Chapter 28

Lion whines, sitting at the metal door of the small stone-built room. This is the antechamber to the main part of the bunker, not much bigger, with some canned food, a toilet, and a sealed scentless bin for waste.

My instincts scream at me to find my man. No, findMom. However, I can’t stop thinking about Michael running into the forest, a bullet catching him. What happened to him?

The doors start to buzz and hum, sliding aside. I’m covered in sweat. I feel stale and gross, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing does. I have to go upstairs. Get the phone. Whatever happened, Michael needs backup. Please let him be okay. And Mom. Jesus Christ. Just open already!

As the metal panels slide aside, I run for the stairs. It’s dark. I almost slip. Slowing myself down, I force my breath to do the same. Michael said he wanted a future together. I said it back. We meant it. I know I did. I know he did, but maybe neither Mom nor Michael has a future now or a present—just nothing.

The trapdoor sticks momentarily, making me think I will be trapped here, but then it gives. I gasp in the fresh air. I’ve been going nuts down there, alone, holding tightly onto Lion. At least he chose one specific post to pee on. Demon pushes up behind me, running into the growing darkness.

“Lion!” I snap. He turns and pads over to me, whining. I can hear the pain in the whine. He wants his daddy badly. I know the feeling. “Come, boy. Come on.”

I lead him toward the house, moving quickly, turning on the lights, and entering the main bedroom. The jewelry box is in the top drawer. I take out the phone and turn it on while biting my lip and drumming my foot. My thoughts are a slideshow of all the vicious things happening to Mom and Michael. I can’t take it.

There’s one number on the phone. I call it. Nothing. A dead line. The call won’t go through, but there’s a full signal, even all the way out here. I dial a random number with my old area code. The phone starts to ring. Dammit. I try the contact again. There’s nothing. This was my only lifeline, my entire plan, as I sat in the bunker, getting more scared, more paranoid.

Lion grunts at me from the doorway. It’s like he’s telling me to get my act together. He’s right. We need to search the house. Michael left something behind. Perhaps a clue or…

Oh, okay. Maybe this can work. Michael has left his keys on the table, a big ring of them. Perhaps one of them is the key to the garage where he left his car out in the forest. I think I can find it. No, IknowI can find it, but I must move fast before I lose the light. I feel lightheaded and ill, but it’s just the worry.

There’s no time for that. Get to the car and Michael’s apartment, assuming the key to the private elevator shaft is there. I can’t leave a bullet-ridden car on the street, can I? Then what? Maybe I should call the cops, but thereisn’t time. They’ll have to start an investigation, but I don’t know anything useful.

I keep searching the house. There’s nothing: just clothes, canned goods, and furniture. I walk onto the porch and scan it—nothing. No, there’s something wedged between two of the floorboards. It’s a business card. There’s no address, physical or email, no name, just two words.

The Answer.

It offers me nothing, but maybe it’s a clue. Perhaps this has something to do with the website.

* * *

It’s early morning when I return to the city, gnawing my shirt sleeve as I drive. Michael has extra gas in the trunk. The only time I stop is to feed Lion handfuls of the food I took before I left. Just enough to get home. My belly rumbles, but I don’t care.

The time helps me—four a.m. Nobody’s around as I bring the car up at the rear of the building, remembering my reaction to the small garage door the first time we came here. I thought Jamie might be behind all this. I really thought he would hurt me.

However, I was wrong. He’s the good guy. I don’t care if he’s done some bad things. He’s going to be the father of my children. He’s going to protect us. That is going to happen. He and Mom are going to be okay. I have to believe that.

Lion grumbles as he climbs into the elevator next to me. I have to try several keys, but then we’re in, gliding up. The last time we rode the elevator returns to me. The pressure in his pants, wondering if it could be true.

Once we’re inside, I rush across the apartment. Before we left, Michael said we should leave our cell phones here turned off. As I grab mine from the counter, it occurs to me I could’ve called the police, anyway, but I always assumed my savior was right there in front of me. He just happened to be my kidnapper, too.

I open the drawer, expecting to find Michael’s laptop, but it’s not there, dammit.

A quick search of the apartment, and I’m in his room. It’s sobarein here. It’s more like a barracks than a room. I almost expect to find a photo of him and Luka. He kept all those pictures, even after knowing what Luka did. I saw the confusion and pain in Michael. It must’ve been hell trying to make the real him fit with his idea of what he was.

His laptop is under his bed. I guess he thought he’d be in here if I came snooping. Maybe he wanted me to so he could punish me again.

I focus, open the laptop, and play Michael’s voice recording. Once I’m in, I open The Answer. I’ve got a feeling. Why would there be a business card? Luka must’ve dropped it or one of his men. When I ran my thumb across it earlier, I felt a raised section, like a magnetic strip or something or a ticket. That’s my hunch.

My first instinct was to think that’s crazy, but all of this is crazy. What’s one more thing added to the list?

The website loads. There’s no login screen anymore. Instead, there’s a message.This effort has always been in vain. There are no heroes. There are no fairytales. Join the fun at the meat market if you have a valid ticket. Those who know, know. Those without tickets will be executed, either upon arrival or, if inconvenient, at a later date.

Then there’s a smile emoji. I rub my forehead—themeat market. That doesn’t sound good, but I was right about the ticket and the magnetic strip.

There’s an address at the bottom of the post, a butcher. I should call the cops and let them handle it, but what will I say? I could show them the website.

All of this would taketime. I need to go there now. I don’t care how tired I am. I don’t care how scared. I need to save Mom and Michael. Quickly, I close the window. I can’t let myself wonder if I’m doing the right thing. It’s time to act.

As I stand, I call Alice from my cell phone. I know she won’t hear it. She wears earplugs at night. She never gets late calls. If she answers, I’ll hang up. She might try to stop me, but she doesn’t. It goes to voicemail. I tell her about the shootout at the fair. I tell her where I’m going. I tell her about The Answer. I tell her everything. “If you don’t hear from me by morning, call the cops, Alice. Play them this message.”