Page 53

Sage

I didn ’ t know how far I ’ d run after I got out of the quarry. Probably only a few minutes, but the way my lungs were burning made it feel like forever.

The road had widened a little and turned from dirt to pavement, and the cluster of lights that had been pinpricks before were finally getting bigger now, brighter. The nearest ones, outshining everything else in the distance, were attached to a group of buildings up ahead, through the trees. They were tucked into the dark night, surrounded by a white fence.

Something about the place was familiar, but not enough that I could say where I was yet.

Almost there.

With all those lights and all those buildings, somebody had to be home. Somebody had to let me in, help me, take me back to Bonnie and that hole, where I ’ d dig and dig and dig even though I could barely feel my fingers and arms anymore.

I tried to think of what I would say, the quickest way to get someone to listen and come with me. “ Help me! Call the police! There ’ s kids buried over at Northside Quarry. There ’ s men with guns. That way.” Yes. Those were the words. They had to be the words.

I held them in my mouth, ready to let them out the second someone answered one of those doors.

I staggered forward.

Then I heard a sound I recognized. Only this time, it was whispering instead of screaming.

It was that metal gate I ’ d climbed over just a few minutes ago. It was making the same high-pitched, creaky sound it made when I hoisted myself over it. My bladder nearly let go as my mind shrieked, He ’ s right behind you. He ’ s headed this way.

I pumped my legs as fast as I could, which wasn ’ t very fast anymore, for the white fence. As it got closer and closer, my breathing came faster and faster. Greasy Hair was going to catch me.

Any second, he ’ d be able to see me as the road dipped down toward these lights.

He ’ d know I would be heading straight for them.

I ran my hands over the white fence, looking for a latch, wanting to scream but afraid it would only lead him to me faster.

I was sure now that I ’ d seen this gate before, the same way I ’ d been sure I ’ d heard Mr. Edwards ’ s voice before, but there was no time to sort through how.

I found the latch. There was a lock on the other side. A big, thick lock.

“ No! No, help,” I cried in a soft whisper as I jangled it. Climbing the fence would make a lot of noise, but I was pretty sure I could grab the top and pull myself over if I put my foot on the rail running along the bottom. It was nothing compared to climbing out of the bunker.

I was almost there, just had to get to the other side, then one more sprint and I ’ d be banging on that first door with the porch light blazing down.

I hesitated for just a second with my foot on the rail. Just long enough to hear a voice behind me say, “ If you stay right there, I won ’ t shoot you.”