How many were out there right now, in the woods? Hundreds? Thousands? Easily thousands. The creatures always seemed to know where people congregated. And there were a hell of a lot of people here, right now, in these buildings around her. What was keeping them from coming in one of these days?
Or maybe the better question was, who was holding them back…
The girl with the round face and the big eyes came back five minutes later, still wearing the sundress, while Gaby was at the window. Mac did his usual look-inside-first move before letting the girl in. Then he stayed behind at the open door, watching Gaby like a hawk. He was so consumed with her that he didn’t pay any attention to the girl.
“Get it and let’s go,” Mac said.
The girl hurried inside and picked up the tray, glanced briefly at Gaby — sideways, so Mac couldn’t see their brief exchange (Okay, now what was that about?)—before leaving again without a word.
“Sleep tight,” Mac said. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite, princess.”
“Can I ask you something, Mac?” Gaby said.
That caught him by surprise. He hesitated, then said guardedly, “What?”
“Have you lived it down yet?”
“Lived what down?”
“Almost getting your head bashed in by a girl with an end table.”
He grunted. “Yeah, you keep bringing that up, princess. Like I keep telling you, one of these days your boyfriend might not be in charge anymore. Those things out there? Those bloodsuckers? They’ve been known to change their minds.”
Mac gave her a big grin, one that was intended to scare her.
It didn’t work. “Josh thinks you’re a pussy. He told me himself. Can’t stand you. Says you don’t bathe.”
His face turned slightly pale even in the semidarkness of her room, and he was about to respond when he apparently decided against it and left without a word instead. Gaby sighed when she heard the deadbolt snapping into place. She didn’t think very highly of Mac, but the man was damn good about always locking her inside.
The girl had left without a word while she was talking with Mac. Gaby cursed herself. Why hadn’t she paid more attention to the kid instead of wasting her time with—
Then she saw it. A piece of folded paper, tucked underneath the duvet near where the tray had been.
She hurried across the room, suddenly terrified Mac might choose tonight, of all nights, to come back in for a last-minute check before turning the shift over to Lance. She picked up the paper and walked toward the door on tiptoes, making as little noise as possible, and leaned against the wall and listened.
Mac, moving around, the creak of his heavy combat boots against the floorboards.
Gaby unfolded the note. It was a small piece of what looked to be from a sheet of 8.5x11 piece of writing paper. There was writing on it in black pen, the letters drafted in fine, almost elegant cursive letters. Which meant the girl didn’t write it. Gaby had known plenty of girls at thirteen — herself included — and none ever had this kind of penmanship.
She scanned the letters, her eyes widening with every line she read:
“If we help you escape, will you take us with you? Destroy this when done.”
Gaby re-read the note again just to be sure her desperate mind hadn’t accidentally (purposefully?) “rewritten” the note for its own purposes:
“If we help you escape, will you take us with you? Destroy this when done.”
No. It was still the same.
“If we help you escape, will you take us with you?”
Gaby folded the note back up until it was barely the size of her thumb, then slipped it into her mouth and swallowed.
She woke up sometime in the middle of the night to the sound of footsteps outside her door. They were too quiet, someone walking on tiptoes, to be Lance. So quiet, in fact, that she only heard it because she had been sitting on the bed waiting for it, or something like it, for the last few hours.
The second floor was partially lit by a portable LED lantern hanging from the ceiling somewhere in the middle of the hallway, between her door and the staircase on the other side. It was rechargeable, and she had seen Mac taking it down to recharge every morning when he showed up for his shift.
There was definitely a figure moving against the hallway light now, visible as elongated shadows through the slit under the door. The figure stopped, shifted (crouched?), then the sound of paper sliding across the floor.
Gaby climbed out of bed and raced toward the door just as the figure stood up and turned to go. “Wait,” Gaby said, whispering just loudly enough to be heard. She snatched up the paper — the same size as the other one — and pocketed it. “Don’t go.”
The shadow turned, then someone pressed against the door. A soft, familiar voice whispered, “You’re awake.”
Gaby smiled. It was the girl in the sundress. “What’s your name?”
“Milly.”
“Milly, who sent you—”
“I have to go,” Milly said, cutting her off. “He’s coming back.”
“Wait—”
But Milly was gone, the barely audible tap-tap of bare feet against the hallway floor, before a door opened and closed softly seconds later. Gaby was certain Milly had disappeared into a room somewhere further down the hallway, which meant she lived in the building and was one of the many unseen neighbors that came and went every day.
A few seconds later, loud footsteps — like thunder compared to Milly’s — climbed up the stairs and moved across the hallway.
Lance.
She got up and tiptoed back to her bed, lay down, and pulled the duvet over her chest and under her chin as the footsteps got closer. Lance moved with all the grace of a bear wearing combat boots.
Gaby closed her eyes when she heard the metal scraping — the familiar noise of the deadbolt sliding free. The door opened a crack and dimmed LED lights flooded into the room. She imagined, but didn’t open her eyes to see, Lance’s familiar hulking frame in the doorway, making sure she hadn’t escaped while he was gone.
A few seconds later, the door closed and the click-chank of the deadbolt once again locked her in.
She sat up, took out the note, and unwrapped it.
It was the same black ink written in the same careful cursive handwriting:
“First light. Be ready. Destroy this note.”
Gaby re-read the note again, making sure she didn’t miss anything, before folding it back up and swallowing it.
She looked over at the window and the darkness outside.
“First light” was sunrise. The “Be ready” part was obvious.
What wasn’t clear was what they were planning. She didn’t believe Milly was acting on her own, and the careful handwriting proved it. So Milly was working with someone. Who? Maybe her father. Or a brother. Maybe just a friend. Gaby was no expert, but the handwriting looked like a man’s. Then again, for all she knew, it really could just have been little Milly. Was that possible?
She lay back down and closed her eyes. If there was some kind of escape being planned for tomorrow, she had to be ready. And that meant getting as much sleep as possible now so she would be alert for tomorrow.
“First light…”
An hour later, she was still awake.
An hour after that, she gave up trying to sleep altogether.