausing between bites for a little conversation, her dad making dumb jokes as usual and her mom pointing out how lame they were and how many times he’d told them.

“Hey, why don’t seagulls hang out in bays?” her dad asked.

Alice was already grinning. She’d heard this one before. He’d told it only a few nights ago. He was always telling the same jokes over and over again.

“Why?” Alice asked.

“Because then they’d be bagels,” her dad said, and he took another bite of meatloaf.

Alice giggled. Mom swatted at Dad playfully, but she was smiling.

Alice felt her mind drifting to the future. School would be out soon. And then…

“How many weeks ’till June?” she asked.

The table grew quiet, and Alice knew she’d made a mistake, though she didn’t understand how.

After a long moment, her mom said, “Two weeks,” and then went back to her meatloaf.

Alice should have stopped there; the long silence should have been warning enough, but she couldn’t help herself. “That means it’s only two weeks until acting class!”

This would be Alice’s third summer in the youth program put on by the King’s Crossing theater. It was the highlight of her year. She was generally a shy girl, but something about being on stage, about pretending to be someone or something else, brought her to life. This year they would be performing Peter Pan and she could hardly wait.

Alice was a bit tall for her age, and she had a wild head of blond hair that never seemed to stay in its ponytail. Her enthusiasm and her stage presence had made her popular with the teachers at the theater and helped her win larger roles than most of the other nine-year-olds.

When she mentioned acting class, a tiny noise, almost like a gasp, came from her father. Alice looked up and saw her mother’s eyes were squeezed shut.

“Helen,” her father said. “We have to decide. Tonight.”

“No!” her mother answered in a harsh whisper. “We agreed. We can give it another day. We said we’d keep things normal for her as long as we could.”

Her father sighed. “You’re scared. I get it. I am too. But this…waiting. It’s just stupid.”

Mom set her fork down, and Alice’s heart leapt into her throat. Her mother was angry. She was trying to hide it, but Alice could see it in her eyes.

“Waiting for what?” Alice asked.

Her mother gaped at her father. “You had to bring it up now? At the table?”

“We can’t avoid it anymore.”

“Okay, then,” mom said. “Tell her. Tell her what we’re waiting for.”

“Seriously Helen, you’re just being spiteful.”

Her mom stood up slowly and set her napkin on the table. “I can’t listen to this. Excuse me.” She walked away, and every footstep sent a jolt of worry through Alice. She knew what would happen next.

A moment later, her father sighed and followed her mother out of the room.

Alice sat alone at the table. Times like these, she wished she had a brother or sister. Someone to talk to so she didn’t have to sit in the silence. A couple years ago she would have talked to her stuffed panda bear, but she was a bit old for that now.

She took a small bite of meatloaf, but it suddenly didn’t taste so good. The sauce seemed harsh and spicy rather than sweet and tangy.

A moment later, she heard their voices. They weren’t whispering now; they weren’t holding back at all. As if being in their bedroom with the thin door closed would keep her from hearing. Sure, she couldn’t make out the words, most of them anyway, but she heard their voices. The anger and fear in their shouts came through to the dining room loud and clear, even if the words were too muffled to make out.

She took a deep breath. This argument was her fault. If she hadn’t brought up acting class, this wouldn’t have happened. It made her feel bad to know she’d caused the argument, but in a strange way it also made her feel good. Because if she had caused it, she could also prevent it.

She knew what she had to do. She needed to Pull Back.

Alice closed her eyes and pictured the rope. It was a thick, coarse thing, as big around as her dad’s arm. The type of rope that might be used to tie a big ship to a dock. She pictured it suspended in a sea of blackness. Nothing existed but the rope.

She reached out, not with her hands, but with something else. Something she didn’t have a name for. Something in her mind. She gripped the rope, and she felt its prickly coarseness. The heat in the back of her head began as soon as she touched it. It hurt to Pull Back on the rope, but she knew from experience that if she didn’t pull, if she just touched the rope for too long, it would hurt far worse. She would get sick and throw up. She’d be weak and wouldn’t be able to get out of bed for days. Then there would be more doctors and more tests. And when the first tests didn’t find anything, there would be even more. She couldn’t let that happen.

She pulled ever-so-gently on the rope, using just the right amount of pressure. The pain shot through her brain and it was so hot she didn’t think she could stand it. But it was over in only a moment.

Alice slowly opened her eyes, and what she saw made her smile.

Her mother and her father happily eating meatloaf.

Dad looked at her. “Hey, why don’t seagulls hang out in bays?”

Alice grinned, but this time it wasn’t from the joke. It was pride.

She never talked about the rope or the way she could Pull Back on it. Not anymore. When she was very young, she’d thought it was something everyone could do, and she’d discussed it openly. Everyone thought she was playing make believe, but a few times she’d seen a worried look on her parents’ faces when she brought it up.

When she was four, her best friend Becky had broken her arm. Alice asked her why she didn’t just Pull Back to before it happened so her arm wouldn’t be broken. Becky had looked at her blankly, so she’d tried to explain. If she Pulled Back to yesterday, she could be more careful in the tree, or not climb the tree at all. Then her arm wouldn’t be broken. When Becky’s blank stare had continued, Alice had come to the startling conclusion that not only could Becky not Pull Back, she didn’t even know what it was. And if Becky didn’t know, maybe other people didn’t either.

So, Alice had stopped talking about it. She didn’t even mention it to her parents anymore. She took it as fact that no one else she knew had this particular skill.

Since no one else could do it, no one could appreciate how difficult what she had just done was. When she was younger, a single Pull Back on the rope would send her back days or even weeks. It was impossible to control. She’d sometimes worried what might happen if she were to pull a little too hard and get sent back to before her birth. Would she find herself huddled in her mother’s womb, complete with the memories of a nine-year-old?

But slowly, over time, she’d gotten better at it. And now she was very precise.

“Why?” Alice asked her father.

“Because then they’d be bagels,” he said, finishing the joke, and he took a bite of meatloaf.

Mom swatted at him playfully, just as she had the first time.

Alice felt the familiar tug, the slight urge to say what she’d said the first time, to ask how many weeks until June. Reality wanted to flow like it had originally, and she had to fight it a little to get it to deviate. But just a little. And Alice was used to it.

Alice didn’t ask about June or acting class. She just kept eating her meatloaf.

Her mother cleared her throat suddenly. “Hey, isn’t acting class starting soon?”

Alice’s heart sank. Sometimes reality was difficult to change. Others might fill in the gaps even if she didn’t.

Dad’s face went pale. “Helen. Don’t you think it’s time we talked to her about it?”

Alice saw the flush on her mother’s face. She knew how this would play out. She’d already seen the argument that was about to happen. She closed her eyes. She’d have to Pull Back again.

She tried not to do it more often than she needed to. Occasionally she would use it if she’d done badly on a test or if something embarrassing happened. But she didn’t do it for anything too trivial. And it wasn’t just the hot burst of pain that made her reluctant to Pull Back. Ever since she’d learned not everyone had this skill, she’d felt funny about it.

She’d been able to do it for as long as she could remember. The rope had always been there in some dark corner of her mind waiting to be pulled. But something about it wasn’t natural, she knew. Something about it felt wrong.

There was no time to think about that now. Not while her parents were arguing. Alice took a deep breath and gave the rope the tiniest of pulls.

She let the pain wash over her for a moment, then opened her eyes. Her father was smirking at her.

“Hey, why don’t seagulls hang out in bays?” he asked.

Alice reached out as if she were grabbing a napkin and knocked over her glass of milk.

“Whoa!” Dad said, hopping up to avoid the milk flowing off the edge of the table and onto his lap.

There, she thought. That should be enough to knock reality off its tracks. Things would proceed along a different path now.

Alice helped her parents clean up the milk and they all went back to eating their meatloaf.

3.

Frank stood frozen for a long moment, staring at Zed. How was it possible? How had the man known they would be here at this very moment? Had he been tracking them with the compass?

Frank’s hand slipped to the lock hanging from the chain around his neck.

He glanced at Sophie and saw she too was clutching her lock, a perplexed look on her face.

But Mason…

Mason stood statue still, staring at Zed. He had a look of fury and concentration Frank had never before seen on his face. His lip was curled slightly, and Frank could see the gaps where some teeth were missing. His fists were clenched in front of him. Frank prayed he wouldn’t attack. Not now. It wouldn’t do any good.

After a long moment of silence, Zed said, “This is slightly awkward. I can’t actually see you at the moment. I have to trust the look on my friend Brian’s face that you are standing here at all. Well, him and the others.” Zed nodded toward the wall to his left, and for the first time Frank noticed the eight men and women standing along the wall in the shadows.

They were all casually dressed, and they didn’t seem to have much in common other than the grim, determined looks on their faces and the guns they all held.

“What do we do?” Sophie asked. “Should we lock ourselves away from the rest of them?”

“Miss Porter!” Zed said with the hint of a laugh in his voice, and Frank grimaced. They’d had fourteen hours in the car and he hadn’t covered more than the bare-bones basics of the locks. He didn’t think he’d have to. Not yet. He thought they only needed to hide themselves from Zed’s compass, that they’d have time to plan things further. He’d been a fool.

Frank locked his voice away from everyone but Sophie and Mason. “Make it so they can’t hear your voice. Think about it and it will happen.”

Sophie hesitantly spoke again. “Okay. So what do we do? We can make ourselves invisible from everyone and head for the doors.”

Frank glanced back and saw two men with revolvers standing in the doorway to this section of the restaurant. And, sure enough, the emergency exit was behind the people lined against the wall.

“Well,” Frank said slowly, “we came to find Zed. So…mission accomplished, I guess.”

Sophie was staring at Mason. He was still frozen, his eyes locked on Zed. “You okay, Mason?” Sophie asked.

He didn’t answer.

Brian, the man who’d led them to the table, spoke. “Their lips are moving, but I can’t hear what they’re saying.”

Zed sighed. “Well, that’s just rude.” He gestured toward the table. “Would you all care to take a seat?”

Frank paused for a moment. He noticed Sophie waiting for him, letting him take the lead. That surprised him. She didn’t seem like the type of person who waited around for anybody.

“Let’s hear what he has to say,” Frank said.

Sophie’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“We can always make ourselves invisible again and head for the doors. Whatever he’s going to say is sure to be a lie, but I’d still like to hear it.” Without waiting for a reply, Frank mentally turned off his lock.

Zed met his eyes and visibly relaxed. “Here we are again. I ordered you a burger.”

Frank wanted nothing more than to ask how Zed had known what he’d been planning to eat. But he wouldn’t give Zed the satisfaction. Not now.

He pulled out the chair next to Zed, the one with the burger in front of it, and plopped down into the seat.

A moment later Zed’s eyes settled on Sophie as she too turned off her lock and sat down. To her, he said nothing. Frank could see something in Zed’s eyes when he looked at Sophie. Something that was a cross between hostile, confused, and maybe a little frightened. Frank couldn’t read that look completely—it was a complicated thing and Frank could only skim its surface—but it was clear Zed didn’t like her.

Sophie met Zed’s gaze, and without breaking it, picked up a fork, stabbed the salmon on the plate in front of her and stuck a big bite in her mouth. She didn’t bother closing her mouth as she chewed.

Frank had to stifle a laugh. She could be incredibly juvenile at times, but something about her made him smile.

Zed grunted and looked away. “Just waiting for my protege then. How about it, Mason? Join the adult table?”

Mason was still frozen, nearly shaking with rage.

Zed said, “We can’t begin if you don’t—”

“No,” Frank said. “He doesn’t have to join if he doesn’t want to. You’ve done enough to him.”

“Hell yes,” Sophie said through a mouthful of salmon.

Mason seemed to relax a bit at that. Frank could see by the way Zed’s eyes suddenly focused that Mason had turned off his lock.

“No,” Mason said. “If you’re talking, I’m joining.” He sat down across from Zed and brushed the soup bowl aside. He leaned forward on the edge of his seat, looking like he might pounce at any moment.

Zed’s face softened. “Mason, I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have left you in the woods. I’m sorry for that.”

Mason spoke through clenched teeth. “You promised me. We talked about it for years and you said we’d leave together—”

“I’ve apologized, and that’s that.” Zed’s voice was sharp, like a parent scolding a child. And, to Frank’s surprise, Mason reacted like a scolded child, turning a deep red and dropping his eyes.

Zed looked out the window for a long moment before speaking. “Tonight’s a special night in King’s Crossing. Special and strange.”

“Why’s that?” Sophie asked. “Half price fish?”

“No, Ms. Porter. Tonight’s the night the mayflies come.”

Frank felt the sudden urge to grab Zed and shake him. He wanted to force him to tell them why he was here and what he was doing. But he’d had enough dealings with Zed to know the man loved to hear himself talk, and he wouldn’t share any information until he’d worked his way around to it. So he asked, “Mayflies?”

“Yes. See, there are millions of mayfly eggs that hatch in the Mississippi River tonight. It happens once a year. It’s usually a bit later, generally June or July despite the name, but this year tonight is the special night.”

“Fascinating,” Sophie said, and she went back to her salmon.

Zed ignored her. “The result is a swarm that is difficult to imagine if you haven’t seen it. It’s like a living cloud. The swarm is thick enough and large enough that it shows up on weather radar. Imagine a fog made of insects and you’ll start to get the idea.” He took a sip of his water. “But you won’t have to imagine it for long. I expect they’ll be out in full force in an hour or so. Probably by the time you leave this restaurant.”

“Not sure we’ll be staying that long,” Frank said.

“The swarm’s harmless really,” Zed said. “An interesting, annoying anomaly.” Zed squinted at Frank. “I still don’t know how you do it. The disappearing thing, I mean. I expect that’s how your friends hid the Tools from me all those years in Rook Mountain. They must have had some of your locks. But how did you learn to make them? How do you give them their power?”

Frank said nothing.

Zed drummed his hands on the tabletop. “All right. Down to business, then. I invited you here tonight because I need your help.”

Frank tried to wrap his mind around that last sentence for a moment.

Sophie said, “You invited us?”

Zed nodded. “Make no mistake, you wouldn’t be sitting here with me, you wouldn’t have found me at all, not after years of looking, if I didn’t want it to be so.”

“Get to the other part,” Frank said. “You want us to help you? Why the hell would we do that?”

“Lots of reasons.” He paused for a long moment. “I can see by the look on your face you need me to list some of them for you.” He counted off the reasons on his fingers as he spoke. “Because the alternative is worse. Because there are people you love on this planet. Because you’re not idiots. Because you don’t want to be devoured by vicious beasts.”

“There you go being vague again,” Frank said.

“I’ll explain in a moment,” Zed said. “But if I can convince you of all that, that the four of us are the only thing standing between this world and its destruction, you would have to at least consider it, no?”

Sophie said, “You make a compelling argument. It’s bullshit, but compelling. As far as I can tell, you don’t care about anyone but yourself. Why would you save the world?”

“The oldest reason of all,” Zed said. “Revenge.”

“Might not want to bring up revenge to us,” Sophie said. “It won’t help your case.”

Zed ignored the comment. “It’s taken me a long time to plan this. Longer than you might believe.” Zed leaned forward and looked each of them in the eye one by one. It wasn’t the mind-reading gaze Frank had felt the time Zed knocked on his door long ago in Rook Mountain. No, there was something else in this gaze. Respect. “I’ve spent centuries planning for what’s going to happen in the next couple of weeks.”

“And what’s that?” Sophie asked.

“Listen. There are things in this world that don’t belong here. Terrible things.”

“The Ones Who Sing,” Frank muttered. He wasn’t even sure he’d said it out loud until he saw Zed’s face darken.

“They’re merely a side effect. The Ones Who Sing are nasty creatures, but they do what they do because it’s their nature, as twisted and tainted as it is. We can’t hold that against them. Not really. The things I’m talking about are worse. They too destroy, but they destroy for a purpose. They will destroy us all, and they’ll start with me.”

Frank leaned forward and looked into the bald man’s eyes. “Zed, so help me God, if you keep talking in puzzles I’m going to take your steak knife and put it through your eye.”

Zed grunted. “Puzzles? You want me to be more straight forward? Okay, I can do that. You remember that man in the forest, the one with the beard?”

“The one whose arms you tore off?” Sophie asked. “Yeah, I seem to vaguely recall that.”

“His name was Vee. He’s one of them. There are three others like him. They are not happy with me. Vee least of all.”

“You think he survived?” Sophie asked.

“Their kind is very hard to kill.”

“Maybe you should try talking to them,” Frank said. “I thought you were mister persuasive.”

“Don’t think I haven’t tried,” Zed said. “But they’re stubborn. They won’t even consider my way of thinking. So first, we kill those four…they call themselves Exiles.”

“First?” Frank asked. “What’s second?”

Zed’s smile widened. “We save the world.”

4.

Alice heard a knock at the door. She rolled over and pushed the button on the pink alarm clock next to her bed. It lit up with a bright blue glow. 3:23.

She’d been dreaming she was on her way to the beach with Mom and Dad. She didn’t know which beach—hopefully not that stinky one over by the river that smelled like fish—but she’d been excited. She’d had on her swimming suit under her clothes. There was a bag on the seat next to her, and she saw a bottle of sunscreen and a towel sticking out of it.

Mom and Dad had been laughing and playfully arguing about who sang the song playing on the radio. It was some old-fashioned sounding song, something about Paradise City. Yuck.

The car pulled to a stop and Alice felt her heart leap. She saw a large blue lake out her window, the surface so still it looked like glass. She waited anxiously, and as soon as Dad opened his door, she opened hers. When she stepped out of the car, she felt something cold on her sandaled feet. She looked down and saw she was standing in six inches of snow.

That was when the pounding on the door woke her.

No one had ever come to the door this late. Not that she could remember, anyhow.

She heard her parents’ voices in their room down the hall, talking fast, sounding worried. The pounding on the door came again, louder this time, like the person at the door was growing impatient.

She heard her father’s heavy footsteps as he walked across the bedroom, through the hallway, and down the steps to the front door. Alice slipped out of her bed, tip-toeing down the hallway after him. She knew he wouldn’t be happy if he caught her—little girls were not supposed to be out of bed at three twenty-three in the morning, except to go pee or maybe get a drink of water—but she couldn’t help herself. She had to know who was at the door. She crouched in the shadows at the top of the stairs, her favorite hiding spot when she wanted to spy on what was happening below. Looking through the wooden railing, she had a clear view of the front door.

Dad flipped the switch to turn on the porch light and peeked out the window. He paused for a moment and sighed, as if whatever he’d seen out there didn’t please him. Then he twisted the deadbolt lock and pulled open the door.

The man on the other side of the door was someone Alice had never seen before. She would have remembered. His hair was bright red and it hung down to his shoulders. It was curly, like the way Mom sometimes wore hers, but only if she got up early and spent forever-and-a-half in the bathroom. The man wore a windbreaker and jeans. He was shorter than Dad, but he was thick, like someone had pressed on the top of a tall man’s head and smooshed him.

Her father said, “What is it?”

“Can I come in?” the man asked.

Dad paused, then nodded and stepped aside, letting the man through the door.

Alice huddled close to the floor, her hands clutching the rail and her face scooted forward just far enough to see the men standing almost directly below her. Her heart was still racing from the dream and from being unexpectedly woken at three in the morning. She had the feeling it wouldn’t slow until she knew what was going on.

The red-haired man said, “It’s started, Matt.”

Dad chuckled. “You think I don’t know that?”

The man sighed. “Jesus. Why you gotta be such a dick lately?”

“I’m being a dick, Willis? You show up and knock on my door at three in the morning to tell me something I already know, and I’m the dick?”

“Okay, geez, sorry.” The red-haired man shuffled his feet. “Tomorrow’s clutch. And it starts early.”

“So you thought waking me up in the middle of the night was the best way to make sure I’m prepared?”

The red-haired man paused. There was something he wasn’t saying. Alice leaned out a bit further.

“No, man. It’s just…some of the guys are worried. You haven’t seemed yourself. And I thought—we all thought—it might be better if you had someone with you.”

There was a long pause before Dad spoke again. “Explain how that works.”

“I’ll just, you know, crash on your couch. Come with you in the morning. Instead of meeting you there.”

Dad leaned close to Willis and spoke softly. “You think I’m gonna flake?”

“No, man. That’s not it.”

“Yes. I think that is exactly it.” Dad was talking louder now. He was getting mad, Alice could tell. “Have I ever flaked? In all the times we’ve done this? Have I ever been the reason it failed?”

“No. I mean, not that I know of. But things are different now. And people are worried. We can’t let Zed down.”

Dad leaned even closer. The two men’s faces were almost touching now, but Dad was still shouting. “Don’t you say that name in my house. I don’t care what that man thinks.”

Alice had never heard of this Zed before, but Dad sure didn’t seem to like him.

The red-haired man took a step back. His face was growing red now, not as red as his hair, but enough to let Alice know he wasn’t taking Dad’s yelling very well. “Even still, he runs the show.”

“Yeah, he does. And how far’s that gotten us?”

The other man shook his head. “You really gonna ask that question? It’s gotten us far enough. It’s gotten us here. We ain’t dead yet.”

“No,” Dad said, a wicked grin on his face. “Not yet. Not for a couple weeks.”

The skin on Alice’s arms broke out in goosebumps. What could Dad mean by that?

“So that’s it? You’re giving up? The solid and dependable Matt Campbell is giving up?”

“You know I’m not. I’m just starting to question the sanity of this plan.”

Willis took a deep breath and put a hand on Dad’s shoulder. “Think of your kid, man. Think of your wife.”

Dad brushed off the hand. “It’s time for you to leave.”

The red-haired man looked around the room, drawing out the moment as if he didn’t want to say what he would have to say next. Finally he said, “I can’t do that.”

Now Dad took a step back. “That’s how it is? And what if I say you aren’t allowed here? What if I make you leave?”

Suddenly there was something in Willis’ hand. Alice realized what it was, and her mouth went dry. It was a gun. Just like bad guys carried in the movies.

“That’s not gonna happen,” Willis said. “Zed needs us tomorrow. I’ve got to—”

Dad moved before the man could finish the sentence, rushing Willis. He tackled the man, and they wrestled on the floor. It was too dark for Alice to make out exactly what was happening. All she saw was a dark mass with a streak of red running through it wiggling around on the floor.

Alice felt an arm around her shoulder and almost screamed. She looked back and saw Mom behind her. Mom pulled her close in a hug, her eyes glued on the scene below them.

The world shook as a gunshot rang out. Mom screamed and Alice thought maybe she did too. A grunt and a moan came from the floor below, and one of the figures rose, the gun in his hand. It was Dad.

Dark blood stained the carpet around the moaning man on the ground. The dark spot was growing at an alarming rate.

“Oh, God, Willis, I’m sorry,” Dad said. “So sorry.”

He let out a sobbing noise, and Alice realized he was crying. She’d never seen her father cry. He staggered backwards. The gun slipped out of his hand and hit the floor with a thump.

Alice whimpered. She scrunched her eyes shut and thought of the rope. Dad had shot someone! If she let this stand, he would go to jail!

She grabbed the rope inside her mind, but it was slippery. She couldn’t hold onto it. That happened sometimes when she was upset. It wasn’t fair. The times she needed to use it most were when something upsetting happened.

With her eyes still closed, she drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. She imagined her emotions as a ball of something wet and slimy in her hand. She imagined putting the ball of messy emotions into her pocket. She could deal with them later. They’d be waiting for her when she was ready.

Her mother’s arms were still wrapped tightly around her. That, too, calmed her.

She clutched the rope and tugged.

As the blinding pain rocketed through her brain, she had two terrifying thoughts. First, she knew she’d pulled too hard. She’d gone back hours instead of the fifteen minutes or so she’d intended. Second, she had the realization that she might just return to her sleeping body. If she was asleep, she might not wake again until three twenty-three when it was too late to stop this from happening. Worse yet, what if she remembered exactly what she needed to do but was trapped in a dream and unable to wake up?

As those thoughts passed through her mind, she felt the familiar wave of vertigo as her body changed positions without her physically moving. She lay in her bed, her eyes open, staring at the ceiling. A wave of relief washed over her. She was awake.

She rolled over and punched the button on her alarm clock, washing the room in soft blue light. 10:09. Geez, she really had gone back farther than she’d intended.

Still, there was no time to waste.

She hopped out of bed and raced to her parents’ room. The door was only open a crack. She could hear them talking softly. And another sound beneath that; she wasn’t sure, but it sounded like her mother was crying.

She tapped on the door with her knuckles and went in without waiting for a response. Both her parents’ faces swung toward her, and she saw immediately she had been correct. Mom was crying.

Now that they were looking at her, she suddenly had no idea what to say.

“Hey,” Dad said. “What’s up, honey? Can’t sleep?”

Mom quickly wiped at her face with her hand, as if she could hide the tears Alice had already seen.

“I…” Alice started, but then stopped. She never talked about Pulling Back. She hadn’t for years now. But she was almost certain they knew. Maybe they didn’t know exactly what she could do, but they had an idea. They didn’t talk about it, either. It was like the family had made a silent pact to never speak of how much of a freak Alice was.

But this was different. This was a matter of life and death.

She started again. “There’s a man coming here tonight. Willis. He’s got red hair. Long, like a girl or a rock star.”

Mom looked at Dad. “Willis Eddy.”

Dad nodded.

Both their faces were pale as they waited for her to continue.

“He wants to stay here overnight. So he can make sure Dad does something he’s supposed to do tomorrow.”

“Jesus,” Dad whispered.

“And he has a gun!” Alice said. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes now, as if they’d been bottled up until now and the words were the cork that let them loose. “Dad fights him and gets the gun and shoots him.”

“Honey,” Mom says, her voice calmer now, “what time does this happen?”

Alice whispered, “Three twenty-three in the morning.”

“Holy hell,” Dad said. He looked sick.

Mom turned toward him. “Should we leave?”

Dad shook his head slowly. “That wouldn’t help. Where would we go? We can’t get out of what I have to do tomorrow.” He slammed his hand against the mattress. “What the hell have we become?”

Mom put a hand on his shoulder. “No, this is good. We have…” she glanced at the clock by the bed, “…over five hours to get ready for Willis. We can plan what we’re going to say. Hide anything we don’t want him to see. He wants to stay the night, let him stay the night. Let him report back to Zed on how we’re playing our parts perfectly.”

Dad nodded. He leaned forward and gave Alice a tight hug. “You did great, honey. So good.” He let go and held her at arm’s length, looking at her with a serious face. “You have to go to bed now. Mom and I…we have work to do.”

Alice wanted oh-so-badly to ask what the work was, who that red-haired man was, what this all meant, but she knew she couldn’t. They wouldn’t answer her. At best they’d scold her for asking and at worst they’d make up some lie. So she just nodded, put on a brave smile, and went back to her room.

She lay awake watching the clock until three twenty-three when the red-haired man knocked on the door.

THE BOY WHO FOUND THE WATCH (PART ONE)

Topeka, Kansas

May 1948

The boy sharpened a pencil with his pocket knife.

The process had been going on for quite some time. First, he’d spent a good five minutes meticulously sharpening the knife. He’d used a whetstone he’d found in the shed, doing it just the way he’d seen his father do it. His father had been gone two years now, since the boy was nine; just up and disappeared in the night. The boy got up one morning, and his dad was gone. His mother hadn’t seemed all too interested in finding her husband, either. She got angry when the boy brought it up. It had taken the boy a couple weeks to come to the realization that his father had disappeared on purpose. And he wasn’t going to find his way back. As soon as the boy had the realization, he’d promised himself he’d put his father out of his mind. If it didn’t bother his father to leave, then the old man wasn’t worth any thought. The boy had done an admirable job of keeping to his word, too.

After the knife was sharp enough to slice clean through a falling piece of paper, the boy had set to work on the pencil. Truth be told, the pencil wasn’t all that dull. But the boy liked to write with a pencil so sharp he was liable to draw blood if he poked himself with it. So, he spent the next ten minutes shaving away tiny bits of wood, watching them curl and fall to the floor as he gently moved the blade back and forth.

The work soothed him. He let his mind go. Part of him was completely engaged in the task, locked in concentration on the pencil and the blade. But another part of him was shut off altogether. It was a pleasant feeling, to be both present and absent at the same moment.

“Zedidiah!”

His mother’s voice startled him out of his working daze, and the blade slipped, gouging the wood. Zedidiah let out a quiet curse. Ten minutes’ work ruined in a moment by his mother’s shrill, demanding voice.

“Zedidiah!”

He threw the pencil on his bed, then folded the knife and slipped it into his pocket. It always made him feel better to know it was there, that the razor sharp weapon was within reach at any moment. He paused, then brushed the wood shavings under the bed. That wouldn’t hide them permanently; his mother would find them the next time she cleaned in there. But it would save him from being hollered at if she happened to peek into his room tonight.

He left the room and made his way down the wide stairway.

His family wasn’t rich. In fact, according to his mother it was a miracle they were able to keep food on the table and clothes on his back with her measly teacher’s salary. But their house was the house of a rich family. Not Rockefeller rich, but rich enough that a maid wouldn’t have looked out of place. The house had been in his mother’s family for more than a hundred years. It was a lonely place for a family of two, and it always felt drafty and cold, even in the summer.

Zedidiah paused halfway down the stairs. His mother sat in the chair near the door, the one she never used unless there was company. She was on the edge of the chair, leaning forward. Her legs were crossed and her hands rested primly on her knee. Most disturbing of all, she was smiling.

In the other chair, the one directly across from his mother, there sat a tall, impossibly thin man. He wore a brown, rumpled suit that looked both expensive and unkempt at the same time. The man looked too tall for the chair; his sharp knees and elbows stuck out at odd angles.

Zedidiah’s mother hadn’t seen him. Her gaze was glued to the man in the chair. And the man’s gaze was glued to her. “Zedidiah!” she yelled again.

The boy slowed his descent. “I’m here, mom.” He said it in a soft voice, meant to contrast with her needlessly loud calls.

His mother and the man both turned toward him, their heads moving in unison. The effect was disturbing. There was something odd about his mother’s eyes. They seemed a bit glassy, but there was an energy behind them, too.

“Zedidiah, we have a guest.”

The boy could think of no response that wouldn’t earn him a wallop, so he stayed quiet, instead focusing his energy on coming down the rest of the steps. He stopped directly between the two chairs.

His mother said, “This is Mister….” She faltered for a moment, her face reddening. “Why, I’m sorry. I just realized I don’t know your surname.”

The man grinned. “Oh, no need for all that. We’re among friends. Call me Charlie.” The man spoke in a strange accent. Zedidiah thought maybe it was Australian, though he wasn’t sure exactly what had led him to that conclusion as he’d never before heard an Australian accent. The man held out his hand.

The boy looked at it for a long moment, temporarily confused. He couldn’t recall ever having shaken hands with a grown man. Most grown-ups ignored him or yelled at him. The man’s fingers were strangely long, and the boy decided he didn’t want to shake that hand. Not at all.

He risked a glance at his mother. Her smile suddenly looked frozen, like the moment was paused and the only way he could unpause it was by doing the thing he didn’t want to do.

He grimly took the man’s hand. Charlie’s grip was strong, and his hand was uncomfortably hot. He gave the boy’s hand three quick pumps and mercifully released it.

“May I call you Zed?” the man asked.

The boy didn’t much care what the man called him. He was just glad to have his hand back. Something about Charlie’s hand felt wrong. This whole situation felt wrong.

And suddenly he thought he knew why. Zedidiah realized this man was his mother’s boyfriend.

It was the only possible explanation. Mom had been acting different lately. Dressing nicely. Staying out late. The signs were there, but the boy hadn’t wanted to see them. The sudden realization, and the implications of what it could lead to—meals on Saturday night with this man, a wedding, this oddly tall stranger living in their house—made him feel sick to his stomach.

“He’s a serious one, isn’t he?” the man asked.

“Oh yes,” Zedidiah’s mother said. “Always has been. Hardly ever smiles.”

Charlie looked at the boy for a long moment, then snapped his fingers as if an idea had just come to him. “We’ll see what we can do about that. Want to see a magic trick, Zed?”

Before the boy had a chance to answer, Charlie pulled something out of his pocket. It was a watch.

“Take a close look at this here,” Charlie said.

Zedidiah did. He looked at the pocket watch, and after a moment he found he couldn’t look away. There was something about the watch. It was like it was calling to him. Singing to him. He couldn’t hear anything, not with his ears, but that was how it felt. Like the watch was singing a melody so beautiful it might make his heart break. The boy had never felt anything like it. Not even close. It was intense joy and deep sorrow all wrapped together and swirled up.

The man slowly turned the watch and the boy saw something engraved on the back of it. A broken clock. Odd thing, having a picture of a clock engraved into the surface of an actual clock. But it felt right somehow. Beautiful.

It was all too much for the boy. He felt tears welling up in his eyes as the sensations in his brain hummed louder and louder until it felt like he couldn’t take it anymore.

“And, there you are,” Charlie said, closing his hand and hiding the watch from the boy’s eyes.

Zedidiah let out an involuntary moan. He wanted to see the watch again. He wanted to touch it. What he wouldn’t give to hold it in his hand, even for a moment.

His mother suddenly giggled, and the spell was broken. The boy slowly looked up. Something was wrong. Charlie wasn’t there. He’d disappeared.

The boy realized Charlie was suddenly standing on the opposite side of the room.

“What happened?” Zedidiah asked in a weak voice.

His mother let out another loud giggle.

Charlie winked at him. “Just a little magic trick. Like I said.”

Zedidiah’s heart raced. “What did you do?” His voice was louder now and there was anger in it.

“He used the watch,” his mother said. “He hypnotized us. Like a magician.”

Fury rose within the boy, bubbling up so unexpectedly it sent him reeling. “Why? Why did you do it?”

Charlie looked at him oddly. “It’s just a magic trick, Zed. Don’t you like magic?”

The boy clenched his fists so hard they hurt. This man had used that watch, that beautiful watch, for a parlor trick? That was not right. Not at all.

“Zedidiah, what’s wrong with you?” his mother asked. “Charlie’s new in town. Is this any way to act to someone who’s new in town?”

Zedidiah thought that completely irrelevant and would have said so if he hadn’t been too angry to speak.

“Aw, it’s all right,” Charlie said. “Guess the boy doesn’t like magic. There are stranger things.” He opened his hand for just a moment, a brief wonderful moment in which the boy was once again able to gaze upon the watch, and then slipped the timepiece back into his pocket. “Maybe cards are more your thing? Care for a game of hearts?”

The boy wasn’t listening. Because in that brief flash, the watch had let him know what needed to happen, and he’d instantly seen his only possible course of action.

Zed needed to steal the watch.

CHAPTER TWO: STRAINED

1.

Sophie popped the last cheese curd into her mouth. She’d been eating slowly, if sloppily. When the curd was gone, she would be forced to listen to Zed’s insanity unoccupied.

She glanced back and forth between Zed and Frank. In a lot of ways, this was between the two of them. These men hated each other. Or, maybe each of them represented something the other hated.

“I’m sorry,” Frank said. “It almost sounded like you were asking for our help.”

Zed chuckled. “Not exactly. More like offering mine.”

Frank leaned forward, his elbows on the table. Sophie’s mom would have cringed. “That’s an interesting way of looking at it.”

Zed said, “You came here to find me. Not the other way around.”

“And you were lying in wait.” Frank was talking louder now. Sophie could see by the way he clenched his fists he was getting heated. “If you think we’re going to help you, you’re sicker than I thought.” Frank looked to Sophie and Mason.

Sophie glanced down at her empty plate and sighed. Her food had been the only thing keeping her quiet thus far. She sucked at keeping her mouth shut. “Hold on. Let’s hear what he’s got to say.”

Frank’s eyes widened. “Sophie, you don’t know him like I do. There’s no point.”

She shrugged. “I’m not saying we do what he says. But we just spent fourteen hours in the car. Maybe I don’t want to get back in it quite yet.”

Frank sank back in his seat. He turned to Mason. “You got anything to say about this?”

Mason did not. His eyes were still glued to his former friend.

Frank sighed and motioned to Sophie for her to take the lead.

Sophie smiled. “What do you want us to do, and what do we get?”

Zed’s smile went a bit colder. “You’re direct. Tell me, why’d you come along on this trip?”

“You don’t seem to understand I’m the only one helping your case at the moment. You gonna answer my questions or not?”

Zed looked at her hard, and she felt…something. Like tiny tendrils crawling across her mind. It was an unpleasant feeling, like something crawling under her skin.

She tore her gaze away from his with a massive effort, and the tendrils let go of her mind, burning as they left her. “What the hell?” she yelled.

Zed tilted his head, suddenly seeming more interested. “Well now. That’s curious. Few are strong enough to do that.” He glanced at Frank. “I wonder if it really was happenstance that brought the two of you together.”

Sophie shook her head hard to clear it. “Don’t do that again. Answer the questions.”

“Fine,” Zed said. “I need you to do three things for me.”

“We’re listening,” Frank said.

“Remember when I told you every special town has a book?”

Frank nodded grimly. Sophie watched him. She knew how much that conversation had spooked him.

“This town is no different. Thing is, I’ve had some difficulties locating the book. In theory, I should be able to find it with the compass, but it’s not working. I need you to find the book for me.”

Sophie squinted at him. “If you couldn’t do it with the compass, what makes you think we can find it?”

Zed gestured toward Frank. “This one here has a knack for doing things that have never before been done.” He paused, looking back at Sophie thoughtfully. “Both of you do, actually. I figured it was time I started using that to my advantage rather than my detriment.”

“There’s no way we’re giving you that book,” Frank growled.

Zed nodded. “I understand. I didn’t ask you to. I only need you to find it.”

“What’s the second thing?” Sophie asked.

“I need Frank to use that talent of his to hide the book. The four who are coming after me want it. If they get it, their job will be much easier.”

“Find the book and hide it,” Sophie said. “Got it. What’s number three?”

“My third request has to do with the four Exiles themselves. When they come, there will be a battle. Even if we are as prepared as I plan to be, the odds will be stacked against us very highly indeed.”

“That’s not a request,” Frank said.

“I have reason to believe they’ll be here in two weeks’ time,” Zed continued. “If by that point I have proven myself trustworthy in all things—if I’ve stayed true to my word and held to the strength of my convictions—I ask that you stand by my side in that final battle and help me kill them.”

There was a long silence. Someone shuffled their feet and Sophie turned. She’d forgotten all the men and women standing along the walls. She turned back to Zed. “That answers my first question. As to my second? What do we get out of all this?”

Zed smiled sadly. “I won’t lie. All I have to give you is this: best case scenario, you get to save the world. Worst case, you get a front-row seat to the apocalypse. You get to see it coming and fight it while the rest of humanity remains unaware that their extinction is moments away. I can’t guarantee we’ll win, but I do guarantee we’ll try our damnedest.”

After a moment, Frank chuckled. “That’s what you sold them?” He looked at the armed people around the restaurant. “The end of the world? Come on, man. At least in Rook Mountain, you had something real for the people to fear. At least they’d seen the Unfeathered. These Yankees handed over the key to the city on nothing but scary stories?”

Some of the people along the wall began to murmur, but Zed held up a hand to silence them. “Frank, you saw Vee. You heard what he said. Saw what he did. If I’m lying, what’s the harm? I’m not asking you to give me the book, just to find it. Hide it away from them and me both. But if I’m telling the truth and you don’t help me, the world ends.”

Frank shook his head. He looked at Sophie and Mason. “You buying this?”

Sophie’s eyes searched the room. She didn’t consider herself the most level-headed person, but she was beginning to think Frank was even less reasonable. He wouldn’t agree to Zed’s offer even if it meant they wouldn’t leave this room alive. And, from the looks on the faces around them, that might be the case.

She spoke softly. “What do you say we think it over for the night?”

“Sophie—” Frank started, but she cut him off.

“He’s right about one thing. We have to at least consider it. Besides, saving the world…seven billion people getting to stay alive isn’t a bad payoff.”

“No.”

The husky voice to her left surprised her. It was Mason.

“No,” the older man repeated. “It’s not enough. Not for working with him.”

Zed turned to Mason and looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time since he’d walked through the door. “Mason, I know I hurt you.”

“It’s not that,” Mason said. “It’s the reward.” He looked Frank and Sophie in the eye, each in turn. “He can give us more. Lots more.” He took a deep breath and then smiled in a way that was eerily similar to Zed’s own smile. “We bring you the book, and you use it to bring us the people of Sanctuary. My parents. The others, too. Everyone who died that night so long ago.”

Zed barked out a surprised laugh. “I taught you better than that. I can’t just pull them out of thin air. Even with a book.”

“You did teach me better than that. With the book and the compass, you can find a soft place and bring them through. Reach back in time and drag them here.”

“Okay…” Zed said. “Save a bunch of dead people from Sanctuary. Is that all?”

“No,” Mason said. He nodded toward Sophie. “Save her sister, too.”

Sophie’s breath caught in her throat. Was it possible? She tried to catch Frank’s eye, but he was staring at Mason in disbelief.

Zed drew in a deep breath, then said, “Fine.”

Sophie let out an audible gasp.

But Zed wasn’t finished. “You find the book. You hide it away. You help me battle my four pursuers. After the battle, if we’re all still alive, I’ll do as you ask.”

Sophie’s heart was racing. This was something to fight for. This was something to keep them going. If there was even a chance this was true—

“No,” Mason said again.

Zed’s smile wavered.

“Not after the battle,” Mason continued. “Before. We’ll get you the book, but then you save our friends. You do that, and we’ll fight for you.”

Zed leaned forward. “Impossible.” He almost spat out the word. “Even if I could do it in two weeks’ time, and I’m not saying I can, I’d be too weak for the battle.”

Mason didn’t even hesitate. “That’s our price. Pay it or don’t.”

Sophie couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe. Zed was offering to save Heather, and the chance was slipping away. She had to find her voice.

But before she could, Zed said, “I’ll give you three. I’ll bring your mother, your father, and Ms. Porter’s sister. You meet my first two demands, and I’ll do it.”

Mason gave the slightest of nods.

Sophie felt like the room was spinning. She looked at Frank and saw the same dazed expression on his face that must be on her own.

Zed’s smile was weaker than usual. Sophie could tell he didn’t respect Mason. And now he’d lost a battle to the old man.

“That’s all for tonight,” Zed said. “Meet me at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. Volunteer Park. There’s something I need to show you. In the meantime, Claire at the Holiday Inn is expecting you. She’s got three rooms ready. No charge, of course.”

Mason stood up and Frank and Sophie followed. They moved toward the exit, and the men blocking the door parted and let them pass.

None of them spoke until they reached the parking lot. Then Frank said, “Mason. Jesus, how’d you do that?”

Mason shrugged. “I’ve been dealing with him a bit longer than you have. He respects a hardline.”

Sophie couldn’t help it; she grabbed Mason and pulled him in for a tight hug. In the midst of all of that, he’d thought of her sister. She was overwhelmed with gratitude. “Thank you.”

He awkwardly returned her hug.

Sophie pulled back and looked at both Hinkle men. “He’s lying though, right? It’s a trick or a trap? He’s going to use us. It’s like you said. Whatever happens, we can’t trust him.”

The Hinkle boys said nothing. The only sound was the buzzing of the mayflies gathering in the sky.

2.

Matt Campbell pulled the truck out of the garage at seven twenty-five the next morning. Willis Eddy sat in Matt’s passenger seat, loudly sipping coffee from one of Matt’s thermoses. Matt flashed him a grin.

Matt had been doing his best to be extra friendly to Willis. He’d greeted him like the visit was an unexpected but pleasant surprise when the man had knocked on the door at half-past three in the morning. He’d chatted with Willis for a few minutes and then offered to make up the old pull-out couch for him. In the morning, Matt had gotten up early—truth be told, he hadn’t slept at all—and scrambled some eggs and fried some bacon.

It had taken an effort of will to sit at his family’s table with Willis and have a casual breakfast. Like Willis wasn’t an unwelcome intruder. Like today wasn’t one of the most important days of their lives. But Matt had done pretty well, if he did say so himself. His dumb jokes had been even more frequent than usual, a nervous habit, but other than that he had managed to act normal. And Helen had been in top form. If Matt hadn’t known, even he wouldn’t have been able to guess she’d been up all night worried half-to-death about Zed’s armed lackey sleeping on their couch. Even Alice had done great, although her eyes showed the lack of sleep more clearly than her mother’s did.

Alice.

They’d known, Matt and Helen. They’d known for a long time. Since the girl was, what, three? Four? At first they thought maybe she was some sort of genius, the way she was so hyper-aware of the world around her. Then they’d thought maybe there was something wrong with her. But eventually they’d had to admit she wasn’t just aware of the world, she could see things that hadn’t happened yet. Not often, but sometimes.

It wasn’t something they talked about often, not even to each other. It made them uncomfortable. It led to all sorts of difficult questions. About why Alice had these powers. About what Alice was. Matt didn’t fully understand what she could do. He’d asked her to explain it once a few years ago. She’d tried, but the effort had clearly frustrated and upset her. For her, it was like trying to describe the color blue to someone who’d never seen it. Matt didn’t understand what she’d been trying to explain, and Alice didn’t understand why Matt couldn’t understand. Maybe when she was older, when her vocabulary had grown a bit. Maybe now was the time. It had been a couple years after all, and, God, how she’d grown up during that time. She wasn’t such a little kid anymore. She was starting to form her own opinions and views of the world. She had interests now that didn’t stem from her parents. Her world had grown as she had, and maybe now she’d be able to explain her abilities in a way even her dumb father could understand.

“Damn mayflies,” Willis said, snapping Matt out of his deep thoughts.

Matt grunted his agreement. The ground was littered with their dead little bodies. He thought he could hear them crackling under the truck’s tires, but it was probably his imagination. Last year Matt had gone for a run the morning after they came, and he still remembered the way it had felt as they crunched under his feet with each step. And it would be worse where they were going, down by the river.

“Ask you a question, man?” Willis was apparently over his issues with the mayflies. He was like that. One minute, something was a huge deal; the next, he was on to something else.

Matt nodded, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him. He hadn’t ever liked Willis much, even before the man had shown up at his door at three-thirty in the morning packing heat.

“Are you dedicated to this…” he waved his hand vaguely in front of him as if indicating the whole world around them, “….thing? What we’re doing?”

Matt grimaced. He couldn’t flat out say no. He knew from Alice that Willis was carrying a gun, after all. But he didn’t have to pretend he was overjoyed either. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Willis shifted in his seat, leaning forward eagerly like Matt had just stepped into the trap he’d laid for him. “See, that’s just what I mean. How long we been waiting for this? And you’re just here? Would you even be here if I hadn’t come over last night and prodded you along?”

Matt glanced at his passenger, meeting his gaze as he spoke. “I’ll do what I need to do. You don’t need to worry.”

Willis shook his head. “Man, you used to be something. Remember the fire you used to have? You’d get up for this kind of thing, and I mean way up. What’s changed for you?”

Matt said nothing.

“Is it Alice?”

Matt snapped his head toward Willis, ready to say something he might regret, and he would have if the other man hadn’t spoken first.

“All right, sorry. Don’t get defensive. I’m just asking. Having kids changes people is all I meant. Nothing against yours in particular.”

Matt took a deep breath. They were only a few blocks from Volunteer Park, which meant he only had to be cooped up with this redheaded asshole another minute or so. Then they’d be out of the truck and working. It’d be different. He could deal with Willis in the open space of the park. Being cramped up in this vehicle with him was too much for Matt this morning.

After a moment, Willis said, “I’m not the only one wondering about you. You think it was my idea to come over?”

“Whose was it? Zed’s?”

Willis shook his head. “Nah, Zed trusts you. He says you’re a man who deserves to be trusted, and trust is super important. Something like that, anyway.”

“I take it some of you don’t feel that way?”

Willis shrugged and sighed. “I don’t know, man. You know how tense things are. Nobody wants this to fail. And the way you’ve been acting…its got people a little jumpy, I guess. And, yeah, it made them wonder. So, here I am.”

Matt pulled the truck into Volunteer Park and started down the winding road toward the river. “You think this is really the best time to bring this up?”

Willis laughed his strangely high-pitched laugh. “Hell, man, this might be the only time we’ve got, we mess things up.”

Matt didn’t want to think about that. There was too much at stake. He had to succeed. For Alice. “We won’t mess things up.”

Willis drummed out a ratta-tat-tat beat on the dashboard with his hands. “Now that’s the Matty I remember! I like your confidence.” His voice lowered a few notches. “Though it’s not all up to us. Hinkle’s unpredictable.”

Matt ignored that comment. He pulled into the grass between the road and the Mississippi River. He shut off the truck and opened the door. “Let’s do this.”

They worked in silence, two men who knew their jobs and didn’t need to talk each other through anything. They worked with an efficiency that spoke of competence. For all his flaws, Willis was a great worker. He did his job without question or complaint. And Matt…Matt knew this routine by heart. He’d helped come up with the plan, after all. Back in the days before he hated Zed. Back in the days when this had seemed so much more important. The days before Alice.

They started with the rope. They hauled the heavy coil out of the truck bed and put it in place. Then there was the light.

Matt’s forehead was covered with a sheen of sweat by the time they were through, in spite of the cool morning air. He put his hands on his hips and surveyed their work, running through the mental checklist for the third time. If this thing didn’t turn out like it was supposed to, it wouldn’t be from an oversight on his part. Finally, he gave a satisfied nod and turned back toward the truck.

Now would be the hard part. The waiting.

They got back in the truck and sat for a long while, the silence hanging over them like a spell. Matt was surprised to find his stomach was in knots. Even though he had no love for Zed, he desperately wanted Zed to win this round. He wanted it like he’d never wanted anything.

Willis finally broke the silence. “You ever wonder,” he asked, speaking slowly and thoughtfully, a tone Matt had never before heard him use, “how things are going to be? After we save the world?”

Matt shrugged. “I guess it’ll be just like it is now, right? That’s the goal. Keep everything from dying.”

“Nah, man, I disagree. What we’re doing, it’s gonna change things. One way or another, it’ll change them. People are gonna die.”

Matt gritted his teeth. He knew this. They all knew it. But he sure as hell didn’t want to talk about it. Not now.

“I had a dream about it once,” Willis said. “We won. And it was, like, years later.”

More out of politeness than anything else, Matt asked, “What was it like?”

“Trees, man. So many trees.”

Then Matt saw them. Zed walking along the riverbank with Sophie and the Hinkle boys. Without a word, Matt and Willis got out of the truck and waited to begin.

3.

Sophie turned off the car and glanced at Frank in the rearview mirror. He had that look on his face. It was like he wasn’t there. She noticed it happened a lot. She wondered if maybe it happened to him more during times of stress. Come to think of it, she had never seen him during a non-stressful time.

“Yo,” she said, and at the sound of her voice his eyes snapped to life, like someone had turned on a light switch in his head. “You ready for this?”

His gaze bore into her, even reflected in the mirror. He nodded sharply. “Yeah. I was just drifting.”

They’d talked late into the night, discussing what had happened. They’d considered how Zed could have possibly known they would be at that restaurant and what they’d order. They’d speculated about what Zed had planned for this morning. The one topic they hadn’t discussed was Zed’s promise to bring back Jake, Logan, and Heather. Sophie didn’t even let herself think about it. It was too big to be hoped for.

They’d considered the possibility that maybe Zed had found a way around Frank’s locks. But that didn’t feel right. He’d claimed not to be able to see them when they’d arrived at the restaurant, after all. And the locks seemed too interesting and mysterious to Zed. He hadn’t figured them out yet.

However Zed had managed to determine where they were going to be last night, the group agreed it had been a genius move. He’d caught them when they weren’t expecting him, when they were tired from a long road trip. He’d skillfully manipulated them into showing up this morning.

But even though they knew he was using them, they also agreed they had to go. They’d come all this way to find Zed, and Zed was going to be here. They couldn’t not meet him.

Sophie glanced at Mason who sat in the passenger seat. He looked grim but more focused than Sophie had ever seen him. Being here in King’s Crossing with Zed seemed to have sharpened him somehow. He wasn’t the rambling, scattered old man she’d driven up here with. He wasn’t the boy she’d babysat in Sanctuary either, though she saw that boy somewhere deep behind his eyes. This guy was something new. Something almost scary.

Frank cleared his throat. He was back, and now he’d try to take charge again. That was fine with Sophie. She’d invited herself along on this excursion; it was his show. Until she disagreed with one of his decisions, anyway.

“Remember what we talked about,” Frank said. “Whatever he shows us, whatever he has planned, we hear him out, and that’s it. We don’t commit to anything this morning.”

Mason chuckled. It was a low, throaty sound. Sophie found it disconcerting. She exchanged a worried glance with Frank in the rearview mirror.

“Something funny?” Sophie asked.

Mason shook his head. “This is what he does. He works people.”

“We know,” Frank said. “The difference is, we’re expecting it. Whatever he’s got planned, we’re ready to deal with it.”

Mason shook his head. “No. You don’t know him like I do. This is his thing. Whatever he’s got planned, it’s going to go beyond anything we’re expecting. Trust me on that.”

Frank just grunted. “Way I see it, as long as we don’t agree to anything, we’ll be okay. We’ve got our locks.” They’d agreed that at the first sign of trouble, the first act of aggression from Zed or any of the townspeople, they’d disappear and scatter. They had a place picked out on the north side of town to meet if that happened.

“Hey,” Sophie said. She nodded toward the riverbank where a tall figure stood, hands in his pockets. He was facing the water, but even from behind, she knew it couldn’t be anyone other than Zed. They hadn’t seen him arrive. He must have been here longer than they had. “Should we do this?”

Frank grinned. “I’ve never been partial to asking myself that question.” He opened the door and got out.

Sophie turned to Mason. “Guess that’s a yes.”

The three walked across the pavement toward the riverbank, dead mayflies crunching under their feet with each step. When they reached Zed, he spoke without turning to face them.

“Frank, your brother shot me in the face on a riverbank not dissimilar to this one. Twice actually.”

Frank waited a moment before speaking. “Well, good for him. Glad he made the effort.”

“It was right after I shot his friend Todd and threatened his family, so I guess I did provoke him a bit.”

Frank shifted his weight. Sophie could see he was irritated.

Zed continued. “Your brother disappeared later that night. When I think of all the time we spent looking for him…and he’d escaped through the mirror. I’m honestly ashamed I didn’t figure it out.”

“Zed,” Frank said. “What are we doing here?”

Zed turned toward them, and his smile was alarmingly large. Sophie wondered how wide that mouth could open, whether it could swallow them whole. “We’re talking. Reminiscing. Exchanging pleasantries.”

“Your definition of pleasant must differ from mine,” Frank said.

Zed chuckled. “This story does have a purpose. See, Jake and I both made the same mistake. We underestimated each other. He thought I could be stopped with a bullet. I thought he wouldn’t be able to use the mirror in the unlikely event that he somehow found it. My error cost me years of futile searching and his, in a roundabout way, cost him his life.”

Zed gestured toward Frank. “But I didn’t learn my lesson. I thought you could never escape the Away, and you did.” He turned to Sophie. “And I thought you a pointless troublemaker. But you hid the Rook Mountain tree away from me in Sanctuary.” He looked at Mason. “And I thought you had nothing special to offer me. But you figured out how to use the book.”

“Damn right, I did,” Mason muttered.

Zed’s smile flickered. “If I’d realized sooner what you’re capable of, I could have made great use of you.”

Sophie felt a bit of anger flare up in her. Maybe it was because he was the one and only person she’d ever babysat, but she felt protective of the old guy. “That’s the problem, Zed. You’re always using people. You see them as currency you can spend or trade. You make me sick.”

Frank gave her a worried look, then turned back to Zed. “Get to the point.”

Zed nodded curtly. “Point is, I won’t underestimate you again. Any of you. And I expect you won’t underestimate me, either.” He looked out at the river for a moment. The water was calm. “Hard to believe all those millions of mayflies were waiting in this peaceful water, waiting for their chance to hatch, to fill our skies and die on our streets.” He gestured toward a gardening shed hidden among a stand of trees fifty yards away. “Come on. What I want to show you is in that shed.”

He turned without waiting for a response and started walking. Sophie, Frank, and Mason followed.

When they were about halfway to the shed, they passed a stand of trees, and Sophie saw a pickup truck with two men standing next to it. Zed waved, and they walked over.

Sophie could feel Frank tense next to her.

Apparently Zed could too, because he said, “Don’t worry. These are two of my friends. Matt and Willis.”

“That’s supposed to make me less worried?” Frank asked.

Zed glanced back at him. “You remember the old saying as well as I do. Trust is a must. For this to work, I’m going to require just a bit of your trust this morning.”

Frank let out a strained laugh. “That’s a lot to ask.”

“I know,” Zed said. “But I promise you any trust you give me will be repaid in full very shortly.”

Frank said nothing, but he kept following Zed. Sophie gave Frank a little nod to show her support.

The two men met them at the door to the shed. Their only greeting was a business-like nod at each of the three strangers. One of the men had a bright red shock of hair that fell to his shoulders. The other was a bit taller and wore his dark hair trimmed high and tight. High and Tight opened the door to the shed, reached in and flipped the light switch, illuminating the interior in harsh fluorescent yellows.

Zed waved toward the entrance. “Step inside, please.”

Frank paused. Sophie knew what he was thinking. If Zed got them in that shed and locked the door, turning invisible wouldn’t do them much good. They’d still be trapped.

Zed smiled at Frank. “Remember. Trust.”

An old proverb Sophie had heard somewhere popped into her head, and she said it aloud. “Trust God, but tie your camel.”

Zed nodded his assent. “Understood. What I need to show you is in that shed, however.”

Frank said, “You and your people first. We stand by the door.”

Matt and Willis looked at Zed. He motioned for them to proceed. Sophie followed Frank and Mason into the shed. What she saw gave her pause.

“Kinda makes you wonder where they keep the actual gardening supplies,” she said. No one laughed.

The shed was empty but for three items. In the nearest corner, there was a large coil of thick rope. In the far corner stood a spotlight, the kind that was used in theaters. The spotlight was turned off but pointed toward the last object.

In the center of the room, there was a large hole cut in the floor of the shed. And growing through that hole was a small, twisty tree.

Sophie drew a breath. This was smaller and much, much younger than any she’d seen, but still she recognized the tree.

“Is that what I think it is?” Mason asked.

“Assuming you’re referring to the special breed of tree that grew in your home,” Zed said, “then yes it is.”

“Wait,” Frank said. “I thought they only grew outside of time. That’s why you took Sugar Plains out of time, right? And what you were trying to do with Rook Mountain. You wanted to grow these trees.”

Zed bowed his head a bit like a teacher disappointed in his students. “Not exactly. The ingredients required to grow one of these trees are a great deal of power and a great deal of time. I took Sugar Plains outside of time to provide the second element. It seems good old King’s Crossing has had a great deal of power for a long time already. It’s a wonder the Exiles haven’t found it by now.” He lovingly patted the tree trunk. “With this tree, we can access the things that live outside of time. Even without my old pocket watch.”

Frank said, “Why would you want to do that?”

Zed ran a gentle hand along the twisted trunk. “You’ve met some of the creatures that live outside time. The Unfeathered, dangerous in their own way, but ultimately mindless enough to be manipulated. The Ones Who Sing and their young offspring, the Larvae, are much more dangerous. But they aren’t the most dangerous thing that calls the timeless lands home.”

Zed stood up straight and pulled the compass out of his pocket. “Now stand back. I’m going to bring one through.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” Frank asked.

“I want you to see what we’re up against. I don’t want you to underestimate them.”

Sophie could tell he had something else to say, so she waited.

“And,” Zed said, “I need a hostage.”

4.

Frank couldn’t stop looking at the tree growing through the floor of the shed. Whatever Zed was about to do, it was likely going to come through there. The shed suddenly seemed much smaller than it had a few moments ago. After everything he’d seen, from the Unfeathered in Rook Mountain to the Ones Who Sing in the Away to the Larvae in Sanctuary, he thought he could handle anything. But the idea that there might be something else, maybe something related to those things, something worse, made his skin crawl.

“If this thing is as dangerous as you say, is it a great idea to be trapped in a shed with it?” Sophie asked.

“Probably not,” Zed said. “But we’ve taken great measures to minimize the risk.” He nodded toward the spotlight.

“Is it a gremlin?” Sophie asked.

Zed screwed up his face in confusion. “Sorry, I’m a few decades behind in my pop culture references.”

“More than a few, apparently. See a movie every once in a while.”

Frank reached back and put his hand on the handle of the closed door. If this went south, he wanted to be ready to run. They could use the locks to turn invisible if need be. But who was to say if that would be enough. He remembered feeling safe from the Larvae because of his lock until one of them buried itself in his arm.

“Okay,” he said. “What happens next?”

“I test a theory,” Zed said.

Zed crouched down next to the tree and held his compass near the bark. He tilted his head and moved his eyes around the trunk. Finally he stopped and pointed at one spot. “There! You see it?”

Frank squinted at the place Zed was pointing, but he didn’t notice anything different about it.

Zed looked up at Willis and Matt. “Ready, gentlemen?”

Willis said, “You know it.”

“I’m ready,” Matt said. To Frank’s ears, Matt didn’t sound nearly as enthusiastic about this endeavor as his red-haired friend.

“Good.” Zed turned to Frank, Sophie, and Mason. “Watch close. It’ll happen very quickly now. Don’t do anything unless I tell you to, understand?”

None of them answered.

There was still time, Frank knew. He could disappear right now and probably be out of this shed and back in Sophie’s car before the mysterious creature appeared. The fact that he was still here at all spoke to his level of insanity.

Zed drew his forefinger across the bark in a complicated pattern. It reminded Frank of the way he’d moved his finger across the pages of the book back in Sanctuary.

“What’s happening, Zed?” Mason asked, and for the first time in a while Frank heard that childlike quality in his voice, the one he’d used when talking to Zed in Sanctuary, before he’d been betrayed and abandoned there.

“Trust, Mason,” Zed said. “You have to trust me.”

Frank opened his mouth to say that was a tall order indeed, but something happened before he could get the words out. A tiny pinprick of light appeared in the tree trunk just where Zed had touched it. It was small but brilliant. The white light cut through the air and shone in a bright circle on the ground not two inches away from Frank’s shoe.

Matt reached up and put a hand on the spotlight. Willis crouched down next to the rope.

Zed hopped to his feet and leapt back two steps. “This is the fun part.”

Frank glanced at Sophie, then at Mason, checking to make sure they were doing okay and that neither of them was frantically signaling him to use the locks and make a run for it. They both had their gazes fixed on the tree trunk.

The trunk of the young tree couldn’t have been more than a foot and a half in diameter. At least whatever was coming through that hole couldn’t be too big.

The pinprick of light was growing now. Frank watched the circle of light grow from the size of a dime to the size of a quarter to the size of a baseball.

“Frank,” Zed said, “I need to ask you something.”

The light was getting larger at a faster rate. It was as big as a basketball now and Frank could swear he felt waves of heat coming off it. The temperature in the shed must have gone up twenty degrees since they stepped inside.

“What I’m bringing through that tree is going to be very unhappy when it gets here,” Zed continued. “It’s being ripped from its home, so it’ll be startled. We’re pulling it through a hole too small for its body, so it’ll be in pain. The good news is it will be disoriented enough for us to subdue it. But…if it sees me, it could be a different story.”

Frank tore his eyes away from the light streaming through the tree and looked at Zed. “Why?”

Zed grinned at him. “Oh, it really doesn’t like me.”

Frank thought Sophie would make some joke about how they all had something in common with the creature in that case, but she didn’t.

“So I’m going to ask you a favor.” Zed moved closer to Frank and looked him in the eye. “Remember when I said I’d pay you back for the trust you gave me in stepping into this shed? This is the moment. I’m trusting you to save my life.”

Frank’s eyes flicked between Zed and the tree. “What are you talking about?”

“If that thing sees me, it will kill me. And I’m not sure we have a way to stop it. If it doesn’t see me, if it only sees a room full of strangers, that’ll add to its disorientation.”

“I still haven’t heard the favor.”

“I need to be invisible to the creature. I’d like to borrow one of your locks.”

Sophie’s voice was cold as ice when she spoke. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Zed didn’t take his eyes off Frank. “I’m not asking her; I’m asking you. That thing will be here in a moment. You have to decide. I’m asking you to save my life.”

Frank paused. His instinct, his gut reaction was to flip Zed the bird, wait for the creature to come through, and watch the old bald bastard die. Isn’t that what he’d been dreaming of since the day Zed met with him in the jail in Rook Mountain? The day he told Frank he was sending him to the Away? If he’d had a tree and a crazy, Zed-hating creature coming through it then, things might have turned out much differently.

But he’d survived, hadn’t he? As horrible as it had been, he’d made it through. And he’d ended up defeating Zed, after a fashion. He’d stopped the man’s plan, anyway.

And now Zed was asking for Frank’s help. That didn’t much matter to Frank. But the reward Zed was offering did matter.

Frank flashed back to that moment in Sanctuary when he’d stepped through the tree, expecting to hug his brother for the first time in years, and instead found him dead on the ground. If there was a chance he could stop that from happening, he had to take it.

Zed had revealed something in his plea. If the locks could protect him from the creatures, it could protect Frank, Mason, and Sophie too.

Frank held up a finger, the pre-arranged signal to turn on their locks. Mason gritted his teeth, nodded, and quickly disappeared. He’d apparently forgotten to remain visible to Frank and Sophie. That was fine. Sophie squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment like she always did when activating the lock. It was a bit of a tell, but Frank would never let on he knew. If he were being honest, he had to admit he found it pretty cute. But he wouldn’t go there. Not now. Not with the way the world was spinning out of control.

“It’s coming.” The voice was almost too soft to hear. Zed muttered, as if to himself, “Any moment. It’s coming.”

Zed had turned away while Frank was looking at Sophie. The man’s eyes were fixed on the tree now. The look on his face was more transparent than any Frank had ever seen him display. Zed was afraid.

And that was what sealed it for Frank. As much as he was sure Zed was at least partially playing them, as much as he knew Zed would betray them at the first opportunity if it bought him the tiniest advantage, that look was real. Whatever else he’d lied about, he wasn’t lying about the danger that creature coming through the tree posed him.

Then the light in the tree darkened. Something was blocking the hole.

“My God,” Zed said. “It’s here.”

Frank thought of Jake lying on that cold, mossy ground in Sanctuary, his eyes empty.

He reached out and put his hand on Zed’s shoulder, mentally pulling him into the protection of the lock.

The tension in Zed’s face eased a bit, but he didn’t turn away from the tree.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Come on.”

And then something was pressing through. A face. A human face.

It was misshapen, like a bit of putty squeezed through a hole too small for it. The head popped out and the creature began to howl as it wormed its way through: first its shoulders, then its arms. When its hands had passed through the barrier, it clawed at the floor, looking for leverage to pull itself through. It was hard to make out any distinct features with its body blocking the light through the hole and the thing moving in a panicked blur of blacks and grays.

With one final Herculean pull, it popped through the basketball-sized hole in the tree. It let out one more indignant roar and collapsed onto the floor.

Not it. Him. The creature was a human. A man. Or at least it looked like a man. After everything Frank had seen, he wasn’t about to take anything for granted.

The newcomer raised himself up on his hands and knees, and Frank saw his thin face, his jet black hair, and carefully manicured beard. His dark eyes shot up and his gaze darted around the room.

“Who dares?” he asked, his voice a low, quivering rumble.

With that, the spotlight came on. It was aimed directly at his face, and he howled again in pain and surprise.

Zed stood leaning forward on the balls of his feet, looking positively giddy. “Do it, Willis!” he cried.

Willis had the rope in his hand and he quickly threw it over the man. Matt leapt into action, helping Willis wrap the rope around the tree, and then around the man again, circling again and again until the man was secured with his back against the tree. Willis tied the rope off and nodded at Zed.

Zed turned to Frank. “Thank you. Thanks for being worthy of my trust.” He stepped forward, pulling away from Frank’s hand.

Zed inspected the knots, giving them an exploratory tug before nodding in satisfaction.

Matt turned off the spotlight.

Zed looked at Frank, a wild look in his eyes. “Turn it off.”

“What?” Frank asked. He was still struggling to catch up with what just happened.

“The lock,” Zed said. “It’s still hiding me from him. Turn it off.”

Frank mentally shut off the lock that hid both him and Zed.

The man tied to the tree drew in a sharp breath as Zed suddenly appeared in front of his face.

“You,” the man said.

Zed got within an inch of the man’s nose. “Rayd. Thanks for joining us.”

The man scoffed. “You’ve moved beyond insanity, Zedidiah. When Wilm comes—”

“Yes,” Zed said. “When Wilm comes. How long will that be? How long until she breaks free of her prison and starts looking for you? How long until she actually finds you?”

“As if you could hold me that long.”

Zed helpfully brushed a piece of dust off Rayd’s shoulder. “You are secured to a tree. One of the timeless. You know the rules.”

There was a long silence, which Sophie broke. “I don’t know the rules.”

Zed tilted his head at Rayd. “You want to tell her?”

“Go to hell.”

Zed nodded politely. “While he’s tied to the tree, Rayd is unable to escape his bonds himself. Someone else will have to untie him. And the only people likely to do that are his three friends. Once they find him.”

“Yeah?” Frank said. “What happens then?”

Zed turned away from Rayd for the first time since the man had passed through the tree. “They kill us and destroy the world. Of course, if they don’t find the King’s Crossing book we might stand a chance of defending ourselves a bit longer.”

“Why?” Mason asked. His voice was low and scratchy. “Why are you doing this? If they’re going to destroy us, why did you bring him here?”

“It was going to happen eventually,” Zed said. “I just sped it along a bit. I told you I’d save your loved ones. That was the carrot. Consider this the stick. Find that book. And find it fast.”

THE BOY WHO FOUND THE WATCH (PART TWO)

Topeka, Kansas

June 1948

Zed waited almost a month.

Charlie often came and sat in their little visiting room. At first, it was all polite smiles and tips of the hat. But as the weeks passed, Charlie became more relaxed around Zed and his mother. A loosened tie. Then no tie at all. Before long it was sleeveless tee-shirts. For her part, Zed’s mother always seemed to be racing around. Waiting on him hand and foot when he was there and preparing the house for his arrival when he was away. She talked to Zed less and less. Which, in all honesty, was perfectly fine with Zed. It gave him more time to think. To plan.

And always, there was the watch. Zed could tell Charlie was proud of it, but he rarely took it out. And he never did another magic trick. But how Zed savored those precious brief glances at the watch. He longed for them like a junkie longs for a fix. And, just like a junkie, he had to be careful. At first he hadn’t been. On Charlie’s second visit, Zed had walked right up to him and asked him for the time, as clear as he might ask someone on the street. Charlie hadn’t bought it. Not for a moment. He smiled his thin smile and pointed toward the grandfather clock on the other side of the room.

“You’re a big boy, Zed,” Charlie had said. “Why don’t you tell me?”

He’d known. Zed was sure of it. He’d have to work to become more subtle.

So began Zed’s quest to befriend his mother’s boyfriend. Charlie was odd for an adult. So casual and friendly. Having Charlie there was a bit like having a dad and a bit like having a big brother. The campaign wasn’t easy for Zed. He was withdrawn by nature, but he knew in this situation knowledge would be power. His only way to obtain knowledge was to convince Charlie to give it to him. So he asked questions. Lots and lots of questions. Never about the watch, of course, but often around the watch. And he learned so much useless information.

Charlie had been born in Florida. He’d given up on school at age ten and gone to work in the groves, climbing rickety ladders and picking oranges for a penny a bushel. He’d learned to work fast and to keep his mouth shut. That was the only way to make a living out in the groves. Somewhere along the way—the when and the how of it weren’t entirely clear to Zed—Charlie had fallen off a ladder and injured his leg. Unable to work on his feet, he’d gone to work at a hotel, checking in guests, holding doors, doing whatever needed to be done. And there at the hotel was where he’d met the Boss.

It was always the Boss. No first name, no last name. But boy, how Charlie admired the Boss. It was as if he’d hung the moon, as Zed’s father might have said, had he been there instead of wherever men who run out on their families go. The Boss became friendly with Charlie through the course of his regular visits to the hotel. He grew to admire Charlie’s work ethic, and Charlie wasn’t too humble to say so. One day the Boss approached Charlie with an offer. The Boss was required to travel a great deal. He was sometimes needed in two places at once. Seeing as he hadn’t quite figured out the logistics of splitting himself in two, he was in need of a good man. A man who could go to those places he couldn’t and carry out the work in his name. The pay, while not extravagant, was enough to keep Charlie afloat. Besides, he’d always wanted to travel.

And that was how he’d spent the last nine years. Traveling for the Boss.

That vague and slightly unbelievable story raised a thousand questions in young Zed’s mind. What was this Boss’s business? Was it legal? When did Charlie do it? He seemed to hang around Zed’s mother’s house at all hours leaving little time for any mysterious business dealings. But Zed couldn’t ask bluntly like he would have in normal circumstances. Because he wasn’t playing the role of Zed; he was playing the role of friend. Zed had a tendency to come off as aggressive and confrontational when he spoke. Friend wasn’t like that at all. Friend would pry the information out gently and carefully, like a piece of corn stuck in a tooth.

Charlie’s story had one implication that made Zed nervous, one that neither Charlie or Zed’s mother seemed willing to acknowledge: if Charlie’s job was to travel, he would be traveling on from Topeka as soon as his business was concluded. That meant Zed would have to work not only gently, but also quickly.

One afternoon, Zed walked into the formal dining room and saw Charlie sitting at the long table eating a sandwich. Zed hadn’t heard him come in that day. For all Zed knew, the man hadn’t left the night before. Zed didn’t think Charlie and his mother were sleeping together, but one couldn’t be too sure.

Charlie and Zed acknowledged each other with a friendly nod, and Zed moved to his seat where his mother had set out a sandwich for him. As he was sitting down, light glinting off something hit his eye. He saw what it was, and his heart caught in his throat. It was the watch. Sitting right there on the table in front of Charlie.

Zed wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. It was as if everything beautiful, everything missing from his life, everything he was supposed to be, was caught up in that gold watch with the strange symbol.

“I’ve seen the way you look at it,” Charlie said, talking through the food in his mouth. “I don’t blame you. It’s a hell of a thing. You’d like to hold it, I bet.”

Zed pried his eyes away from the watch. It was like moving a heavy object, but he did it. He knew anything he said would sound desperate. He just nodded.

Charlie reached out his hand, and for one glorious moment Zed thought he was going to push the watch forward. Instead, he wrapped his fingers over the watch and pulled it back away from Zed.

“I can’t do that, Zed.” There was something wild in the man’s eyes. Something terrible lived in there. Either Charlie was very good at hiding it, or Zed had been too consumed by his quest for the watch to notice it. Charlie pulled the watch off the table and gripped it in his fist.

Zed tried very hard to keep the despair off his face. If Charlie knew how badly Zed wanted the watch, he’d keep an even closer eye on it and the boy would never get his shot.

“See, my Boss asked me to hang on to this watch,” Charlie continued. “Just for a little while. I have to give it back soon. And if the Boss asks for it and I don’t have it…” His voice drifted off and his face went pale, as if just thinking about it was too much for him. “You ever read Inferno by Dante? The stuff they do to those people in the different circles of hell?”

Zed could only shake his head.

“Well, that shit would be downright pleasant compared to what’ll happen to me if I lose this thing. So when it comes to the watch,” he held it up, and Zed’s heart ached anew at the sight of it, “it’s look but don’t touch. Understand?”

Zed couldn’t move. His eyes were drawn to the watch like iron files to a magnet.

“Come to think of it, it’s better if you don’t look, either.” Charlie snapped his hand shut and stuffed the watch into his pocket.

Zed ate the rest of his lunch in silence. He knew he should be making friendly conversation with Charlie. He should try to undo some of the damage he’d done by openly gawking at the watch. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was all he could do to keep his jaw working around his sandwich.

He’d learned two important pieces of information. First, Charlie wouldn’t allow the watch to be stolen. All Zed’s fantasies of pickpocketing it or tricking Charlie into thinking he’d lost it were never going to happen. Charlie would protect that watch with everything he had. All the buddying up to Charlie wouldn’t change that. Second, Zed had learned how far he was willing to go to get the watch.

As he choked down his sandwich, he considered how he’d do it. He had to be careful, but he also had to be quick. Charlie’s job could take him to another city at any point. Or he and Zed’s mom could stop seeing each other. He resolved to act at the first opportunity.

Zed suspected Charlie might be visiting his mother in the night. The idea didn’t bother him really; he was too focused on the watch to be distracted by something like his mother giving it up to this traveling salesman or whatever he was. In fact, the idea excited him. Because it gave him a great opportunity. If Charlie was visiting in the night, he was always gone by the time Zed woke up. Which meant sometime during the night he would have to descend the stairs.

Zed prepared. Zed waited. And the next night he set his alarm to wake him every hour. And each time it did, he would creep to his mother’s bedroom and listen at the door until he heard the quiet snore that convinced him she was asleep. Then he’d carefully inch the door open to confirm she was alone.

The first night was a bust. But the second night, when his alarm woke him at one a.m. and he listened at his mother’s door, he heard a combination of giggles, moans, and squeals that confirmed Charlie had indeed come calling.

It might disturb most eleven-year-old boys to hear such noises coming from their mother’s bedroom, but Zed just smiled and went to work.

He tied the fishing line across the top of the staircase, securing the ends to the banister on each side with a tight double-hitch knot. He placed the line six inches off the ground, which he figured was low enough that it would still trip Charlie, but high enough he wasn’t likely to accidentally step over it. With that job done, he went to the bottom of the staircase, sat just around the corner, and waited.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour, but Zed drifted off into a dream of flying. He suddenly jerked awake at the sound of a floorboard creaking. He was instantly alert. He had to be. The floorboard squeak came again, and he knew it was Charlie creeping through the hall.

Just as Zed hoped, Charlie didn’t turn on the light in the hallway. He was probably afraid it would wake Zed. That mistake would cost him.

Zed took a deep breath and let it out slowly, silently counting as he did so, mentally guessing where Charlie was in the hallway, how close he was to the staircase.

Before the breath was gone, a surprised grunt came from the top of the stairs, followed by a series of thumps that shook the house. Then Charlie was lying at the foot of the stairs.

Zed stood, clutching a heavy fire poker in his hands. It was dark, but Zed’s eyes had adjusted. He stepped around the corner and saw Charlie lying on the ground. The man let out a moan.

His leg was twisted beneath him at an odd angle, but other than that he didn’t appear to be hurt. Zed had hoped Charlie would break his neck. No matter. He had the fire poker.

Charlie squinted up at him. “Zed? Help me—“

He’d barely gotten the word out before Zed brought the poker down on Charlie’s head, slamming it into his skull three times, driving the point of it into his face.

Charlie screamed and thrashed, so Zed kept striking until the man stopped moving.

When he was sure it was safe, Zed crouched down and reached for Charlie’s right pocket, the one he’d seen him put the watch in a few times. He paused, suddenly sure the watch wouldn’t be there, that Charlie had left it at home, that he’d killed this man for nothing. He took a deep breath.

He thrust his hand into the pocket. Relief flooded through him as he touched the watch. He pulled it out and held it to his chest.

Finally. He had it.

He may have stood like that for hours, frozen in rapture, but then Charlie let out a weak, wheezing breath. Zed was suddenly unsure what to do. Rather, he knew what he needed to do but was afraid to do it. He couldn’t have Charlie coming after him for the watch. The police, sure. But not Charlie. Worse, if Charlie lived he could tell his Boss about Zed. And Zed didn’t want that.

He pulled out his pocket knife, the same one he’d been sharpening on the morning he’d met Charlie, and cut the man’s throat. He had never done anything like that before, and the work was far more physically taxing than he would have imagined. Sawing into a person’s throat, even with a knife as sharp as Zed’s, was no easy task. And the blood! There was so much of it. Zed’s hands, shirt and the floor around him where all slick with it by the time he was finished. He surveyed the body with it’s gaping neck wound and felt confident he’d done a thorough job. There was no doubt in his mind that Charlie was dead.

Zed washed up quickly in the kitchen and changed into the clothes he’d left hidden there. He left his bloody pajamas on the kitchen floor, making no effort to hide them. Maybe the police would think he’d been kidnapped by the killer, or maybe they’d realized right away that he’d committed the crime. Zed didn’t care either way. Soon he’d be just another nameless runaway.

He grabbed the bag he’d hidden under the sink. It contained a few changes of clothes and the three hundred dollars his mother hid in the basement, all her savings.

Zed paused at the doorway, and he felt an unexpected moment of fear. He was alone now. The police would be looking for him. His mother would be looking for him. Then he felt the cold weight of the watch in his pocket, and he felt at peace.

He walked out the door, boarded the first train east, and never returned to Topeka.

CHAPTER THREE: THE ROUGH-SHOD READERS

1.

Frank looked up at the building in front of them.

“So this is where we start?” Sophie asked.

Frank nodded. If he were being honest, he had no idea what he was doing. This was all new to him. Except, that wasn’t exactly true, was it? Zed had asked for his help finding something before: Frank’s brother Jake. He’d asked through his lackey Becky Raymond, but he’d asked. And look how well that had turned out.

Frank tried to insert some confidence into his voice. “Well, we are looking for a book.”

The King’s Crossing Public Library was a large, modern-looking structure made of glass and steel. It positively gleamed in the morning light. The building looked out of place in downtown King’s Crossing, an area that trended toward traditional architecture with a smattering of falling apart thrown in for good measure. The library was unique among its peers.

“So, what, we just check the card catalogue?” Sophie asked. “Or computer catalogue? Whatever they call them now.”

“I don’t know.” Frank sighed. “We have to start somewhere. I’m going with my gut, okay? My gut tells me, you want a book, try the library.”

Sophie turned to Mason. “What do you think? You had some sort of mystical connection to the book in Sanctuary. Are you going to be able to work your voodoo on this book, too?”

Frank was curious whether Mason would answer. The older man had been quiet ever since they’d left the shed an hour ago.

“I don’t know,” Mason said. “I’ve never been inside a library. I barely even know how to read.”

“Seriously?” Sophie asked. “You did okay with that other book.”

“That was different. It spoke to me.”

Something at the edge of the parking lot caught Frank’s eye.

“You two go on ahead and get started,” he said. “I need to check something.”

Sophie arched her eyebrows. “What are we supposed to get started doing?”

“I don’t know. Look around. See if anything seems out of place. Haven’t you ever investigated a small town with a secret before?”

With that, he walked toward the man leaning against a tree at the edge of the lot. The man was just standing there glowering like some sort of teenaged rebel who thought he was tough. He wasn’t looking at Frank, but he wasn’t not looking at him either.

It was Matt, the guy with the high and tight haircut.

Frank strode toward him with purpose. “Kinda strange running into you again so soon.”

“Not really,” Matt said, his face expressionless. “Small town.”

Frank stopped a few feet away from the man. A bit of stubble had sprung onto Frank’s face over the past couple days of travel, and it itched something fierce. He scratched at his cheek. “You wouldn’t happen to be following us, would you?”

Matt coolly met his gaze. “I was here before you.”

“That’s been happening a lot lately.”

“Maybe you’re predictable.”

This was getting Frank nowhere. This game of who’s cooler was infuriating. “Okay. If I’m predictable, that means you came here because you knew I’d be here. So, I ask again, are you following me?”

Matt’s eyes flickered and a slight smile cracked his face. He was trying to hide something and it seemed to be something funny, maybe even something happy.

“The truth?” Matt said. “Zed sent me. Not to spy on you, exactly. More like to be available if you needed anything. You have any questions, need any local insight, I’m your man.”

Frank’s gaze caught on the Roman numeral tattooed on the man’s wrist. “You know, Zed came to my town a long time ago. Well, maybe not a long time ago, but it sure feels that way. He had a plan, but it didn’t work out. He said he was there to help us. Turned out that wasn’t the case. Still, some people in my town wear a tattoo to show they’re loyal to him.”

Matt followed Frank’s eyes to his own tattoo. “That’s not what ours are about.”

“Then what are they about?”

Matt shook his head. There was something in his eye. Vulnerability, maybe. “Not yet. Not here.”

“You said you were here to help me if I had any questions.”

“I am,” Matt said. “Believe me when I tell you I want, no, need you to succeed. I have a family.”

“And you believe that stuff about the world ending if I don’t find the book?”

No hesitation. “Yes.” He gritted his teeth for a moment. “And it’s not just the book. There’s more to it than that.” He looked past Frank into the blue sky. “I have a wife. And a daughter. I would take them and leave town if I thought it would help. But in a week I’ll be just as dead on the coast as I would be here. At least here I can try to do something about it.”

“Seems like you’ve got a lot of trust in Zed.”

“No,” Matt said. “I’ve got a lot of trust in you.”

The words shocked Frank. He opened his mouth to reply but realized he had no idea what to say.

“Look,” Matt continued, “the book’s not in the library. You’re wasting your time.”

Frank scratched at his neck. Damn whiskers. “Okay. You got a better suggestion where to start?”

“I do.” The man glanced at Frank in a conspiratorial manner that would not have been out of place in Regulation-era Rook Mountain. “Thing is, I know some stuff I haven’t exactly shared with Zed.”

“And you’re willing to share it with a guy you just met?”

Again, no hesitation. “Yes. We can go now. We’ll take my car.”

“I need to get my friends first,” Frank said.

“Don’t worry about them. They’ll be busy for a while.”

Frank shook his head. “You might trust me, but the feeling isn’t mutual. Not yet. No way I’m leaving without them.”

Matt paused for a moment as if considering it. “Fine. Go get them. I’ll be waiting here when you come out.”

Frank nodded. There was something strange about the way the man spoke to him. Too familiar.

Just another crazy Zed Head. Even though he claimed he didn’t trust Zed, he’d been there at the shed that morning. He’d helped Zed put his plan into action.

But Frank couldn’t completely dismiss the look in the man’s eye. Frank considered himself a pretty good judge of character. He had needed to be in prison, where looking at the wrong person at the wrong moment could start a beef that would lead to someone ending up in the infirmary, the SHU, or worse.

Matt might be crazy, but he believed what he was saying. Of that, Frank was certain.

Frank turned and walked toward the library.

2.

The best part about being able to Pull Back time was that there were no consequences. It was also the worst part.

Alice had recently read the first couple of Harry Potter books. She’d loved them, but the one thing she’d thought about the most was the Invisibility Cloak. It had felt so familiar, but also so sad. To have to wear that cloak in order to find out secrets…

Whenever Alice wanted to find a secret, she just nosed around until she found it. If someone saw her, well, she’d just Pull Back time a little and she’d still have the information. She’d like to see Professor Snape try to bust her. Not likely.

She knew in her heart consequences were, deep down, a good thing. They existed to keep people safe. You didn’t jump off a building because, while the falling part might be kinda fun, the landing definitely wasn’t.

Alice’s problem was she could experience the fall and not have to deal with the landing. She was often tempted to try things, things she definitely shouldn’t, things that were dangerous, even to her. Like, when she’d been swimming last week. Something inside her had wanted very badly to sit at the bottom of the pool until she couldn’t take it anymore, until she just had to breathe in water. And as the darkness closed in on her, she would Pull Back. Then she would know what it felt like to drown without the messy dying part. Or even the having to get mouth-to-mouth from that pimply-faced teenaged lifeguard part.

Dangerous things like that attracted her and frightened her at the same time. What if the day came when she couldn’t fight them? What if she’d given in and accidentally drowned herself? Or what if she jumped off a bridge, miscalculated, and hit the water before she thought she would? Then she would be dead, just like so many other dumb daredevil kids. And she couldn’t Pull Back from death.

At least she didn’t think so.

Alice woke up at ten-thirty that morning. It was, as far as she could remember, the latest she’d ever slept. She woke up just as tired as she’d been when she’d gone to sleep four hours earlier when her dad and Mr. Willis had left. She’d listened at the top of the stairs as they went out the door, just as she had earlier that night when her dad had killed Willis.

She guessed she was skipping school today. That didn’t bum her out too badly. It was like a surprise snow day.

She tried not to think too much about the times with double memories. At three thirty that morning, she’d technically been both sitting at the top of the stairs watching her father kill a man and lying in bed thinking about that killing. It made her dizzy, but she found if she picked one memory and pushed the other one away, she was usually fine.

When Dad and Willis left that morning, Alice had heard the words Volunteer Park and shed, so it didn’t take a third-grade science fair winner like Alice to figure out where they were going. The question was why. And she didn’t like unanswered questions.

After she got out of bed, she headed down to the kitchen. Mom tended to cook when she was nervous; most other times she let Alice’s dad do it. This morning she must have been leaning over the edge of insanity, because she’d made waffles, fruit salad, sausage, and bacon.

Alice stopped at the door to the kitchen, plotting her next move. That food smelled really good. She wanted nothing more than to sit down and eat until she couldn’t eat anymore. But…wouldn’t that food taste even better when she got back?

Her mind made up, she turned and walked out of the kitchen.

“Honey?” Mom asked. “Where you going? Breakfast is ready.”

“I’m going to the bathroom, Mom.”

Alice headed toward the nearest bathroom, the one off the living room, went inside, and turned on the light and the fan. As a final measure, she pressed the button lock on the doorknob. Then she left the bathroom and pulled the locked door shut behind her. That would buy her some time.

She walked to the front door, eased it open, took a final look back to make sure Mom wasn’t watching, and slipped out, closing the door as gently as possible.

A clean escape. Ha. Who needed an Invisibility Cloak?

It was a six block walk to Volunteer Park. She moved quickly and with purpose. If she dawdled, some well-meaning stranger might think she was lost and offer her help. What a pain that would be. So she moved as if her destination was right around the next corner.

As she walked, she couldn’t help but feel just a little bit guilty. Mom hadn’t had an easy night, and now Alice was kind of piling it on her. She might have realized Alice wasn’t in the bathroom by now. She wasn’t above popping the lock to the bathroom door and coming in if Alice didn’t answer her calls. She was probably searching the house, starting to get a little frantic. Yelling things like, “Come out! This isn’t funny!” and “Okay, you win. Hide and seek champion of the family.” Soon she’d be calling Dad. Then maybe the police.

It wasn’t like Alice felt great about it. But once she saw what she needed to see, she’d Pull Back and sit down for breakfast with Mom, being sure to act extra friendly and cheerful. From Mom’s perspective, it would have never happened. So there was nothing wrong with that, right?

She made it to Volunteer Park and spotted the gardening shed near some bushes. She wasn’t one hundred percent positive that was the place, but she couldn’t think of any other shed in the park. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw Willis leaning against the shed, smoking.

Wouldn’t you know it? After acting so superior, she could have used an Invisibility Cloak after all.

Still, there was a good chance she could remain unseen if she slipped around the back of the shed and was extra careful not to make noise.

She circled around the back of the shed, creeping slowly and softly. As she turned the corner and spotted the door, she saw it was shut, but not latched. Maybe Willis was supposed to be doing something in there and was out on a smoke break?

She reached for the door and gently pulled it open. What she saw inside was so unexpected it made her gasp.

A tree was growing right in the middle of the shed. And a thin man with black hair and a neatly trimmed beard was tied to that tree. His eyes were on the ground.

She stood frozen, just staring at him for a long time.

Finally, he looked up and saw her.

Surprise flashed across his face, but it was quickly replaced with a smile.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hello,” she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

“What’s your name?”

“Alice,” she said, and instantly wished she hadn’t. It was automatic, though, giving your name when someone asked for it.

“Alice,” the man said, “I have a bit of a problem. As you can see, I’m tied to this tree. Some very bad men put me here. I need your help to get out.”

She stood frozen, unsure of what to do.

“You know about bad guys right?” he asked. “Like Snidely Whiplash?”

She had no idea who Snidely Whiplash was.

“I just need you to come over here and untie the rope.”

Suddenly, Willis’ voice was coming from behind her. “Alice? What the hell are you doing here?”

She panicked and Pulled Back on the rope in her mind, just a little.

Then she was standing on the other side of the shed again, peeking around at the door.

She should leave now. She should Pull Back to when she was standing in her kitchen. She should enjoy the breakfast Mom had made and forget all about this man tied to the tree. But she couldn’t. She had to see one more time. Because that man had said bad guys tied him up. Her dad had been here this morning. Was her dad one of the bad guys? Was that why he hadn’t wanted to go?

She had to take one more look.

She crept around the corner and pulled the door open again.

And, again, she gasped. Because, for the first time in her long and storied history of Pulling Back on the rope in her mind, things were different this time. Not everything. Only one small detail. The man wasn’t looking at the ground. He was looking at her. And smiling.

“Clever girl,” the man said.

She froze. He couldn’t know. He couldn’t.

“That was a neat trick,” the man said. “A very neat trick. Surely someone as clever as you can untie a simple rope.”

She shook her head slowly and took a step back.

“If you like tricks, I have some I could show you. Lots and lots. I could teach you things that would make your little time refold look like kid’s stuff.”

Her heart was racing now. She wanted to run away, to Pull Back, but the man’s gaze seemed to be holding her somehow, making the rope in her mind too slippery to grasp.

“I’m a very good friend to have,” the man said. “But a very bad enemy.” His voice dropped to a lower register. “If you don’t help me, I’ll pop your eyeballs out of your head, and no simple time fold will save you. I was born in a place where time was no more than a color. You can’t fool me, and you can’t make me forget.”

She turned and ran out of the shed. She brushed past a shocked Willis, who yelled after her, “Alice? What the hell are you doing here?”

When she was fifty yards from the shed, she stopped and tried again. She was relieved, oh-so-relieved, to find she could grip the rope again. She Pulled Back.

A moment later she walked into her kitchen and sat down at the table.

Mom smiled at her. “Just in time.” She handed Alice a glass of orange juice.

Alice hoped her mother couldn’t see her hand shaking when she took it.

3.

Sophie was not a fan of libraries. All these books, wrapped in weird shiny plastic coating. And there was the musty smell. The decay of old paper. Even in a modern library like this one, with bright lights and dozens of computer screens lining the walls, they couldn’t hide that old-as-sin book smell.

Or maybe it was just the memories of Mrs. Wexel, her high school librarian who’d run detention. Mrs. Wexel had possessed impressively pungent body odor and a stare that could shame even the most shameless of note-passers and spitball shooters.

Mason didn’t seem to carry Sophie’s baggage when it came to libraries. He turned in slow circles as they made their way through the stacks. “My God,” he kept repeating. “So many books.”

Sophie was thinking much the same thing. How were they ever supposed to find the right one? What if it was hidden on a shelf? Were they supposed to look at every spine? Worse yet, what if it was wrapped in the dust jacket from some other book? What if the book that held the power to save the world looked like something by Danielle Steel? Would they have to pull every book off the shelf and look inside each one? How many days would that take?

Mostly, she was frustrated with Frank for ditching them. He’d been out there five minutes already. But when he came back in, she didn’t want him to find them standing around waiting for him to save the day. They had to take a proactive approach.

“Okay,” she said, “let’s assume for now it isn’t on one of the shelves. I mean, they wouldn’t want just anybody walking up and checking it out, right?” For the moment, she put aside the question of who they were.

Mason was still doing his slow spin, taking in the new sights and smells. It had to be an assault on his senses. Sophie felt a bit sorry for the guy. His voice was distant when he spoke. “Then we check the perimeter?”

“Good a plan as any. Come on.”

She led him away from the east side of the library, where the fiction section and the banks of computers with free Internet access drew the majority of the weekday morning patrons. They walked past the graphic novel section and the travel books, and they reached the far wall. Small meeting rooms lined this side of the building. Each had a table and a couple chairs that looked entirely uncomfortable. All the rooms were empty and their doors were wide open as if waiting for someone to come into the municipally-provided comfort of their open arms.

Sophie tried to think who would use such rooms, and why, but she came up empty.

At the end of the room was a staircase leading to the second floor. Sophie paused, unsure if patrons were allowed up there, but Mason, who didn’t have her years of institutional brainwashing on following rules, didn’t pause and nearly ran into her back. She reminded herself the book was just as likely to be in an employees only section as anywhere else, and headed up the stairs.

In the end, she needn’t have worried. The upstairs was open to the public. The walls of the long hallway at the top of the stairs were lined with paintings which Sophie assumed were probably by local artists. Some of them were pretty good, but some were clearly hanging there because a library employee didn’t have the stones to say no to a desperate local artist.

They passed a pair of restrooms and a drinking fountain before reaching a set of glass doors. She glanced at the sign next to the door. The Rough-Shod Readers Book Club. Tuesdays 10 am. All welcome. Doughnuts provided.

Sophie felt Mason move next to her.

“What’s going on in there?” he asked.

“Book club. They read a book and then all try to sound smart while talking about it.” She glanced at her watch. Ten-oh-three. She looked through the glass doors. There were maybe a half dozen people inside, and they appeared to be settling in. A number of distinct conversations were happening. One man was carrying two precariously balanced doughnuts back to the table. Everyone in the room appeared to be in their sixties, if not older.

She was about to turn away when something caught her eye. A familiar green paperback book sat in front of almost every seat. Sophie recognized it.

She’d never been much of a reader, but the weeks she’d spent in Sanctuary had included a lot of downtime. In her bored desperation, she’d dug into Jake Hinkle’s small collection of science fiction and fantasy books, and she’d been surprised to find how much she liked them. She’d even read a few more since she’d been back from Sanctuary. She had a harder time concentrating now, though. Every time she started to get lost in a story, some memory popped into her head, pulling her back to the real world. Mostly they were memories of her final fight with Taylor, her sister’s killer. But there were other things, too. Vee’s arms being pulled from his body. The Larvae burying itself in her friend’s arm. A man being turned into a tree. They came to her as still images, frozen pictures of the worst, most gruesome moments of her life. She had to close her eyes and put the book aside until it passed. It took her a long time to get through a book now.

Of all the novels she’d read in Sanctuary, her favorite was Old Man’s War by John Scalzi. It was the story of a future where the Earth was at war with aliens. For reasons unknown to most of the people on Earth, you weren’t allowed to join the fight against the enemy until your seventy-fifth birthday. If you decided to do so, you would be taken away to fight and never see Earth, your family, or your friends again.

Old Man’s War was the green paperback on the table.

Sophie looked at Mason. “Let’s go in.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

She nodded to the sign. “All welcome.”

“I mentioned I can barely read, right?” He looked toward the people inside. “How about I wait out here?”

“You fit the demographic better. Don’t worry, I’ll do the talking.” Without waiting for a response, she pulled the door open and walked inside.

She found two empty seats near the end of the table and sat down, motioning for Mason to join her.

She suddenly realized the conversations had stopped, and everyone was looking at her. After a moment, a man with a wide smile and thinning but neatly combed hair walked over, his hand out.

“I’m Joe Cantor. I’m the director of the library. Welcome.”

She shook his hand and introduced herself. After an awkward pause, Mason did the same.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what, er, brought you to our little group?” Joe asked.

Sophie tilted her head. “Book talk. Can’t get enough of it.”

“What he means to say,” an older woman on the far side of the table said, “is how’d you hear about our group?”

“Ah,” Sophie said, doing her best to turn on the charm. “Oddest thing. Mason and I were just hanging out, taking in the library, and we stumbled across your room here. I saw you were reading Old Man’s War and thought I’d join in.”

After a long moment, Joe said, “So, you’ve read the book, then?”

“One of my favorites.”

Though she wouldn’t have thought it possible, the tension in the air grew thicker.

Joe moved to his seat. “Okay, well, let’s…get started, I suppose.”

More silence.

Sophie glanced over at Mason and was surprised to see he looked like the most comfortable person in the room. He’d snagged a jelly-filled doughnut—probably while she was awkwardly engaging with Joe and his bookish oldsters—and was happily munching away.

After another long, heavy silence, Sophie said, “How’s this work? Do we just give our thoughts on the book?”

Joe’s smile widened a bit. “Yes! Excellent. Since you’re our guest, feel free to go first.”

She wasn’t expecting that. She was hoping to listen in a bit, maybe get a feel for the flow of conversation. And maybe pick up a few juicy bits about King’s Crossing. But she went for it. “Yeah, okay. I liked it a lot. It was funny, and sad, and exciting. My favorite part was when they first get into space. When there’s all the mystery about what’s actually going on.”

She looked around the table as she spoke, and she noticed something odd. The copy of the book she’d read at Sanctuary had been beaten up, the spine lined with dozens of creases and the cover starting to tear. She could see three spines from where she sat. Not one of them had a single crease. The others looked to be in perfect condition, too. Their covers held the sharp edges of a book never once banged against anything. Either every person here was a super careful reader, or these books had never been read. One way to find out.

“I’m a little conflicted on the shark monster scene, though,” she said. “I guess I can see how it fit into the plot, but it was a bit graphic for me. Shark sex is not something I was really expecting.”

A murmur of agreement went around the table.

“That was very odd indeed,” an old woman said.

“And can we talk about the twist?” Sophie asked. “How it was all a dream? I was not expecting that! So original.”

The smile fell from Joe’s face. Clearly, he’d figured out she was messing with them.

Sophie had her hands folded on the table in front of her, and she noticed they were all looking at them. No, she realized, remembering the Roman numeral tattoos. Not her hands. Her wrists.

She unclasped her hands and laid them palms up on the table, exposing the untattooed skin of her inner wrists. “Show them your wrists, Mason.”

Mason grudgingly put down the doughnut, brushed the powdered sugar from his hands and followed her lead.

She looked at Joe. “Guys mind if I see yours?”

Joe slowly unbuttoned his cuffs, rolled up his sleeves, then showed his wrists. The others did the same. None of them had a tattoo.

Okay, so this wasn’t really a book club. What was it?

Joe buttoned his cuffs. “Why are you really here?”

The truth was she was here to talk about the book, but it might sound more impressive if she let them assume for the moment she’d uncovered their covert little group on purpose.

She took a deep breath before speaking. “I’m looking for a book. An old book. It might have a broken world on the cover. Like a sketch of the earth with a crack through it. Or it might have a cracked clock.”

“Like the compass Zed carries,” another man said. Joe shot him a look.

Sophie nodded. “I’m not sure exactly what it looks like. But most of the pages would be blank.” She decided to take a shot. They’d wanted to make sure she didn’t have the tattoo Zed’s followers had, so they weren’t likely to be Zed Heads, right? “Zed wants the book. We want to find it and keep it from him.”

The people around the table looked at each other. The mood in the room changed from suspicion to…maybe hope?

“I’m sorry,” Joe said. “I know every book in this library. There’s nothing like that here.”

Sophie found herself believing him. That wasn’t something that happened frequently with her.

“Who are you?” Joe asked.

“My name’s Sophie Porter. Me and my friends are here to stop Zed.”

“And how are you planning to do that?”

She shrugged. “We’ve had dealings with him in the past. You know Rook Mountain?”

“We do get CNN up here,” Joe said.

“Okay, well, Zed did that. He’s done it to other places, too. He’s got similar plans for King’s Crossing.”

They were still all looking at her, not saying anything.

Mason finished his jelly doughnut and wiped the excess powdered sugar on his shirt. “Okay, our turn. What’s this group really all about?”

Joe rubbed his chin for a moment. “Strange things have been happening in King’s Crossing for a while now. Zed’s part of it, but not the only part. People here seem to know things—”

“Joe!” the old woman next to him barked. “You gonna reveal our secrets, we gotta vote them into the group.” Her voice was a strange combination of raspy and high pitched.

“Is that really necessary? They have information—”

“It is,” a man to Sophie’s left said. He’d been silent until now.

“Okay…” Sophie said. “Do we need to step out or something?”

“That won’t be necessary,” the woman croaked. “Hands of those who oppose allowing these two strangers into our group?”

Every hand but Joe’s went up.

The woman flashed her dentures at Sophie. “Sorry, dear. That means you’ll have to be going.”

Sophie put her hands on the table and pushed herself to her feet with agonizing slowness. “Fine.” She looked Joe in the eye. “If any of you change your mind and want to talk, we’re at the Holiday Inn. Sophie Porter and Mason Hinkle.”

“I highly doubt—” the woman began, but Sophie turned on her heels and marched out of the room, missing the rest of whatever snide sentiment the woman hurled at her.

When they reached the hall, Sophie turned to Mason. “Dude, I kinda miss the Larvae. I wasn’t cut out for this reconnaissance stuff. This is Frank’s thing.”

Mason nodded. “Good doughnut, though.”

They found Frank wandering the stacks. He hurried over when he saw them.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ve got a lead.”

Sophie nudged Mason with her elbow. “What’d I tell you?”

As they were about to exit the library, someone called Sophie’s name. She turned and saw Joe trotting toward them in a most un-librarian-like fashion.

When he reached them, he said, “Can we talk? It’s about what you said up there. About Zed.”

THE BOY WHO FOUND THE WATCH (PART THREE)

Charlotte, North Carolina

September 1948

A bright light shone into Zed’s eyes, and he woke with a start, blinking furiously against the powerful beam. His mind spun with disorientation.

“That’s the last show, kid. Go home. Your mom’s probably worried sick.”

The light moved away from his eyes and Zed got his first look at the speaker. It was a pimply faced teenager dressed in a red uniform. An usher.

Zed blinked hard as he remembered where he was. A movie theater. In, what, Atlanta? Nashville? He couldn’t remember.

It had been three months since he’d taken the watch from Charlie. Three months of trains and buses. Three months of looking over his shoulder for the police or Charlie’s mysterious boss or whoever else might be after him. He’d found he liked traveling. He liked the solitude. And he still had over half his money, so he could keep traveling for at least a few more months.

The thing he hadn’t counted on before leaving home was how difficult it was for an eleven-year-old to travel on his own. People asked so many questions. What was he doing? Where was his mother? Why was he riding the train alone? He had a slew of stories he used, never too elaborate. He kept his answers to a sentence or two when he could help it.

One other difficulty Zed hadn’t anticipated was the constant struggle to find a place to sleep. He could buy his own food without anyone raising an eyebrow, but sleeping…motels didn’t rent rooms to eleven-year-old boys. The few times he’d tried had led to questions that were difficult to answer.

He’d found a few solutions. Trains and buses made for excellent places to sleep. He’d spent much of his time traveling from city to city just for a semi-quiet place to rest his head without anyone bothering him. The downside was that the constant travel was a major drain on his money roll. A cheaper alternative was movie theaters. He could buy a ticket to the first show and happily sleep his way through the last. It was loud—he often had ringing in his ears after a day like that and he always seemed to smell of stale popcorn—but when he got tired enough, it was worth it.

The usher’s flashlight beam was still pointing at him, though mercifully not in his eyes. Zed stretched and slowly got to his feet, dreading another cold night of walking the city streets.

As he stood, his hand slipped automatically into his pocket, and a wave of peace passed through him as he touched the watch. His watch. Despite all the hardships of the past three months, he had to admit it had been the happiest time of his life. He had the watch, and he could touch it as much as he wanted. He could look at it anytime he wanted. He’d killed to get the watch, and he’d happily do it again. It was his.

If there was one thing about the watch that bothered him, one annoying little thing that grated him like a pebble stuck in his shoe, it was that he hadn’t been able to get the watch to do anything out of the ordinary. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting of it exactly, but he remembered back to Charlie and the way he had made himself go from one part of the room to another in an instant. Zed hadn’t been able to get the watch to perform any of those feats of magic.

Maybe his mother had been right. Maybe Charlie had just hypnotized Zed. Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with the watch itself. But Zed didn’t believe that. He could feel the power in the watch when he held it. It was like a pulse. Or maybe a building pressure. Zed sensed it had an energy different from anything he’d ever experienced, and something told him it wanted to get out.

Zed left the theater and stepped out onto the dark city street. He remembered where he was. Charlotte, North Carolina. It was a nice town. Small enough that it wasn’t overrun with crime, and large enough that he was able to wander the streets at night without attracting too much attention. Still, he thought he’d probably move on soon. He wanted to see the ocean. He thought of the map that had hung in his classroom and wished he’d paid more attention to it. What was the closest coast town of any size? Savannah, maybe? That was on the ocean, right?

The smell of cooking meat suddenly hit him like a bag of bricks, and his stomach cramped in painful hunger. He looked up and saw a diner on the corner. It had the beautiful words Open Late painted on the window. He stopped under a street light and considered. Did he dare? Would the waitress insist on calling his mother? Or, worse yet, would she call the police to report this boy out after curfew? What time was it, anyway?

He pulled out the pocket watch and flicked it open. 11:04. Late for a boy his age.

He ran his finger over the broken clock symbol on the back of the watch. The diner and his hunger were momentarily forgotten. He felt suddenly strong. Powerful. He squeezed the watch.

There was a click.

For a terrible moment, he was certain he’d broken it. If that had happened, he didn’t know what he’d do. He imagined it would involve stepping in front of a train. But, no, he hadn’t broken the watch. He’d simply pressed the broken clock symbol and it had depressed.

It was a button, he realized.

Three months and he hadn’t realized the symbol was a button that could be pressed. The watch held too much import for him. He’d always handled it gently, reverently.

Something felt different. There was a strange hum in the air, a feeling he’d never felt before. The watch buzzed with energy, but it felt different somehow. He’d always assumed the energy was imaginary, his way of externalizing the specialness he saw in the watch. But maybe it wasn’t. Maybe the energy was real and he had just used some of it.

A shiver passed through him. And with it, his stomach resumed its angry complaint. He shook his head to clear it and walked toward the diner.

The quiet hit him first. He walked in the door and heard nothing. It was still. As quiet as his old childhood home when his mom had been at work. Quieter even. At home there’d been the sounds of the radiator and the occasional car horn out the window. This was different. There was nothing.

For a terrible moment, he thought he’d gone deaf. He made a pathetic wordless vocalization, and was relieved to hear the sound of his voice.

Then he noticed the people.

The diner wasn’t full, not by a long shot. But six of the tables were occupied. Two waitresses stood behind the counter. None of them, patrons or workers, were moving. They were still as statues.

Zed wandered through the diner for five minutes, observing the strange frozen figures. A man in the booth in the back corner held a fork with a bit of pumpkin pie on it, headed toward his gaping mouth. Zed plucked the pie off the fork and stuck it in his own mouth. He didn’t normally like pumpkin pie, but this bite tasted especially sweet.

It was the stillness of the clock on the wall that finally made him realize the truth. He stared at its motionless second hand and realized he had stopped time.

Or, the pocket watch had.

No, he decided after a moment’s thought. The pocket watch was just a tool. A beautiful and life-changing tool, but a tool nonetheless. It was Zed who’d stopped time.

He realized he could very likely counter the effect and restart time by pushing the button again, but he wasn’t ready to do that yet. There was something peaceful about all this. Something soothing.

He left the restaurant and walked around the block checking to see how far the effect went. Everything outside was just as frozen as the diner. Which meant, what, the whole world was frozen? Everything but him?

If so…it was wonderful. There would be a million uses for this power, a million ways he could use it to his advantage, but the first that came to mind was sleep. If he stopped time, he could walk right through any person’s front door, lie in their bed and sleep until he woke up naturally. How long had it been since he’d slept in a bed? The mere thought of it made his knees weak.

But first he had to take care of a more pressing issue: his stomach. He went back in the diner and walked through the door to the kitchen. Next to the motionless cook, there was a large cheeseburger sitting on a plain white plate. He picked up the plate, walked to the nearest booth and sat down to eat.

He picked off the tomato and took his first bite. The meat was cooked perfectly, and Zed sighed in pleasure as a bit of juice dribbled down his chin. He quickly swallowed and took another too-large bite of the greasy, delicious burger.

“You’re a very stupid boy.”

Zed froze at the sound of the unexpected voice. A woman sat across from him. He hadn’t seen her arrive. One moment, he was alone in the booth, and the next she was there.

He started to speak, but the woman held up a hand to stop him.

“Please, finish chewing your food before you speak.”

He dutifully chewed his food, and as he did, he inspected the woman more closely. She had a face of sharp angles, and her most distinctive characteristic was her head of long, curly blond hair. If asked, he wouldn’t have been able to even guess at her age. She looked both older and younger than his mother. There was an ageless quality about her. Her eyes were a blue so deep they were almost purple.

The woman stared at him, not moving, not speaking, just waiting for him to swallow his food. As soon as he thought he could do so without choking, he gulped it down.

He started to speak, but the woman stopped him with a hand once again.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked.

He was surprised to realize he did. He nodded.

“Who am I?” she asked.

His voice sounded weak and childish in his own ears. “Charlie’s boss.” He had assumed Charlie’s boss was a man, but looking at her…he somehow just knew.

She nodded grimly. “Good. So you probably realize how unhappy I am with you right now.”

That wasn’t exactly a question, so he elected not to answer it. Instead, he said, “How’d you find me?”

She raised an eyebrow. “We are sitting here with time paused around us, and that’s your first question? Truth is, we’ve been on your trail for a month now. We would have had you within a week. There are those in our…organization who can track the Tools. But you used the watch, which made things quite a lot easier.”

He asked the only question that mattered, the one that had been burning a hole in his heart since she appeared. “Are you gonna take it away from me?”

Her mouth was a thin grim line. “That watch is only to be used by people in the employ of my organization. Are you in the employ of my organization?”

Zed slowly shook his head.

“Then there’s your answer.”

Zed considered bolting for the door, but something about the woman made him think that would be a very bad idea. She had an air about her, a feeling of power. The same feeling, come to think of it, he felt when he held the watch.

She tilted her head and regarded him for a moment before continuing. “As much as I disapprove of your actions against our man Charlie, it did show a certain initiative. And it did create an opening in the organization. The very fact that you were drawn to the watch shows a lot about your aptitude.” The hint of a smile played on her lips now. “Tell me, young man, how would you feel about coming to work for me and my friends? If are able to dedicate yourself fully to the tasks we set before you, and if you demonstrate absolute loyalty, you could find yourself with a very profitable and very lengthy career. I’m even prepared to let you hold on to the watch. On a trial basis, of course. How does that sound?”

Zed thought that sounded very fine indeed.

CHAPTER FOUR: THE KEY WITHOUT A LOCK

1.

After Frank and Mason left the library, Joe led Sophie through the stacks. Her friends had gone to follow up on whatever Frank had found, but Sophie had insisted on staying behind to talk to Joe. She had to admit, she was suddenly feeling very good about this whole thing. She’d uncovered a lead! Frank could take his smug, Haven’t you ever investigated a small town with a secret before, and shove it.

As they were walking, Sophie felt a hand on her arm. She turned and saw a little old woman holding a thick historical novel. The woman looked at Sophie with wide eyes.

“Where are the others?” the old woman asked.

Sophie paused, confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t—”

“The others!” the old woman barked at her. “Mason and Frank! They’re supposed to be with you.”

Sophie felt her mouth fall open. It took her a moment before she could respond. “They…they had to leave.”

The woman grew a shade paler. “Oh, this isn’t good. This isn’t good at all. They’re supposed to be here.”

Joe turned toward the woman. “Mrs. Gilbert, are you all right?”

Mrs. Gilbert shook her head. “They’re supposed to be here and they’re not. I have to tell someone. But who? Who should I tell? What if they make me do it again?”

Joe motioned for Sophie to follow him. “She’ll be okay.”

As she turned to go, Sophie noticed a tattoo on the veiny flesh of the woman’s wrist. The Roman numeral VII.

Joe led Sophie behind the circulation desk and into a small office. He pointed her to a chair in front of the desk that dominated the room.

“I’m sorry about before,” Joe said. “Some of the Rough-Shod Readers are a little…paranoid. And not without reason. No doubt they’re less than happy with me for slipping out in the middle of the meeting.”

Sophie nodded. “No worries. I gotta ask, though, if the club’s a big secret, why the ‘All welcome’ sign?”

Joe thought for a moment before answering. “There’s something to be said for hiding in plain sight. And a book club on Tuesday morning at ten a.m. doesn’t bring in a lot of random stragglers, believe it or not.”

“Maybe try bringing a book at least one of you has read, though,” Sophie said with a smile.

Joe nodded. “Yes, that was a bit embarrassing. Actually, I’ve been meaning to read Old Man’s War. It’s just…difficult to concentrate lately.”

Sophie could relate. “You wanted to talk about Zed?”

“Yes. Well, him and some other things. The others might not agree, but I think your outside perspective might be able to shine some light on what’s happening in King’s Crossing.”

Sophie leaned forward. She was suddenly feeling every inch the detective. “And what is happening here?”

Joe shook his head slowly. “Strange things. Very strange things.”

“That tends to be the case when Zed’s around.”

“Actually, Zed’s only been here a few months. This started well before that.”

Sophie bit her tongue. She’d seen enough movies to know she’d broken the cardinal rule of sleuthing: if your source is talking, shut up and let them talk.

“It started a couple years ago,” Joe continued, “with a tree. This weird little tree started growing down by the river at Volunteer Park. It’s hard to describe if you haven’t seen it. It’s small, but it’s—I don’t know—twisty. Something about it isn’t right.”

Sophie reminded herself of the cardinal rule and didn’t respond. Man, it wasn’t easy.

“Then the weirdness started. All of the sudden, a bunch of people in town had those Roman numeral tattoos on their wrists. And people started knowing things they shouldn’t. I don’t know how else to say it. It was like the people with those tattoos suddenly knew the future.”

Sophie couldn’t help herself. “Give me an example.”

Joe grinned like he’d been waiting his whole life to be asked that question. “I can give you hundreds. That’s what the Rough-Shod Readers do. We collect examples of the weirdness. We’re trying to piece together what’s going on.”

For the next half hour, Joe told her about some of the things the Rough-Shod Readers had uncovered.

There was the story of Nate Sanders, the part-time movie reviewer for the King’s Crossing Tribune. One day about a year-and-a-half ago, he had emailed a movie review to his boss Cheryl, who happened to be a member of the Rough-Shod Readers. Thing was, Nate had accidentally attached his master file which contained reviews of over fifty movies, twenty of which hadn’t yet been released. As the movies came out, the Rough-Shod Readers carefully checked the reviews and found them to be amazingly accurate, including many details about character moments and special effects that would have been impossible to know from just reading a leaked script. It was clear Nate Sanders had somehow seen these movies months—and in some cases over a year—before they were released.

Six months ago, someone had made an anonymous call to city hall, demanding someone inspect the bridge at Fourth Street within thirty days. The inspector had gone out and discovered structural damage that would have caused the bridge to collapse in the very near future. It was certainly possible the call had been placed by some concerned citizen with structural engineering knowledge. But was it likely?

And then there was the sports gambling. A strange number of King’s Crossing residents had suddenly become eerily accurate at predicting Super Bowl winners and filling out March Madness tournament brackets.

On and on it went. Mostly it was little things, a comment here, a strangely worded email there, and the Rough-Shod Readers collected them all. Most of these things could have been coincidences if taken alone, but when considered as a whole they made a difficult-to-refute case that some sort of psychic ability had taken hold of some of the residents of King’s Crossing.

The ability seemed to be tied to those with tattoos. The Rough-Shod Readers had spent a lot of time trying to understand the connection. What did the tattoos mean? Did those with higher numbers have greater psychic ability? Were the numbers some sort of leveling system? The Rough-Shod Readers believed less than two-hundred people had the tattoos, but two-hundred people with psychic ability could make a pretty noticeable impact.

And then, a few months ago, Zed had arrived, and the tattooed people of King’s Crossing had welcomed him like a conquering hero. Like he was the savior they’d been waiting for. They’d built a shed around the tree in the park as if they were trying to hide it away, to keep it for their own.

Joe was still discussing Zed’s welcome in King’s Crossing when Sophie’s phone rang. It was Frank.

After she hung up, she looked at Joe. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. My friends will be here to pick me up in just a minute. Can we finish this later? I know my friends are going to want to hear what you have to say.”

Joe nodded. “Indeed. And I want to hear what you have to say, too. I just realized I’ve done all the talking.”

Sophie couldn’t help but smile. Maybe she wasn’t such a bad sleuth after all.

2.

They followed Matt through town—he in his truck and Mason and Frank in Sophie’s car—past schools, churches, and houses, large and small. Now that they were away from the river and getting their first real look at the heart of town, Frank thought this place wasn’t all that different than Rook Mountain.

For the first time in years, Frank was behind the wheel. He suddenly realized he’d missed driving.

He looked at Mason. “How am I doing?”

Mason raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking me?”

Matt turned onto a small road that twisted up a bluff.

Mason asked, “Can we trust this guy?”

“I have no idea,” Frank said.

Mason’s gaze was fixed to the window. As they moved away from town and deeper into the forested heights of the bluff, he seemed to relax by degrees. They were going into his element.

Finally, they passed a sign that read, Castle Bluff Park. A few moments later, the road ended in a parking lot. Matt parked his truck, and Frank pulled into the spot next to him.

“Same signal as before if we need to run?” Mason asked before getting out.

“Same signal as before,” Frank answered.

When they got out, Frank turned to Matt. “Okay, why’d you bring us here?”

Matt smiled weakly. “We’re not quite there yet. Follow me.”

He led them on foot through the parking lot and up a well-trod path up to the top of the bluff. It was a short walk, clearly designed to allow people of all abilities to make it to the summit.

They rounded a final bend and came out onto a vista. A flag pole stood in the middle of the clearing, the American flag at the top whipping in the wind.

Matt moved to the wooden fence at the edge of the vista. “Take a look.”

They were looking out over King’s Crossing. Every house, every church, every road was laid out below them like some sort of miniature town.

“It’s beautiful,” Frank said.

“That’s why I brought you here,” Matt said.

They stood in silence for a few moments, looking out over the town.

“I’ve lived here my whole life,” Matt said finally. “It can be a strange place. Sometimes a petty place. A dangerous place, too. But mostly it’s a good place. The people here can surprise you in a million wonderful ways.”

Frank let that hang in the air for a few moments before he said, “What did you want to talk to us about?”

Matt looked at them both in turn, and there was something like fondness in his eyes. “This is going to sound strange.”

“We saw a grown man get pulled through a hole in a tree two hours ago,” Frank said. “I think we can handle it.”

Matt smiled. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. Okay, here goes.” He put his hand on the fence. “I’m pretty good friends with both of you.”

“Okay…” Mason said.

“I’m friends with Sophie, too,” he continued. “She and my wife are practically inseparable.”

Frank suddenly realized he’d never introduced Mason. Matt had acted so familiar with him right off the bat that Frank hadn’t felt the need.

Matt pointed down toward the town. “A pretty big fight happens down there in the very near future, and we’re in it. We watch each other’s backs and make a pretty good showing of things.”

“Can you explain this a little more clearly?” Mason asked. “I grew up in the woods, so I don’t always catch on to things as fast as some.”

“Yeah, explain it for Mason’s sake,” Frank said.

Matt grinned at that. “Okay, sorry. Let me try to do this another way. I can explain how Zed knew you’d show up at that restaurant last night. How he even knew what you’d order. It’s the same way I knew you’d go to the library this morning after you left the shed.” He looked Frank in the eye. “It’s because we’ve done this all before. Lots of times, actually.”

“Still not following,” Mason said.

“Okay, look, it’s like this,” Matt said. “Zed’s figured out a way to send someone back in time. Not anywhere in time, mind you, but back along their own timeline. So, he could do his thing and send me back, say, two years. It would be 2013, and I’d still be me, just as I was in 2013, but with all the knowledge I have now.”

He let that take hold for a moment.

“So let me see if I understand,” Frank said. “If you went back to 2013, there wouldn’t be two of you, right? Just the one guy with this future set of memories?”

“You got it.”

“So you’re Quantum Leaping into your past self?” Frank asked.

“Err, yeah, I guess,” Matt said with a grin.

Mason leaned against the fence. “How’s Zed do it?”

“It’s that compass of his,” Matt said. “That’s part of it, anyway. And you’ve seen how he can teleport?”

“I’ve seen it,” Frank said. “Some of his cronies in Rook Mountain had the power too. It was pretty gross.”

“Well, he says it’s like that. But he’s moving people through time rather than through space. The compass tells him who to send and when to send them. And then he touches them and they go back.”

“Okay, then why’s he doing it?” Mason’s voice was as confident as Frank had ever heard it. Now that they were away from the unfamiliar ground of modern society and talking about a topic he knew something about, Mason was like a whole different person.

“Now that,” Matt said, “is an excellent question. Here’s the thing. All that stuff he said at the restaurant last night and in the park this morning? He was telling the truth. Mostly. A version of the truth anyway. He does have powerful enemies, and they are coming in two weeks’ time. And we will have the fight of a lifetime on our hands. Zed has a plan to defeat them, but for it to work, everything has to go exactly as planned. So far, it hasn’t.”

Frank was starting to get the picture. “Sending people back in time gives him unlimited do-overs.”

Matt nodded. “Exactly. A couple problems, though. From what he says, Zed can’t go back in time himself. He has to send somebody else. And when that person goes back, only that person retains their memories of the most recent try. Everyone else loses them. That person explains to Zed what happened. He always sends back someone who was actually there when it went wrong, but still…it’s all subject to the interpretation of the person telling the story. It’s a bit like shooting darts in the dark for Zed.”

Frank shook his head. This was crazy, but it was also pure Zed. He couldn’t help but believe what Matt was telling them. “How many times has this happened? How many times have we tried and failed?”

“I’m not sure of the exact number. I don’t even know if Zed knows. Maybe a hundred? More? I don’t know. Because the only person who knows is the person who’s sent back. But we’ve come up with a little way of keeping track.”

A light went on in Mason’s eyes. “The tattoos!”

Matt nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly.” He rolled up his right sleeve and showed them the Roman numeral IV. “This means I’ve been sent back four times.”

“Jesus,” Frank said. “You’ve experienced this conversation four times?”

Matt rolled his sleeve back down and shook his head. “I told you we were friends before. And we were. I mean, as close as people can become in a couple weeks, anyway. But we’ve never had this talk. I’m changing things up this time.”

“Why?” Frank asked. “Did Zed—”

Matt cut him off. “Zed doesn’t know I’m doing this. I’m going behind his back. First time ever.”

Mason echoed Frank’s last question. “Why?”

“Let me give you a little background. I was a dyed-in-the-wool Zed supporter from the start. He showed us what he could do with that compass and I believed him. Then I met you three. You started telling me what I now believe is the truth about Zed. By the third time I was sent back, I was sure you were the good guys. The fourth time I went back everything changed.”

“How so?” Frank asked.

Matt scratched his chin. “Normally, Zed only sends people back as far as he needs too. A few weeks. Maybe a month or two. However far back he wants to send them to adjust whatever it is that needs adjusting. But the last time…he sent me back ten years.”

“Why so far?” Mason asked.

Matt shook his head. “I don’t know.” He turned and looked out over the vista. “The town looks so small. Like a set of toys or something. That’s the way they see it, Zed and the Exiled. King’s Crossing is just another battleground. But it’s more than that to me.”

“Tell us what changed your mind about Zed,” Frank said.

Matt took a deep breath before continuing. “My wife and I never had kids. Doctors told us we couldn’t. We thought about adopting, but we decided we liked the freedom. We liked the ability to do anything and go anywhere without being tied down. But when I went back this time…I got my wife pregnant.” His eyes lit up as he talked. “Her name’s Alice. She the sharpest kid you’ll ever meet. She’s changed my world. Our world. She’s the best thing in our lives.” He reached out and grabbed Frank’s arm, gripping the sleeve. “So you see my problem? What if Zed sends me back ten years again? Or sends my wife back? Or, hell, sends someone else back and it sets off a chain reaction that changes things. Alice might never be born. Or maybe a different sperm will fertilize a different egg, and we’ll have a kid, but it won’t be her.”

Matt looked back and forth, meeting their eyes. “There can’t be any more do-overs. We have to get it right this time.”

Frank put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “We’ll do what we can to help. Tell us what went wrong the other times.”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good place to start. I don’t really know how to say this, but every time I’ve lived this…you three have been the reason we couldn’t beat the Exiles.”

“Wait, what?” Mason asked.

Frank drew in a deep breath. “What do you mean? Was it because we couldn’t find the book?”

Matt shook his head. “You had the book. All four times. The first time, you tried to destroy it. The second and third times, you hid it with one of your locks. You tried to help us kill the Exiles, but the outcome was never good. The last time, Mason tried to use the book. They killed us before he could make it do anything. The Exiles always ended up getting the book. Zed says we’ve also tried not asking you to find it, but the Exiles get their hands on it even more quickly in those cases.”

“Wait,” Frank said. “If you know we found the book those other times, why bring us into it at all? Why doesn’t Zed just find it himself? It’s in the same place we found it those other times, right?”

“That’s a complicated question,” Matt said. “To answer the first part, you never told him where you found it. You were never honest with him and you never handed over the book to him. As far as I can see it, that’s the only thing you haven’t tried.”

The air suddenly felt a few degrees cooler to Frank. “So that’s your angle. You’re telling us all this so we hand the book over to Zed.”

Matt slapped the wooden fence. “No! That’s not it at all. I’m just giving you the history. Future history. Whatever. After I give you the book, you can do whatever you want with it. I still believe in you three. I think we can find a way. Whatever that way is, it’s not Zed’s. Because even if we win that fight, what then? What’s the world like after Zed wins?”

Frank squinted at him. “You said after I give you the book. You have it?”

Matt nodded slowly.

Frank frowned. “I thought you said we never told you where the book was.”

“That’s true,” Matt said. “But I also told you things are different this time. My daughter is a special girl. She found the book. We’ve been hiding it for three years.”

3.

Alice was drawing when they arrived. She wasn’t the best artist in town, or even in her class, but she enjoyed it. Drawing released a certain kind of energy that always seemed to be trapped inside her. Taking it out and putting it on the page was a relief, kind of like sneezing. It had to be done, even if the results weren’t always pretty.

Today she was watching Adventure Time on the iPad while she drew, so she wasn’t paying much attention to what she was drawing. She was just letting it flow through her. First she’d drawn a dog, a cute little one, maybe a beagle. But after she finished she noticed his teeth were a bit too sharp, and the sparkle in his eye was a bit too lively. He looked like he was hungry and maybe he didn’t mind so much if the meat he got happened to be human. Then she drew trees, but the wrinkles in the bark looked like screaming faces. Then it was bunnies, and landscapes, and people, all with the same odd, slightly frightening result.

It seemed everything she drew today turned out twisted. Maybe that wasn’t surprising. Maybe that was because twisted was exactly how she felt. She’d felt that way for the past two hours. Ever since meeting the man in the shed.

He’d seen her. Really seen her in a way she couldn’t erase. She’d Pulled Back, and it was as if he’d Pulled Back with her. That knowledge, the knowledge that there was someone out there that could do what she did, or at least could see through what she did, was like a lead ball in her stomach.

She might feel better if she could talk to someone about it, but who? Her parents got uncomfortable and acted weird anytime she even hinted around the topic of her special abilities. Who else was there? Marcy? Yeah, right. All she ever wanted to talk about was soccer.

Something else bothered Alice about the man in the shed. He’d been scary, yes. Terrifying, actually. She’d be surprised if she could sleep any night for the next week. But he also understood what she could do. He’d understood it better in five seconds than her parents had in nine years. What if he could help her understand it? What if he could tell her why she was this way?

These were the thoughts running through her head when the front door opened, bringing her back to the real world.

She set down her pencil, only barely noticing the flowers she’d drawn had sharp thorns, and scurried to her usual observation place atop the stairs.

Dad walked through the door, which was a little surprising considering it was a workday and all. Just as surprising, he was not alone. Three people followed him. The first was a woman in a tee shirt and jeans with an impossibly cool haircut that made it look like she didn’t care when clearly she did. The second was a man with black hair streaked with gray. Neither of them looked up and noticed Alice at her perch atop the staircase. No one ever did.

Then the third man, an old guy with leathery-tan skin and wrinkles around his eyes looked right up at her like he’d known she was there. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and he gave her an enthusiastic wave.

No one else noticed.

“Helen,” Dad called. “They’re here.”

Mom came out of the back room. She ran toward them, then stopped awkwardly. It was like she was meeting strangers and seeing old friends all at the same time. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Helen.”

“Frank,” the younger guy said.

“Mason,” muttered the old guy, barely loud enough for Alice to hear.

“Sophie,” the woman with the cool hair said.

Helen smiled crookedly at Sophie. “Oh, what the hell,” she said, and she pulled Sophie in for a hug. “I know you don’t remember, but we’ve had some fun times, you and I. We got drunk together the night before the Exiles attacked last time.”

Sophie held herself awkwardly though the hug as if not sure what to do with her hands. “God, this is weird.”

Mason said, “How about this one?” He pointed up at Alice.

The others lifted their gazes and searched for her a moment before settling on her.

Dad did a double take when he saw her. How many times had she hidden and watched from up there? And no one had ever noticed. Until now. “Come on down, honey.”

Alice descended the stairs, suddenly feeling a bit shy. They were all watching her, like she was something special. It felt like they expected her to do a trick or something.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and her parents introduced her all around. As if she hadn’t been watching the first time everyone had given their names.

After Mason introduced himself, he said, “Sorry I gave away your hiding spot.”

She was none too happy about it, but what was she supposed to say? “It’s okay. I don’t mind at all.”

“Well,” Mom said. “This is very…strange.”

Sophie smiled. “For all of us.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Dad said. “Besides we don’t have time for strange. There’s lots of work to do and not much time to do it.”

That was Dad’s way, Alice knew. Anytime he was feeling uncomfortable he started working on something. That was probably why he always got so many projects done when Grandma and Grandpa were visiting.

Dad reached down and put a hand on her shoulder. “Alice, I want you to get the book.”

She paused, her hands suddenly ice cold. She wouldn’t have been more surprised if he’d said, Alice, I want you to stab me in the throat. They never showed the book to anybody. Ever. That was the rule. And if someone saw the book, she was to Pull Back and keep it from happening. Her parents never said that directly, of course, but they’d firmly implied it. It was the closest they’d ever come to openly speaking about her abilities.

She looked back and forth from Dad to Mom, waiting for confirmation that she’d heard correctly.

Mom smiled at her. “It’s okay, honey. Get the book.”

Alice walked upstairs as if in a dream. She went to her parents’ bedroom, opened the closet, and reached into the back corner behind the shoe boxes. It was wedged in there pretty tightly, but she gave it a couple of yanks, and it came free.

And was it ever heavy. It wasn’t just the physical weight of the book, though that was part of it. It was tall and wide and as thick as Alice’s leg. But there was something heavy about the content of the book, too. It made her feel uneasy to touch it. It made her upset. It made all sorts of strange thoughts come into her mind, thoughts about fires, and destruction, and trees. Now, that she thought about it, the trees she thought of when she held the book were very similar to the one she’d seen in the shed that morning.

When she reached the group waiting silently at the bottom of the stairs, she handed the book to Dad. A wave of relief passed through her as her fingers lost contact with the leather-bound book.

“This is it,” Dad said, handing it to Frank. “The book that saves the world. Or damns it.”

Frank took it, and Alice watched as he inspected it. He ran his fingers over the symbol on the cover. It was the rough image of a man with a crack running down the middle of him.

Frank said, “The one we saw had a broken world on the cover.”

Alice tilted her head. There was another book? A book like this one?

“I wonder what it means,” Sophie, said. “The broken clock on the Tools. The broken world on the book in Sanctuary. And now the broken person on this one. Why are they different?”

“Mind if I…” Frank raised the cover a hair.

“Go ahead,” Dad said, “for all the good it will do you.”

Frank opened the cover and slowly started flipping through the pages. “It’s blank.”

“Funny thing, isn’t it?” Mom asked. “All this fuss about a blank book.”

Frank handed it to Mason. “Take a look.”

Mason flipped through it, a look of concentration on his face. “It’s not blank, exactly. I can see, I don’t know, impressions? Like there used to be words here but they faded away or something.”

Now it was Sophie’s turn to flip through each page. “Blank for me, too. Maybe that’s for the best. I don’t have the best record when it comes to using these books.”

Mason looked at Dad. “You said that I used the book once?”

“Yes,” Dad said. “You holed up with it for a few days and eventually you were able to see some of the words. That’s what you told us, anyway.”

“Where’d you find it?” Frank asked.

“We didn’t,” Mom said. “Alice did.”

“We were out hiking,” Dad said. “All of a sudden Alice ran off the trail and into the woods. She’d never done anything like that before. We went after her and by the time we caught up, she was sitting under a tree, holding the book in her hands.”

“So what now?” Sophie asked.

Frank looked at Dad and Mom. “Maybe you should start by telling us how this all ends.”

Dad nodded. “You’re right. It’s time for you to hear my story.”

4.

It’s raining when Matt goes out the door. Normally, he’d wear a hat or grab an umbrella. Today he doesn’t care. Because today is the day the world ends.

He opens the back door to Sophie’s car and lets Helen get in first. He squeezes in beside her. Mason’s already back there, the big leather book, the one with the symbol of the broken man on the cover, clutched to his chest.

The door’s barely shut before Sophie squeals out of the driveway.

“It’s getting bigger,” Frank says, by way of greeting.

No need to say what he’s referring to. They all know.

Matt just nods absently. He glances down and sees the Roman numeral III tattooed on his wrist. This isn’t his first time. He knows how this will play out.

He turns to his wife and gives her a reassuring smile. He sees steel in those eyes. She’s handling all this much better than he is. Maybe she’s just a stronger person. Looking at her, he wants to weep. He wishes they had more time. They’ve had twelve years together, but it doesn’t seem like enough. Not nearly. He wishes they’d gone on more dates. He wishes they’d spent more time just talking instead of spending their evenings watching dumb TV shows.

Helen’s holding the revolver awkwardly. Matt’s doing the same. He wishes they would have bought holsters. On the other hand, he’s not even sure why they have guns. They had them last time, and it didn’t make any difference. The Exiles are bulletproof.

But it had felt better to go out shooting than to wait like he had the first time, just staring up in the sky until the fire devoured him.

They pull into the lot at Volunteer Park. The lot’s full. Matt thinks maybe next time they should set up some kind of carpool situation. The thought almost makes him laugh. Almost.

Sophie parks in the grass. It’s not like she’s going to get a ticket.

She turns around and looks at each of them. “We all ready?”

Everyone nods. She turns to Frank. “How ’bout you, big guy?”

He nods absently.

Sophie’s taking the lead. Usually it’s Frank who fills that role. Frank has a distant look in his eye and a nasty cut on his cheek. Matt notices Frank’s knuckles are badly bruised.

“What happened to you?” Matt asks. He saw Frank just yesterday, so whatever it was must have happened between then and now.

Frank doesn’t answer. Instead, he tosses something to Matt; one of his locks. He tosses one each to Mason, Helen, and Sophie, too.

Matt turns the lock over in his hand. It looks like a normal enough padlock, but he knows it’s not. Frank showed them yesterday how to use it.

Without a word, Frank steps out of the car.

“Last time he gave an inspiring little speech,” Helen says. “I was kinda looking forward to hearing that again.”

“I’m sure Zed will do enough speechifying to make up for it,” Mason says.

They get out of the car and move toward the riverbank where a crowd is gathered. There must be two hundred people out here. All of the people Zed trusts.

Zed pushes through the crowd toward them. “About time.” His signature smile is missing today. Worry lines crease his face. “The crack’s getting bigger. They’ll be through soon.” He grabs Willis Eddy by the shoulder. “You and Matt bring Rayd from the shed.”

Matt’s heart skips a beat. Willis nods toward Matt, and Matt follows him to the shed.

This thing with Rayd is new since Matt’s last time. Bringing one of the Exiles through that tree in the shed. The last time Matt saw Rayd, he’d been floating in the sky with the other three Exiles, raining hot white light down on the town.

Willis throws open the shed door. Rayd is tied to the tree. He’s recently taken quite the beating. His eye is black and blood is crusted under his nose.

Matt remembers Frank’s bruised knuckles and wonders.

They haul Rayd to his feet and untie him from the tree. They secure his hands behind him with a smaller rope and bring him out of the shed. The strange man can hardly walk. Zed told them he’d be weak from having been tied to the tree for so long.

Matt has to admit, capturing and weakening one of the Exiles was a pretty good idea. Now they’ll only be facing down three godlike beings instead of four. Still not the best odds in the world, but…for the first time today, Matt allows himself to hope they might make it.

They bring Rayd before Zed. Rayd chuckles softly.

“You could have lived forever.”

Zed’s face is stone. “Better to reign in hell.” He turns to Frank. “You ready?”

Frank scowls at him. “What about Jake? And Mason’s mom? And Sophie’s sister?”

“There isn’t time,” Zed says absently.

“You promised. You said if we found the book—”

“After,” Zed says. “We survive, and you’ll have your brother back. The rest of them, too.”

Rayd looks around, squinting. “I can feel the book. It’s somewhere nearby, isn’t it?”

Matt looks at Mason who is holding the book not ten feet from Rayd. He must be using his lock to hide himself.

Matt’s eyes drift to the spot out over the water. There is a black tear a few feet above the surface of the river, maybe three feet long and a foot wide. It hurts his eyes to look at it. It is a thing that should not be.

“Everybody ready?” Zed asks.

That surprises Matt. No speech from Zed this time, either. Maybe he isn’t so confident in their chances of success.

Frank looks at Matt and the others. “Turn on your locks.”

The crack over the water begins to shiver.

Mason has the book open now, and his fingers are poised over the page.

Then, with a terrible ripping noise that chills Matt to the bone, the crack widens. Now light is pouring through, and three people step out. Two women first, then a man. The man, Matt can’t help but notice, has no arms.

The older of the two women looks down at Rayd for a long moment. “Zed. What have you done?”

“The book’s here,” Rayd bellows, his voice quivering.

“So it is,” the older woman says. “But where?”

Mason’s fingers are tracing the page in the book now, his hand moving slowly and carefully.

“Wilm,” Zed says. “You and yours have lived long enough.”

The older woman looks distracted. “Someone’s trying to use the book.” She turns to her comrades. “Do you feel the power pulsing out of it?”

Mason’s hand is moving faster now. He looks toward Zed. “It’s not working like it’s supposed to.”

“Mason,” Zed says, “I’m going to need you to finish now.”

Sweat trickles down Mason’s face. “I can’t…it’s not doing what it should.”

Wilm shakes her head. “Nice trick. You’re hiding things from me. People. The book. I don’t know how you’re doing it. But your man is concentrating too hard on the book.” She squints…directly at Mason.

Matt realizes she can see him. He reaches out and takes Helen’s hand.

“We’ve been patient,” Wilm continues. “There’s plenty of power in this town. We finally have what we need.”

“No,” Zed says. “Wait. Listen to me!”

But it’s too late.

The three Exiles move toward Mason. He doesn’t even have time to look up before they’re on him.

Zed is holding the compass now, and Matt knows he’s using it, asking it who he needs to send and when he needs to send them to in order to fix whatever went wrong here. Then Matt feels Zed’s hand on his shoulder.

The world dissolves into white light.

5.

Dad made Alice wait in her room while he told the story. They were always making her wait in her room. It wasn’t fair. She was the one who’d found the book.

And what was up with that guy Mason blowing her secret like that? He’d revealed her hiding place at the top of the stairs. It was like he’d seen straight through her.

She didn’t like it. It was too similar to that weird guy in the shed.

Ugh. That guy in the shed. She shuddered just thinking about it.

Whatever they were talking about down there, it had to be juicy. She lay on her bed, clenching her fists and wishing she could hear what they were saying. If only Mason hadn’t told about her hiding spot!

After a few minutes, she decided she didn’t care. She was going to listen.

She crept out of the room and to the top of the stairs. She crouched in her usual spot, but back a little. That way even if they looked up, if that jerk Mason looked up, they wouldn’t be able to see her. She couldn’t see them either, but she could hear them.

Dad said, “Then Zed touched me and suddenly I was ten years in the past.”

There was silence for a long time after that. It was so quiet, Alice was afraid they’d hear her breathing.

“That was the most recent time?” Frank asked.

“Yeah,” Dad said.

“Zed betrayed us,” Mason said. “He didn’t bring back our families.”

The room was silent for a long moment.

“You ask me, only one thing’s changed since then,” Sophie said. “Alice. Alice is the key to all this. She has to be.”

Alice felt her heart beat quicken.

“Now hold up,” Mom said.

“No, it’s gotta be,” Sophie said. “Look, Mason was born outside of time in Sanctuary, right? He could read that book and use it. He had a huge connection to that place. What if Alice’s the same way with this place and this book?”

“She wasn’t born outside of time,” Dad said.

“No,” Frank said, “but she was born in a—what did you call it—redo. In a strange way, she never should have been born at all.”

Alice felt her face redden. What were they talking about? Of course she should have been born. She waited for one of her parents to defend her.

After a moment, Dad said, “You’re right. God, I hate it so much, but you’re right.”

What did that mean? Dad agreed she should have never been born?

She had to find out what they were talking about. She needed to hear the rest of the conversation, the part she’d missed the first time.

She grabbed the rope in her mind and Pulled Back.

For a terrifying moment, it didn’t work. It was as if it were stuck on something. Then she pulled a bit harder and felt the rope move, and with it came a burning pain in her mind.

Then…she was somewhere else.

She blinked hard, trying to orient herself to her surroundings. She wasn’t in her room. She wasn’t in her house. She was standing on a street in a downtown. But it wasn’t King’s Crossing.

And there was a woman standing in front of her, a woman with curly blond hair and a wide smile.

“Hello, my dear,” the woman said. “My name is Wilm. You and I have quite a lot to discuss.”

THE BOY WHO FOUND THE WATCH (PART FOUR)

Santa Cruz, California

December 1956

Zed stepped off the train and onto the dusty sidewalk. The air smelled like salt and it tasted bitter. Over the past few years, he’d come to hate the ocean. He was born and raised on the plains of Kansas, and he felt all land should be like that of his home. Mountains and oceans were just being showy.

Zed had been working for Wilm and her organization for over eight years. He was nineteen, and his years of travel had left him weathered; he looked older than he should have. Though, with the amount he used the pocket watch, he sometimes wondered how old he really was. Had he paused time for a total of a year? Two years? If there was a book he wanted to read, he would pause time, and read the book, stopping to eat and sleep when the mood took him. He did the same for many things. If the swimming pool was crowded and he felt like taking a dip, he’d pause time moments before it closed and swim to his heart’s content. If he became ill, he’d pause and wait it out until he was feeling better.

He sometimes felt a little guilty using the awesome power of the watch for such mundane purposes. But if Wilm disapproved, she never let him know her feelings. Not that he saw her often. In fact, he’d only seen her five times since she’d hired him in the diner that day so long ago.

Most of his work for Wilm had been bizarrely simple and straight forward. He’d get his assignment mailed to him, always in a square white envelope with an ornate letter W as the only return address. The letter would succinctly describe his next job. It would always involve traveling to a new city and performing some minor task. It was often passing along a message that—it seemed to Zed—could just as easily have been delivered via post. But occasionally it was something slightly more substantial. Attend a series of public meetings and take detailed notes on the proceedings. Go to a town library and dig through the records in the local paper to research a certain event. The envelopes also contained a bit of cash that was expected to cover his expenses through the end of the assignment.

After the job was done, he was to wait in that city until further notice. He stayed in nice guest houses and hotels. His lodging was always paid for through means that weren’t revealed to him. He used his cash to pay for meals, clothing, and any entertainment. It was a bit nerve-wracking at times because he never knew when his next job was coming, so he never knew exactly how long he had to make the money last. But he hadn’t run out yet. After a week, or a month, or occasionally a few months, another white envelope would show up and he’d be off to his next assignment. Trust was a must.

It was a strange job in that, technically, he wasn’t being paid. His expenses were covered, but he wasn’t given any take home salary. Zed didn’t think about that much. For one, he’d never had a job before this one, and—while he understood the concept of a paycheck—paying for his keep as he traveled around the country seemed fair enough. But, if pressed as to why he thought it was fair, he would have admitted he thought being allowed to keep the pocket watch was more than payment enough.

To Zed’s mild surprise, he had yet to be asked to do anything illegal or even anything that required the use of the watch. When he thought about it, he wasn’t sure why they allowed him to hang onto it. Either he was being groomed for some greater purpose or they had so many of these watches lying around that they didn’t mind giving them out. He doubted it was the latter. He’d been waiting for his opportunity to prove himself on a bigger assignment. And now, finally, it looked like he was getting his chance.

He’d been in some backwater town in New Mexico for two months when he’d gotten his latest envelope. The note inside had read:

There is a man named Henry Rankin in Santa Cruz, California. We need to learn where’s he’s been the last three years. He will be reluctant to tell you. Use all means at your disposal. - W.

Under the message, as always, there was the address of the boarding house where he was to stay. There was also three hundred dollars. The most he’d ever received in one of these envelopes by half.

Zed wondered at the amount. Three hundred. The same amount he’d taken from his mother when he’d left home that bloody night. Was Wilm trying to send some kind of message? Remind him of his humble beginnings? Inform him she had information about what he’d done that night? Or was it a coincidence?

Enclosed was a picture of a stocky man with a bushy mustache. The picture was yellowed and frayed along the edges.

Zed looked at the letter for a long time. Use any means at your disposal, it said. Well, he had quite a few means at his disposal. He’d been practicing.

He made his way to the boarding house and settled in, allowing himself to relax for the night before starting the job the next day. It only took him three days to find the man, though they were three days of his least favorite type of work: the kind that included human contact. Over the last eight years, he’d been able to skate by with only talking to people once or twice a week, not counting the service people he had minor interactions with on a daily basis. And that was the way he preferred it. He liked to be alone with the watch.

Still, he did what the job called for.

So, picture in hand, he canvased the streets of Santa Cruz. He started with the bars. Knowing that some people, likely the type of people who frequented bars, might assume he was a lawman and be reluctant to help him, he concocted a story about having been hired to find Henry Rankin about a confidential matter involving an inheritance. If he saw anything in anyone’s eyes that said they might know something about Henry, Zed was quick to slip them a dollar or two. Once, he even passed a five dollar bill to a man who hemmed and hawed just the right amount. But they all turned out to be dead ends. It was happenstance—or was it?—that finally gave him the man’s location.

The woman who ran the boarding house saw the picture and asked him if he was a friend of old Hank. A few carefully phrased questions later, he had his quarry’s place of employment, which was less than a block from the boarding house. Zed was beginning to realize Wilm wasn’t really trying to locate Mr. Rankin. This was a test, and one Zed was determined to pass.

Zed watched Rankin for two days, taking particular note of his route to and from work, which passed right by the boarding house.

On the third day, he stepped in front of Rankin as the man was passing the house. Just before he got to Rankin he noticed Nancy, the woman who ran the boarding house, striding toward him with purpose. No matter. She’d be right there when he was done with Rankin. He pushed the broken clock symbol on the pocket watch and time stopped.

One of the more frustrating aspects of the watch’s ability was that it didn’t allow you to move people while time was stopped. Objects, yes. Anything not alive. But people and animals became immovable statues.

However, Zed had a theory. One he’d been too afraid to test until now. He believed that the watch released the power to stop time, but that he himself could shape it. Expand it.

He concentrated on expanding the bubble that allowed him to move while everyone else around him was frozen. He pushed the circle until it reached Rankin. In a moment, Rankin was blinking. Zed felt a smile creep across his face.

Rankin continued walking and almost bumped into Zed.

“You mind?” he asked.

Zed’s smile widened. He couldn’t help it. This was just too much fun.

“I do,” he said.

The man looked confused so Zed gestured toward the street, indicating the frozen people around him.

The man’s eyes widened. “What the hell?”

“I need to ask you a question, Mr. Rankin. Where have you been the past three years?”

Rankin shook his head, his breath coming in quicker gasps now. He took a step backward. “No. I already told them I’m not going to talk about that.”

Zed stepped forward, closing the distance between them once more. “I’d suggest you revise your position.”

Now Rankin drew his chest up like he was making an effort to look tough. “I don’t care what you do. You and all your tricks. I won’t talk.”

“Very well,” Zed said. He imagined the bubble in his mind contracting ever so slightly.

Rankin’s face grew pale. “Wh-what are you doing? I can’t feel my feet.”

Zed continued to contract the bubble.

The man looked around in panic. “Help! Someone help me!”

“Believe it or not, Mr. Rankin, you and I are the only living creatures in the world at this moment. There’s no one who can help you. By the way, have you tried wiggling your fingers?”

Rankin looked down at his hands and the horrified look on his face answered Zed’s question.

“Okay,” Rankin said, his voice choked with emotion. “I was in Rook Mountain. Rook Mountain, Tennessee.”

Zed couldn’t help but be the tiniest bit disappointed the man hadn’t held out longer. He would have liked to have frozen all but Rankin’s head. He thought for a moment, trying to think of something else to ask, but he came up blank. He had the information he’d been asked to get.

He touched the broken clock symbol on the watch, and time resumed. Rankin gasped and crumpled to the ground in a shivering heap.

“Take a moment to compose yourself,” Zed said, “then go.” He was surprised to realize he was still smiling. He rarely smiled, a habit that he’d carried with him since childhood.

Zed felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Nancy standing behind him. He’d forgotten she’d been walking toward him when he stopped time.

She said, “This came for you. Delivery man said it was urgent.” She held out a white envelope. She noticed Henry Rankin on the ground. “My Lord, is that Hank? Is he hurt?”

“Just a little excited to see me,” Zed said. “It’s been a long time.”

He could see the elegant W in the upper-left corner of the envelope she held. He nodded, took the envelope, and walked away without a word. He tore it open, standing in the middle of the lawn, and was surprised to find there was no money inside. Just a letter. He took out the piece of paper and unfolded it with a shaky hand.

We are pleased with your progress. Our man will pick you up in the morning to bring you to see me. Then your education will be begin.

Regards,

Wilm

It was the first time she’d signed a letter with anything other than her first initial.

He returned to his room and lay awake until morning.

CHAPTER FIVE: FRANK’S DILEMMA

1.

They sat in silence for a long moment after Matt finished telling his story about how the world had ended.

“You ask me, only one thing’s changed since that last time,” Sophie said. “Alice. Alice is the key to all this. She has to be.”

Frank looked at Sophie. It was one of the things he liked best about her, the ability to cut through to the heart of the matter. Frank felt like he always had to think his way around things a dozen different ways before he gained any perspective. Not Sophie. She bulldozed right through any emotional baggage or strange implications. Some of the time, the things she blurted out were wrong. But more often than not, she was right. And Frank had an idea this was the latter.

Alice was the key. She had to be. He didn’t know how he felt about using a nine-year-old girl in a fight against ancient evils, but he had a feeling she’d be important by the end of this.

No matter what happened, they had to keep Alice safe.

“Now hold up,” Helen said.

“No, it’s gotta be,” Sophie said. “Look, Mason was born outside time in Sanctuary, right? He could read that book and use it. He had a huge connection to that place. What if Alice is the same way with this place and this book?”

“She wasn’t born outside time,” Matt said.

“No,” Frank said, “but she was born in a—what did you call it—redo. In a strange way, she never should have been born at all.”

He hoped Matt wouldn’t be offended by the way he’d said it, but there was a certain truth to it.

After a moment, Matt said, “You’re right. God, I hate it so much, but you’re right.”

“No,” Mason said. “Trust me, I have some experience with this. It’s not that she shouldn’t have been born, it’s that nobody was expecting her to be. It gives us an advantage. The bad guys, Zed and these mysterious Exiles, they’ll underestimate her. If they even notice she exists at all.”

“You really think so?”

“Look,” Mason continued, “I spent upwards of fifty years in Sanctuary with Zed. Never once did he say anything about these great enemies of his. He didn’t care enough about me. I was just a tool. No different than that compass he carries.”

Anger flared in Matt’s eyes. He looked from Mason to Frank to Sophie. “And now you’re talking about using Alice in the same way. It’s like you think she’s some kind of weapon.”

Frank didn’t deny it. Neither did the others. The fact was, that was exactly how Frank was thinking of her. And the worst part was, that didn’t bother him. He’d seen his hometown torn apart by the Unfeathered. It had nearly killed him. He didn’t want to imagine what it would be like to watch the whole world burn. If turning one little girl into a weapon was the price that had to be paid, then so be it.

Frank wasn’t crazy enough to say any of that out loud, even though Matt seemed to think they were best buddies from previous lives. For once, Sophie was smart enough to keep quiet, too.

Matt must have seen something in Frank’s eyes though, because he said, “She’s a nine-year-old girl!”

Helen put a calming hand on his knee. “Honey, it’s okay. We’re just talking is all. If we want to keep Alice safe, we have to understand.”

Frank could have kissed her.

Helen continued. “How do we know what she can do? If you’re right about her being the key to this thing?”

Matt shot her a look that was half surprised, half hurt, but he didn’t interrupt.

“Well,” Frank said, “it could be she’s using the book already and we don’t know it.”

“I highly doubt that,” Matt said. “She hates the thing. Did you see her face when I asked her to get it? There’s no way she’s flipping through it without us knowing.”

Frank frowned.

“There is one thing,” Helen said. “It doesn’t have to do with the book, at least I don’t think so, but she does have a certain…strange knack.”

Matt’s face went pale. “Should we really be talking about this? In front of strangers?”

Helen pursed her lips. “These aren’t strangers, and you know it. You said yourselves they’re our friends. We’ve died beside them how many times? Besides, I’m sick of not talking about what Alice can do. It’s like this dark cloud hanging over our lives and we never acknowledge it.”

Matt’s eyes narrowed. “You think I don’t want to talk about it? Of course I do. But what’s there to say? I’m scared, okay? Scared for her. Scared of what will happen to her if we don’t find a way to win.”

“I am, too,” Helen said. “But it’s time to talk about it, to figure out a way to handle this thing. But we’re a team, so if you don’t want me to tell them about it, I won’t.”

Matt looked at the floor for a moment. “No. You’re right. God, I hate it when that happens.” A sad smile curled his lips. “Tell them.”

Helen nodded, her eyes filled with love for the man. Then she turned to her guests. “Alice has this knack for…knowing what’s going to happen before it does.”

“Sounds like what Joe at the library said about you guys with the tattoos,” Sophie said. “She can tell the future?”

“Not exactly,” Matt said. “I mean, yes, but only in specific circumstances. It’s like she knows when there’s gonna be trouble and manages to avoid it. She’s never once scraped her knee or broken anything. And sometimes she warns us before something happens.”

“What do you mean?” Frank asked.

“Like last night. She told us Willis was going to knock on the door at three in the morning, and he did.”

“She used to talk about it,” Helen said. “She called it Pulling Back. I think she meant fixing things that have already happened. Or making it so they never happened. I don’t know. But once she realized not everyone could do it, she stopped talking about it. And, cowards that we are, we didn’t bring it up again. I think we were relieved she stopped mentioning it.”

Matt sighed. “It scared us. It’s too much like what Zed can do.”

Frank ran his hand through his hair. “Could we bring her down here?”

Matt and Helen exchanged a look.

“We won’t mention that Pulling Back thing,” he continued before they could voice their objection. “I want to talk to her about the book. I want to know if she can see the words. And, if so, whether she can figure out how to use it.”

After a moment, Helen and Matt both nodded.

“I’ll get her,” Helen said.

As she headed up the stairs, a cell phone buzzed. Matt pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. “It’s Zed.”

“I wonder what kind of cellphone Zed rocks,” Sophie said. “I’ll bet it’s a flip phone.”

Frank watched Matt’s face closely as he spoke with Zed. In the distance, he heard Helen calling for Alice.

Matt said, “Okay. Yeah, I understand.” He ended the call.

Helen’s voice drifted down to them, more frantic now.

“There’s something wrong at the shed,” Matt said. “Some kind of problem. Zed said it could ruin everything.” His eyes were wide. “I’m scared, guys. Whatever’s happening has him spooked. He’s on the verge of pulling the plug and starting over. We need to get down there.”

Before Frank could answer, Helen stuck her head over the railing, a look of terror on her face.

“Alice,” she said, her voice a husky whisper. “Alice is gone.”

2.

Alice stared at the woman standing in front of her. The world felt like it was spinning. She had to remind herself to breathe.

She reminded herself to focus on what was real. On the things she could see.

The woman who’d introduced herself as Wilm was tall and thin. She looked strong in a reedy way. And hard.

Not wanting to meet the woman’s gaze, Alice looked around. This was definitely not King’s Crossing. The street seemed a bit wider. The shops were different. Even the color of the pavement under her feet seemed off a few shades.

But that wasn’t all that was different. There were strange, white, featherless birds walking the streets. And dark, shadowy shapes circling in the sky.

The not knowing got her panicking again. She wanted to get out of here, and she wanted to do it now.

She imagined the rope in her mind and imagined grabbing it. Normally she was careful when she Pulled Back, exerting just the right amount of effort to go back to some exact moment. But not now. She was too scared. She just wanted out of here. If that meant going back a month or two, so be it. She gripped the rope and yanked it hard.

A spike of pain shot through her brain, but the rope didn’t move. For the first time in her life, it didn’t move.

The woman took a step toward her. “None of that, now.”

Alice pulled again. Another spike of pain, sharper than before, but again the rope didn’t move.

She pulled a third time, and she cried out as the pain rocked her like it never had before. She fell to her knees.

And then Alice felt true fear. She’d thought she’d been afraid before, but what she felt now was a whole different level. She couldn’t leave. She couldn’t go home. She couldn’t Pull Back.

“Now you’re just being silly,” Wilm said. She held out a hand, then said in a softer voice, “Come on. I’ll explain.”

Alice looked at the hand for a long moment. Finally, not knowing what else to do, she took it and let the woman help her to her feet.

“You’re trying to pull on time, yes?” Wilm asked.

Alice paused a long moment. She’d never had it put to her so plainly. She nodded.

Wilm said, “Well, that’s your problem, then. Time doesn’t exist here.”

Alice was starting to feel sick now. She tried unsuccessfully to keep the quiver out of her voice when she spoke. “I don’t understand. If time doesn’t exist, how am I breathing? How are we talking?”

Wilm waved a dismissive hand at her. “You people. You have it all wrong. You think time is some sort of protector. Or a necessary thing for your survival. Time is the chains you don’t even know you’re wearing.”

Alice tried to understand. She thought maybe this woman was crazy. But this place seemed all too real. Maybe it was Alice who was crazy.

“Where are we?” Alice asked.

Wilm put her hands on her hips and looked around, as if for the first time. “A place called Ferman Creek, Montana. I live in a little cabin outside town.”

A tiny part of Alice’s mind was thrilled at that. She’d never been out of the Midwest.

“I’ve been here for what you would consider a long time,” Wilm said. “A very long time. Tell me, do you know a man named Zed?”

Alice shook her head. “I’ve heard of him, but I’ve never met him.”

“Zed trapped me here.” She frowned and a shadow fell across her face. “He doesn’t even fully understand what this place is, but he still managed to trap me.”

After a moment, Alice asked, “How’d I get here?”

“I brought you, of course.”

“But how?” Alice asked in a shaking voice. “If you’re trapped, how’d you bring me here?”

“Zed has it all wrong. He thinks that by putting me outside time he’s cut me off from my power. In fact, he’s put me in my natural habitat. I was born outside of time, and here I can see time as if it were a parchment laid out before me. Possible pasts, presents, and futures are all there for me to read. Understand?”

Alice didn’t, but she wasn’t about to say so.

Wilm continued without waiting for a reply. “But I can’t leave. I can’t get back into time. And, though I can see time, it’s murky. Difficult to make anything out. All I can see clearly are the occasional bright spots.” She looked at Alice pointedly. “Like you.”

Alice knew her hands were shaking, but she was powerless to stop them. Wilm was talking about her power, her ability to Pull Back. Alice had always known deep down that the power would get her into trouble one day. But she’d never imagined it would be something like this.

“I saw your life stretched across time like a beam of light. But I couldn’t be sure you were important. Until I noticed something strange. I noticed a friend of mine, a man named Rayd, was in King’s Crossing in 2015. I recognized his light immediately. It was strange because he was supposed to be locked out of time. Like me. And then I saw your light next to his. And that’s when I knew you must be important.”

Alice thought for a moment. “The man in the shed?”

Wilm smiled thinly and nodded. She reached out and put a hand on Alice’s shoulder. Alice had to force herself not to pull away.

“It wasn’t easy to suck you out of time,” Wilm said. “It took most of the power I had left. But it was worth it. You’re a very special girl.”

Something about this woman—the air of authority she carried—made Alice flush with pride when she said that. Alice was terrified and angry with Wilm for bringing her here. But, for some reason, winning her approval seemed very important, too.

Alice waited, not sure what to say. As much as the strange conversation upset her, it did keep her mind off those scary, featherless birds.

Wilm followed her eyes to the group of birds standing down the street. “Oh, don’t worry about them. They’re pretty harmless this far outside of time. It’s the other ones you have to worry about.” She cocked her thumb up at the shadow creatures over her head.

Somehow, this didn’t make Alice feel better.

Wilm continued, “No need to worry about them, either, though. I can handle those rascals. The thing is, my friends and I keep an eye out for special people. They’re surprisingly rare. Every time we think we’ve found someone, they end up letting us down.” She looked at Alice, and Alice felt like the stare was boring into her brain. “You wouldn’t let me down, would you, dear?”

“No.” The word passed through Alice’s lips unbidden. But it was true, she realized. She didn’t want to let this woman down.

“Good,” Wilm smiled. “Then we’ll get along just fine. Come with me.” She turned and walked down the street.

Alice hesitated. Now that the woman wasn’t looking at her, that strange urge to please her lessened. Alice considered making a run for it. But where would she go? If time didn’t exist here like Wilm said, did that mean people didn’t exist here, either? There were some cars parked along the road—a few parked right in the middle of the road, which was weird—but she didn’t see any people.

What she did see were the featherless bird creatures. Wilm had told her not to be afraid of them, but saying it and doing it were two different things. And she saw the swirling shadow creatures in the sky.

As she watched them, she heard a strange, singsongy voice say, “Alice.”

It was as if many voices were all singing her name at once.

She took off running toward Wilm.

Wilm didn’t look back as Alice followed at her heels. “Don’t let them bother you. They know better than to mess with one of mine.”

Is that what Alice was? One of this woman’s students? Her friends?

As if reading Alice’s thoughts, Wilm said, “I have a feeling you and I are going to be great friends. We can help each other.”

“Help each other do what?” Alice asked.

“That’s what I’m going to show you. It’s just a few blocks ahead.”

As they walked, Alice saw the swirl of shadows overhead. It was growing.

“Alice,” the singsongy voices called, and a chill ran through Alice.

“Oh for the love of Pete,” Wilm said. “One new arrival and they lose their manners.”

“Alice. Come to us as a friend, and we will feed you.”

“Really now.” Wilm stopped and thrust her hand into the air. The creatures froze. The mass of shadows stopped swirling. “Enough, all ready! The girl’s under my protection.”

The voices were whiny when they replied, almost like they were begging. “She is fresh from the river. We can smell time on her. It’s dripping off her. Let us have a taste.”

“I won’t ask again.” Her voice was stone. “Behave. Or there will be consequences.”

The shadows dispersed into a hundred smaller shadows and scattered in every direction.

Who was this woman that even the stuff of nightmares listened to her?

“I want to go home,” Alice said. She knew she sounded like a baby, but she didn’t care.

Wilm smiled at her. “Good! That’s very good. I was counting on that. Come on, we’re almost there.”

They rounded a corner, and Wilm stopped. “Do you see it?”

Alice looked around, trying to figure out what the woman was talking about.

Wilm pointed. “Right there.”

Alice still didn’t see it. Wilm seemed to be pointing at the pawn shop across the street.

“Not over there,” Wilm said, following her gaze. “In the air. Right here.”

Then Alice saw it. A black dot the size of a dime hanging in the air just past the end of Wilm’s finger.

“What is it?” Alice asked.

Wilm smiled. “It’s what I’ve been working on these many years. It’s a hole into time. A tiny one, but a hole nonetheless.”

Alice looked at it. A hole in time? What did that even mean?

“It was nasty work,” Wilm said. “Difficult and monotonous. Most wouldn’t have the stomach for it. The good news is there’s two of us now. And I’m locked in on where we need to go and when we need to get there. When we’re done, it will open on a very specific time and place. King’s Crossing, Wisconsin. No matter how long we work on this, we’ll arrive only an hour or two after you left.”

“You want me to help you make this hole bigger?” Alice asked.

“Exactly,” Wilm said. “Adding your power to mine will make the work go faster. And while we work, I can teach you so many things. I’ll bet being able to pull on time is just the surface of your abilities.”

Alice felt a sob rising in her throat. She couldn’t help it. She said it again. “I want to go home.”

Wilm patted her on the shoulder. “I know, dear. That’s why we have to get to work. See, I brought you on a one-way trip. I’m locked out of time, and now so are you. You can’t get home unless I come with you.”

3.

They drove to the park in silence.

It was just Frank, Sophie, and Mason in the car. Helen and Matt were too busy frantically looking for their daughter. Though, to Frank, it seemed unlikely the two events—Alice disappearing and Zed calling to say there was trouble at the shed—were unrelated.

“Anybody have a plan?” Frank asked.

“I was about to ask the same thing,” Sophie said. “Let’s play it safe like last time. No big decisions in there. Hell, no small ones either. Don’t agree to anything.”

Frank nodded. Sophie was right, of course. There was a better than average chance this was all a trick. Some further manipulation by Zed.

“What about the book?” Mason asked.

“Leave it here,” Frank said. “Use your lock to hide it. No, actually use your lock to hide the whole car. The last thing we need is somebody stealing the car with the book in it.”

“Seems unlikely,” Sophie said.

“So does a girl who can tell the future.”

She shrugged as she parked the car. “Fair point. Let’s go.”

The door to the shed was closed, so they knocked when they reached it. The door opened a crack, and they saw Willis staring out at them, his deep red hair giving him away even through the tiny opening. When he saw them, he opened the door a foot or so and motioned them inside.

They squeezed into the shed.

It was much the same as they’d left it except for the smell. A sickly sweet funk hung in the air.

Rayd was still tied to the tree, but his skin was an alarming shade of pale green. A strange wheezing noise came from his chest when he breathed.

Zed was kneeling beside him.

“What happened?” Frank asked.

Zed looked back at him. He was wearing his usual smile, but it looked thin and forced. “I don’t know.”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure I’ve never heard you use that phrase before.”

“It gives me no pleasure, believe me.” Zed grabbed Rayd’s chin and lifted it, inspecting the man and his half-closed eyes from a myriad of angles. After a moment, he looked up at Frank. “Matt told you about the time loop? That I’ve been sending people back in time to get redos?”

“He told us,” Sophie said.

Frank knew it drove her crazy how Zed always addressed him and never her or Mason. He didn’t blame her.

Zed glanced at her, then back to Frank. “Yes, well, this is the forty-sixth time we’ve run this iteration where I bring Rayd through the tree. This has never happened before. Him getting like that.”

“How do you know?” Sophie asked.

“What do you mean?” Zed asked, a bit of irritation in his voice.

“How do you know it’s been forty-six times? Matt said you can’t go back yourself. You can only send others.”

“The people I send back report back to me.” He waved away her question. “I just wish I understood. I wish he’d tell me what’s happening to him.”

Rayd let out a weak cough. “Waiting…for…you to ask.”

Mason chuckled. “You never were the asking type, Zed. More of the telling type.”

Zed ignored this. “Rayd. Please tell us what’s happening to you.”

Rayd chuckled. “Isn’t it obvious?” His voice sounded stronger now. “I’m dying.”

Frank had never seen Zed look so shocked. Whatever he’d been expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. Frank wondered if this man was the same type of creature Zed was. Maybe this man’s mortality was making Zed question his own.

“Sorry, I don’t believe it,” Zed said. “The tree should weaken you, of course. That’s the reason I tied you to it. But it won’t kill you. I know that.”

“Oh, the trees can kill us. If we aren’t strong enough to protect ourselves.”

Zed rose to his feet and looked down at the man. “But you are! You’ve survived this.”

Rayd chuckled. “Right. Your redos. Interesting idea. Have they gotten you any closer to beating us?” Zed didn’t take the bait, so Rayd continued. “I can’t speak to those other times. I can’t remember them. You must have done a good job covering your tracks. And you’re right, maybe I could have survived this, but I had to use some of my power.” He smiled up at Zed.

Zed shook his head. “We have to reset. Try again. Willis, come here. I’m sending you back.”

“No!” Frank hadn’t meant to shout the word. But Alice…if Zed sent Willis back as far as he’d sent Matt last time, there was the chance Alice might not exist. “What good will sending him back do? The same thing will happen next time unless we figure out what changed and how to deal with it.”

Zed said nothing. He just glared down at Rayd.

Frank decided to keep things rolling before Zed decided to act on his threat. “What did you use your power to do?” Frank thought he knew the answer, but he asked anyway.

Rayd chuckled. “The girl wasn’t like you, Zed,” Rayd said. “She was clumsy with her powers. Not her fault. She’s young. But I was able to see through her redos. It’s rather humorous. All this work you went to, and you didn’t know you had a weapon living among you.”

Zed looked up as if slapped. Something about those words struck a nerve. “Who? Who is it?”

Rayd fell into a coughing fit before he could answer. The others waited.

Sophie nudged Frank’s arm and nodded to the other side of the room. Mason was slowly making his way along the perimeter.

“It was a little girl. Her name was Alice.”

Frank’s heart sank.

“She came to see me the other day,” Rayd said. “I have no idea why. She just came to the shed and showed me what she can do. Funny how life works, isn’t it? A little while ago, I felt the girl’s power starting to fade, and I knew Wilm was trying to pull her out of time. I used my power to help things along.”

“That didn’t turn out so great for you,” Sophie said, “with the dying and all.”

“How do we get her back?” Frank asked.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that part. She’s coming back. Wilm’s bringing her. Should be here by the end of the day.”

Zed took a step back. “No. That’s not possible. She doesn’t break through for two more weeks. She escapes her prison and opens a portal over the Mississippi two weeks from now.”

Rayd grinned, a smile that revealed his teeth were speckled with blood. “Maybe before. But now Wilm’s locked in on me. And she’s got the girl to help her break through. Before she didn’t know where to go, not precisely. The tree muted my power, but we connected when I helped push Alice through. Wilm’s locked in on me now. Alive or dead, she’ll be able to find me. She’ll want to give you as little time to prepare as possible, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s here in a few minutes.”

Zed looked at him for a long moment, and then an expression of calm washed over his face. “So what you’re really saying is, if you weren’t here, she wouldn’t be able to find us as accurately. She’d still arrive two weeks from now.”

Rayd barked out a weak laugh. “What are you gonna do? Throw me in the river? It won’t matter where in the world you are. It’s where in time that matters. All she needs to do is track me to a location in time. She can easily find you from there.”

Zed’s smile widened. “And what if you weren’t in a certain location in time? What if you were outside of time? With her?”

Rayd shook his head. “You can’t make that happen. You don’t have the book.”

Zed smiled. “Maybe you don’t know everything. Maybe I’ve found a way to open the portals without the books.”

“Impossible.” Rayd practically spat out the word.

“Wait,” Sophie said. “What happens to Alice if you do this?”

Zed glanced at her for a moment, then licked his lips. “She’ll be trapped with Wilm. Outside of time until they can break through. There are unfortunate casualties in any war.”

Frank said, “Mason.”

Suddenly, the compass disappeared from Zed’s outstretched hand.

Zed’s eyes widened, realizing what was happening. He lunged out wildly behind him, but his hands went through empty air. “Where is it?” His voice was crazed. He took a deep breath and spoke again, sounding more like Zed this time. “Mason. Don’t do anything rash. After all we’ve been through, please hear me out.”

Mason remained silent.

Zed turned to Frank. “You and your damn locks. So that’s it then? You’re going to let the world die to save one girl? No, that’s not even right, is it? The girl won’t survive this, she’ll just die with her parents by her side.”

“Not necessarily,” Rayd said. “I doubt Wilm would let a talent like that die. I expect she’ll take Alice to wherever they go next.”

“Zed, we just need to think this through,” Frank said. “We need to understand the consequences.”

“What’s there to think through? Rayd dies here, the gates of hell will open. We’ll all be killed.”

“So why not reset things?” Sophie asked. “Isn’t that what you do when things go wrong?”

Zed shook his head slowly. “You all don’t understand what’s happening here. We might have a chance to beat them! For real! If I send him back through, I might be able to close the hole. If I do that, they’ll be trapped outside time.”

“Can’t they just dig their way out again?” Frank asked. “Isn’t that what happened this time? And they’re outside time, so they’ll still get here at the same moment no matter how long they dig.”

“Yes, but they will be much weaker by the time they break through. We may have enough power to defeat them.”

“And Alice?” Frank asked.

“Alice stays with them. It’s not ideal. But she’s not dead. She’s just…”

“Away,” Frank finished. He remembered his time Away. The untold years he’d spent living off the meat of the Unfeathered, battling daily to survive against the Ones Who Sing, the strange shadow creatures who seemingly wanted nothing more than to strip the flesh from his bones. “There might be worse fates, but I can’t think of many.”

Zed nodded sadly. “I’ve been there, too. It isn’t pleasant. But it’s necessary. Just hand me back my compass and I’ll do the rest.

Frank looked at Sophie. “What do you think?”

Sophie’s teeth were gritted and her eyes were fixed on Rayd. “It’s not my decision.” She turned to Frank. “If we do this, Alice will be cut off from time for who knows how long. She’ll be trapped with a person who, if we can believe Zed, is evil. The only person qualified to decide is the only person who’s experienced that. Mason, what do you say?”

There was a long pause as they all watched and waited. Mason had hidden himself from all of them so Frank couldn’t see his face, couldn’t even read the non-verbal cues as to the emotions he must be going through.

Slowly Zed held out his hand.

After a long moment, the compass dropped into it.

Zed grinned and clutched the compass.

Mason appeared, his face streaked with tears. “I’m sorry, Alice. We have to do this. We have to.”

Zed looked at Mason with something like pride. “You made the right decision, son.”

Mason turned away. “Don’t call me son. Not ever.”

If Zed cared about Mason’s words, he did an excellent job not showing it. He held the compass up to the tree.

Rayd looked up at him. “You send me through, you kill me. I’m not strong enough to survive.”

Zed shrugged. “You said you were dying anyway.” He lifted the compass and muttered, “Show me Wilm.”

From where Frank was standing, he saw the needle spin wildly for a moment, then come to rest pointing roughly southeast.

“You kill me,” Rayd said. “You might regret it.”

“I doubt it,” Zed said. He touched the tree and drew a pattern with his finger.

A light burst forth from the tree, filling the shed with hot white light. Rayd cried out in pain as he was pulled backwards into the tree. It was the reverse of the process they’d seen this morning. This version seemed even more painful. Rayd’s torso folded as he was pulled into the tree. His feet were the last part to go through, and, as they did, the hole closed with an audible snap.

The shed was quiet. It seemed so dark now after the blinding bright light was gone.

“There now,” Zed said. “We’ve done it. We’ve killed one of them. That is our first step toward victory.”

Five minutes later, they learned what a terrible mistake they’d made.

4.

Alice was walking behind Wilm when suddenly a man fell out of the sky and landed in the middle of the road.

For once, Wilm looked as shocked as Alice felt.

Wilm ran to the man and crouched down next to him. His skin was a strange green color, and his limbs were twisted at all sorts of unnatural angles. He had broken bones, a lot of them. Even Alice could tell that much.

Wilm touched his face, brushing his neatly trimmed beard with her fingers. And suddenly Alice recognized the man. It was the man from the shed. The one who’d seen what she could do.

Had he been the cause of all this? Had he somehow sent her here?

“Rayd,” Wilm said. Her voice caught with emotion.

Rayd looked up at her. His eyes were large, too large, and there was dreamy, far off look in them.

“I had them send me here,” Rayd said. He spoke slowly, as if each word was an effort of concentration. “I thought you could use me. Sorry I didn’t do more.”

“No,” Wilm said. “You did well.”

“I just wish it wasn’t that boy with the watch who got me. He was always so smug.”

Wilm leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “You’ll be revenged. He will pay. His whole world will pay.”

Rayd nodded contentedly and closed his eyes. He let out a great wheezing breath and breathed no more.

Wilm choked out a sob. “Forgive me,” she said to Alice. “It’s been a long time since one of my people have died. ”

Her gaze was a little too intense. “Now you’ll see something,” she said. “Something none of your kind has ever seen before.”

As Alice watched, Rayd began to melt. It happened quickly and smoothly. One moment, he was a corpse, and the next he was dissolving into a pool of metallic liquid.

Alice drew in a sharp breath. “What’s happening to him?”

Wilm watched the pool grow. “Energy can neither be created nor destroyed. Didn’t they teach you that in school?”

“I’m in third grade,” Alice said.

Wilm grunted. “At any rate, it’s a fact of science. And my kind contains a hell of a lot of energy.”

A thought occurred to Alice. “You keep saying our kind and your kind. Aren’t you a person?”

Wilm shook her head, her eyes still fixed on the metallic pool. “Not remotely. We’re from somewhere very far away.”

“Like…aliens?”

Wilm looked at her sharply. “That’s a rather geocentric description, don’t you think? Come on, I’ll show you something cool.”

The older woman walked to the pool and knelt down next to it. She put a finger to her lips for a moment, thinking. “We’ll need a compass. That much is certain.”

She scooped up a handful of the metallic liquid and squeezed.

Alice should have been grossed out—she knew she should have been. But she wasn’t. Not in the least. There was something about this liquid that drew her. Something that made her feel happy.

Wilm opened her hand, and in it was a perfectly shaped compass. She turned it over for Alice to see. It had a strange symbol on it: a mountain with a crack running through it.

“Rayd always did want to destroy the Earth,” Wilm said, a hint of sadness in her voice. “Now then, I’ll make something for you. What would you like?”

Alice thought for a moment. She would like something made of that liquid. She’d like it a lot. But what?

“A sword.” The words just popped out. For some reason, a sword felt right.

Wilm smiled, clearly pleased. “Good. Very good.”

This time she scooped up two handfuls of the stuff and shaped it. A moment later, she handed Alice a beautifully thin sword. It had the same broken mountain symbol on the hilt.

Alice took it and held it proudly. She didn’t think she’d ever held anything half as cool, even her baby cousin Ben.

“Thank you,” Alice said, her voice weak with gratitude.

“You’re welcome,” Wilm said. “I can’t wait to see what you can do with it.” She suddenly snapped her fingers. “I have an idea.” She took another handful and shaped a pair of scissors.

Alice was a bit disappointed, but she didn’t let it show. There was nothing very cool about scissors.

“Now follow me,” Wilm said.

She led Alice through the streets to the library. As they walked, they passed a few people, but they were all frozen like statues. Alice wanted to ask about it, but this didn’t seem like the time.

Inside the library, Wilm pulled a large United States atlas off a shelf and set it on a table. She flipped pages until she found Wisconsin.

“Can you show me where King’s Crossing is?” she asked Alice.

The girl looked to the far left side of the page and found her home town.

“Good,” Wilm said. “Take these and press the broken mountain.” She handed Alice the scissors.

Alice pressed the broken mountain and felt it click, like a button on her PlayStation 4 controller. Suddenly it was as if the scissors were buzzing in her hand. It was the power Wilm had been talking about, Alice knew. She felt it.

“Now,” Wilm said. “Cut out King’s Crossing.”

Alice raised an eyebrow. “Out of a library book?”

Wilm nodded. “Trust me. It’s okay.”

It was hard to trust someone she’d just met but…it was as if the scissors wanted to cut. And Alice wanted to use them.

She cut carefully, feeling the power in each clip as she squeezed the scissors closed again and again. In a moment, the piece of the map that represented King’s Crossing lay on the table, a sad little scrap.

But it was more than that. Alice could sense something bigger had happened when she’d used the scissors.

“What did I just do?” she asked in a quiet voice.

Wilm smiled, “My dear, you just removed King’s Crossing from the Earth. Now what do you say we use these scissors to cut our way back into time?”

THE BOY WHO FOUND THE WATCH (PART FIVE)

Santa Cruz, California

December 1956

The car that came to pick up Zed was a faded yellow Chrysler. It pulled up to the curb, and the driver rolled down his window.

The driver was a square-jawed man with a few days’ stubble. He chomped noisily on some chewing gum. His face was devoid of emotion. Just a man doing a job.

“You Zed?”

Zed indicated he was, then held his hand out to the man.

The driver glanced down at it, then looked back up at Zed’s face. “I’ve been told not to talk to you, except for this here conversation.”

Zed lowered his hand to his side.

“You’re to sit in the back. There’s a cooler with some beers and sandwiches back there. Water, too. Make it last. We’ll be in the car about twenty-four hours.”

“Where we going?” Zed asked.

The driver ignored the question. “You have to use the restroom, you knock on the back of my seat. You don’t like what I’ve got playing on the radio, well, tough luck. I’ll pull over to catch forty winks in sixteen hours or so. We sleep in the car.”

With his speech concluded, he rolled up the window.

Over the past eight years, Zed had learned Wilm had a fairly large network of people working for her. He’d come into contact with many of them. He’d passed messages to some of them, and some of them had passed messages to him. But in his experience, none of the workers were keen on sharing any more information than they had to. If Zed had to guess, he’d have said they all knew as little about the organization as he did.

The driver was just another one of Wilm’s worker bees. Now that Zed had been invited to visit her, he couldn’t help feeling superior to this man. He wondered if this guy had a pocket watch, or something like it. He highly doubted it.

Because the driver hadn’t popped the trunk, Zed carried his bag into the backseat with him. The windows were blacked out on the inside, and a divider separated the backseat from the front. The dark windows made Zed reconsider how much Wilm trusted him.

Zed felt the car lurch forward as soon as he’d shut the door. Apparently the driver was in a hurry to get Zed to his destination.

For the next twenty-four hours, they drove. Zed sat in the dim backseat, bored out of his mind. Even holding the watch didn’t help, and that was something that comforted him in nearly all situations. He wished there was a way to speed time up using the watch, but he hadn’t figured out a way. Whenever Zed knocked on the partition, the driver pulled off the road and Zed got out to answer the call of nature. It was always in a field, never in a gas station. Though the driver did stop at gas stations, Zed knew instinctively he wasn’t allowed to get out at those stops. He didn’t know what the punishment would be if he did, but he wasn’t eager to find out, not when he had finally won Wilm’s favor.

As the time passed, the landscape changed. Near sundown, Zed saw mountains in the distance when he left the car to urinate. They were moving into the Rockies.

Eventually, the driver pulled over and slept for six hours or so. Zed heard his gentle snores through the barrier. When he woke, he started driving again without a word to his passenger.

Zed was sitting in the backseat, having let his mind go blank. He may have been dozing—the difference between awake and asleep was purely academic in that darkened car. He was startled to attention when the door opened and pale sunlight streamed into the darkness. The driver, once again chomping his gum, stood out there holding the door. That same bored, blank look on his face.

This, Zed realized, was it. He had arrived.

He grabbed his bag and stumbled out of the vehicle. His legs felt weak, though whether it was caused by the lengthy car ride or his nerves, he didn’t know.

He blinked quickly, his eyes adjusting to the midday sunlight, and looked around. They were high in the mountains. Pine trees dotted the landscape of the peaks. The smell of pine was heavy in the air. The only signs of humanity were the dirt road he stood on and the modest house that stood twenty yards in front of him. The house looked like something you might find in the country in Kansas, the type of home where you’d find Ma and Pa and the three kids gathered around the breakfast table for some freshly scrambled eggs and some newly smoked bacon. The house was well-kept, but there wasn’t much more to say about it.

Could this be Wilm’s house? He didn’t see any other possibility. Disappointment crept up within him; he’d expected something grander.

He turned to thank the driver, but as he did he heard the door shut and saw the car roll down the dirt road. The man’s job was done and he was anxious to get on to whatever Wilm had planned for him next, apparently.

Zed sighed and walked across the rocky soil toward the house.

A man sat in a rocking chair on the porch, his right foot perched high on the railing. Zed hadn’t noticed him until now, which seemed impossible. The man had jet black hair slicked back and a neatly trimmed goatee.

He didn’t move as Zed approached, but he watched him with suspicious eyes.

When Zed reached the porch, the man said, “You’re the new boy, then?”

Zed had long ago stopped thinking of himself as a boy, but he nodded. “I’m Zed.”

“I know,” the man said.

Zed felt his frustration growing. After three days in the car with the silent driver, he’d about had it with people who didn’t shake hands or offer their names. These people obviously hadn’t been raised in Kansas.

“I hear she gave you the watch,” the man said.

Zed knew he should be polite. Whoever this man was, he surely had higher standing in the organization than Zed. But he couldn’t help himself. “She didn’t give it to me. I took it.”

The man took his foot off the railing and leaned forward, a smile playing across his face. “Is that what you think? And you don’t think any one of us could take it back at any time?”

Zed realized he’d gone too far. “I didn’t say that.”

“Go ahead. Stop me.” The man stood up and began walking toward Zed.

Zed didn’t want to have an altercation with this man, but he certainly wasn’t going to let him take the watch. He reached into his pocket and pressed the broken clock symbol, freezing time. And the man kept coming.

“See what I mean?” the man asked.

Zed’s hand was shaking, whether from fear or anger he didn’t know. But he was not letting this man take the watch. He imagined the bubble that surrounded him, the thing that kept him moving while the rest of the universe was stopped, and he pulled it away from the man.

The man kept coming, but he was moving more slowly now. Zed pulled harder, and it was like the man was moving in slow motion. A look of surprise came across the man’s face in comical slow motion.

“Enough!” The voice came from the doorway. Wilm.

Zed clicked the symbol on the watch, restarting time.

She looked at the man. “Rayd, stop harassing the boy.”

The man nodded. He glared at Zed.

“And you,” Wilm said to Zed, “need to be more careful. You’ll get yourself killed before you walk through the door.”

She waved him inside, and he carefully stepped around Rayd.

The house looked for all the world like the interior of the dozens of farmhouses he’d seen as a kid. Even the knickknacks were spot on. He had the strange feeling this was all for his benefit.

Wilm showed him to his bedroom, a modest room with a twin bed, a small dresser, and nothing else. She followed him into the room and sat on the bed.

“Now,” she said, “we can talk.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he just nodded.

“We like your work,” she said. “You have initiative, but you can also follow instructions. That’s a rare combination. And you’re skilled in using the watch. You figured it out on your own. So I’ve decided it’s time to tell you some things. But you have to agree to ask no questions. I’d rather you find the answers yourself than have me give them to you. This is just the baseline of what you need to know right now. Understand?”

He understood well enough to simply nod rather than answering aloud.

Wilm looked pleased. “Good. Would it shock you to learn your world is not what you think it is?”

Zed thought for only a moment before shaking his head.

“Of course it wouldn’t. You’ve been playing at the edge of the truth for eight years now. You’ve seen how frayed the borders of reality really are.” She leaned forward and put her hands on her knees. “You and your kind consider yourself the highest form of intelligence. You pride yourselves on your scientific discoveries the way a baby prides itself on being able to find its own feet. But your kind will never learn the truth of existence. You don’t have the tools to prod at reality, and you don’t have enough sense to know the right questions to ask.

“But this world is a special place. Parts of it are, anyway. Think of the Earth as a mountain. It’s mostly rock and dirt, worthless rubble piled on top of more worthless rubble. It exists only to support itself.” She smiled now, and there was a glint in her eye. “But within this mountain, there are jewels! Special places. They can’t be used by your kind. But for us, these places contain something necessary for our very survival.”

Zed desperately wanted to ask what she meant by us. If she and her people weren’t human, what were they? Who had he been working for the past eight years? But he couldn’t ask those questions. Not now. She wanted his silence.

“These special places can, for lack of a better word, feed me and mine. But we have to wait until they’re ready. Perhaps a better analogy is that of a fruit rather than a jewel. We have to wait for it to ripen.”

Wilm paused a long moment before continuing. “But there’s a problem. The power we need is hidden away from us. It’s locked in books, and that makes these special places very difficult to find. That’s why we created the Tools. Your pocket watch is one of them, but there are others. We put a bit of our kind’s power into them so that very special people sympathetic to our cause could use them to help us. Sadly, most of those people haven’t worked out. You humans are not built to handle that kind of power, not for long. But we sense that you might be different.

“You are a special young man. We had to find all the others. Not you. You found us when you stole the pocket watch. Charlie was our best prospect in a long time, but at age eleven you showed us what a real prospect looks like.” She reached out and took Zed’s hand in her own. “We can offer you so many things, Zed. All we ask in return is that you help us find these towns and prepare them for their destruction.”

CHAPTER SIX: SEVEN YEARS IN KING’S CROSSING

1.

King’s Crossing

May 2015

The edge of town was gone, replaced with a thick murky fog, a fog that pushed back. Walking, driving, running into the fog all brought about the same result. After a few feet, something in the mist gently but firmly pressed you out of the fog and back into the town.

Once the residents of King’s Crossing realized they were cut off from the outside world, word spread quickly. People knocked on doors making sure their neighbors and friends knew.

Frank heard about it shortly after he and his friends left the shed.

They’d stayed in the shed nearly an hour, talking and wondering about the implications of what had happened with Rayd. Zed had regained a bit of his old swagger, and he let them know he’d be moving on. He had other towns to go to, to use in his fight against his enemies. Frank had grown angry, asking about Zed’s promises, about his vows to save Jake and Logan and Heather. Zed had essentially said, “Tough luck,” and walked out.

Frank had followed, fuming. He was still stomping toward Zed when a man ran up to both of them.

“Have you heard?” he asked.

“Heard what?” Frank replied.

The man explained. And Frank felt terror creep into his heart. My God, he thought. Not again.

It was a different kind of apocalypse than the one he’d experienced in Rook Mountain. Without the presence of the Unfeathered, the town wasn’t in any immediate physical danger. They were just cut off. People were scared, of course. But they were also polite and helpful for the most part. Many in town had already seen plenty of strangeness, Frank reminded himself.

They also had the story of Rook Mountain to console them. Like the rest of the world, many in King’s Crossing had closely followed the news coverage of what had happened in Frank’s hometown. So they at least knew of the concept of a town cut off from the rest of the world. Some of them, Frank suspected, harbored dreams of being famous when this was all over. He was willing to bet that more than a few of them practiced what they’d say on 20/20.

The Mississippi still moved, flowing out of and into the fog. But any boat that tried to sail it ended up stranded in the river, pushed forward by the current and backward by the fog. It was a source of frustration in the town. They took most things in stride, but the idea that the water could escape town and they couldn’t made them insane. There were a million theories on how to leave, and nine-hundred-thousand of them involved some variation on using the river to escape.

Thankfully, the power, like the water, still flowed into town. Most of the town’s electricity came from a power station in Alma, an hour up the river. The question of why electricity could travel between Alma and King’s Crossing but the people of King’s Crossing couldn’t was a popular subject of speculation at the suddenly crowded watering holes downtown.

Still, there were certain realities to face. In some ways, this was worse than Rook Mountain. Here they couldn’t venture out to the surrounding towns for food and supplies. All they had was all they had. Thankfully, the fog didn’t exactly follow the town line. The edge of the fog was jagged, and it left them with six farms, one of which raised cattle. At least dairy wouldn’t be a problem.

Communications technology, including cell phone and Internet, didn’t work anymore. It was as if someone was purposefully trying to cut them off from the outside world

“If it’s any consolation, we’ve got enough cheeseheads to last us the next seventy years,” Sophie said while they were inventorying the shops in town, poking a finger at one of the yellow cheese-shaped hats.

She was teamed with Joe at the moment. Joe rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me. NFL season starts in three months. If this thing isn’t solved by then, we’re going to have lots of angry Packer fans.”

“Like you?”

“Hell, no. I’m a Bears fan.”

Zed, for his part, was sullen. He retreated into his home and didn’t show his face for the first three days. It was Frank who finally went to ask for his help.

Zed reacted to the town’s offer with incredulity. “I don’t understand. You want me to help run the town?”

Frank frowned. “Don’t get any ideas. We’re not drawing up Regulations here. But you are the only one with real logistical experience with something like this. Would you be willing to help out? Not lead, mind you, but help?”

Zed hesitated. “I’ll help. But just as a man. I don’t have any special powers that would come in handy here. Even my compass is basically worthless. It points to things, but nothing beyond the edge of the fog.” He looked Frank in the eye. “We haven’t been taken out of time. We’ve been taken out of place. It’s like we’re out of phase with the rest of the world. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

Frank paused for a moment. “What if you had the book? What if we find it? Could you use that to get us out of here?”

Zed thought a moment before answering. “Maybe.”

So, Zed agreed to help out with logistics.

Mason took a job on a farm. Sophie helped Joe at the library. And Frank worked with the group in charge of resource distribution. It was boring and tedious for all of them, but they were able to eek out an existence.

Six months in, Frank gave Zed the book.

2.

Somewhere in Montana

2016

Alice swung the ax, bringing it down on the log with all the might her ten-year-old body could muster. The wood split with a satisfying crack. She set the pieces in the wheelbarrow and grabbed another log, feeling the pleasant ache in her back and shoulders as she did so.

Once, she’d used her sword to split wood. She’d found if she pressed the broken mountain symbol as she swung it, not only did it cut clean through the wood, but all the other wood waiting in the pile was split by her single swing as well. Wilm hadn’t been happy. She wanted Alice to learn the value of hard work, not the benefit of using Tools for shortcuts. Alice had a hard time understanding that. Wasn’t that the whole point? For her to learn to use the Tools? So she could help them find the towns or whatever?

She’d been here over a year. Wilm had made Alice use the scissors to cut them out of the Away and back into time. At first, Alice had been worried about what Wilm would do when they arrived. After all, she had promised Rayd she’d seek vengeance. But instead, she’d just brought Alice to this remote cabin outside town.

Wilm had disappeared for a few hours that first night—to free her fellow Exiles from the Away as Alice later learned—but after that things had quickly settled into a mundane routine. Alice’s education had begun.

After ten minutes of chopping, Alice threw the last of the split logs and her ax into the wheelbarrow, and took a long, slow breath of the pine-scented mountain air. Maybe Wilm did have a point about this hard work thing after all. She grabbed the wheelbarrow handles and guided it back toward the house.

It had been a strange year. And not an easy one. She’d spent the first few weeks in nearly constant tears. She’d wanted to go home. It had taken her quite some time to accept that there was no such thing as home left to go to. Wilm had shown her on map after map that King’s Crossing, Wisconsin, no longer existed. Indeed, it never had. There was no record of it. But seeing a blank space on a map wasn’t enough, so Wilm took her to Wisconsin, showed her the empty fields and woods where the town should have been.

Finally, she’d accepted it. She was an orphan. There was no going home. This was her home now, and she might as well make the best of it.

The even more difficult thing to accept was that she was the one who’d caused this. She’d held the scissors in her hand and clipped her hometown out of existence. She’d destroyed thousands of lives.

It was almost too big to think about. Every time she did, she felt like she was losing control, going crazy. Wilm told her to put it out of her mind. That if she didn’t think about it, the hurt would go away. And most of the time, it worked. It still made her a little sick to her stomach every time she saw those scissors, though.

The wheelbarrow hit a root and bounced wildly, causing Alice to lose control. It toppled over on its side and the split wood tumbled to the ground.

Alice bit the inside of her cheek and slowly counted to ten before doing anything. In the old days, she would have Pulled Back, caused the whole thing not to happen, and gone around the root. The urge to do that was still strong. But Wilm wouldn’t like it. Pulling Back was only allowed in very specific circumstances, and fixing a minor accident like this wasn’t one of them. Wilm was like Rayd; she knew when Alice Pulled Back, so there was no use trying to sneak one past her. Unauthorized use of her power would result in losing privileges, added chores, and maybe being grounded to her room.

After the wood was once again in the wheelbarrow, Alice carefully guided it to the house. She neatly stacked it on top of the wood pile, then put the wheelbarrow and the ax away in the shed. A fine sheen of sweat covered her skin by the time she was done. She wanted nothing more than to drink a glass of Wilm’s lemonade and relax. Maybe she’d let Alice spend the afternoon reading. The house had a small library, and Alice had read most of the books already. There was no TV and no Internet up here, so she had limited entertainment choices. Still, there were a few old Agatha Christie novels she hadn’t read. She liked mysteries, trying to figure out how it was all going to end.

She walked inside and paused as she heard a familiar cackling laugh. A slight chill went through her. San was here.

Normally it was just Wilm and Alice in the cabin. Things weren’t perfect, but they were comfortable. They made a strange little surrogate family. But sometimes the others spent time here. Vee was okay—if a little creepy, even after she’d gotten used to the fact that he had no arms. He just ignored her most of the time, unless Wilm made him interact with her. San was different. She was tall and beautiful and she definitely didn’t ignore Alice. It wasn’t that she was mean, exactly—Wilm wouldn’t have put up with that—it was just that she clearly thought she was better than Alice. She talked down to her in such a condescending way. And it wasn’t the usual adult-to-kid condescending. It was something else. She clearly looked down on all of humanity, and Alice was just the representation of what she disliked about life on planet Earth.

Alice carefully eased the door shut behind her. Maybe she could sneak up to her room and do some reading while Wilm and San were talking.

“Alice, is that you?”

No such luck. Wilm had the ears of a much younger woman.

“Yes,” Alice answered reluctantly.

“Come in here. We need to talk to you.”

Alice stifled a grumble and shuffled into the living room. Wilm and San sat side-by-side on the couch, conspiratorial smiles on their faces.

“Have a seat,” Wilm said.

Alice did so. She waited silently. It was better to speak only when asked a question, especially when San was here.

“San and I have been talking,” Wilm said, “and we’ve come to a decision. We think you’re ready to perform your first job for us.”

Alice felt her pulse quicken. “Really?”

Wilm nodded. “Nothing major. It’s just delivering a message to someone in Cleveland. But it is an important message. Think you can handle it?”

Alice had been waiting for this, for a real opportunity to prove herself to Wilm. “Yes. I know I can.”

Wilm smiled. “Good. Then let’s talk about your cover story.”

3.

King’s Crossing

2017

Sophie pushed the cart to her least favorite section and began shelving the books. The travel section. Sometimes it felt like she spent half her life there.

The King’s Crossing library usage had exploded since what the locals called “Isolation Day.” With no TV or Internet, entertainment options were more limited. It seemed the majority of King’s Crossing had finally discovered their love of the written word. By far the most popular books were those in the travel book section. The good old 910s in the Dewey Decimal System.

They were in their third calendar year of the isolation now, and people were becoming more and more nostalgic for the places they could no longer visit. Not just the exotic places, either. Sure, the books on the Bahamas and Fiji were popular, but other surprise hits included places that had once been much closer but now were just as far out of reach: Chicago, St. Louis, Minneapolis/St. Paul. There was a book on the Mall of America whose cover they’d had to repair three times due to overuse.

Come to think of it, the entire travel section could use a good rebinding.

She silently shelved the last book on the cart, a guidebook about visiting San Francisco on $50 a day—Sophie was actually curious how the author pulled that off—and she glanced at her watch. Good. It was time.

She stowed the cart and headed upstairs. She smiled to herself, remembering how she’d been so hesitant the first time she’d gone up these stairs, like she was breaking a rule or something. Now she climbed them ten times a day, easy.

She made her way through the hallway and to the glass doors. She glanced at the sign—The Rough-Shod Readers, All Welcome, This week’s book: Assassin’s Apprentice by Robin Hobb. They mostly posted the book as a joke now. It was no longer a secret that they weren’t actually a book club. Once, this meeting had been used to speculate on Zed and his followers’ strange activities in the town. Now it was where some of the most crucial decisions about the town’s future were made.

She slipped in quietly, all too aware she was the last to arrive. She took her usual seat at the foot of the table.

Joe gave her a pointed look. “Now that we’re all here, perhaps we can get started?”

Once, she would have had a snarky remark to shoot right back at him. Over the past couple of years, she’d mellowed a bit. She even kind of looked forward to these meetings. Of course, that may have had something to do with Frank.

He gave her a wink across the table, and she smirked back at him.

They didn’t see each other as much as they used to. Though they lived in the same apartment complex, their work hours didn’t always coincide. And even when they did…Frank spent a lot of time with Matt and Mason. Sophie had her small group of friends from the library. They went out on weekends and had a surprisingly good time. Turned out it was true what they said about librarians. They were all wild at heart.

Sophie also spent a fair amount of time hanging out with Helen. But Matt and Helen were going through a bit of a rough patch, so she rarely ran into Frank at the Campbell’s.

Part of the problem was Frank’s guilt. She knew he felt responsible for everything that had happened. He felt it was his fault they were trapped in this town. He felt it was his fault Alice was gone. Sometimes, she wanted to shake him and tell him to stop taking responsibility for everything, that people had their own free will and made their own choices. The world didn’t spin on the whims of Frank Hinkle.

She did miss him though. And she was pretty sure he missed her. Though his guilt and his pride would never allow him to say so.

Joe led the meeting, as always. He didn’t technically hold any political position, but he’d always run the Rough-Shod Readers, so when it morphed into this strange shadow town council, he somehow fell into a leadership role.

The meeting went much like it always did. Very little changed when you were cutoff from the rest of the world. Harlan gave his crop report. Frank gave the state of the town supplies. Ellen talked about the state of commerce—after much debate the town had decided to keep the standard US dollar as their currency. Brandon gave an update on the victory garden program that grew food in people’s yards and public parks.

Then there was the final report. The evacuation report.

“Nothing new from me.” Zed looked sullen as he spoke, his eyes distant. He too had changed over the past three years. He’d gone inward as if unable to contend with the fact that he’d been beaten. He had done a few things here and there to help out the community. But that spark that had once made him such a powerful and terrifying presence had all but burnt out. He had the book, but he couldn’t figure out how to make it do anything. He said he couldn’t read it. Not even a little.

Sophie saw the disgust on Frank’s face. She knew he didn’t like seeing his old enemy giving up like this.

The meeting came to a close and the Rough-Shod Readers began to file out of the room. She grabbed Frank’s arm as he filed past.

“Hey, hold up.”

He stopped and looked at her, but his eyes were distant. “How you been?”

She shrugged. “Books, you know?”

He looked at her like he did not, in fact, know.

“You seen Mason lately? How’s he doing?”

Frank shrugged. “Yeah, he’s doing well.”

He was only half listening. It made Sophie angry. He liked her. She knew he did. But he was too preoccupied with his perceived responsibilities to do anything about it.

She didn’t know what she was going to say until she opened her mouth and the words came out. “You want to go to dinner tonight?”

That caught his attention. “Tonight? Oh, yeah, sure. That should work.”

There was an awkward pause. She was tired of awkward pauses. “Just to be clear, so there’s no misunderstanding, I’m asking you on a date.”

His eyes grew wide. “A date-date?”

She groaned. “Yes. An actual, adult date. Like where two people hang out together in order to gauge their compatibility and their mutual interest in pursuing a relationship. You up for that?”

He smiled, suddenly back in the moment, and he looked at her as if he really saw her. “Yes. I’m very much up for that.”

4.

King’s Crossing

2018

Sophie laughed hysterically when Frank came down the stairs in his ill-fitting brown shirt. He took the criticism well enough. He let her have her laugh, then showed her the dress she was meant to wear. That took the smile off her face quickly enough.

They were going to the opening night of a local production of The Music Man. Hell, why call it a local production? Why not a world premiere? As far as Frank knew, The Music Man had never been performed in this strange new reality. Local productions had become quite the rage in King’s Crossing, and Frank and Sophie had been lucky enough to score some tickets. The only catch was the Rough-Shod Readers had decided it would be a nice gesture if they were to wear some clothes by one of the less experienced tailors in town.

Clothes had been in short supply for years, but with a combination of the stock at the various stores, three truly talented seamstresses, and Frank’s careful resource management, they’d been able to keep the town dressed. Time was pushing the limits on that now. Demands greatly outweighed supply. They’d had an apprenticeship program in place for a while, but even that wasn’t keeping up. So Frank and Sophie were nominated to demonstrate the trend of wearing clothes that were less traditionally…good.

“At least it’ll be dark in the theater,” Sophie said.

Frank smiled and gave her a kiss. “You look pretty good to me.”

“Shut up,” she said and returned his kiss.

The Hollywood, a hundred-year-old theater in downtown King’s Crossing, seated six-hundred. Most of the attendees showed up on foot or bicycle, cars having gone the way of gasoline a few years ago. In fact, the problem of what to do with old cars was a big one. No one wanted the old-fashioned, heavy, useless things in their garage, but there wasn’t much else to do with them. Someone had offered up a field to park them in, but the Rough-Shod Readers had shot down that idea. They needed to preserve all the farmland they could. The food supply was holding steady so far, but the population was growing. It turned out making babies was an even more popular form of entertainment than the library and local theater.

Sophie and Frank walked the half mile to the theater hand-in-hand. They didn’t say much—that was often the way with them. But they were content to be with each other. Everything else aside, this had probably been the happiest year of Frank’s life. He’d had a huge crush on Sophie for years, but he hadn’t imagined she felt the same way. Why would a smart, pretty young woman like her be interested in a man with gray in his hair and a face scarred by the Ones Who Sing? But, for reasons he didn’t understand, she was. He was so glad she’d asked him out last year.

The production of The Music Man was top notch (all things considered) until the third act, when Willis stumbled out onto the stage.

“Get off!” he yelled, wildly swinging a bottle of moonshine until the actors cleared the stage. The man playing Henry Hill tried to stand his ground for a moment, but Willis knocked him over with a bottle to the head and then kicked him square in the ass, sending him stumbling off the front of the stage and into the arms of the people in the first row.

Frank, Sophie, and six others were halfway to the stage when Willis pulled a revolver out of his belt and waved it at them, causing them to back off quickly.

“Everybody have a seat!” he shouted. His voice carried well throughout the theater. Frank remembered Willis had been in last summer’s production of King Lear. When he had silence, he looked out over the crowd and shook his head. “You’re a bunch of sheep. A bunch of damn sheep without a shepherd.”

He walked to the front of the stage and shielded his eyes with his hand, looking out into the crowd. “We had a shepherd once. Where is he?” He looked left and right. “Where’s Zed?”

“I highly doubt Zed’s one for musical theater,” Sophie muttered to Frank.

Frank agreed, but to his surprise, a man in the back stood up and walked toward the stage.

“I’m here,” Zed said. His voice carried even better than Willis’, as well as it had in downtown Rook Mountain the day he’d sent Frank Away.

“Get up here,” Willis said.

Zed complied. He crossed his hands in front of him and stood calmly next to Willis.

Willis pulled up his sleeve and thrust it in front of Zed’s face. “What’s this say?”

“Five,” Zed replied.

“That’s right! Five! I went back in time five times! I relived years of my life again and again. And do you know why?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Because I trusted you! Because you said you’d save us. But you haven’t saved us, have you?”

He raised his revolver and held it to Zed’s head with a quivering hand. “You failed us all!”

He pulled the trigger, and Zed collapsed.

The crowd gasped.

Willis looked out at them, as if just remembering they were there. He let out a harsh giggle. “There is no escape. No matter what they tell you, there is no escape.” Then he put the gun to his own head and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot was still echoing through the theater when Zed sat up. He struggled his way to his feet. Blood ran down his face, but his head appeared to be intact.

He spoke in a calm, quiet voice that somehow carried through the theater. “We will not give up. We will never give up. We’ll find a way to escape.” He stared into the stage lights for a long moment before continuing. “And then we will take our revenge.”

Frank felt Sophie’s shaking hand slip into his.

5.

Boulder Creek, Colorado

2019

Alice was thirteen years old, damn it, and she could do a simple mission without a babysitter. Granted, this was a tad more vital than some of the ones she’d been on in the past, but still. She hadn’t liked the way Vee had whined about it. The way he’d tried to insist he should come along. He was jealous of the way Wilm was starting to rely on Alice now, that’s all it was. Alice was still a kid—his words. But this kid had been the one to find Gavin Point, Pennsylvania, right? The source of the power they’d feasted on last year? The reason they were strong enough to do what they were doing now. So, yeah, maybe it was time to stop looking at her like such a little kid. She wore a bra and had her period and everything, which was more than she could say for him.

That was how she’d laid out her case to Wilm. A little emotional and overly dramatic? Of course. But Wilm, Alice had learned, responded to shows of force. To strong powerful arguments and emotions. She wanted people who would scrape and claw their way to what they wanted over people who could make a calm, solid request.

So here she was, sans Vee. She didn’t feel gloaty about it. She felt vindicated that her reading of Wilm and what she would respond to was accurate, but not gloaty. It was all an act. She would prefer to do the job alone. She liked her alone time. But she didn’t feel strongly about it. Actually, she didn’t feel that strongly about much of anything these days. Sometimes she felt like the better part of her emotions had been cut out by the scissors when she’d cut King’s Crossing out of the map. As the scrap of the paper drifted to the ground, so had her humanity. It wasn’t that she didn’t have emotions, it was more like she experienced them at a distance, as if through a fog.

Boulder Creek, Colorado was a small town in the southern part of the state. Little grew here. Five minutes off the train and Alice already felt dusty. It was certainly beautiful, the way the mountains jutted up in angry, rugged crags. No place she’d ever been so perfectly captured the way she felt. Barren. Jagged. Withered.

She made her way through the streets, using her phone to guide her. She wasn’t in a hurry. She was about to make a man’s greatest ambition come true. Might as well savor it.

Her lack of hustle had at least a little to do with the object in the long duffle bag she carried over her shoulder. She had her sword, yes, but she also had something else. And having two of the Tools at once? Man, that was some kind of rush.

She reluctantly found the man’s house, a beat up old bungalow, and rang the doorbell. The guy was renting the place, she knew that much. No employee of Wilm’s organization was allowed to own a home. But it looked like he was pretty embedded. Alice wondered how he’d react to his new, more mobile lifestyle.

It wasn’t for everyone. Alice wasn’t sure it was for her, but what was she going to do about it? It wasn’t like she could quit and go home.

After the third time she rang the doorbell, Alice got a sinking feeling. This guy Clyde had received a note she was coming. No way he’d go out and risk missing her.

Of course, there was always the possibility he’d gone AWOL.

She reached into her duffle bag and pulled out the sword. Many times she regretted having requested this particular Tool. She could have named anything. But she’d picked an unwieldy weapon that forced her to carry a giant duffle bag and made it so she couldn’t walk through metal detectors. It came in handy now, though, as she used the handle to smash through a window. She wiped at the sill with a spare sweater from her bag to clear off the loose glass.

As soon as her head was through the window, she knew Clyde hadn’t gone AWOL. Well, technically he had. But permanently. His remains were propped up in an easy chair in the corner of the living room. God, what a smell. Alice didn’t know how he’d died, but it had happened a while ago.

Great. Wilm was going to flip out.

Alice pulled out her cell phone and was about to tap it to initiate the call when she saw something on the coffee table that made her pause.

A United States atlas.

For a moment, she forgot about the dead body and Wilm and the Tool she was supposed to be delivering.

She generally avoided maps. She usually just told her phone where to go, and it took her there. Paper maps had made her queasy.

Still, she flipped the atlas open and began turning pages. She didn’t stop until she reached the W’s. Wisconsin. The green spot on the map where she spent her first nine years.

The sword in her hand began to buzz in that peculiar way it did when it wanted to be used.

She gently pressed the broken mountain symbol on the sword and felt it click. Slowly, she pushed the point of the sword through the spot in the map where King’s Crossing should have been.

She gasped as white light poured through the hole.

She stared at the light for a long time. Then she tried to poke her finger through, but it wouldn’t go. Then Alice had a great and terrible idea.

If one of the Tools had cut King’s Crossing off the map, would that same Tool still be able to reach it?

She began constructing a story in her head. Maybe Clyde had been alive and well when she got here. Maybe she’d delivered the Tool and the message to him just as instructed.

How often did Wilm and the others check in with their employees? Monthly? If that? How long before they discovered Clyde was dead? And even when they did, would they suspect she hadn’t delivered the Tool?

It was a risk. A big risk. But over the last four years Alice had learned life was a big risk, one that very rarely paid off.

She took the other Tool, the one meant for Clyde, out of her bag. The scissors with the tiny broken mountain symbol on the handle. She pushed the scissors into the hole in the map.

They fell through with an audible pop and the white light went out.

All that was left was a jagged hole in the page.

Alice left, taking the atlas with her. That night, she burned it in her hotel bathtub.

6.

King’s Crossing

2020

Matt Campbell had decided to kill himself months ago. The only thing he couldn’t settle on was the method.

It had been five years since Alice disappeared. Since everything went to hell. His daughter would be fourteen now, if indeed she was still alive. Frank had told him the story a dozen times, but Matt still had a hard time believing it. Frank and the others had a choice: save Alice or save the world. They’d chosen the second option. And Matt and everyone in town had paid the price.

He wasn’t angry at Frank. He never had been, really. He was angry at God, at the world, at the physics that drove the universe and led all of existence to the moment when he would lose his only daughter to an unknowable group of monsters.

It had been hard in the days and weeks after Alice disappeared. So hard. To everyone other than Matt and Helen, those hadn’t been the days after Alice’s disappearance; they’d been the days after Isolation Day. Everyone had lost people on the outside. People weren’t sympathetic in the way they would normally be to someone who’d lost a child. Because she was still on the outside, right? Still alive?

Matt didn’t know. That’s what he tried to tell everyone. That’s what no one seemed to understand. They didn’t know what was on the outside. For all they knew, the rest of the world was gone and their little town was the only thing left in the universe.

Helen and Matt had tried to hold it together for four years after Isolation Day. No, not Isolation Day. Screw Isolation Day. To Matt, it would always be Alice Day.

They’d tried, they really had, but it had been too difficult. They were constantly seeing reminders of Alice everywhere they looked, especially in each other. So they stopped talking, stopped having sex, stopped spending time together. It didn’t even surprise Matt when Helen told him there was someone else, that she was leaving him. A huge part of him was angry, of course. A smaller, more reasonable part was actually happy for her. Good for Helen. At least someone would make it out of this.

Still, it stung when he saw her in town. So he stopped going out.

Frank still came over fairly often. They had a weekly card game scheduled with a few other guys, but it was canceled more often than not. Matt felt a little guilty about leaving Frank behind when he killed himself, but, really, the man had Sophie. He was losing a friend, yeah, but it wasn’t like he was losing a kid.

Matt had finally decided on how to do it a week ago, and today was the day. He had a little gas stowed away in the garage, and he’d kept the engine maintained. He was fairly certain the truck would start. Yeah, it was going to be overly dramatic and loud, but who cared? If he was going out, he was going to do it big.

He duct taped large rocks to his arms and legs and got in the trunk. The engine roared to life on the first try. He drove through town, windows down, letting the wind hit him in the face, and for a moment he was happy. People looked at him as he drove. They hadn’t seen a running vehicle in years. There were a lot of mouths hanging open as he passed through town.

He drove to Volunteer Park and stopped the car at the end of the parking lot right by the small dock where they’d loaded passengers onto the riverboats back before Alice Day. He took one last look around his town and said one final prayer. Then he stomped on the gas, crashed through the dock, and splashed down into the Mississippi River.

He’d picked the spot because of its depth. The truck hit the water with an impact that momentarily dazed Matt. He watched with detached interest as the truck sank and water poured in through the open windows.

Damn, he should have closed the windows. Having them open like that gave a man thoughts of maybe living through this.

He fought off his survival instinct and took a last breath.

As the car sank, he saw something strange floating in the water. Something that shouldn’t have floated. Scissors. He squinted and saw something on the side of them. A broken mountain. It looked almost like the symbol on Zed’s compass. And the symbol on the book.

This, Matt realized, was important. It might be something worth living for. He reached out and grabbed the scissors. Then he looked down and noticed with horror the rocks taped to his arms and legs. It would be almost impossible to swim to the surface.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to. Three people in the park had dove in after the truck.

It was a near thing, but they pulled him and the scissors to the surface before it was too late.

7.

King’s Crossing

2021

On a December evening in the seventh year of isolation, the unofficial, unelected leaders of King’s Crossing, the Rough-Shod Readers, met at the library to listen to Zed talk about the scissors.

“I believe there is a very good chance they can get us out of here,” Zed said.

This declaration was met with excited babbling around the room. Matt Campbell, the man who’d found the scissors, albeit during a suicide attempt, received a few pats on the back.

Upon being saved from drowning, Matt had brought the scissors with the broken mountain symbol to the Rough-Shod Readers who had agreed, even Frank, to hand them over to Zed to study. As upsetting as it was to present Zed with one of this new Tools, it only made sense. He was the person with the most experience using one of them.

As soon as he’d received the scissors, a change had come over Zed. After six years of quiet sulking, he had finally snapped out of it. The swagger returned to his step, as did his Cheshire Cat-like smile.

Zed continued. “Since Isolation Day, my compass has pointed to one spot anytime I ask it to locate anything outside this town. I believe it’s where the…let’s call it a barrier between us and the rest of the world is at its weakest. Using the scissors, there’s a chance we can cut through.”

They’d all heard about Zed’s tests. He’d tried cutting in various places, and the scissors managed to open strange holes in reality. The only problem was that it was impossible to tell where those holes went. All that came through were beams of white light. Zed had tried sending objects through the hole, but that didn’t accomplish much of anything. The objects fell through, the white light disappeared, and that was that. There was no telling where the things ended up. According to Zed, those holes could lead to anywhere in time or space. Or even outside of time and space.

“How do we know if you’re right?” Sophie asked.

Zed smiled at her. “I guess we try it and see.”

“Try it how?” Joe asked. “Send something else through?”

“I was thinking of sending someone,” Zed said.

A silence fell over the room.

“And there’s no way to tell?” Ellen Kramer asked. “We just send someone through and hope they make it to the other side?”

Zed spread his hands, as if to show he had nothing up his sleeves, then nodded. “Any volunteers?”

After a moment, a half-dozen shaky hands were raised, Sophie and Frank’s among them.

“Don’t be stupid,” a voice said from the back of the room. “I’m pretty sure this is my job.”

Mason didn’t usually join the Rough-Shod Readers meetings. He didn’t have an official position in the group. Frank invited him to dinner once a week or so, but other than that he kept to himself. He seemed to like farming. It was a job he could do mostly in isolation. Even when he wasn’t working, he tended to stay in his cabin in the woods near the farm. That made sense to Frank. The woods was where Mason had spent most of his life, after all. It wasn’t surprising that he felt most comfortable there.

“Is this why you asked Mason to join?” Frank asked Zed.

Zed nodded slowly. “If he’s willing.”

“Why him?” Sophie asked.

It was Mason who answered. “I’m unattached. The town needs all of you. You have people who love you.” Frank started to speak, but Mason held up a hand to silence him. “I know, I know, I do, too. But it’s different. If I don’t make it, the town will be okay. No one’s waiting up at night for me, if you know what I mean.”

“I’d like to throw my hat into the ring,” a voice from the other side of the table said. It was Matt. “The only person I love is on the other side. I want to find her. And, just like Mason, I don’t have anybody here who’d be devastated if I didn’t make it back.”

“There’s also the matter of what needs to be done on the other side once you reach it,” Zed said. “After all, what’s the use of sending someone through if they can’t make it back.”

“And you think I can make it back?” Mason asked.

“Perhaps,” Zed said. “Or you can at least find help. What I propose…” He trailed off and took a deep breath. “What I propose is sending the compass through with you. You can use it to find help.”

Frank was stunned. Zed willing to give up a Tool? He must be very desperate indeed.

Mason nodded. “I’ve got a fair amount of experience using the compass.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Zed said.

“And who’s he supposed to find on the other side?” Frank asked.

“I believe that just as a Tool is the only way out, another Tool may be the only way for someone to help put things right with this town. And I think there may just be a Tool that can do it. A Tool that has been known to destroy things created with the same power that trapped us here.” He looked pointedly at Frank. “We send Mason to the person who has the knife.”

“Christine,” Frank muttered.

“Exactly,” Zed said. “Dr. Osmond has proven herself quite capable. Between her and Mason, we just might have a chance.” He looked down at the scissors for a long moment before continuing. “There’s something else we need to discuss. Whether we should do this at all.”

His statement was met with a confused silence.

“If Mason is successful in getting Dr. Osmond’s help,” Zed continued, “and if she is able to free us, our escape could lead to something worse. It won’t be long after we’re free that the Exiles will come to claim King’s Crossing.”

The Exiles. Zed hadn’t so much as mentioned them since Isolation Day. Anytime anyone else brought them up, he grew sullen and refused to speak about it.

Matt stood up. “Wait a minute. I thought they were locked outside of time. That’s the whole reason you couldn’t save Alice, right? So they would be trapped?”

“Apparently, I was mistaken,” Zed said. “I believe our current situation proves they’ve escaped.”

Frank and Sophie locked eyes. They’d suspected as much, but they hadn’t had the heart to tell Matt his daughter had been sacrificed for nothing.

“I think it’s time you tell us what you know about the Exiles,” Frank said. “We have to understand what we’re facing.”

Zed nodded slowly. “Understand that most of what I know comes from things I’ve managed to piece together. Bits of conversation I overheard. It’s far from complete.”

“Disclaimer received,” Sophie said. “Start talking.”

He set the scissors on the table and folded his hands. He looked suddenly pale, like speaking about such things frightened him. Then he started talking.

“They are from…somewhere else. Another…I don’t know, dimension. Somewhere outside of time, at least as we know it. In many ways, they are superior to us. They can’t be hurt by anything I’ve ever discovered. They can do things that defy the laws of physics.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Frank said.

Zed nodded. “You’re not wrong. I got my powers from them. But that’s another story for another time.” He turned and looked out the large window for a moment before continuing. “Despite all their superiority, every human has one thing they do not: potential. Time gives us the ability to change. The ability to grow. For creatures without time, this is an alluring concept. If they want to change the way things are, they need that power.”

Frank had questions already, but he didn’t want to interrupt again. Zed hadn’t spoken about this before, and Frank wasn’t about to get him off track now. Sophie had once told him his best trait was knowing when to shut up, and he agreed with her assessment.

Zed continued. “Long ago, one of their kind came to our universe and hid…let’s call them batteries. Items that would collect the power, the potential, from humanity. The idea was that when the batteries were full, their kind would come and collect the batteries.”

“The batteries are the books,” Mason said.

Frank looked at him, surprised.

Zed smiled. “Very good. They hid them in places of great potential and waited. The trouble started when they collected the first book. See, their society had been peaceful. One of the benefits of the lack of time was a lack of war. But when they harvested the first book and suddenly had the potential for change, everything became different. There was a schism in their society. A war. The leaders of the losing side were exiled. They used their remaining power to come here. Their plan was to harvest all the books on Earth and use that power to return home and overthrow the ones who’d exiled them. It wasn’t until they arrived here they realized the books were hidden and they had no way to find them.”

Zed picked up the scissors and turned them in his hand as he spoke. “They did have one thing though: the Tools. The Tools are a unique creation. They contain a bit of the Exiles’ power tuned to specific purposes. But the Exiles can’t use the Tools themselves. Only humans can. It takes our potential, you see, to make them work. It’s what I’ve always loved most about the Tools. They’re the best of both our species. Their power and our potential combining to do great things.

“So, they had to recruit humans to use these Tools to help them find the books.”

“And let me guess,” Frank said. “You were one of those humans.”

Zed nodded. “I didn’t realize what I was doing. Not at first. But eventually I willingly led them to the books. They gained a lot of power and destroyed whole towns because of me. Eventually we…had a falling out.”

“Care to elaborate?” Sophie asked.

Zed looked at her sharply. “No. Suffice it to say, I vowed to stop them. I wouldn’t let them have the power. That’s why I took towns outside time. So they couldn’t access them. They are trapped within time, you see. Eventually, if the books aren’t harvested when they are full, the power begins to spill out and strange things start to happen. The trees in Sanctuary, for instance. And if you wait long enough, the power decays and fades away.”

Frank thought about that for a moment. “So the tree growing in Volunteer Park. Does that mean the book here is full?”

Zed nodded grimly. “They’ve never harvested a book as full as this one. It’s a happy accident I discovered this town before they did. Because if they harvest this town’s book, I believe they will have the power to go home.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” It was Joe who asked the question. “Wouldn’t that mean they’d leave us alone?”

Zed looked down. “When they harvest the book, King’s Crossing will cease to exist. As will all the people in it.” He let that hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “But that’s not the worst of it. When they leave this world, they’ll rip a hole in time. A hole that can’t be repaired. Then the Ones Who Sing will come through and devour all life on Earth.”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Finally, Zed said, “If we do nothing, they will eventually find other towns and harvest enough power. The result will be the same. But…I believe King’s Crossing would survive. It would be a last bastion of humanity. An ark. If we return, we potentially speed up their success and we put the town in danger. But we will also have the chance to fight them. We have some Tools. And I have a plan.”

“Okay,” Frank said. “Then we do what we’ve always done in this group. We put it to a vote.”

So, later that day, the Rough-Shod Readers gathered in a field outside town to see Mason off on his journey. They’d given him some supplies and enough money to cover him for at least a month of travel.

“There’s really no telling where I’ll end up,” Mason said. “I might go through and just fall into eternity.”

“You are truly going into the unknown,” Zed said.

“Like an astronaut,” Frank said.

“What’s an astronaut?” Mason said.

Sophie leaned over and whispered in Frank’s ear, “Are we sure he’s the guy we want to be sending?”

Frank gave her a squeeze. “I’m sure.”

Zed handed Mason the compass, and joy washed over Mason’s face. He finally had his Tool back.

“I believe in you, Mason,” Zed said.

“It’s about damn time,” Mason said.

Frank pulled Mason in for a hug, then handed him a letter. “Maybe it’ll help smooth the way with Christine. She’s not exactly the trusting sort.”

Finally, Sophie hugged Mason. “Stay safe, big guy.”

Mason smiled. “Whatever happens, I want you to know you were a really good babysitter.”

Sophie laughed. “Shut up. I was the worst.”

A few moments later, Zed cut into the ground with the scissors at the spot the compass indicated, and white light poured out.

Mason took a deep breath and jumped into the hole.

THE BOY WHO FOUND THE WATCH (PART SIX)

East Graver, Texas

1970

They stood in an empty field outside town. It was evening, and a blue dimness was falling over the land. They could see the lights of town beginning to blink on as the sunlight faded away.

“It’s too soon,” Vee grumbled. He didn’t look at Zed as he spoke. He rarely looked at Zed. It was as if he felt Zed was too low to acknowledge.

The five of them stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the town. Wilm, Vee, Rayd, San, and Zed.

Zed shuffled his feet nervously. Never once, in his nearly twenty-two years in their service, had he seen more than two of them in the same place. They’d come today because Zed called. Because he said this place was ready. And because, in all the years he’d been scouting for them, this was the first time he’d put out the call.

“You’re right, Vee,” Wilm said. “It’s ripening. But it’s not there yet.”

“Damn waste of time, if you ask me,” Rayd said, his face scrunched up in disgust.

Wilm paused for a long moment before replying. Her eyes were fixed on the town. “No…not a waste of time. Not at all.” She turned to Zed. “Would you be so kind as to use the watch, please?”

Now it was Zed’s turn to pause. They’d never before asked that of him. He nodded and reached into his pocket. He always felt nervous having the watch in plain sight around them, like they might suddenly decide he was unworthy and take it away. He had no doubt they could take it if they wanted to do so, but he would fight them. Oh, how he would fight.

He pressed the broken clock symbol and time stopped. He expanded the circle to include the four beings with him in the bubble that allowed time to pass while the rest of the world around them stopped. Once it had been difficult for him to control the bubble, to expand it beyond himself, but now he did it with merely a thought. He could make the bubble bigger if he needed to. Much bigger.

Rayd watched him warily as he so effortlessly wielded the power of the watch. They couldn’t use the watch themselves. He knew that now. That’s why they needed him.

Wilm didn’t look at Zed. Her eyes were on the sky. After a moment, she smiled. “There,” she said, pointing up.

Zed squinted upward and after a moment, he saw what she was indicating. Way up in the sky were three tiny streaks of white. And they were moving. Zed felt a moment of panic. He mentally checked the bubble he’d made. Had he accidentally expanded it so high? No, it ended just above Vee’s head. Vee was the tallest of them by a good three inches. But if time was stopped, how were those white streaks moving?

Vee grunted, and Zed looked over to see the big man looking into the sky, shaking his head. “Three of them. And a thousand feet up. Damn waste of our—”

Wilm shushed him. “Listen.”

Zed did listen. And after a long moment he thought he heard something. The creatures high above were making a sound. It was almost musical.

There was something terrible about that sound. Something unnatural.

When Zed could barely stand it any longer, he said, “What are they?”

Wilm clucked her tongue. “Nasty creatures, unworthy of a name. They live outside time.”

“I’ve never seen them before. And I’ve spent plenty of time outside time.” He didn’t want to admit how long.

San answered, her electric glare turning on him. “That’s because you weren’t in the right place. They’re attracted to the power that gets built up in these special towns. As the place ripens, more of them gather. The more of the creatures, the more ready it is.”

“And there’s only three of them,” Rayd said, picking up the thread. “So, as you might be able to guess, this place isn’t ready.”

“Only three, yes,” Wilm said, the excitement coming through in her voice, “but they are here. How long since we’ve seen any of them?”

It was Zed’s job to hunt down these places. They told him the watch would let him know when they were ready. So he’d called them here. Even though he knew this town wasn’t yet ripe. He’d done it because there were things he had to know, and they’d long ago stopped giving him answers.

He drew in a deep breath before speaking. He was afraid to ask, afraid how they might react, afraid they might even take away his watch—or at least try—but this was the whole reason he’d brought them here. “What if it were ripe?”

Wilm looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

“What if it was ready? You said yourself you haven’t found one that was ready in a long time. What would my reward be?”

Vee turned and growled at him. “Reward? You have the watch. What more do you want?”

Zed forced himself to shrug, as if he didn’t care about the watch. “Yes, I already have that. I’m asking for…an incentive.”

Wilm licked her lips. “Zed, if you find us what we’re looking for, we’ll give you gifts beyond your dreams.”

Zed swallowed hard. “Care to be more specific?”

Wilm smiled. “You are feisty today, aren’t you? All right. We’ll stop you from aging. Make you unkillable. Allow you to transport yourself anywhere you wish to go in an instant. Give you the power to see into the minds of men. Is that specific enough?”

Zed couldn’t help but hide the disappointment on his face.

Wilm’s lip curled in a humorless smile. “You want more. Name it.”

He knew what he wanted. The pocket watch was just a tiny piece of the power each and every one of them wielded. It was a part of them, not something external that could be lost or stolen. “I want to be one of you.”

It was silent for a moment, then San let out a piercing laugh. “Is he serious?”

Zed felt his face grow hot. “You said you need my help. This is my price.”

Rayd mumbled, “What a waste of time.”

Wilm smiled indulgently, as if speaking to a slow child. “Zed. What you’re asking is not only impossible, it’s unfathomable. Like a flea wishing to be a man. The fire of distant stars flows in our veins. That is not something which can be gifted. We offer you the ability to live longer than any man has before, as well as other things. You could be rich. Famous. Whatever you want. Let that be enough.”

Zed’s heart went cold. They’d laughed at him. They hadn’t even considered his fondest wish for a moment. But he nodded anyway. “Fine. I agree to your terms. Are you ready for your town?”

San’s laugh reached an even higher pitch. “He thinks it’s that easy!”

While her laugh still hung in the air, Zed pulled back the bubble freezing the four of them.

He looked at them for a long while, making sure one of them wouldn’t break through and come after him, the way Rayd had on Wilm’s porch so long ago. But he’d gotten better since then. So much better.

Hesitantly, he expanded the bubble, allowing them back into it. San was still laughing.

He breathed a sigh of relief. They hadn’t noticed. Though there was something in Rayd’s eye. He was looking at Zed strangely, like he knew something was off. But it didn’t matter. Zed was committed to what he intended to do.

He concentrated hard and shifted the bubble, pulling it away from the four and expanding it, making it larger than he ever had before. He put the bubble around the entire town.

When the bubble was in place, Zed relaxed. All there was to do now was wait.

So he waited. He waited in the town, among the people. He kept to himself mostly, but he interacted a bit more as the years went by and the town grew accustomed to their strange new circumstances. They eventually grew comfortable spreading out and going into the frozen world for supplies. To Zed’s surprise, many in town liked and respected him, as he suggested possible solutions to various problems. It gave him a little thrill to have people turn to him in times of trouble. He’d never experienced anything quite like it.

Slowly, more and more of the strange, featherless bird creatures gathered in the skies above the town. And eventually, they started attacking. This concerned Zed, because it was something he hadn’t planned for, and he thought he had planned for everything. He eventually discovered he could protect himself from the creatures by creating a second bubble, a bubble that surrounded only him and moved himself ever-so-slightly deeper into time. It wasn’t far enough that it impaired his interactions with the townspeople, but it was enough to confuse the time-sensitive creatures. But there was a problem. Holding one bubble was easy for him now, but holding two bubbles took concentration. Eventually, he figured out a mental trick. He took the second bubble and mentally put it in a box and sealed it shut. The box was in his mind, but he represented it with a real wooden box that he carried with him. This mental trick made things much easier. In fact, he figured he probably could have expanded his protective bubble much further if he’d been so inclined, maybe even large enough to cover the entire town. But he didn’t see the use in that. These people were doomed anyway.

So he waited years, watching the number of streaks in the sky grow and watching his fellow townspeople be slowly picked off one by one as the creatures descended each night.

Finally, when the sky was thick with the things, when there were only a handful of people left alive in the town, he decided it was enough. He walked to the edge of town where the four Exiles remained frozen and expanded the bubble to include them.

San was still laughing, but her laughter stopped abruptly. It was evening now.

“Impossible,” Wilm muttered. “You stopped time without us knowing?”

“Wilm,” Vee said sharply. His eyes were on the sky. “Look.”

Wilm turned her head upward and her eyes widened as she looked at the hundreds of white streaks above.

“I think it’s fair to say the town is ripe now,” Zed said.

“How long?” Wilm asked, a tiny quiver in her voice. “How long was time paused?”

“Five years, near as I can reckon it,” Zed said. He dissipated the bubble, bringing them all back into time.

“Wilm,” Rayd said. His voice was thick with emotion. “Who cares how long it’s been? Can’t you feel it? The town is ripe. Bring Joseph.”

Wilm nodded and closed her eyes for a moment. Then another man was standing next to them. Zed was startled not only by the sudden appearance but also by the man’s identity. It was the man who’d driven Zed from Santa Cruz to Wilm’s cabin in the mountains that day so long ago.

The man was even more startled. He stumbled around in confusion for a moment before his eyes settled on Wilm and he realized what had happened.

Wilm looked at him, urgency in her eyes. “Joseph, listen carefully. This town is ripe. We need you to locate the book immediately, please.”

He nodded vacantly. Zed felt a touch sorry for him, not having a moment to wrap his head around what was happening to him. But just a touch.

Joseph pulled something out of his pocket and Zed nearly gasped. It was a compass. But on the back of it was the broken clock symbol. There were other Tools. Zed suddenly felt dizzy. There was a familiar buzz in the air, the same as when he used the pocket watch, but stronger. Because the two of them were in close proximity, he realized.

Joseph glanced at the compass. “It’s this way.”

The six of them made a strange procession through town. Joseph led them through the streets like a twisted version of the Pied Piper. He stopped in front of a small house and pointed at a cellar door. “It’s down there.”

Vee grabbed the door and ripped it off its hinges. He tossed it aside and nodded for Joseph to continue.

Joseph led them into the cellar. He took a cardboard box off a shelf and pulled out an oversized, leather-bound book. It showed a symbol of a broken key on the cover.

Rayd reached for the book, but Wilm grabbed his wrist.

“No, not here,” she said. “We’ve waited so long. Let’s do this under the moon.”

Rayd nodded reluctantly, and the group moved back into the street, Joseph carrying the book.

They stopped in the middle of the street. Joseph set the book down on the blacktop and stepped slowly away.

Wilm smiled. “Okay. Now.”

The four of them reached down and each put a hand on the book.

And the world warped and twisted around them. Zed felt sicker than he’d ever felt before. It was as if a hole was being cut in reality and something terrible was sticking its head through. That something terrible, Zed realized, was the true nature of his four employers.

It was over in a moment. The book was gone. The street was gone. The town was gone. Zed, Joseph, and the four stood in an empty field.

The skin of the four beings before him glowed a golden orange. All four of them had their eyes closed and even Vee had a smile on his face.

“Where did the town go?” Zed asked.

Wilm looked up at him. She was moving slowly, as if in a drugged-out haze. “It’s gone. It never was. We’ve consumed it, past, present, and future.”

This was a terrible thing, Zed knew. But he couldn’t help feeling a bit satisfied. He’d done it, and he knew what he had to do next. He took a deep breath and spoke. “You’re happy? This is what you wanted?”

“Oh, yes,” Wilm said in a lazy voice.

“Good,” Zed said. “Then I’d like my reward.”

CHAPTER SEVEN: REUNION

1.

Rural Western Wisconsin

January 2022

They stood in a patch of woods about three miles from the Mississippi. The area was strangely undeveloped. No major highways passed through here. Even the smaller roads were scarce. There were no farms. It was almost as if people were consciously—or perhaps unconsciously—avoiding this area.

Christine looked around with a critical eye. “This is it? This is where the town’s supposed to be?”

“It’s where the town is,” Mason said. “We just can’t see it. Or it’s on another plane of existence or something. But it’s here. Trust me. I was in it less than two weeks ago.”

Christine put her hands on her hips and grunted noncommittally.

Will winked at her like he always did when he was trying to reassure her.

It had been a long, strange trip. For all of them. Just three days ago, Christine had been happily plying her trade of podiatry in a private practice, enjoying living with her husband, and anticipating the visits with her son Trevor when he travelled home from college.

Then he’d shown up. Mason.

What was he to her, anyway? Stepson? No, that wasn’t right. He wasn’t anything. He was just the son of her ex-husband. If she even believed his crazy story. Which, God help her, she had to admit she did.

Mason had told them about Sanctuary, about how Jake had used a book with strange powers to create a safe place for people, a place from which they could never return. Christine had felt a stab of jealousy when he’d told them about Logan, his mother. But she couldn’t stay angry long. It seemed as though she and Jake had both accepted the reality that he would probably never return, and they’d both moved on.

Then came the hardest part. Mason told about the strange creatures in the forest and the people who’d attacked Sanctuary. He’d told of Zed’s final battle with a creature named Vee. He’d told of Jake’s death.

Mason had also explained everything that had happened since. Escaping Sanctuary with Frank and a woman named Sophie, going to King’s Crossing, and being separated from the Earth itself. He’d told of the years they’d spent cut off from the outside world.

Christine listened to all that, but her ability to feel and react appropriately had somehow shut off when she’d heard the details of Jake’s death. She’d long suspected it, but the confirmation hit her hard. She felt numb.

Will was great, as he always was in a crisis. He supported her. He held her. This man who’d killed for her and her son, who’d never questioned her love even as she hoped night after night for the return of her first husband. Deep down, Christine wondered if maybe Will had been the tiniest bit relieved to learn of Jake’s death. But no. She wouldn’t think that of him.

But she couldn’t wallow. Frank was alive. That was cause enough for rejoicing. He and thousands of other people needed help. And Christine would help them if she could. There was something else in that town. Zed. She’d feared his return for so long. Now she almost anticipated what it would be like facing him again. It made her wonder if a dark part of her didn’t so much fear Zed as miss the fight against him.

Will turned to Mason. He looked at him strangely. Will was always a little slower to react to the weird than Christine. She knew when he looked at Mason he saw a distorted, elderly reflection of his stepson, Trevor. It was disconcerting to Christine, too, but Will was having a more difficult time processing it.

“So what do we do?” Will asked.

Mason smiled sheepishly. “Frank said you’d know. He said, if anyone can figure it out, it’s Will.”

Will thought about that for a moment, then nodded. “You mind?” he asked Christine.

She paused. She knew she had to do it, but she felt strangely possessive about the knife. That was silly, she knew. He’d give it back in a second. He always did.

She passed it to him, handle first.

He took it and an easy smile grew on his face. “Yeah, it likes this place. It’s singing to me something fierce.”

“You know what to do?” Christine asked.

Will nodded, a wide grin on his face now. He marched to a spot twenty feet away. “Here,” he said. He held out the knife to Christine. “You want to do the honors?”

He knew her too well. She snatched the knife out of his hand. “What do I do?”

“This is like a—I don’t know—a tether point. You just need to cut it. Push the broken clock symbol and swing the knife like you’re cutting a line.”

She pressed the button and felt the familiar click. “Okay. Let’s do this.” She swung the knife in front of her and was surprised when it stopped against something hard, sending a jolt up her arm. “There’s something here.”

Will nodded. “The knife can feel it, even though we can’t.”

She swung it again. And again. And again. On the fourth try, there was an audible snap.

And suddenly, they were standing on a paved road.

2.

King’s Crossing

Another Christmas had just passed and that always made people grumpy. Frank understood. It seemed the only function of holidays now was to remind people of the things they’d lost. Family. Friends. And—less important but still annoying—candy! It wasn’t uncommon to run across a group talking in reverent tones and using words like Hershey’s and Ben and Jerry’s and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

Frank felt the loss of those things. But maybe not as acutely as the others. He’d spent seven years in prison, followed by who-knew-how-long in the Away eating only the flesh of the Unfeathered, before this current isolation. He was used to coping, and at times coping with far less.

He arranged the few remaining boxes in the storeroom for the thousandth time, verifying everything was in its place. Of course it was. There was so little left here he probably would have noticed at a glance if anything was missing. They still had a nice supply of canned beets. So there was that.

Still, he came here every day. His empire had shrunk substantially over the last seven years, but he felt possessive of it.

A frantic pounding on the door roused him from his thoughts.

Odd. No one knocked on this door. Not ever. That was part of what he liked about coming here. When he was here, he was forgotten.

He marched to the door and pulled it open. Garrett, one of the police officers in town, was standing there. Frank’s first thought was that something must be wrong. Maybe someone was hurt. Had Matt tried to kill himself again, maybe succeeded this time? Then he noticed the look on Garrett’s face. The police officer wore a wide smile, and his eyes were bright and happy.

“Frank,” he said, and Frank could have sworn there were tears in the man’s eyes. “It’s happened. It’s finally happened. We’re back.” His message delivered, Garrett ran into the unusually crowded street, letting out a whoop as he went.

Garrett hadn’t said what had happened. He hadn’t needed too. Frank understood.

Mason had succeeded.

Frank stumbled down the concrete steps of the old warehouse and into the street, ignoring the bite of the cold January air through his tee shirt. Patty Gossel was the first person he saw. He grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Are they sure?” he asked. “The mist’s gone?”

She nodded furiously. “It’s gone. Jim Franklin walked a mile past where it used to be, and nothing stopped him. There’s some gas at the police station. Word is they’re filling up one of the old cruisers to venture out farther.”

He pulled her in for a hug, which she returned with just as much enthusiasm. Frank wasn’t sure he’d ever exchanged a word with her before, but that hardly mattered now.

The streets were filling as the news spread. It was strange to Frank. After seven years of being trapped in town, the first thing they did on their release was push closer together to celebrate. Maybe it made a certain type of sense. They’d been through something together, something no outsider would ever understand. And they needed that one last time to be together in a way they never would again.

Frank followed the flow of the crowd moving toward downtown, toward Volunteer Park, toward the Mississippi. He felt an arm slip around him and turned to see Sophie. He pulled her close in a tight hug.

“Can you believe it?” Frank asked. “The old bastard did it!”

“Probably my babysitting influence,” Sophie replied, a wide smile on her face.

They had just reached Volunteer Park when a cheer went up in the crowd. The people parted to let the new arrival through.

“You did it, Mason!” someone called.

“Tell us what happened!” someone else yelled.

But Mason didn’t reply. He just kept walking forward, acknowledging them with a nod and a sheepish smile. Frank felt his heart swell as he saw his two old friends behind Mason.

Will had a bit of gray in his hair now, and it seemed to Frank he’d put on fifteen or twenty pounds. Christine had gone the other direction, becoming thinner, perhaps a little too thin. Despite the lines on their faces, they still had that old spark in their eyes.

He ran forward, pushing past the other onlookers, and embraced them.

They held their group hug for a long time, none of them saying anything.

Finally, Frank pulled away and looked at Christine. “You heard about Jake?”

She nodded, tears filling her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I tried to save him.”

“I know,” Christine said.

Frank felt someone nudge his shoulder. He turned and put his arm around the woman behind him. “Sophie, this is Christine and Will Osmond.” He grinned at his two friends. “And this is Sophie Hinkle. My wife.”

Christine’s jaw dropped. “No way. Frank Hinkle got married?”

Mason rubbed his chin. “Yeah, sorry about that. He made me promise not to tell.”

Frank said, “No way I was going to miss seeing that look on your face.”

Handshakes and introductions followed. There were plenty of other people who wanted to meet Christine and Will, and plenty who wanted to shake the hand of Mason Hinkle, hero of King’s Crossing.

Frank didn’t know how long they’d been standing around basking in the presence of their fellow townspeople. It might have been five minutes, it might have been an hour. All he knew was he didn’t want it to end. Not yet.

So, of course, it did.

A voice boomed through the crowd. “My people.”

They all turned toward the voice. Zed was standing in a pavilion, using it as a make-shift stage. He was holding the book with the broken man symbol.

“Your lives are in danger,” Zed said. “The decisions we make in the next few minutes will determine whether we live or we die.”

Christine said, “I really hate that guy.”

3.

“This should be a time for celebration,” Zed said. “I would like nothing more than for us all to revel in each other’s company. We’ve waited so long for this moment. And we should be allowed to enjoy it. We’re free. However, our freedom could also be our downfall.”

Sophie squinted up at Zed. The sun was behind him, shining in such a way that he almost seemed to glow. She wondered for a moment if he’d planned it that way. Who was she kidding? Of course he had.

His voice filled the park, as if amplified. Sophie remembered Frank’s stories about how Zed used to control the crowds in Rook Mountain.

She turned and saw Frank was looking at her.

“You’ve never seen him like this,” he said.

Sophie turned back toward Zed. They’d spent so much time with him over the past seven years. He’d sat in the Rough-Shod Readers meetings with them. Sophie and Frank had often speculated about whether he’d somehow changed.

Seeing him standing up there, she had a sinking feeling in her stomach and she knew he hadn’t. Seven years? That was nothing to Zed. The man claimed to have waited nearly a thousand while Sugar Plains, Illinois slowly decayed into Sanctuary. He hadn’t changed at all. The true Zed, this Zed, had merely been hibernating, waiting for his moment to come alive.

Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, though. Maybe they needed the real Zed right now.

“For seven years we’ve been hidden away,” Zed continued. “Yes, we’ve been locked away from the rest of the world. My good friend Frank Hinkle used to be a lock builder, and he once told me the name of the type of lock that can only be opened from either side with a key. A deadlock, wasn’t that what it was called, Frank? This town was locked away from the rest of the world as if with a deadlock. It trapped us, yes, but it also kept things out. The things that were chasing me. The things I warned some of you about so long ago.”

Sophie’s eyes scanned the crowd. They were eating it up. Every eye but hers seemed to be fixed on Zed. She saw her boss at the library, Joe, his jaw set with determination. She saw Matt Campbell, his eyes wide.

“Make no mistake, they are coming for us, and the world will pay the price.” He leaned forward and spread out his hands to them, showing his vulnerability. “I have one question for you, my townspeople, who have stood so strong through everything that’s happened. Will you stand with me one more time? Will you help me save the world? Will you fight?”

He stopped, letting the silence hang in the air. The atmosphere was electric with tension.

To Sophie’s surprise, it was Mason who stepped forward.

“No,” he said. His voice sounded weak compared with Zed’s, but it carried through the crowd like a shockwave. The man who had just saved them was now standing up to Zed.

Zed’s smile wavered. “You don’t think it’s important to save the world?”

Mason licked his lips. “I think it’s important to keep your promises. And you made us a promise. Before the final fight, you promised to bring my parents here. And Sophie’s sister.”

Sophie’s heart nearly stopped. That had been so long ago. So much had happened. She hadn’t dared hope.

Mason waved toward the book in Zed’s left hand. “Come on, don’t tell me you haven’t figured out how to use that thing over the past seven years.”

Zed slowly nodded. “I have learned. I may be able to do what you ask.”

“Not what I ask. What you promised.”

Zed nodded curtly. “Yes, yes. Mason, Frank, Sophie, come with me.”

They followed him to the shed. Christine and Will came with them, even though they hadn’t been asked. That seemed fair. It was Christine’s husband—or ex-husband, Sophie was never clear on that—who might be back from the dead in a few moments after all.

Sophie had a hard time concentrating while she walked. Thoughts were slippery. One image filled her mind. Heather. Not the picture they’d shown on the news after she’d been killed. Heather as a girl, her hair flying in the wind like it had when they’d dared each other to lean off their parents’ balcony and yell sanctuary. Could Zed actually do it? Could Sophie be moments away from seeing her sister again?

And if so, what would her sister be like? If Zed pulled her here from just before the murder, she’d be a confused sixteen-year-old who’d suddenly jumped nearly twenty years into the future.

But that didn’t matter. She’d be alive.

Zed led them into the shed, and Sophie saw the small twisted tree was still there, same as it had been on the day they’d pulled Rayd through. It didn’t seem to have grown at all since then.

Zed pulled the door shut and looked around the room at each of them. “If I do this, I have to know you’re with me. You have to join in this fight. No matter what comes of it.”

He looked at Sophie for confirmation, and she nodded. God help her, she nodded. She didn’t hesitate, not for a moment. Anything to have Heather back.

Mason agreed just as quickly.

When Zed turned to Frank, there was a pause.

“You can do this?” Frank asked.

“Yes,” Zed said. “I believe I can. Over the years, the book slowly started to reveal itself to me. I can’t use it as well as I used the one in Sanctuary, of course. But I had a thousand years to study that one.” He flipped open the book. “We’ll start with Jake.”

Zed took a deep breath and moved his finger in a complicated shape across the page.

A hot white light suddenly burst out of the tree and an opening nearly the size of the tree trunk appeared.

“My God,” Will said. “He’s actually doing it.”

Zed shot him a look. “Please be quiet. This is rather precise work.”

Will mumbled an apology.

They all stared at the tree. The hole suddenly seemed larger than the tree itself somehow. A dark shape blocked the light coming out of the tree.

Sophie glanced at Zed. His finger seemed to be moving at impossible angles on the page.

A man fell through the hole in the tree and hit the floor with a thud.

“Jake!” Frank cried out.

And there he was. The man Sophie had seen die in the woods. Jake.

Jake lifted his head and looked around the room, confused. “What’s happening? Frank?”

Sophie had a sudden sinking feeling in her stomach. There was blood running from his ear onto the floor.

Christine gasped.

Sophie had seen him like this before. “When?” she said, staring up at Zed. “When did you pull him from? Where was he just before you brought him here?”

Zed sighed. “It was complicated. I had to get him at a very specific moment.”

“What are you talking about?” Christine asked.

“We needed to cause as little disruption as possible to the chain of events. After all, Jake died after turning Vee into a tree. We couldn’t pull him through after he was dead, of course. But we couldn’t bring him over too much before it, either. We couldn’t have Vee not be transformed, after all. That would mess up all sorts of things.”

“Wait a minute,” Frank said. “Are you saying he’s dying? You brought him over as he was dying?”

“Frank,” Jake said weakly. “I was just talking to you. Through the tree.”

Frank grabbed Zed by the collar and slammed him against the wall. “What the hell have you done?”

Zed smiled. “Please be careful. There is a time-and-space-spanning portal hanging open right next to us.”

“This is not what I asked for!” Frank spat the words in his face.

“Come on,” Zed said. “I gave you what you wanted. He’s alive. There’s always a chance he’ll stay that way. We do have a doctor in the room, after all.”

Christine was already on her knees next to Jake, cradling his head in her hands.

Jake looked up at Christine, his eyes wide. “Christine…what are you doing here? Am I home?”

“Yes,” she said. “You’re home. I’ve missed you so much.”

He nodded weakly. “Is Trevor—” Before he could finish the question, a coughing fit took him. He spasmed and coughed wildly, spraying Christine with a mist of blood.

Christine spun her head around toward Frank and Zed. “What happened to him? What’s doing this?”

It was Sophie who answered. “I was there. I saw it. He was using a book, the Sanctuary book. And he, I don’t know, he used it too hard or something. It was like something broke inside of him.”

“Wonderful,” Christine said. “Thanks for the super helpful diagnosis.”

Sophie resisted the urge to snap back at her. That wouldn’t help.

Frank slammed Zed against the wall again. “Do something! Fix this!”

Zed sighed. “I can’t.”

“Then bring him through sooner. Before he’s hurt.”

“What’s done is done. Besides, even if there was a way, I wouldn’t do it. I do that, and maybe Vee kills us all before we even get to this point in time. I won’t risk it.”

“Kills us all?” Frank asked. “I thought you couldn’t be killed.”

“Oh, it’s difficult,” Zed said, “but I can be.”

“Good to know,” Christine muttered from the floor. She reminded Sophie of Logan. Jake certainly seemed to have a type.

“Look,” Zed said, “I’ve given you a little more time with him. That’s all I can do without putting the entire world at risk. Fix him if you can. If you can’t, enjoy the last few moments before he passes on.”

Frank grabbed the book off the floor and shoved it into Zed’s hands. “There’s got to be something in there to fix it.”

“Afraid not,” Zed said.

Frank pulled Zed toward the tree. “Then I’m pushing you through. Good luck with whatever the hell’s on the other side.”

Zed sighed. “That’s quite enough.” He backhanded Frank, sending him reeling across the room.

Frank hit the wall and crumpled to the ground.

Sophie ran to him.

Frank looked up at her, his eyes wide, blood from a split lip running down his chin. “I’m okay.”

Zed took a step toward him. “You and that temper. And you don’t even have the evil little coin to blame it on this time.”

Jake started coughing again. Will held his head while Christine ran her hands along him, inspecting him for any sign of injury.

All eyes were on Jake now, but something out of the corner of her eye made Sophie turn. The door to the shed was opening.

“Um, guys,” Sophie said.

“Thought I’d find you here.” The voice was female. A tall, blond teenage girl stepped through the door. She was holding a thin sword with an air of familiarity that said she knew how to use it.

“I don’t know what you did to get King’s Crossing back here,” the young woman said, “but they are not happy. And they’re coming.”

4.

Alice looked around the room, squinting, trying to place everyone.

“Alice,” the man in the corner said. “Alice Campbell.”

She turned toward him. Something about the way he held himself was familiar. She’d only met him once before, and then only briefly, but she knew him. Her lip curled up in a half smile. “You were in our house the morning I was taken.”

The man nodded. “My name’s Frank.”

Another man stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the sword in her hands. “What is that?”

Alice had never met this man, but she knew him from Wilm’s description. She spun the sword around in her hand and held it so he could see the broken mountain symbol. “Come on, Zed. You of all people should recognize a Tool.”

He squinted at her. “You work for them?”

“I do. Well, I did. I guess I just unofficially resigned when I came here to warn you.”

Up until about two hours ago, she’d been enjoying a day off, which as usual involved hanging out in a small town waiting for her next assignment. In this case, it had been Rupert Falls, Idaho. The town was a dud. One of the lower level scouts had suspected it of being a place of power, of having a book.

This particular scout was a fifty-three-year-old with white hair down to his shoulders. He passed the message through the official channels, but Alice watched him through the whole process. He’d never seen her, of course, and had no idea who the random teenage girl was at the coffee shop. Or the movie theater. Or the church. She’d kept a low profile and he hadn’t looked at her twice any of those times. No doubt he had no idea he was passing the message to someone nearly forty years his junior. But that was part of the reason she was so effective. Nobody ever suspected who she really was.

She’d investigated the situation and followed the checklist. Strange but scientifically explainable land form or weather pattern? A history of showing up in folklore and historical documents more than should be expected for a town of its size? An unusually small percentage of residents move out of town? A large number of residents who do leave town end up in powerful positions?

Rupert Falls was borderline on three of the four, so she understood why the guy had reported it. It made sense on an intellectual level. But this town didn’t have the right feel. She didn’t know how to explain it. She could just feel when it was right.

So, she’d gotten some time off while she waited for her next assignment. She hoped the downtime would last a while. If not, she could always Pull Back a few times so she could relive the days of relaxation all over again before going back to work. She’d gotten pretty good at Pulling Back. When she was a little kid, she’d tugged on the rope in her mind. Now she just sort of eased it back, leaned against it until time rolled back to where she wanted it to be. It still burned in her mind a little when she did it, but she didn’t mind the pain. It had gotten so she kind of liked it. She could do it without the bosses having a clue. They thought they still had her locked down on that front, and she played it up like she never used it without their permission, even asking, begging for permission sometimes, and pouting when she didn’t get it. But it was almost a reflex now. She didn’t even have to picture the rope most of the time. She just mentally leaned back.

Then, on the second day of her time off, all hell had broken loose. One minute she’d been in the theater watching some dumb superhero movie about a guy with a green ring fighting a guy with a yellow ring, and the next she was in Wilm’s cabin, a furious Wilm staring down at her.

“Somehow they got out,” Wilm said without preamble.

Alice had no idea what Wilm was talking about and said as much.

“Your people,” Wilm said, the disgust clear on her face. “King’s Crossing.”

Holy hell, Alice thought. They’d done it. It had to be the Tool she sent through. It had to be.

There was a crash and the stomping of feet that could only mean Vee was entering the house. After all these years, all the time she’d spent out there on her own, all the creeps she’d faced down and scrapes she’d gotten in, and even with her magic sword, she had to admit: Vee still scared the hell out of her.

He came through the door, his armless torso almost too large to squeeze through the standard size frame.

“When are we leaving?” he asked.

“As soon as San gets here,” Wilm said. “Shouldn’t be long.”

“Good,” Vee said. “I’m going to tear Zed’s head off.”

Alice resisted the urge to ask how Vee intended to rip anyone’s head off without any hands.

A moment later, the statuesque, raven-haired San stepped into the room, as quiet as Vee was loud.

“We ready to go?” she asked.

Wilm nodded. “Let’s begin.”

Alice knew Wilm was about to teleport them. She had to act. She took a deep breath and Pulled Back to one day before. It was a slightly risky move, but it couldn’t be helped. She needed to get to King’s Crossing. And if they lost track of her, they couldn’t teleport her to Wilm’s cabin. At least she thought they couldn’t.

She drove all day, through the night, and into the next day, making it to King’s Crossing in a cool nineteen hours. Plenty of time.

Then she waited for the town to reappear, and, when it did, she headed for the shed. She knew it would have to be the shed. That’s where the tree was, and the tree might be the people of King’s Crossing’s only advantage. And the book. If they had figured out how to use it. Now she was in the shed, facing these people, some of whom she used to know and some she’d never met. If this crew was King’s Crossing’s best shot, Alice didn’t like their chances.

Zed smiled at her. “I used to have your job, you know. I knew a lot of others who did, too. It never ends well.”

“It wasn’t my choice,” Alice said. “They drafted me.”

Mason took a step forward. “We tried to save you. We really did.”

Jake moaned.

Alice turned and looked at him. “What’s the matter with him?”

“He’s dying,” Zed said. “He used a book, one of their books. In the end, it used him up.”

Before she could answer, there was a cracking sound like thunder.

Alice gripped her sword. “Okay, Zed, I hope you have a plan. Because they’re here.”

THE MAN WITH THE WATCH (PART ONE)

Rook Mountain

1983

Zed met with his fellow Toolsmen and Toolswomen in a small diner on the outskirts of town. They sat around a long table. Zed had slipped the owner one thousand dollars to close the restaurant and leave them alone. He sat at the head of the table, partly because he’d called the meeting and partly because he had achieved things the others hadn’t. He was one of them, but he was also the best of them. The first among equals, some might say.

He’d done what the others had failed to do. He’d brought their masters a ripe and ready town—not once, but four times now— and he’d been rewarded accordingly. As far as he knew, the rest of them around the table were normal humans. Which meant they were killable. But they also had Tools, most of which Zed had never seen with his own two eyes. It would be stupid to attempt to kill them outright.

It hadn’t been easy to bring the group together. Their masters were careful to keep them isolated. But over the past decade, Zed had slowly wormed his way into the network of communication, asking a question here and another there. Each carefully crafted to be innocent on their own but adding up to something more. The beautiful thing about the network of informants, the vast majority of whom didn’t carry a Tool, was that they each had so little information about each other that they couldn’t gossip about the inquisitive bald man who showed up a bit more frequently than he should.

The others around the table looked nervous. They’d come because he’d called. They didn’t know each other, but they all knew him. Knew of him, anyway. What he’d done.

Cindy, a woman with black hair piled on her head in an unfashionable beehive, was the first to speak after they were seated. “You gonna tell us what’s going on?”

Zed smiled. He’d been doing that more and more lately. He’d found that he’d mellowed with age—he was technically nearly one hundred now after spending so long outside of time— and he found things humorous that he would have once found annoying. Besides, he’d learned the disarming power of a well-placed smile. And now, with all of them gathered in one place, he was feeling a little giddy. It was making his head swim.

“Before we get down to business, let’s take a moment to enjoy this,” he said. He closed his eyes, feeling the electric energy in the air. The feeling of power. All the Tools in one place.

When he opened his eyes, they were all staring at him blankly. They couldn’t feel it, he realized. His heart sank a bit. He’d thought these people were like him, and maybe they were, a little. But if they couldn’t feel it in the air, the immense power, then they weren’t tuned into the Tools.

He sighed and decided he might as well begin. “Thank you for coming to hear my proposal. I’d like to start by laying our cards out on the table.” With that, he took out his pocket watch and set it on the Formica in front of him.

A few of them gasped. Most had never seen another Tool before. They might not even be aware others existed.

Slowly, they all followed suit. Henry, the bearded man at the foot of the table was the first. He set his knife on the table. A handheld mirror soon joined it. And a key. Then a lighter. Then Joseph laid down his compass. Then Rachel set down her hammer.

All the Tools were on the table but one, the only one that had been in plain sight since the start.

Zed looked at Donald, a man with stark-white hair. He clutched a cane with the broken clock symbol in his hand.

“You all may not know this, but Donald has a special role in our organization. He’s what you might call…quality assurance.”

“What do you mean?” Joseph asked. The man looked at Zed with a bit of awe. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Joseph kept aging, and Zed didn’t. Zed considered the man an idiot. His compass was as critical to helping their masters as Zed’s watch. He should have demanded a bigger reward, like Zed had.

“That cane of his can sense other Tools. So Donald’s job is to track us. To watch us. To make sure we do as we’re told.”

Donald grimaced, but he didn’t deny it. He took a look around and saw hard looks coming at him from all directions. He reluctantly set his cane on the table.

Zed graciously nodded his thanks. He turned to the others and said, “I’ve been thinking a lot recently about our role. And I was curious if some of you might be as tired as I am of being sent out to pick ripe towns like migrant workers pick oranges.”

It was so quiet Zed could hear the slight wheeze in Donald’s breathing.

When no one spoke, Zed continued. “There is quite a lot of power in these towns. Perhaps we shouldn’t be so eager to hand them over to our masters. People who don’t trust us enough to give us the barest of information.”

Henry shook his head slowly. “You’re crazy. You want to go up against the Exiles, but you’re afraid to do it alone, is that it?”

Zed’s smile widened. “Yes. It is. They would crush me like a bug.”

Cindy tilted her pale face at him. “So you want us to die with you?”

“Not exactly. I know I can’t beat them alone, but I believe the Tools are more than the sum of their parts. If we all worked together, we would have a chance.” He checked their blank faces before continuing. “There’s something else. The power our bosses are trying to collect seems to be learning to protect itself from the Tools. Isn’t that right, Joseph?”

Joseph paused for a moment, then nodded. “The first town you brought me to, East Gravers, Texas, the compass led us right to the book. But the last couple…it hasn’t been so easy. We searched for days. We had to be very close to the book before it even registered on the compass.”

Donald scowled at Zed. “What’s that have to do with any of this?”

Zed was honestly disappointed the others couldn’t see what he could see. “It means we’re nearing the end of our usefulness. The bosses only keep us around to use the Tools. If the Tools aren’t going to help them reach their goals, they don’t need us. It’s only starting with the compass, but I’m thinking long term here. Let’s take the power while we can.”

“I can’t believe you brought us here for this!” Joseph said. If Joseph wasn’t on board, this was not going well.

Zed held up his hand. “Please. Hear me out. I’m not advocating killing them. Merely…negotiating a profit-sharing arrangement.” He turned to Joseph. “You can’t tell me it feels good to know they could take that compass away at any time. We need to have a little power of our own.”

“Says the man who reads minds and can’t be killed.” It was Rachel. She was the youngest of them. She’d only had that hammer of hers for five years.

“That’s borrowed power, too,” Zed said. “Don’t think they can’t take it away. But there is one kind of power we do have.” He tapped the pocket watch. “Knowledge. We each know how to use one of these Tools. They’ve kept us away from each other so we don’t share, but I suggest we talk about our Tools. We know what the compass does for them, but what about the other Tools? If we have all the information in one place, I’ll bet we can find a way to use it against them.”

No one said anything. They were all looking at him in disbelief.

“I’ll start,” he continued. “This pocket watch can stop time. Even better, it can create pockets where time moves in different ways and rates. It’s how I’ve been able to get the towns ready. I take them out of time and let them ripen. Ten or twenty years go by in an instant.” He looked around at them. “Who’s next?”

After a long silence, Henry picked up his knife. “This is my knife, and I’m thinking about jamming it into your heart.”

Zed considered saying that wouldn’t do much of anything, but thought better of it. “Come on, Henry. Information is power.”

Henry twirled the knife lazily in his hand. “Here’s what bothers me, Zed. You had to know all of us wouldn’t go along with this. I doubt you believed any of us would. You also knew you’d be a dead man if word of this got back to the bosses. So why ask us in the first place?”

Zed waited, feeling the eyes of the others upon him. He’d half-hoped it would go the other way, but he’d known it wouldn’t. That was okay. Because this was his moment. This was when he stopped being the boy who found the watch and started being the man who owned it.

When the silence was so heavy in the air Zed knew one of them was sure to break it, he spoke. “Henry, you misunderstand the situation. I’m not asking. I’m telling. Consider the possibility I’m offering or face the reality of being my enemy.”

“Your enemy?” Cindy was half standing now.

Henry picked up his knife off the table and twirled it in his hands. “I owe the Exiles everything. We all do. They gave us our lives. Made us what we are. And now I’m going to take the Tool they gave me and see if you really are unkillable.”

Zed leaned back in his chair and reached casually for the pocket watch. “That’s the difference between me and the rest of you. They gave you your Tools. I took mine. Now I’ll take yours.”

He hit the button on the pocket watch.

Fifty years passed in an instant.

When he returned to time—many years later for Zed, but only a moment later in reality—he was alone. He sat for a long while, just looking at their empty seats, his anger simmering. The last fifty years hadn’t gone the way he’d planned. Not at all. Fifty years locked out of time and what did he have to show for it?

Worse, his work wasn’t done. The harder phase was next.

And then, with no warning, the harder phase was sitting right in front of him, in the seat Henry had occupied only moments ago. He hadn’t seen her appear. It was as if she’d been here all along. The look on her face was more troubled than angry.

“Hello, Wilm,” he said. “You made it here fast.”

She shrugged. “Please. You think the others didn’t tell us about your little meeting? I decided to let it play out to see what you were up to, but I never expected…” Her voice trailed off for a moment. “I came when I felt you use the watch. Vee, San, and Rayd will have felt it, too. They’ll be here soon, I expect, and they won’t be as eager for discussion as I am. Vee in particular would love the opportunity to hurt you. So let’s see if we can get this sorted out.” She leaned forward and folded her hands on the table. “What did you do with them?”

“I’d hoped to simply stop time and take their Tools.” Zed realized he was clutching the watch very tightly. “It seems they were more closely bonded to their respective objects than I assumed. When I stopped time, I found their Tools unmovable. It was rather frustrating. So, I changed my strategy. I brought them outside time and let them live out the rest of their lives, hoping the bond would be broken when they died.”

Wilm’s face was even, but Zed saw a fury behind her eyes. “Not the people. There are plenty of people. What did you do with the Tools?”

Zed frowned. “They hid them. Turns out they were very good at hiding. I expect they used that compass to find places I’d never look. I searched for them for years, but…” It hurt admitting his failure to Wilm. “Anyway, my colleagues are all dead, some by natural causes and others not so much. The Tools are lost in Rook Mountain somewhere, I’d imagine. Which makes it all the more frustrating that I can’t find them.”

Wilm’s already ghostly face turned a shade paler. “You realize that’s a problem? We sense the Tools when they’re used. But if our servants are dead, they won’t be using them.”

“That is a problem, then.”

Wilm sighed. “Do you have a solution in mind? Offer it up. Otherwise, hand over the watch before the others get here. They might decide to let you live.”

Zed said nothing.

“Those powers of yours, your long life, it can all be taken away.”

Zed grinned at her. “That’s why I’m doing this. I seem to remember you laying hands on me to grant me these powers. I’m betting you have to do the same to take them away.”

“That’s a big bet. When the others arrive—“

“They’re not coming,” Zed said. “Or rather, they are coming, but it’s not going to help you any.”

Wilm squinted at him. “What have you done?”

“I’ve taken us outside of time. Very far outside of time, in fact. I call it the Away.”

She shook her head slowly, and Zed thought maybe he saw the tiniest flicker of fear in her eyes. “That’s not possible. I’d have been able to feel it if you used the watch.”

“Yeah, I’ve been working on that. Seems I’ve found a way around it.”

She looked around suspiciously.

“Oh, you knew there were layers within time, didn’t you?” Zed asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Well, there are, and we’re in a deep one. I wanted to make sure we had time to talk.”

“Fine,” Wilm said. Her eyes were hard little things now. For a moment, Zed thought she might let the illusion of her humanity fall away and show him what she really was. But she maintained her composure. “Let’s talk. Do you want to start with how the hell you think you’re going to get out of this alive?”

“Sounds like a wonderful place to start. After this conversation, I’ll disappear and you’ll never see me again.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“Not easy, but doable.” He held up the pocket watch.

“You plan to hide from us outside time? Spend your life in a frozen world?”

“Not exactly. See, I got to thinking about those towns of yours. And the way you talk about the power within them ripening. And I started wondering what would happen if that power wasn’t harvested. What if it was left alone? Would it eventually turn rotten? Unusable?”

Wilm said, “That’s just an analogy.” But Zed could see in her eyes it wasn’t.

“You’ve told me you need that power. So what will happen to you if it’s all used up? How many towns are there? Not more than a few dozen, I’ll bet. Whatever you did to me is permanent. I don’t need that energy to survive. But you do. You need it to stay alive here on Earth. So I’m thinking I’ll just wait you out.”

She shook her head sadly. “It won’t work. For a single town’s power to go rotten could take a thousand years.”

Zed shrugged. “I’ve got a thousand years.”

“And a rotting town will not be a pleasant place.”

“I’m a man of simple needs.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. Why tell me?”

Zed stood up. He wanted to be standing over her. “Because, when you’re weak and dying, I want you to know who it was that beat you.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but then stopped. She cocked her head, as if listening.

There was something. Zed heard it too. It was like a distant chorus of voices singing.

“Zed.”

Wilm’s lips curled into a smile.

“Zed.”

The door to the diner eased open, and a swirling black shadow slipped inside. It circled the room.

“Zed. We know of you. You step in and out of the river of time, but we smell its stink upon you.”

Zed’s eyes tried to follow the swirling mass spinning around the room, but it made him dizzy.

“You’ve made a mistake,” Wilm said. “Just because you can drive a car doesn’t mean you know how the engine works. And time is a pretty damn big car. It just so happens I know my way around it very well.” She reached out her hand and brushed it against the passing black cloud. The creature or creatures let out a sound like a purr. “The Ones Who Sing were among the first we encountered when we came here. We have a certain understanding.”

“Zed,” the creatures sang, “you do not belong here.”

Zed took a hesitant step backwards.

“You do not belong in the river, either. Not anymore.”

The cloud was closing in on him now, he could feel it.

“You do not belong anywhere.”

He’d wanted to stay longer, to rub it all in Wilm’s face a bit more. But these creatures. The Ones Who Sing.

“You are a vile thing, a creature no longer human.”

The cloud contracted and wrapped itself around his arms. It flowed over him like a thousand razors. He let out a scream as they slid over his skin. If he survived this, he would heal. That was his gift. But, damn, did it hurt now.

Enough messing around. Time to go. He pressed the broken clock symbol on the pocket watch. And nothing happened.

His eyes grew wide with horror.

“Oh, yes, these creatures have a bit of power over time themselves,” Wilm said. “If they don’t let you go, you’re not going anywhere.”

The creatures flowed over his chest and back. His clothes had been cut away and he felt his skin falling away in ribbons.

“Sometimes,” Wilm said. “It’s a bad thing not to be able to die.”

He couldn’t move. They were gripping his arms, legs, and neck, holding tight even as they rolled over him with their razor bodies.

Wilm took a step toward him. “I may get tired of watching this in a few days. Then I’ll think of something else to do with you. Unless you’d rather I took away your powers and let you die now?”

Zed grunted in frustration, and it came out as a scream. His face was the only part of him not covered in the black mass.

“Oh that’s right,” Wilm said. “You love your power. You’d do anything to keep it.”

Zed reached out with his mind. The usual electric-sweet buzz of the pocket watch was muted. But it was there, he realized. It was there. If only he could reach it.

“See, what you don’t understand is that the best you can ever hope to be against me and mine is a mild annoyance,” Wilm said. “And I don’t say that as an insult. It’s more than anyone else has ever done. You’ve hidden the Tools, and that’s something.”

She leaned close as she spoke. “But we will find them. And that pocket watch of yours will go to some other pathetic little boy. Hopefully one that minds.”

Zed felt it, the power of the pocket watch. He felt a tiny thread of it wiggling out from the black cloud of singing creatures. He grabbed onto it with his mind and pulled as hard as he could.

And then the Ones Who Sing were gone. It was just Wilm and Zed standing in the diner, one of them with a smirk on her face and the other naked and barely looking human through the ribbons of ruined skin and streams of running blood.

Zed felt the room spinning and knew he was about to lose consciousness. Before he did, he squeezed the pocket watch, pressed the symbol on it, and took himself out of time. He didn’t go as deep as he had been—no, he hoped to never go that deep again. He just went down one level. Far enough that Wilm would be frozen in the present.

His last thought was that he’d won. It hadn’t been how he’d envisioned it, not at all, but, at least for the moment, he’d won.

He collapsed to the floor in a thick pool of his own blood and passed out.

CHAPTER EIGHT: THE QUARRY

1.

Alice gripped her sword. “Okay, Zed, I hope you have a plan. Because they’re here.”

The muscles in Zed’s jaw stood out as he gritted his teeth.

“I do have a plan. But it’s going to take a few minutes. Can you hold them off for a bit?”

Alice blinked hard. “You want me to fight them?”

“That wouldn’t be my approach, but you do have a big sword. Just distract them. Keep them busy.”

Frank said, “I’ll go with her.”

“No,” Zed said. “I need you here. You’re part of my plan.”

Mason said, “She’s not going alone.”

Zed nodded curtly. “Fine. You go, Mason. The rest of you stay.”

Alice glanced at Mason. She remembered the old man looking up and seeing her in her hiding place at the top of the stairs. No other adult had ever noticed her up there.

“I don’t suppose you’re armed?” she asked.

Mason shook his head.

“You really brave or really stupid?”

He held up a compass. “This is a Tool. It’ll point to anything you ask it to. I just asked it to show me a safe place, and the needle didn’t move. So I’m thinking out there is just as good as in here.”

They left the shed and joined the crowd gathered in Volunteer Park.

The first thing Alice noticed was the stillness. Groups of people this large were always in motion. Like a body of water, they swayed and swelled. But this group was perfectly still. Their eyes were on the sky. Alice followed their gaze.

Wilm, Vee, and San floated thirty feet off the ground. Wilm had her hands stretched out like a benevolent god. San had hers crossed over her chest. The hulking, armless, Vee floated to the left of the other two.

Never had the three of them appeared less human. The way they held themselves, the way they almost glowed, was a glimpse past their human disguises and into what they really were. It made Alice sick to her stomach. She’d been working with them for so long now, she often thought of them as people. But they weren’t. They were deadly parasites here to feed off the Earth until there was nothing left of it.

“People of King’s Crossing,” Wilm said in a booming voice. “We have come seeking a book. It has a symbol on the cover. An object with a crack through it. Give us the book, and we will leave.”

“Seems unlikely,” Mason muttered.

Vee leaned over and whispered something in Wilm’s ear. She nodded, and he smiled.

Suddenly he shot through the sky like a bolt.

Vee slammed through the roof of the shed like it was made of paper. The crowd listened in silence as the sound of shouts and screams came from the shed.

“No,” Alice whispered.

A moment later Vee emerged, floating through the hole he’d blasted in the roof. His face and torso were covered in blood. The book with the broken man symbol floated next to him.

“It’s done,” he said.

“No,” Alice whispered again. It couldn’t go down like that. She wouldn’t allow it.

She Pulled Back.

“Give us the book, and we’ll leave,” Wilm said.

Alice took a step forward. If she distracted them, maybe Vee wouldn’t notice the shed.

“Hey boss!” Alice yelled at the sky. “I’ve always wondered what my sword could do against one of you. Want to find out?”

Wilm looked over at her. Fire burned in her eyes, but her voice was calm. “Ah. We were looking for you. I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go. Vee?”

Vee rocketed through the air toward her. He snarled the word, “Traitor!” as he flew.

Alice gripped her sword. She had no idea if it could hurt Vee, but she really wanted to find out. Only downside was, if the sword didn’t work, she was dead.

She heard a voice through the crowd, a voice she hadn’t heard it ten years. Her father. “Alice!”

She couldn’t risk it. What good would she do if she died two seconds into the fight? Besides, she suddenly wanted to live through this, if she could. For her parents.

She Pulled Back.

“Give us the book, and we’ll leave,” Wilm said.

Okay, clearly a direct challenge wasn’t going to work. She briefly considered Pulling Back a bit further, back to when they’d been standing in the shed. That way she could wait with the sword raised, let Vee impale himself when he came crashing through the roof. But, no, that wouldn’t work either. Even if she succeeded in killing Vee, there were two others to deal with.

She had to make them believe she was still working with them. She had to trick them.

Easier said than done when your bosses were mind readers.

Still, hadn’t she done it before? Hadn’t she Pulled Back hundreds of times without their knowledge? The trick, she knew, was to not out-and-out lie to them. They could tell when she was lying, and then they’d go digging around in her head. She couldn’t give them a reason to do that.

If she could tell the truth, but spin it so it sounded like what she wanted them to hear, if there was no actual lie, they might not be tipped off and they’d have no reason to read her mind. It took them time and effort, and at the moment they had neither.

She had to make them think she was still working for them.

“Hey boss!” Alice yelled at the sky.

Wilm looked over at her, the fire burning in her eyes just like last time. “Ah. We were looking for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said. “Sorry about that. I Pulled Back and came here on my own.”

Wilm squinted at her. “I didn’t feel that.”

No lies, Alice reminded herself. “Yeah, I can do that now. I’ve been doing it for a while.” She paused only for a breath, not wanting to let Wilm respond. “Listen, this whole thing didn’t go so well the first time around, so I needed to come back for a redo.” Not technically a lie.

“Is that so?” Wilm asked.

“Yeah,” Alice said. “And I have good news. I know where the book is.” Not a lie, but, crap, now what? If she gave them a false location, they’d know she was lying.

This wasn’t going to work, either. She tried to Pull Back and realized she couldn’t.

San smiled. “Let’s just see how this plays out, okay?”

2.

Frank knelt on the floor next to Jake and put a hand on his forehead.

My God, Frank thought. Zed actually did it.

Jake weakly opened his eyes.

Something was keeping Jake alive, Frank realized. Jake had been dead the moment Frank stepped through the tree in Sanctuary. Now Jake had been laying here almost five minutes. He wasn’t exactly looking his best, but he wasn’t dead, either.

“Frank, are you with me?” Zed asked. “We need to pull this together very quickly. Those things out there, my former bosses, they’re not slow at killing.”

Frank nodded, then paused. “Wait. You said you’d bring back Sophie’s sister and Mason’s mom first.”

Zed looked a little annoyed. “Let me explain the situation. We are moments away from dying. Us and everyone we’ve ever cared about. So, no, I don’t have time to bring your friends back from the dead.” He paused and his voice grew a bit softer. “I will later if we live though this, but not now.”

Frank looked at Sophie. There were tears standing in her eyes. She wanted her sister back just as badly as Frank had wanted Jake. It didn’t seem fair that he should get his wish and she shouldn’t get hers. On the other hand, what would it matter if they were all dead in five minutes?

Sophie nodded, showing him it was okay through a forced smile. Frank appreciated the effort.

“Okay,” Frank said to Zed. “You said you have a plan.”

“I do,” Zed said. “It’s you.”

“Wait. What?” Frank felt his heart begin to beat faster. “No, no, no. You’ve always got a plan. If you don’t have anything better than waiting for me to come up with something, we’re all toast.”

Zed stared into Frank’s eyes, and Frank felt the crawling sensation of something squirming over his brain.

Frank tore his eyes away from Zed’s. “Don’t do that.”

Zed smiled sadly. “There’s something in there. Something big. I see it every time I look into your mind. Ever since that time I knocked on the door of your cabin in Rook Mountain. There’s something hidden away. And I don’t think even you know what it is. But I have a theory.”

Frank shook his head violently. “You’re wrong. There’s nothing hidden in my head.” He wasn’t sure why, but the very suggestion made him unreasonably angry.

Zed took a step forward. “Remember the deadlock. The lock that can only be opened with a key. Most minds are more like deadbolts. We control the bolt ourselves. But I think your mind, parts of it anyway, are a deadlock. Not even you can get into it.”

“No. You’re talking crazy.”

“I’ve been searching for the key for a long time now,” Zed continued. “I was hoping I could find it and take whatever power’s lurking up there. But I give. We’re out of time. I don’t have the key.” He looked around the room. “But maybe someone here does.”

They all looked at Zed, their eyes wide.

“We have your brother,” Zed said. “Your wife. Your former sister-in-law and her husband, the people who helped you take me down in Rook Mountain. If anyone knows what’s inside your head, it’s one of them. But,” he turned to Jake, “I’m guessing it’s him. Because he has it too. Not nearly as badly as you do. But there’s a block in his mind I can’t quite see around.”

Jake stared up at Zed, a combination of fear and anger in his eyes.

“So tell us, Jake. What is it Frank doesn’t know?”

Jake’s forehead felt hot and dry under Frank’s hand.

He looked up at Frank. His voice was weak when he spoke. “I was just talking to you. Through the tree.” Jake chuckled. “Who was that girl with the sword?”

“Long story.” Frank nodded toward Zed. “Tell this idiot. Tell him there’s not something locked in my mind.”

Jake smiled. “There’s nothing I like more than telling Zed he’s wrong. But…” He trailed off, looking at the ceiling. “I don’t know, man. When I was talking to you a few minutes ago, I mentioned the quarry. You acted like you had no idea what I was talking about.”

Frank felt like the room was spinning. Something was tickling the back of his mind. He’d felt it before, the first time Jake had mentioned the quarry and again when Zed claimed Frank had burned the Rook Mountain book. It didn’t feel nice. It made him nauseous, actually. He wanted to push it away.

He suddenly knew Zed was right. There was something in there. Something he didn’t want to face. “I don’t…” Frank said. “I don’t know what the quarry is.”

Jake reached up with a weak hand and touched his brother’s arm. “Yes, you do. We used to go there every day after school.”

Frank felt a stabbing pain behind his eyes. “I don’t know. I can’t.”

He felt Sophie’s arm slip around his shoulders.

“Yes you can, Frank,” Zed said. “And I think I’ve given you a way in. I brought Jake here. Which means that he was gone when you walked through that tree. But also that he wasn’t.”

Frank groaned.

“Picture it, Frank. Remember.”

Frank did. He remembered stepping through that tree and seeing Sophie for the first time. His dead brother was at his feet. He also remembered stepping through the tree and Sophie telling him Jake had vanished a moment before Frank had stepped through.

“Now,” Zed said. “There are two sets of memories. See if you can peek between them. Look into the secret part of your mind.”

Frank didn’t want to. It hurt to think about it. But he had to. He knew he had to.

He forced his way into the gap, and a flood of memories hit him.

3.

Rook Mountain

1996

They left school and headed toward the quarry. Frank wanted to swing by the house and get a Mountain Dew and maybe a granola bar or something, but Jake wouldn’t hear of it. If they went home, Sean Lee would likely spot them. And if that happened he’d either try to talk them into playing a game of pick-up basketball or want to follow them wherever they were going. Playing basketball with Sean wasn’t much fun due to his aversion to playing defense—No D Lee they called him—and he certainly couldn’t follow them where they were going.

The quarry was Jake and Frank’s secret.

They rode up Baron Mills Road, nine-year-old Frank pedaling as hard as he could trying to keep up with his eleven-year-old brother. Jake didn’t wait around, and Frank didn’t blame him. They were both excited to get there.

They turned onto a tiny trail. It was so small you might not have noticed it if you were walking past, and you definitely wouldn’t notice it if you were driving. It was a sickly, winding dirt thing. Leaves and branches smacked against Frank’s bare arms as he went down the trail. It didn’t hurt, exactly. He wasn’t going fast enough for it to really make a difference. In fact, it made things even more exciting. He felt like Indiana Jones, blazing his way toward the idol, dodging traps and pitfalls every step of the way. Sometimes he even muttered to himself, “This belongs in a museum.” Never when Jake was too close, though.

By the time Frank reached the small clearing where the trail veered off to the right, Jake was sitting on the ground, arms crossed over his legs, bike on the ground next to him as if he’d been waiting for hours. Only the small beads of sweat on his forehead and his heavy breathing betrayed the fact that he’d put any effort into getting here so quickly. Frank had recently gone through a growth spurt that had cut the height difference between him and his brother to an inch or so. Now Jake was having to push himself to make it seem like he was still so physically superior.

It made Frank feel a little good, catching up to Jake. He knew it wouldn’t last. Jake would hit his next growth spurt and shoot ahead of him again. But it made Frank feel slightly sad, too. His big brother wouldn’t always be bigger. At some point, Jake would stop having growth spurts and Frank would catch up with him.

But that was a long way off. For today, they had the quarry.

Frank hopped off his bike before it stopped rolling and let it fall to the grass. Jake jumped to his feet. It was a race to the quarry. Both boys held nothing back. Frank had a slight head start, but even though his legs were almost as long as Jake’s now, they weren’t nearly as strong. Jake jetted past him and squirmed his way through the entrance to the quarry.

Frank sighed. Always second place.

They’d discovered the quarry two months ago while playing in the woods. No, Jake didn’t like to call it playing anymore. He was too old for playing. Exploring, then. Or hiking. Whatever you wanted to call it, they’d been riding down Baron Mills Road on their bikes when Frank had wiped out while trying to do a wheelie. The downside was he’d scraped up his right knee and elbow pretty good. The upside was they’d discovered the trail.

They’d followed the trail, ignoring the blood running down Frank’s arm and leg. It had seemed so strange. How many times had they been down that road? They were less than a mile from their house, and there was a trail they didn’t know about? It seemed impossible. Worse, it seemed wrong; it was an affront to their dominion over their neighborhood kingdom. That rebellious trail had come into their land and set up shop without even a courtesy hello to the land’s rulers.

Once they’d gotten over the initial shock and indignation, they’d been quite happy about the trail. After all, if they hadn’t known about it, it was a safe bet that none of the other kids in the neighborhood did, either. The trail was theirs. The Hinkle boys. And woe to the kid who tried to encroach on their precious territory.

It wasn’t until their third day exploring the trail that they’d found the hole in the hillside, and it wasn’t until the fifth trip that they worked up the courage to climb into the hole.

It was a cave. Not a huge cave, not the Batcave or anything, but a big enough cave that you could stand up and move around in there. The ground was rocky, and it sloped away from the entrance in a way that made Jake think of the piles of rocks at Fred’s workplace at the beginning of the Flintstones. So they’d dubbed the cave the quarry. Neither of them knew exactly what the word really meant, but it had a nice ring to it. And giving the cave its own name made it feel even more special.

They began visiting the cave, exploring there on a regular basis. It was a kid’s dream. A cave of their own. They came home, night after night, the cave’s red mud covering their clothes. Their mom wasn’t exactly the hands-on type, so as long as they started their own laundry, she didn’t much care.

And, beyond all reason, they actually managed to keep the place secret.

Somehow, it wasn’t until their fourth time going inside the cave that they found the shelf. It was built into a wall, tucked back in a corner. To call it a shelf was a bit grand. It was actually just a level surface dug out of the mud, creating a little space. And on the shelf, there was a book and a knife.

Frank was immediately drawn to the knife. It was sharp as all hell as he quickly and painfully learned, and it looked like it would slide between a pirate’s ribs without too much trouble. Best of all, there was a strange symbol on the knife’s handle. A clock with a crack running down the middle.

Frank liked to pretend it was some ancient Cherokee weapon, never mind the clearly modern clock carved into it. Maybe it was left by a dying Cherokee chief as he held off his enemies while the children of the tribe huddled in the cave behind him. Or maybe it belonged to a Cherokee princess who’d used it to cut her own throat after her father had forced her to marry someone she didn’t love.

Mostly, Frank just used it to whittle sticks into slightly sharper sticks.

But Jake, he only had eyes for the book.

The book was at least three inches thick and bound with a rich red leather that almost perfectly matched the color of the mud in the quarry. It too had a symbol: a river with a crack running through it. A broken river. That didn’t even make sense to Frank, but Jake seemed to like it.

The fact that both the knife and the book carried similar symbols and they were found together made it hard to deny they were somehow related. That complicated Frank’s Cherokee fantasy, but whatever. Maybe the book had belonged to the chief’s dorky brother.

The curious thing about the book was that the pages were blank.

But that didn’t stop Jake. He looked at those pages under the pale beam of his flashlight like they had naked women on them or something. Jake was like that with books. Frank only read when forced by threat of failing school, but Jake read for fun. Jake loved stories. Frank made his own.

Staring at blank pages? That was just weird.

But whatever. Frank played with his knife and Jake looked at his blank book, all by the light of a couple flashlights. He’d thought that sitting around a damp and—to be honest—kind of smelly cave would have gotten old fast. But it didn’t. Something about the place was exciting. They were drawn there. Frank couldn’t stop thinking about it when they weren’t there, and he knew it was the same for Jake. So they’d started going every day.

Then things had started to get weird. Not with Frank; he was still just sharpening sticks, business as usual. The problem was Jake. He swore some of the pages had words on them.

Frank checked. They most definitely did not.

But Jake wouldn’t be talked out of it. He started talking about how the words were there, Frank just couldn’t see them. They hadn’t revealed themselves to Frank.

It got so Frank stopped looking forward to going down to the cave. Not so much that he stopped going, but enough that his feelings about the place were mixed at best. Despite his concern for his brother, he found he couldn’t stay away. That knife was just too cool.

Frank stood by the entrance to the quarry. He saw a dim light inside and knew Jake would have already moved to his usual place in the corner and would have the book in his hand. Weird.

Frank squeezed through the entrance and took the knife off the shelf. He sat down, pulled a stick out of his backpack—he carried them with him everywhere now—and started whittling. He didn’t ever do anything with the sharp sticks except throw them into his backpack. If vampires ever attacked Rook Mountain, he would totally be ready.

Frank whittled and let his mind wander.

That was one of his favorite things about working with the knife. Normally he had a hard time relaxing. It felt like his mind was always going a million miles per hour, thoughts, worries, feelings, rushing through his head. But when he held the knife, it felt so easy to just let all that drift away.

He didn’t know how long had passed before a strange groaning sound woke him from his wanderings.

It was Jake.

Jake was staring straight ahead, unblinking. Frank’s first thought was, Is that how I look when I’m spacing out? His second was, Something’s not right.

The strained groan came from Jake’s throat again. It was a deep, gurgling sound. A sound that shouldn’t come from an eleven-year-old boy. His finger was moving across the page of the open book in a strange, methodical fashion.

He groaned again. It sounded like he was in pain. Then Frank noticed vines growing up from the ground, slowly crawling up Jake’s leg.

Frank watched in silent terror as a vine curled itself around Jake’s leg. Jake groaned again, and Frank realized it was squeezing.

“Jake,” Frank said. He meant to whisper, but his voice sounded loud in the silence of the cave.

Jake didn’t move. His eyes stared straight ahead and his finger kept moving across the page.

“Jake!” Frank said, louder this time so it echoed off the walls.

Still nothing. The vine was crawling upward, and it didn’t seem to be moving so slowly now. It was almost at Jake’s knee.

How was that possible? A killer vine growing in a cave? It had to be caused by that damn book.

Frank shook Jake. Nothing. He tried to pry the book away from Jake. Even though Jake was only holding on with his left hand, his grip was like iron.

Frank blinked back tears of panic and desperation. “I don’t know what to do.”

Except, suddenly, he did.

He scooped up the knife and gripped it tight. His brother was going to be pissed, but he didn’t see what other choice he had.

He brought the knife down, stabbing the book.

Then he began to scream.

It felt like being electrocuted. Or rather, what he imagined being electrocuted felt like. Something was flowing out of the book, through the knife, and into him. It hurt—bad—but there was something else there, too. He felt strong. Under the pain, there was power coursing through him.

Jake blinked and looked up, staring at Frank with wide eyes. He looked as helpless as Frank had felt a few moments ago.

The book in Jake’s hands burst into flames. Frank had his hands inches away from the book, but he felt no heat. Jake didn’t seem to be feeling the fire either, even though he was holding the book on his lap.

After a moment, all that was left of the book was a pile of ashes.

Frank staggered back, dropping the knife, and gasped. The pain was gone now. All that was left was the power. But that power…

Frank took a breath, and it seemed like he could feel each and every molecule of air. Not only feel them. He thought, if he’d wanted to, he could rearrange them. He heard a voice—What’s happening to him—and realized he was hearing Jake’s thoughts.

He reached for the knife, and before he could get to it, it came to him.

It was too much. Too much power. He could hear things. Earthworms digging. Birds adjusting their balance on the branches outside. The electricity buzzing through the power lines by the road.

He couldn’t handle it. His mind felt like it was on fire. It was all too much.

He felt the pain of a rat as it lay dying from a wound a muskrat had given it the day before. He tasted the cigarette smoke being exhaled by a man in a cabin half a mile away.

And above all, he felt something else. A power even greater than his own. No, four powers. He could see the things they’d done. My God, they’d devoured stars.

And if they noticed him…he knew they would consume him. And how could they not notice him? His power was singing at the top of its lungs. It couldn’t happen. It had to stop.

He needed to quiet the power. But even then, it wouldn’t be enough. What if they heard his thoughts? He had to hide it. So he did. He used the power to hide itself. He built a brick wall in the back of his mind in a place no one, not even he, could see.

They left the quarry, leaving the knife and the pile of ashes inside. When they were outside, Frank noticed a tiny bit of power still floating around. The wall in his mind was still solidifying. He used the power to build a similar wall in Jake’s mind. Jake couldn’t remember either, not if they were going to be safe.

As he was still building the wall in Jake’s mind, Frank began to forget. What was he doing? What were they doing there?

They wordlessly got on their bikes. By the time they’d arrived home, Frank had forgotten the quarry had ever existed.

4.

King’s Crossing, Wisconsin

January 2022

Frank snapped his head up. It had all come back to him in a moment. How had he forgotten? All that time they’d spent there. What did it mean?

He looked down at Jake. “I remember,” Frank said. “I remember the quarry.”

Jake nodded. Was it Frank’s imagination, or did Jake look a bit stronger than he had a moment ago?

“Good,” Jake said. “It’s strange when I think about it. I know we used to go there. I can remember us riding our bikes there day after day, and I remember going in the cave. But I don’t remember anything that happened inside the cave. It’s like there’s a cloud over it or something.”

Frank smiled weakly. “Yeah, sorry, buddy. I think I was the one who put that cloud in your head. Only I didn’t finish. That’s why you remember part of it.”

“We went back, you know.” Jake looked at Christine. “You remember? Where we found the knife?”

Christine nodded and smiled. “You wouldn’t go in there. I thought that was pretty weak, making your wife go in the dark cave because you were too scared.”

“Yeah. I didn’t know why I did that. It was like I couldn’t make myself go in.”

“But the message you gave to Sally Badwater,” Frank said. “Why’d you tell me to meet you at the quarry?”

Jake looked off into the distance. “I don’t know. I was confused, going through the mirror. You’ve felt it. You know. It’s disorienting. I wanted to give Will the message about Sean. But also…” He looked into Frank’s eyes now and put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I remember being safe in the quarry. I remember you saving me. Not the details, but the feeling. The feeling that you would do anything to help me. And I needed to feel that again.”

And suddenly, Frank knew what he needed to do.

The books absorbed the potential of humanity, and Jake was hurt because he’d overused the book. Could it be the book had absorbed too much of him?

But Frank had absorbed an entire book. The potential of an entire town.

And Jake had regained a bit of his strength when Frank had touched him, both when he’d first come through the tree and again when Frank touched his forehead a few moments ago.

If Frank could somehow share the energy with Jake…if he could give back what the book had taken…

Frank concentrated on the hand resting on Jake’s forehead. He focused on letting the energy flow out of him and into his brother.

Jake’s eyes suddenly shot open and he gasped.

Frank pulled his hand away and Jake visibly relaxed.

“Holy hell, Frank,” Jake said. “Whatever you just did…I think you fixed me. That was some strong stuff.”

Frank grinned, love for his brother suddenly washing over him. “I think I almost gave you an overdose.” Frank’s eyes were filled will tears. His brother was back. For real this time.

Zed crouched down next to them. He was smiling wide now. “I knew it. The book here in King’s Crossing hid itself away from the compass. The only other thing I’ve seen do that is your locks. That was my first clue. I tested the theory by trying to open a portal here in the shed to bring Rayd through. That worked, even without the book. Because you were here. The same power that’s in the books is in you.” He put a hand on Frank’s shoulder. “What did you see? What did you remember?”

Frank hesitated. He’d come to trust Zed over the last seven years more than he’d ever thought possible. He’d given Zed the book willingly. He’d trusted him with his life today.

But it was still Zed. Frank wasn’t ready to share everything with the man who’d sent him Away. Who’d tried to kill him and everyone he cared about. Who’d tried to steal Rook Mountain from time itself.

“It was like you said,” Frank replied. “I remember burning the book in Rook Mountain.”

At that moment, the door flew off the shed, as if ripped free by a tornado. This was all the more confusing when Frank saw the man standing in the doorway had no arms. Vee.

Vee glared at them and growled, “Zed.”

He stepped inside, followed quickly by a woman with blond hair and a tall, muscular woman with black hair.

And behind them was Alice. The girl stumbled into the shed. “Sorry,” she said, tears in her eyes. “They read my mind. Then I couldn’t Pull Back. They locked me down.”

Frank had no idea what she was talking about, but that hardly seemed like the worst of his problems at the moment.

The blond woman smiled when she saw the book in Zed’s hand. “Ah,” she said. “You’ve found the book for us.”

5.

Sophie stood statue still.

Sophie didn’t consider herself someone who scared easily, but Vee frightened the hell out of her. She’d seen Jake turn him into a tree, and he’d still managed to kill Jake. Well, not kill him, she supposed. He was alive now. This whole time travel thing still confused her.

The blond woman stepped forward. She carried herself with such authority that Sophie realized she had to be Vee’s boss.

“Zed, it’s time,” she said. “You’ve been on the run a good long while. You put up a respectable fight. And taking out Rayd…well, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Zed’s smile widened. “Wilm, you don’t know the half of it.”

Wilm returned his smile, and Sophie had the strange idea that maybe this woman had taught Zed how to smile through the pain. “What I don’t understand is why? You let Sugar Plains rot and lived in the decaying town for a thousand years just so we wouldn’t get the power. Why? What did it get you?”

Zed took a step forward and looked her in the eye. “Because fuck you. That’s why.”

She shook her head sadly. “We gave you life. Endless life.”

“No,” Zed said. “That’s not true, is it? You gave me life that would last as long as this Earth. And this Earth isn’t lasting much longer.”

Wilm shrugged. “What did you want from us?”

“I wanted to be one of you. You could have made me like you, taken me with you when you leave. Instead you made me into some sort of Renfield to your Dracula. Doing your bidding and waiting to be cast aside.”

The woman with black hair stepped forward. “You’re lucky you got that much. If I had my way—”

Wilm held up her hand. “Let’s not be dramatic. Give me the book, Zed.”

Zed snaked out his tongue and licked his lips. “Listen, this book…” He held it up. “This book contains more power than you’ve ever consumed at once. Enough to get you off this world and back to your homes. If give it to you, you’ll go and leave this world to the Ones Who Sing.”

Wilm shrugged. “If that’s so, it’s so. This world has taken two of our own. The first was my husband. We made Tools out of him when he died. His people were a whimsical sort; they chose the clock as their seal in a land without time. And now Rayd is gone too. This world takes too much and gives too little. Its people squirm under our thumb, never satisfied. Always wanting more. You are the perfect example. You could have served us far longer than you did. You could have used your powers to seek pleasure, but instead you only used it to try for more power.”

“Our people call that ambition,” Zed said.

“Our people call it stupid,” the black-haired woman said.

“These people you’ve surrounded yourself with,” Wilm said. “Did it feel good to lead them? These meaningless toads? As if anyone other than you and Alice is even worth so much as a glance. And I’m beginning to have my doubts about you.”

Sophie tightened her grip on her husband’s arm. Worthless. That’s how these aliens or demons or whatever they were saw the rest of them in this shed. As worthless.

And suddenly Sophie realized that might not be a bad thing. They didn’t know about Will and Christine, how they’d spent years hiding the Tools in Rook Mountain before finally facing off with Zed on the roof of city hall. They didn’t know about Sophie and the great and powerful evil that Zed claimed lived inside her. And they didn’t know about Frank. About his fight against the Unfeathered. Or his fight in the Away and against Ones Who Sing. Frank had survived them all.

Christine, Will, Frank, and her together? Plus Zed and the weird teenager with a sword? That seemed like a pretty formidable force against even these creatures.

Wilm stepped toward Zed. She reached out a hand and placed it gently on his arm.

“Did you feel it?” she asked in a voice that sounded almost kind. “Did you feel it flowing out of you? Everything we gave you? All the power? You’re a normal man now. You’ll age. You can be hurt or killed.”

Zed’s lip quivered as he glared at her, but his voice was steady. “What do I care about aging if the world is going to be gone by the end of the day?”

Wilm shrugged. “Just thought you’d want to know.”

Vee rolled his head in a circle and his neck cracked sharply. “Can I rip off his arms now?”

“What’s the point?” Wilm asked. “He fought us, and he made a good effort of it. But he’s powerless now. Might as well let him watch the end. He’s got nothing left.”

“You’re wrong,” Zed said. “I’ve got something you’ve never seen before. I’ve got Frank Hinkle.” With that, he dropped the book into Frank’s hands. Both Frank and the book disappeared.

“Frank,” Zed said. “Run. Run and never come back.”

THE MAN WITH THE WATCH (PART TWO)

1.

Sugar Plains, Illinois

Sometime after 1985

Zed walked the deserted streets of the place that had once been Sugar Plains, Illinois. It was strange, the way it was happening. He’d expected decay over time. He’d expected things to fall apart once no one was around to fix them, or even to care if they were broken. But he hadn’t expected this. The signs of civilization, of the town ever having been there, were simply fading away. The street under his feet was dirt now. Not long ago it had been blacktop. One morning, the blacktop had simply been gone. It had startled Zed a bit, but probably not as much as it should have.

He’d spent years outside of time before, decades in each of the four towns he’d ripened for his former masters. But this was longer. Near as he could tell, he’d been in Sugar Plains for three-hundred-twenty years. Yet still the white bird creatures gathered outside town each night, more of them every year. If they were his canary in the cage when it came to gauging the ripeness of the town, it was far too healthy for his liking.

Still, he believed in the soundness of his plan. The energy would eventually spoil. Or dissipate. Or something. It would become unusable to his former masters. He would wait for however long it took. And then he’d move on to the next town. And he’d repeat the process until there was nothing left for them to draw from. Then he’d watch them slowly lose power and die.

That thought alone gave him the strength to get through the long, lonely days.

The last of the people of Sugar Plains had died two years ago. A young girl. She’d been sick for a long time. Zed might have been able to save her if he’d put enough thought and research into the matter, but it hadn’t seemed important then. Now, he was surprised to discover he missed the people. Not individually. One-on-one, people were annoying, like a bit of food stuck between his teeth. But over the last three centuries, he’d come to find he enjoyed people en masse. And he had a skill for speaking to them, for persuading them to his way of thinking. Communities of people, especially gathered together in a crowd, had an energy that was not unlike that of the pocket watch.

When he was being honest with himself, he had to admit it wasn’t the people he missed at all. It was their admiration.

He brushed his hand along the trunk of a tall twisted tree as he passed it. The things had been springing up all over town for the past couple hundred years. He wondered how huge they would get before it was all done here. He understood that the trees were the natural expression of the overripe energy within the town. Something had to be done with that energy if powerful beings from God-knows-where weren’t going to show up to devour it. And so the trees grew.

The book with the broken world on it had taught him that. It had taught him so much more, too. Sometimes he wished there was someone else here to talk to about it. Preferably a large group.

He had set out this morning from his mansion on the edge of town—the mansion his people had built for him hundreds of years ago—with no clear destination in mind. But somehow he found himself where he always did on his daily walks. Downtown. It was vain perhaps, but he liked to take his lunch while looking at the statue they’d built of him.

He stood for a long moment, staring at the statue, before coming to the same conclusion he always did: it was a fair representation. The statue might not look exactly like Zed in the strictest sense. It was an idealized version of him. In the statue, he looked in the way his people saw him. And, even though his people were gone, this memory was a nice reminder of the feeling they’d given him.

“‘Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair.’”

Zed started at the sound. It was so strange, so unexpected, that he had absolutely no idea how to respond. It had been years since he’d heard another voice.

The sound had come from behind him, so he slowly turned around.

Vee was even taller than Zed remembered, and his beard was even thicker. Zed was usually the tallest person in the room, back when there had been people and rooms, but Vee towered over him.

“This is what it’s come to?” Vee asked. “You lording over a kingdom of rats? Making them build statues in your honor?”

Zed opened his mouth, trying to remember how to speak.

“It’s pathetic,” Vee continued. “You’re king of a dead town.”

“‘Better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven’,” Zed said finally. He figured one classical reference deserved another. His own voice sounded strange in his ears. Oddly formal and distant.

Vee grunted. He brushed past Zed and walked to the statue. For a moment, Zed was sure the big man was going to attack the statue, maybe punch it or pull it down. Zed had no doubt Vee could do it. The man was built like a tree trunk.

“It’s not a bad likeness,” Vee said. He turned to Zed and looked him up and down. “You’re in a spot of trouble, and I’m trying to figure out how to deal with you. Wilm would say to bring you home. She’d argue this display of initiative proved you were worth reforming. Rayd would demand satisfaction. He’d consider it an affront to his honor. San would probably just rip your face off.”

“And you?” Zed asked in his strange, weak voice.

Vee shrugged. “I’ve always seen eye-to-eye with San in most respects. I’m not above being persuaded though.”

“How’d you get here?” Zed asked, partly because he wanted to steer the conversation in another direction and partly because he was genuinely curious.

“You’re not the only one who can manipulate time a bit. I noticed the stutter when you stopped time. I kept myself in that moment until I could muscle my way through.”

Damn. Zed thought he’d corrected that problem. If things had worked properly, Vee and the others shouldn’t have been able to even tell he was gone. He had been so sure he was safe here.

His heart was racing. He eased his hand into the satchel hanging from his shoulder.

“Weren’t expecting that, were you?” Vee didn’t smile, but the way the skin wrinkled around his eyes gave Zed the vague impression that he was pleased. “After I tore myself free, it was simply a matter of following the bird creatures. They’re drawn here. Though you’ve hidden the town from them, they still feel the pull of it now and again.” He ran his hand over the calf of the statue of Zed. “And here I am.”

Zed asked, “What about the others? Will they find their way here?”

“Perhaps. But I wouldn’t count on it. You bound us up tight.”

“And you always were the strong one.”

Vee was staring up at the sun now. “Even though time is stopped, the sun keeps moving. Days and nights move here. But outside the town, it’s always dusk. I crossed half the country with the setting sun in my eyes.”

Zed held up the pocket watch. “I’m very good with this thing.”

Vee chewed on that for a moment, as if trying to work it out. “What’s it going to be, then? You want to take us back to the others? Start time again and let Wilm try to protect you? Or should I handle this here?”

Zed licked his lips. “I’d like to propose a third option.”

Vee said nothing, but he was listening, which was a good sign. Zed was beginning to get the feeling the bearded man was more impressed with Zed than he let on. Impressed, and perhaps intrigued.

“I take it you can feel that?” Zed asked, indicating the air around them. There was no need to clarify what he was referring to. Zed could feel it whenever he touched the pocket watch. The energy in the air. It had been a long while since he’d used his powers of persuasion. It was comforting to see how fast they came back.

Vee nodded stoically.

Zed took that as another good sign and continued. “The other towns we took weren’t this ripe. Not by half. The energy here crackles.” He paused for a moment, looking off into space as if he could see the power hanging in the air. “You gave me a choice, so now I’ll give you one. We can go back to the others. I won’t resist. Or, if you prefer it, you could keep all this energy for yourself.”

Vee’s eyes betrayed nothing. The man was stone. “We don’t have the compass. Finding the book would be…difficult.”

Zed released his million-watt smile, the one he reserved for his moments of greatest need. “That won’t be a problem.” He pulled the book with the broken world symbol out of his satchel.

Vee drew in a sharp breath. It was quiet, but Zed heard it. And when he did, Zed knew he had won.

“You found it,” Vee said. It may have been Zed’s imagination, but Vee’s voice sounded a hair weaker than normal. “Without the compass. That must have been some search.”

Zed shrugged. “I had three hundred years and a town of adoring people to help me. You’d be surprised what can be accomplished. It was hidden under a pew at the Lutheran church. A janitor found it. I rewarded him with three wives and the ability to read minds. I can share my powers now. Did you know that?”

Vee’s eyes were on the book, a look of hunger on his face.

Zed casually flipped the book open. It sprang to just the page he’d needed. Of course, it had. God, he loved this book.

“This book is the embodiment of the power of this town,” Zed said. “It’s a thing of wonder. And it could be yours.”

Vee seemed to come out of his daze. The big man took a step forward.

Zed ran his finger over the page, tracing the illustration drawn there. “But it never will be.”

Vee tried to take another step but was jerked backwards. It looked as if something was holding onto his foot. He looked down and his eyes widened. His foot was changing, burying itself in the ground.

“What are you doing?” he groaned.

“I’m using the book,” Zed said. “All these years, all this power, and all you idiots thought to do was consume it? You didn’t stop for a moment to consider that it might be more useful in its current state than as fuel?”

Vee’s body was lengthening now. It was truly something to behold. The book had said what would happen, but Zed hadn’t fully believed it would work. Seeing it with his own eyes was something different.

Vee groaned as he transformed.

“Tell me,” Zed said, “does it hurt?”

But he’d waited too long to ask. Vee’s mouth was gone. A few moments later, there was a tree standing there. It looked no different from the dozen others throughout the town. Zed noticed with slight dismay that the statue had been knocked over during Vee’s transformation. It lay on the ground in a dozen pieces.

But it didn’t matter. This tree was the tribute to Zed’s power now. He’d done the unthinkable. He’d beaten one of his former masters.

He hoped the rest of the Exiles would show up here so he could do the same to them. But they didn’t. So he waited almost a thousand years, until the trees were thick and every trace of the town that had been was gone. His clothes fell apart and he forgot to replace them with new ones. He sometimes forgot his own name. But the book always reminded him.

Over time, the book faded. It still worked, but it had lost the crackle of power it had once had. Even the words on the page seemed to fade in and out.

When the white bird creatures stopped coming and the Larvae began to appear, Zed knew this place was done. His former masters wouldn’t be able to siphon any energy from it. The town had stopped producing the power, and the power had devoured it. The place no longer existed, at least not in the world it once had.

He used the book one last time to open a portal in a tree, and he traveled through time and space to the next town on his list.

He stepped out, naked and barely remembering how to speak, and looked at his new home. Rook Mountain, Tennessee.

2.

Rook Mountain

Sometime after March 27, 2014

Frank moved the knife toward Zed. “What happens if I open it?”

Zed looked at the box, the one with the lock on it. The Cassandra lock. But he wasn’t paying attention to that. He was barely paying attention to the conversation. He was attempting, not for the first time, to look inside Frank’s mind. It was a maze in there. No, that wasn’t quite right; it was a lock. A lock without a key.

They were in Rook Mountain City Hall. Frank had come here in the night seeking the box that now sat in front of him. The box that Zed used to store the bubble that kept the Unfeathered away. It was a mental trick and nothing more, a bit like a more extreme version of the memory palace technique orators had been using for centuries to remember seemingly impossible amounts of information. The box was Zed’s mental trick, but opening the box would destroy the bubble nonetheless.

Zed tried to worm his way into the cracks in Frank’s mind, but it wasn’t working.

“What?” Christine asked. “Frank, don’t open it. We don’t know what will happen.” The good Doctor Osmond had burst into the room a few moments before. Zed had barely noticed.

Something about Frank’s mind, the lock without a key, sparked an idea in Zed. A lock with out a key. A box that had a bubble.

“Yeah,” Frank said. “That’s why I’m asking. So how about it, Zed? What happens if I open it?”

With that, it came to Zed. What if the box couldn’t be opened? Not by anyone at all? “If you open that box, I leave. You are on your own. I’ll leave this town to the Unfeathered.”

“That’s all I get?” Frank asked.

“That’s all you get.”

“How about if I start cutting you?”

Zed shrugged. “I might say a few more things, but would you believe them? You already know the important stuff. That box keeps the Unfeathered away. What else do you need to know?”

Zed waited, knowing what would happen, knowing Frank would open the box. He’d created the Cassandra lock after he’d seen it at the top of Frank’s mind that day so long ago when they’d first met. Zed had put it on the box as a precaution because it would be so difficult to open. But it could be opened. What if there was a lock that couldn’t be opened at all? Imagine what he could do with such a thing.

“Frank, no,” Christine said.

Frank reached for the lock and twisted it, squeezing in exactly the right place and pulling at just the right angle. The lock snapped open. He lifted the box’s wooden lid.

The four sides of the box collapsed outward onto the desk. The box was empty.

“That will be very difficult to replace,” Zed said. It wouldn’t. But he wanted to see how Frank would react if he put the potential death of the town on his head.

The room was silent for a long moment.

Christine put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Frank. What have you done?”

“He’s killed you all,” Zed said.

Frank turned to Christine.

“No, it’s okay,” Frank said. “There was nothing in the box. That couldn’t be what was keeping the Unfeathered away.”

Zed twisted his face into a grimace. “It wasn’t what was in the box. It was the box itself.” This was true, after a fashion. It was the box that allowed Zed to hold two bubbles in his mind at once.

Christine looked at Zed. The gun hung from her hand. “You can fix it, right? You can fix the box?”

Zed picked up one of the pieces of wood and turned it over in his hand. “No,” he said. “I can’t. Whatever power it had is gone.”

Frank looked at Christine. “Listen, it’s all going to be okay.”

“No, you listen,” Christine said.

The sound came again. The sound of singing.

“The Birdies,” Zed said. “Isn’t that what you call them, doctor?”

Christine didn’t answer.

“First they’ll come in the night for people who happen to be outside,” Zed said. “But then they will grow bolder. It won’t be long before your homes aren’t enough to protect you. Then they’ll start attacking in the daytime.” He turned the piece of wood in his hand over and over.

Zed set the piece of wood on the desk. “I’m leaving.” He held out his hand to Frank. “Give me the knife. I need it where I am going.”

Frank hesitated, then said, “No way.”

Zed stood up. “That’s what I figured. I suggest you two stay here for the night. It’s going to be ugly out there.”

He took one last look into Frank’s mind. And there, right at the edge of things, he saw something that truly disturbed him. It was a still image and nothing more.

A book. The Rook Mountain book. And it was burning.

The image made no sense. Zed felt the power still building in this town. It had to be gathering somewhere. Had this man actually destroyed the book? Seemed impossible, but…

He marched across the room, giving Frank and Christine a final frown as he slipped through the open door. There was a flash of blue light as he shut the door behind him and transported himself across town.

Zed appeared a moment later in the basement workshop of his large home. He worked for a few hours, ignoring both the song of the Unfeathered and the screams of the Rook Mountaineers they were devouring. He crafted three small square boxes, an inch wide and tall, by soldering together scraps of metal. They didn’t have to be strong. They just had to be without an opening. That done, he drilled tiny holes in them and ran a string through each, making them into necklaces.

He let the necklaces dangle from his fingers and surveyed his work. It was a rush job, that much was clear from looking at it, but it would do. He wasn’t out to win any awards for craftsmanship. What he needed was functionality.

Zed drew a deep breath. He wasn’t looking forward to transporting himself so far, but it had to be done. And then he could finally be at peace, for the first time in over a thousand years.

He materialized moments later outside a cabin deep in the Rocky Mountains. He kept his eyes shut for a few long moments, taking slow breaths and steadying his stomach. Traveling so far made him a bit ill.

Zed opened his eyes and was momentarily surprised to find it was dark. He’d forgotten it had been night when he’d taken Rook Mountain out of time. For the rest of the world, it still was nighttime.

His stomach flipped and flopped, twisting and cramping painfully, but is was nothing he couldn’t manage. Back when he thought about such things, he’d wondered what traveling such long distances actually did to a person. His selectmen could travel, sure, but only across town. And even that had the strange result of melting and reconstructing their bodies. To travel as far as Zed just had…he wondered if the stomach pains he was experiencing were a sign of something much worse happening inside of him. He wondered if maybe his invulnerability was the only thing that kept him alive through the process.

He walked toward the cabin, enjoying the cool air on his face. If he hadn’t known time was stopped, he could have thought this was just another night at Wilm’s cabin. He’d spent many such nights like this back when he’d been in her good graces. He’d spent hours just sitting on the porch, the pocket watch in his hand—just being. Unlike those nights, it was silent now. The Unfeathered were far from this place. He was likely the only animated being in a thousand miles in any direction.

He pulled open the screen door and walked inside.

Sure enough, there she was, sitting in her favorite chair, an open book in her lap. Something non-fiction, undoubtedly. She worked so hard to understand this world, both her source of power and her adopted home. She learned about the science and the history. But never the people. She never made an effort to understand what really made them tick. They were beneath her notice unless she needed something from them. Then she would bribe or coerce them as needed.

That was what made Zed better than her. He might not love the people—even the ones who loved him—but he did understand them. And that made all the difference.

Still, this woman had made him what he was. Without her, best-case scenario, he would now be a very old man, looking back on a futile life and trying to find the meaning in it. He owed her something for that, didn’t he?

He put a hand on the woman’s rock-hard shoulder, and he was reminded of the statue that used to stand in the center of Sugar Plains before Vee knocked it down while changing into a tree. That statue and this woman were both equally as useful. Items that served only to remind him of past glories.

Nostalgia was all well and good, but Wilm’s time had passed. She’d lived a long life. How long exactly Zed didn’t know, but surely as long as anyone could expect. She’d spent it consuming power. It was Zed’s time now. And he didn’t intend to just consume power. He intended to cherish the power. Wield it. Put it to good use.

He put one of the necklaces around her neck. The tiny metal box thudded against her frozen chest.

He admired it there for a moment, admired the idea of it.

The question of how to deal with his remaining three former masters had long weighed on him. He could send them deep in time, as he had with his fellow Toolsmen and Toolswomen, but he would have to remain with them. And unlike his fellow Tool bearers, his former masters would certainly find and kill him.

But if he created a bubble of time and put it in a box, a box that could not be opened, a lock without a key, if you will, he could allow the box to function independently. He could stay here while sending them there. He could even create another bubble to make the box slightly out of sync with their timeline so they couldn’t destroy it. It was genius.

Even after a thousand years, Zed still managed to impress himself now and again.

He looked at Wilm one last time. He considered bringing her to life for a moment so they could talk. So she’d know who’d done this to her. But that was madness. Vanity. She might crush him in the few moments he spent talking to her. Anyway, she’d know who had done this to her. She’d know.

He reached out and tapped the box, mentally activating the bubbles inside, and she disappeared.

She’d live out the rest of her existence in a deep hole in time, the type of place where the Ones Who Sing lived. They might not kill her, but she wouldn’t be able to escape, either. At long last, he was safe from Wilm.

Now all that remained was to find San and Rayd. He had some ideas where they might be. They too were creatures of habit. But finding them could potentially take a while. He decided he’d better get started.

As it turned out, finding and disposing of San and Rayd only took seven days. They were both in their favorite haunts, St. Louis, and Seattle, respectively. He sent both of them to the Away without so much as a word to them, same as he had with Wilm.

Then he returned to Rook Mountain. He had an idea for another way the boxes could be used. He could use them to punish people. Enough of brandings and maimings, from now on whenever anyone broke Zed’s rules he would send them to the Away to serve out their sentence. It would be a new rule. He’d call it Regulation 19.

CHAPTER NINE: THE LOCK WITHOUT A KEY

1.

“Frank,” Zed said. “Run. Run and never come back.”

Frank stood perfectly still. He carefully controlled his breathing even though any sound he made was hidden by the lock. He clutched the book in his hand. Zed clearly expected him to do something. Did he really want Frank to run?

Wilm looked around the room, her eyes wide. “How? What did you do?”

Zed chuckled. “Frank’s been a thorn in my side for a long time now. I thought it was time you felt the pain.”

Wilm looked at San. “Can you push through?”

San hesitated. “No. Whatever power he’s using, it isn’t ours.”

“Smells familiar, though,” Vee said. “There’s a stink to it.”

“Yes,” Wilm said.

Frank’s mind was still reeling from the memory of the quarry. Was that why he had the power to make the locks? Because of whatever it was he’d absorbed from the book? And was it that same power that had locked the memories away, even from himself?

And what exactly was he supposed to do with this book? He could destroy it like he had the Rook Mountain book. He had the knife, after all. But what would that do to him? The Rook Mountain book had clearly messed with his head. Would his mind be able to hold another huge helping of that power?

Or maybe he wasn’t supposed to destroy it. It was, after all, their only weapon against Wilm and the others. Not that he knew how to use it.

He needed to understand more about the book.

Wilm and the others were still distracted, trying to figure out what had happened to him. He reached out and touched Alice on the arm.

She let out a yelp of surprise as he suddenly became visible to her.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ve locked you away with me. They can’t hear or see you.”

“How are you doing this?” She spoke in a whisper. Frank understood. It was difficult to wrap your mind around the fact that you could speak openly in front of someone without them hearing you.

“I make these locks.” He didn’t have time to explain. “Look, you spent the last seven years with them, right? I need to understand more about the books. Zed said they’re like batteries. What’s this power they’re trying to collect?”

She looked at Wilm for a long moment before answering. “Can we go outside?”

Frank suddenly realized the girl was terrified of Wilm. And who could blame her? She’d been kidnapped by the woman, after all. Frank nodded, and they slipped out the door.

The people of King’s Crossing were chattering, confused.

Alice glanced up at the faces around them. “They can’t see or hear us, either?”

Frank shook his head. “So you know about the books?”

Alice nodded weakly. “I know what I saw. And what they told me. They talked a lot about Zed and what he was trying to do. The way I understand it, the books are absorbing some kind of potential energy from the town. Or the people. And when the Exiles harvest the energy, it destroys the town. And if they don’t harvest it, it slowly begins to decay, eventually destroying the town anyway, like what happened back in Sugar Plains, Illinois. That’s what Zed was trying to do. Take the towns out of time so the batteries would eventually decay.”

“And that’s what he was trying to do with Rook Mountain,” Frank said. Zed must not have known Frank had already absorbed the power from the book.

A thought occurred to him: the town hadn’t been destroyed when he stabbed the book.

“Listen,” Frank said, taking Alice by the shoulders. “I think I know a way to make it so they can’t get their hands on the book. They’ll never be able to get their hands on it.”

“What are you gonna do?” she asked.

“I’m gonna destroy the book.” He held up a hand before she could object. “I can do it without hurting the town. But is there anything we can do with the book? Any way we could use it to our advantage?”

She shook her head. “Not that I know of. Do your thing. Now.”

He took a deep breath. “Hey, there’s a chance this might not…I might not make it through this. I don’t have time to say goodbye to Sophie.”

Alice nodded quickly. “Yeah, I’ll tell her you said all kinds of mushy stuff. Get on with it.”

Frank gripped the knife and raised it over the book.

Before he could bring down the knife, a sudden shooting pain in his head sent him reeling.

A booming voice filled the air.

“That smell. I recognize that smell.” It was San, the statuesque woman with black hair. She was floating over the crowd, searching it with her eyes. The people of King’s Crossing stared up at her, frozen with fear and awe.

Another shockwave hit Frank’s brain and he doubled over and let the book slip from his fingers. It felt like a wrecking ball hitting his skull from the inside. He realized he was lying on his back on the ground now, though he hadn’t felt himself fall.

“It’s a book,” San said. “You’re using the power from a book. But how?”

The pounding came again, now from another direction. Frank squinted up into the sky and saw Vee floating to his left. “We will break down the walls. You are like a child. You might be holding power, but you have no idea how to use it.”

Frank wanted to say that the use of power assaulting him wasn’t exactly subtle either, but he didn’t think he currently had the power of speech. Another impact slammed into his head and drove him to his knees.

“You’re somehow using the power to mask yourself from us,” San said. “If I didn’t recognize the taste of that power, I wouldn’t have been able to find you at all. Despite what my brother Vee says, it’s actually very nicely done.”

Frank felt a cool hand on his shoulder. He turned his head, nausea rolling through him as he moved, and looked up, expecting to see Alice. Instead, he saw Wilm looking down at him.

“I’m very curious where you got that power,” Wilm said.

A wave of pain rocked Frank, putting everything he’d felt before it to shame. He lost the ability to even open his eyes. It felt like his mind was a gaping hole. He could barely hold a thought.

“Ah,” Wilm said. “That’s better. We can see you now.”

“My guess is he was doing it instinctively,” San said. “Probably didn’t even realize how he was doing it. More the power protecting itself than him using it.”

“And you, my dear Alice,” Wilm said. “After everything we’ve done for you? I must say, I’m rather disappointed.”

Frank still couldn’t open his eyes. The world was dark, but he heard a squeal of pain or maybe terror that could only be Alice.

“Shall I burn out her mind?” That was Vee speaking, his distinctive low rumbling voice banging around in Frank’s head like a gong.

“I hardly see the point,” Wilm said. “She’ll be dead in a few moments. They’ll all be dead.”

Frank let out a tiny moan. He managed to roll onto his side. A major accomplishment, as far as he was concerned. Maybe he should celebrate by resting for a moment or two.

“Ah,” Wilm said. “The broken man.”

She must be holding the book now, Frank realized. Soon this would all be over. The thought terrified him, but there was something sweet about it, too. An end to the pain. Not just his, but everyone’s.

Wilm continued. “Did you know, Alice, that the symbols on these books represent the great families of our home? The icon of a lone man was the symbol of a proud family of warlords. I was briefly engaged to their second eldest son. They’re long dead, of course. That’s what the crack means. The family is no more. Jorrick, our old friend who built the books, did it as a way to honor the old families.”

Alice yelped again. Frank wished he knew what they were doing to her. Or maybe he didn’t.

“My husband’s family symbol was the clock. They were a quirky bunch. Rayd’s symbol was the mountain. So many families. So much history. All lost forever.” She sighed.

“I can’t wait to see what your symbol is,” Alice said in a strained voice. “I’m gonna use your bones to make a plunger. I’ll think of you every time I use it.”

Wilm made a tsking noise. “Shall we?”

Frank forced his eyes open.

Wilm held the book. Her hand rested on the cover. San was reaching toward it. A silver, shimmering construct of an arm suddenly appeared on Vee’s right side, and the hand reached toward the book.

Frank wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and wait for the end. He didn’t know if it would be painful, but he was pretty sure it would be fast. And that was all he wanted. For it to be over fast.

He’d been through so much. So much pain. So much loneliness. And now it would be over.

Then he felt the heavy, cold weight of the knife in his hand. He remembered Christine and Will and Trevor risking everything to try to save him the day he was sent Away. He remembered Jake fighting to the death to turn Vee into a tree back in Sanctuary. He remembered Alice battling her way back here to warn them about Wilm. He remembered Sophie standing up to Taylor, the man who’d killed her sister.

He couldn’t let this happen. Not while there was even the sliver of a chance left. His friends trusted him. Against all odds, even Zed trusted him.

And trust was a must, yes. But even more important was what you did with the trust people gave you. It was a gift. That’s what Zed never understood. He asked for the people’s trust in Rook Mountain, and when they gave it to him, he betrayed it. He took that most precious of gifts and he sold it to buy another chance at the power he so coveted.

Frank wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t be like Zed. He would give their trust the respect and the honor it deserved.

He’d do this one thing, and then he’d finally be able to rest.

Frank struggled to his feet, the world spinning around him. Wilm and the others didn’t notice. Their eyes were locked on the book, on the power they were about to drink. Frank gritted his teeth and raised the knife.

Vee’s hand touched down on the cover of the book, the final one of the three, and they all opened their eyes wide, looks of ecstasy on their faces.

The color seemed to drain out of the world. Sounds grew faint. The town was fading.

Frank buried the knife deep into the book and fire poured into his mind.

It was worse than it had been with the Rook Mountain book, so much worse. If the Rook Mountain book had been like drinking from a fountain, then this was drinking from a fire hose. He didn’t know if the screaming he heard was coming from him, Wilm, Vee, San, or all four of them.

Through the haze of pain he saw the three Exiles, their looks of ecstasy now replaced with expressions of terror.

Frank realized he wasn’t just sucking the power out of the book. He was sucking the power out of them. Somehow, he was draining their power.

The three godlike beings in front of him seemed to be diminishing. They looked gaunt, like they’d gone weeks without eating. A moment later, they were inhumanly thin, skeletons with paper-like skin.

And then, they were gone. All that remained were three shimmering pools of metallic liquid on the ground at his feet.

The book burst into flame, but just like with the Rook Mountain book, he didn’t feel it. Or maybe he did feel it and he just couldn’t distinguish it from the agonizing fire burning inside him.

He looked down and, to his surprise, he saw the people of King’s Crossing looking up at him. He was thirty feet in the air.

There was Matt, Alice’s dad, his eyes wide. Frank realized he could hear the man’s thoughts. Please let my daughter be okay. If Frank has to die to make that happen—

Frank stopped listening. Maybe he didn’t want to hear it.

There was Joe, fearless leader of the Rough-Shod Readers. His thoughts were full of quotes from Milton’s Paradise Lost.

And there was old enemy stepping out of the shed. Zed’s thoughts…they were different than everyone else’s. He wasn’t thinking in words at all. As he stared up at Frank, Zed’s thoughts were only of a terrible hunger. Zed bent down and picked up something off the ground, but Frank didn’t notice what it was. Because his friends and family were coming out of the shed now, and Frank was overwhelmed with love for them.

He looked down at his hands and saw they were glowing. No, not just his hands. All of him. The fire, Frank thought. It was seeping out through his skin.

Frank took one last look down at the people of King’s Crossing. The people who’d taken him in over the past seven years and given him a home. The people he’d saved. The people who’d saved him.

And he smiled.

The world went dark, and Frank tumbled out of the sky.

2.

Sophie stumbled out of the shed and saw Frank floating in the sky. His skin was glowing. It was the strangest, most terrifying, most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. God, how she loved him.

Then he fell from the sky and landed with a loud thud.

They’d waited in the shed for a while, Sophie, Zed, Jake, Christine, Will, and Mason. They hadn’t believed Wilm and her friends would be able to find Frank. No one could see through Frank’s locks, not even the Exiles.

So they’d been shocked when they saw the world beginning to fade. It felt to Sophie like all the air was being sucked out of her lungs. Something pulled at her. It was like an undertow, and she knew that in a few moments she and everything else in this town would be washed away.

Then, suddenly, it had stopped. It was as if the world were even brighter and more alive than it had been before. It was like the wave crashing, pushing her back onto the shore. Then, there was screaming. And a ball of light, like fire, flashed through the air.

They’d followed Zed outside. And she’d seen Frank, shining like a light in the sky.

She ran to where he lay on the pavement. He didn’t seem to be injured, not visibly anyway. There was no blood. That didn’t mean anything, though. He could have a broken neck, or a broken back, or internal bleeding, or who-the-hell knew what.

His skin still glowed. She reached out and caressed his cheek. It was cold.

He was breathing, but his breaths were shallow with long pauses between them.

She looked up at the others around her. She saw Alice hugging her dad, her golden sword on the ground at her feet. Jake, Christine, and Will all looked down at Frank with troubled stares.

“What’s wrong with him?” Sophie asked.

No one answered.

Zed stood apart from the rest of them. “He did it. I don’t believe it. He actually did it.” He touched Alice’s arm. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

Sophie saw the sunlight glint off something in Zed’s hand. It was the knife. Somehow he’d gotten ahold of Christine’s knife.

Alice shook her head. “I don’t know. It was all so fast.”

“Just tell me what you saw. Anything you can remember.”

Her voice quivered as she spoke. “Wilm was holding the book. They all touched it the way they do when they devour a town. Then things went all swirly like usual. Except this time was different. I wasn’t just watching. I felt like I was being sucked in too.”

“That’s because you’re part of this town,” Zed said. “You weren’t an outside observer. This is your town. Tell me what happened next.”

“Okay. Frank was lying on the ground. Then he got up and stabbed the book with that knife. Then everything changed. I didn’t feel like I was being sucked in anymore. Frank started glowing and the rest of them…” She trailed off and waved a hand toward other metallic pools of liquid on the ground. “Then the book caught on fire and Frank floated into the sky. You saw the rest. He fell.”

Zed’s eyes were lit up. “Of course. The only thing that can draw the power from a book is one of the Exiles. And the Tools are made from their remains. Stabbing the book with the knife drains the power from the book, same as when the Exiles touch it.”

It suddenly struck Sophie that they may have just wiped out an entire alien race. But now, with her husband lying half dead on the ground, she found it hard to care about that. They were trying to destroy the Earth, after all.

Zed crouched down next to Frank. “I should have known. Back in Rook Mountain, I knew the power was still there and it was still building. But I couldn’t find the book. That’s because there was no book. His mind became the trap for the power. All the power of Rook Mountain was hiding inside him all along.”

Zed laughed, and Sophie felt a chill run down her spine. She’d heard Zed laugh before, but never like this. Never like he was so close to losing control. “Do you know why Jorrick put the books where he did? Wilm had a theory. She told me once a long time ago. She said Jorrick hid the books centuries ago at the sites that were destined to become the greatest cities in our world. They were supposed to be places of great learning, great innovation. Rook Mountain, Sugar Plains, King’s Crossing. All these places should have been centers of earthly culture and the birthplaces of humankind’s greatest achievements. But the books gathered the potential of these places and trapped it. All that power in one place attracted strange things like the Unfeathered and the Ones Who Sing. After Wilm and her people consumed the potential from the book, it would be as if the town never existed.”

He tapped Frank’s forehead. “It seems there’s a more perfect storage device.” He looked up at the rest of them, his eyes wild with excitement. “Can you imagine it? Inside his head is the potential of two cities plus the energy Wilm, San, and Vee were carrying. No wonder he’s out cold! He has no idea how to use it! How to even deal with it.”

Zed was holding the knife so tightly the tendons on his arm were standing out and his knuckles were white.

“He has no idea how to use the power,” he said, “but I do. I’ve tasted it. I practiced using it for a thousand years! Albeit in a smaller dosage.” He gently rested the blade of the knife against Frank’s forehead. “Imagine what I could do with that power.”

Sophie couldn’t breathe. Zed had a knife against her husband’s head. A man who destroyed countless lives. There was no question in Sophie’s mind Zed would kill Frank to get to that power. He’d kill all of them if he had to.

Something welled up inside her. Something she hadn’t felt since she’d killed Taylor back in Sanctuary. Before she realized what she was doing, Alice’s sword was in Sophie’s hand. She pressed it against Zed’s neck.

“If you don’t set that knife down in the next three seconds,” Sophie said, “I will kill you.”

Zed hesitated. He spoke slowly when he answered. “Think very carefully before you do anything. Frank is dying. We can’t stop that. His mind has not had a thousand years to prepare for this moment. Mine has. Don’t let his death be for nothing.”

“Put down the knife,” she said.

“Sophie,” Zed said, “I can do so much good. Humanity is not safe. Consider the Ones Who Sing. You think they’ll never break into time? Consider the Harbinger’s Song. And the mirror lands.”

“I don’t know what any of that means,” she said.

“Exactly! But I do! I can stop those dangers and a thousand others. I can lead humanity into the next millennium. I can do so much good. Kill me if you must, but know humanity is losing its chance to step into the future safe and free.”

The sword quivered in her hand. Maybe humanity did need someone to lead them. But it sure as hell wasn’t Zed. “You told me something a long time ago. You told me I’m capable of great evil. And I think you were right.”

Sophie slashed the blade across his neck with one quick motion. It sank deep into his flesh and blood poured out around the wound.

She staggered back, shocked at how simple it had been, at how easily the steel had cut his throat and how deep of a gash it had made. She let the sword fall from her hand and it clattered to the ground.

Zed’s eyes widened, and he touched his neck. He brought up the hand and squinted at the blood. He looked from Sophie to the blood on his hand as if he was having difficulty connecting her with what was happening to him.

He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a weak gurgling sound. He wouldn’t speak, not ever again, and the look of horror in his eyes showed he knew it.

But he never let go of the knife. Not even at the end.

He collapsed onto his side as he passed out. A few bloody moments later, Zed was dead.

Frank quivered on the ground.

Jake stepped forward and held out his hand to Sophie. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. “I don’t think Zed was lying. Frank’s not looking good. All that power in his head. It’s trapped in there.”

“It’s like a lock without a key,” Christine said.

What had Zed called that earlier? A deadlock.

Matt looked up suddenly. “Wait. I think I know something.” He took Alice by the shoulders. “Frank said it himself the day we talked up on the bluff. The morning before all this started. He said you were the key to all this.”

“That was just a figure of speech,” Sophie muttered.

But Alice didn’t seem to think so. There was a distant look in her eye. “We have to let the power out. It’s trapped in there, like you said. If it really is humanity’s—I don’t know, potential—like Zed said, it needs to be released back into the world, right?” She picked up the sword and a bit of Zed’s blood dripped off the blade and onto the ground.

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “If you even think about stabbing Frank with that sword of yours—”

Mason put a hand on her shoulder. “I think it’s okay. She’s the key, remember? Frank’s head is like a deadlock. And she’s the key.”

“That’s what my sword does,” Alice said. “It releases things. It’s what allowed me to get the scissors to King’s Crossing.”

The girl stood over Frank and set the point of the sword against his forehead. It was so similar to what Zed had done with the knife only a few moments ago that Sophie had to suppress the urge to tackle Alice to the ground.

Alice took a deep breath and paused, her eyes scrunched shut. She pushed the broken mountain symbol and gingerly pressed the sword into Frank’s head.

A beam of light poured out around the sword. It shot into the sky, widening as it went.

Alice pulled the sword out of Frank’s head with a grunt and stumbled backward. She clutched the sword to her chest.

Sophie tried to follow the light’s path into the clouds, but it was too brilliant to look at. She hoped it scattered as it hit the clouds. Whatever the Exiles had taken out of the world was flowing back into it. The potential. That’s what they taken. Human potential. A small part of it, anyway. And now it was escaping back into the world.

A moment later the light was gone. The only evidence it had ever been there was the dazzling pain in Sophie’s eyes, like she’d looked directly at the sun. She blinked a few times and that too went away.

But Alice wasn’t done. She walked over and—one by one—stabbed the pools of liquid metal. The remains of Wilm and Vee and San. These reacted differently to the sword. Instead of the light, there was only a bit of smoke as the pools dried, crackled, and turned to dust.

Alice spit on the ground and walked back to her father.

Frank sat up and put a shaky hand to his head. The place where Alice had cut him wasn’t bleeding. The skin was whole and undamaged. Sophie dropped to the ground next to him.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think I am.” He looked at Zed’s body. “Your work?”

She smiled, blinking back the tears. “You know me too well.”

It was late afternoon in King’s Crossing. Soon there would be questions to answer. There would be decisions to make. And someone would have to do something with Zed’s body.

But for now Sophie and Frank Hinkle sat on the grass in Volunteer Park next to the Mississippi River, surrounded by their friends. They were alive and unafraid, and they held each other.

THE LAST OF THE HINKLES

1.

Jake opened the door and took a deep breath. This would be the first time he’d driven a car in…how long? It felt like a hundred years. He was a little nervous.

Or maybe the nerves stemmed from the fact that he was alone with his son for the first time since their strange reunion. His sixty-something son.

“You ready to do this?” Mason asked.

Jake considered the question. Ready to drive across the country with his son, a boy he’d treated distantly at best and who’d grown into a man he didn’t know at all? “Yeah. I’m ready.”

“Just to let you know, I get car sick.”

Jake smiled. “You get that from your mother.”

Mason’s eyes widened. “Really? I didn’t know that.”

Jake put the car in reverse and eased out of the driveway. “Yep. That’s what she told me, anyway. We were never actually in a car together. She said anytime she wasn’t driving she felt like she was gonna throw up.”

“Huh. Maybe you should teach me to drive.”

“Well,” Jake said, “it is kind of a father-son tradition. Let’s take it slow, though.”

A weight hung in the air as they drove toward the highway, and Jake knew what it was. The same thing that burned in his gut like a furnace. It was a serious topic to start the drive on, but Jake had to talk about it. He felt like he couldn’t go another mile without saying it.

He looked at his son. “Mason. I’m so sorry.”

Mason screwed up his face in surprise. “Sorry for what?”

Now it was Jake’s turn to be surprised. “For abandoning you. I didn’t protect you. I left you alone in Sanctuary with that monster.”

Mason looked out the window. “Well, you were dead at the time.”

Jake let out an involuntary laugh. “Yeah, as excuses go, I guess that’s a good one.”

“Best I’ve heard.” Mason turned back to his father, a slight smile on his face. “You know something I learned from Frank? It was right after he’d proposed to Sophie. Everybody knew they should get together. Everybody but them. Then they started dating and it was going well and everybody knew they were made for each other. He finally proposes, and I ask him, ‘Frank, why’d you wait so long? We were here for years before you even made a move.’ You know what he said?”

Jake shook his head, a sad smile on his face.

“He said, ‘I don’t know, man. And I don’t care.’ He said, ‘there’s no use looking back. You gotta enjoy what you have and not fret over why you didn’t have it sooner.’” He rapped on the window with his knuckles. “Did I have a messed up childhood? Yes. But, you know, now I’m taking a cross-country trip with my dad in his prime. How many old timers can say that?”

“Let’s not go crazy,” Jake said. “You never saw me in my prime. I was something back then. The Unregulated, they called us. Zed spent years trying to figure us out.”

“I heard.”

“Oh no, you heard Zed’s version. You haven’t heard the truth.” He reached out and patted his son’s knee. “Sophie told me you used the book in Sanctuary. She said you could move the trees with it. That you opened a door to Rook Mountain.”

Mason let out a laugh. “Now that was something. You should have seen me.”

A few quiet miles passed. Mason kept his eyes on the fields rolling past the window and Jake kept his on the yellow line in the center of the road.

“The University of Denver,” Jake asked. “Nineteen hours and forty-five minutes, according to my fancy phone app.”

Mason grinned. “My brother. I can’t wait to see what he’s like.”

A shadow fell over Jake’s face. “Me too. Two sons, and I missed both their childhoods.”

“Remember what Frank said. Eyes on the future.”

Father and son drove west, crossing the country they’d helped save and enjoying the sights and the sounds of it. They stopped at too many scenic overlooks and ate too many greasy roadside burgers. The conversation grew easier as they went. They found they had similar senses of humor. Jake wondered if that was genetics or if they just shared a certain gallows humor common to men who had lost so much.

Neither of them mentioned that Will and Christine lived out in Colorado, too.

Jake hadn’t even said goodbye to Christine. She’d moved on with her life, and he had to let her. After all, he too had moved on back in Sanctuary. Mason was living proof of that. And he could see she was happy. Will was the right person for her. Jake wasn’t going to get in the middle of that. He wasn’t going to make her choose.

They met up with Trevor at a pizza place near the university. They stayed in town a few days and got caught up a little. But Trevor needed his space and time to understand everything that had happened.

So, Jake and Mason returned to Rook Mountain. It turned out there were two vacant cabins at the old Hinkle Resort. Jake took Will’s old cabin, the one where the Unregulated had met so many times.

Trevor came often to visit, and he eventually fell back in love with his childhood home. It wasn’t long before he was looking at apartments in town.

Rook Mountain, it seemed, had a way of bringing folks back.

They stayed in Rook Mountain from then on. Jake, Mason, and Trevor. Survivors of Zed. Wielders of books and Tools. Family.

2.

It was two years before Frank started making locks again. For a long while, the idea was too heavy in his mind. It carried too much weight, too much baggage. But every once in a while, usually when he was least expecting it, out for a walk or in the shower, an idea would pop into his head. It was never a full lock, only a concept that could eventually lead to a lock. A feeling almost. Something he couldn’t put into words.

But he knew from experience that if he pursued that idea, it could eventually lead to something. That process, creating something new, used to fill him with so much joy.

Still, he never did anything with the ideas. Not for two years. When he finally sat down to work on one, everything about it felt clumsy. His fingers felt too big and he couldn’t quite get them to do what he wanted. The lock didn’t come together the way he’d thought it would. When he finally got it working, he realized it was clunky and derivative.

He tossed it out and started over. The next one was a little better. The one after that was better still. And after a couple months he had two new designs he didn’t hate.

His locks didn’t have any special powers now. Whatever had allowed him to do that had leaked out when Alice stabbed him with the sword. His locks were just locks. But most days that was enough.

He never did get back to the pure joy of creation he’d had when he was younger. He always held a little back, like he was afraid to get lost in the process. Sometimes he caught glimpses of that old mental state of pure creation, but he never gave over to it. Of all the scars he bore from the things he’d been through since meeting Zed on that day so long ago, that might have been the one that hurt the most.

Sophie had scars too, he knew. Killing Zed had damaged her, but her greatest pain came from the thing she hadn’t been able to do. Frank had his brother back. Sophie’s sister was still dead. What was worse, she might not have to be.

Heather had been killed in 2010. Alice would have been four at the time. If Alice Pulled Back to the morning of the day Heather was killed, she could dial Sophie’s parents’ phone number. Sophie had thought of a dozen things Alice could say to stop Heather from going out that day. To save her life. She’d shared them all with Frank, usually late at night. They both had trouble sleeping sometimes.

But Sophie knew it wouldn’t be worth it. Who knew what other things might change? Maybe the domino effect would make them lose their chance to defeat the Exiles. Maybe millions would die because Sophie missed her sister.

Even if nothing changed, was it fair to ask Alice to relive everything she’d experienced?

Still, sometimes in those late night conversations Sophie admitted she believed she could talk Alice into it if she tried. And that she wondered if maybe things could turn out even better than they had this time around. But those thoughts were always gone by morning.

Frank knew Sophie still believed what Zed had told her. She believed she had the capacity for great evil.

But didn’t they all?

Frank trusted Sophie. And the fact that she shared these dark thoughts with him at night proved she trusted him back.

They’d decided to stay in King’s Crossing. After spending seven years fighting to hold the town together, it felt like the right place to be. Rook Mountain was the past. King’s Crossing was the life they’d built together.

Sophie still worked at the library. She’d gone back to school to get her bachelor’s degree and eventually her master’s in library sciences. Her dream was to take Joe’s job when he retired in a few years. She still attended every meeting of the Rough-Shod Readers, though Frank had dropped out after things had gone back to normal in King’s Crossing. They actually discussed books now, and Sophie even convinced them to slip in some sci-fi and fantasy every once in a while.

They visited Tennessee every fall to see Sophie’s parents and the southern Hinkle clan: Jake, Mason, and Trevor. Rook Mountain was as beautiful as ever when the leaves were changing. They made it out to see Christine and Will in Colorado every few years too.

But Frank’s favorite pastime was sitting on the front porch with Sophie in the evenings. Sometimes they read books or took turns strumming the guitar. Many nights they just sat in silence, Sophie often sipping a cup of tea, and Frank with the compass in his hands.

He couldn’t explain exactly why he’d saved the compass from Christine’s knife. The tree in the shed had withered and died. Christine had taken the knife back to Colorado. Mason had kept the scissors. Alice still had her sword. Maybe Frank just wanted a little piece of magic to call his own.

He held the compass on those nights and watched the needle spin as he thought of destinations. He said them aloud, enjoying the way it always made Sophie laugh.

“Denmark,” he’d say, and the needle would spin.

“Bill Clinton,” he’d say, and the needle would turn again.

“The first girl I ever kissed,” he’d say, and the needle would move as Sophie slugged him in the arm.

They ended every night the same way. After Sophie had finished her tea, or they’d closed their books, or they’d put away the guitar, he’d say, “Home.”

And the needle would point to Sophie.

Then they’d go inside, lock the door, and keep each other warm.

The end of the Deadlock Trilogy

AUTHOR'S NOTE

We’ll leave Frank and Sophie there. I think they’ve earned a bit of privacy, don’t you?

Frank, Sophie, and Mason’s journeys are over, but I will likely return to this world in future novels. Other heroes will rise to face some of the threats Zed listed in his final moments. And Alice still has that sword and the ability to Pull Back. I assume she’ll put them to good use. Maybe she’ll let us tag along sometime.

Thanks for reading this trilogy. I hope it was as much time-hopping, genre-bending, never-back-down-in-the-face-of-evil fun as I intended.

If you’re wondering what to read next, check out my fantasy novella series about the assassin Zane Halloway. The first installment, Thorns and Tangles, is absolutely free. Visit pthylton.com/books/thorns-tangles for details

If you’d like to stay in touch, you can find me at:

My YouTube channel - where I post weekly (at a minimum) videos about what I’m reading

My Twitter account - where I mostly talk about books

My blog - where I mostly write about writing

Or, if you just want to say hello, email me at pt@pthylton.com

Thanks once again for your support!

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This book would not have been possible without support from the following people:

My wife, who is always supportive and holds me accountable for writing each day.

My daughter, who asked me, “Is that nine-year-old girl in your book based on me?”

My editor, Kirsten D, who played a huge role in shaping this trilogy.

My friend Andy, who is a wonderful daily sounding board for my crazy ideas.

My dad, who gave me my love of story.

My beta readers, who I will not call out by name here. You all rocked it once again.

My fellow indie authors, who supported me and advised me via dozens and dozens of email conversations.

And thanks to you, dear reader, for your continued support.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

P.T. Hylton is a writer, podcaster, and instructional designer. He lives in beautiful Eastern Tennessee with his wife and daughter. Check out his blog at pthylton.com.