“We could just stay in here,” Kerri suggested. “Hide. It’s dark in here. Those lights out in the hall don’t penetrate that far into the room. We could stay against the back wall and hide until someone rescues us.”
Javier paused before replying, choosing his words carefully. “Listen. We’re on our own here. Nobody knows where we are. Our folks are all sleeping. Chances are they won’t even notice that we’re missing until tomorrow morning. We might not have that long. We can’t rely on anyone else. We have to rely on ourselves.”
“But the gangbangers,” Kerri protested. “Somebody must have called the cops when they chased us. Somebody will notice Tyler’s car.”
“I doubt it. The car is probably stripped by now. And I don’t think this is the sort of neighborhood where people call the cops right away. We’ve wasted enough time. While we stand here arguing, they could be coming down the hall. Everybody find a weapon—anything at all—and then let’s get the hell out of here.”
They quickly searched the room. In addition to Javier’s knife and Kerri’s makeshift club, Brett found a long, jagged shard of broken glass. He tore off a small strip of his shirt and wrapped it around the shard to avoid cutting his fingers. Then he clutched it like a dagger. Heather found a brick. She carried it daintily, as if unsure what to do with it.
“If they attack us,” Javier told her, smiling, “sneak up behind the motherfuckers and bash them on the head.”
Nodding, she returned his smile. Her expression quickly faltered.
“Come here.” He pulled her close again and kissed her forehead. “Listen. It’s gonna be okay. I’ll get us out of here.”
“I know. I believe you.”
“Your foot gonna be okay to walk?”
“I think so.”
“Then let’s go.”
He listened at the door. Determining that the hallway was deserted, Javier opened the door and, after one glance back at the dead midget, he led them out into the light.
Heather squeezed her boyfriend’s hand as they crept down the hall, deeper into the house. Despite everything that had happened, she felt amazingly calm now. Having Javier beside her was the reason. His presence was soothing. In truth, she’d been surprised at the change that had seemed to overcome him in the last hour. Although decisive, Javier was usually the quietest member of their group and rarely made the decisions. He’d always just gone along with whatever everyone else decided—usually Tyler. He’d been the same way in his relationship with her. He usually deferred to whatever she wanted.
But now . . . Heather wondered if she was finally seeing the real Javier. Confident. In control.
She thought about the way he’d killed the dwarf. He’d seemed emotionless, like a man taking out the trash or performing some other menial, everyday task. Some of that could probably be chalked up to shock, but still—it was a little disconcerting. While it was true that the little man would have probably killed them, Javier’s actions had seemed so sudden. Perfunctory. It was a little scary. And yet his presence here was soothing at the same time. She knew that the conflicting emotions made no sense, but she couldn’t help it.
What was even scarier was that it had turned her on.
Not that she’d ever admit it to her friends. Not even to Javier. What would they think of her? Heather wasn’t even sure what to think of herself. Steph and Tyler had been dead less than an hour, and here she was, on the run from the killers inside an abandoned house—and horny.
Javier released Heather’s hand and slipped away, tiptoeing down the hall and motioning at the three of them to stay where they were. Heather chewed her bottom lip and watched him go. She felt bad. While not fighting (it was impossible to really fight with Javier because he always let her have her way), she’d been giving him the silent treatment off and on for the last few days, even when they were hanging together and with the gang. Recently, he’d been bringing up the future, asking her what it held for them—indeed, wondering if there would even be a “them.” She wanted different things than he did, and no matter how many times she told him that, Javier didn’t seem to understand. Was it right? No. Was she probably being a bitch? Yes. Did it matter? No. What was the point if she couldn’t be with a person who wanted the same things?
None of which meant a damned thing now. Not in this place.
Jesus, Heather thought. I’m a fucking mess. I’m scared. I’m soothed. I’m horny. I don’t know what the hell I am.
Heather heard Kerri sniffle. She turned and saw her friend wiping her eyes with her sleeve. Brett stared down the hallway in the direction they’d come from—keeping watch or trying to give Kerri her privacy. Or maybe both. Heather wasn’t sure. She put her arms around the other girl. It was all that she could think of to do. Kerri let out a snuffling, stifled moan and hugged her tightly. Kerri’s hot breaths blew against Heather’s neck.
“Shhhh. It’ll be okay. Javier will get us out of here. We just have to be brave, alright?”
Nodding, Kerri sniff ed again. Heather rocked back and forth slowly, and made placating noises until Kerri pulled away from her and straightened up again.
“Sorry,” Kerri said, wiping her nose. “Just . . . seeing you and Javier together . . . it made me think about Tyler . . .”
Heather wasn’t sure what to say, so she didn’t respond.
Javier motioned at them to come ahead. They crept through an open door and into another hallway. This one ran in the opposite direction of the previous passageway. Like the other, it was illuminated with a string of bare lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling.
Heather glanced in each direction and whispered, “Which way?”
Shrugging, Javier pointed with the knife to the right. They started in that direction. Javier went first, followed by Heather, then Kerri. Brett brought up the rear. Javier held the knife out in front of him. The lights glinted off the blade. Heather shifted the brick from one hand to the other. It was heavy, and her arms were beginning to ache. Plus, the hard, rough surface was giving her blisters. Heather noticed that Kerri allowed the club to dangle at her side, as if she’d forgotten she was carrying it.
“Um, guys?”
Brett’s voice trembled. They turned and noticed that he’d stopped a few feet behind them.
“Where did we come in?”
“Out front?” Kerri sounded confused.
“No,” Brett said. “I mean this hallway. Where’s the door we just came through?”
“Right behind you . . .” Javier’s voice trailed off as he gaped. Heather was about to tell him that he needed to quit blaming Brett for their predicament and quit being so short with him—but instead, her attention was drawn to the spot where they’d come in.
“See?” Brett pointed. Instead of an open doorway leading out into the previous corridor, there was now a wall. “The door’s gone.”
“What the fuck?” Javier whispered.
Heather heard real fear in his voice this time, and for a second, she thought it might be Javier’s turn to start crying. Instead, he strode toward the new wall.
“Doors don’t just get up and walk away.” Javier knocked the wall with the hilt of his knife. He grunted. The others gathered around him in confusion.
“Watch our backs,” Javier told Kerri. Then he turned his attention back to the wall. He handed Heather his knife and placed both hands on the paneling. He shoved and pushed in different directions, but the slab didn’t move. Brett moved to help him, but Javier waved him away.
“It ain’t budging,” he whispered. “It’s a trapdoor of some kind.”
“But why would they only seal off this end?” Brett asked.
“To keep us heading forward, maybe? An ambush?”
Heather pushed past both of them and ran her hand over the wall. It wasn’t plaster or paint or even wallpaper. It was solid wood—smooth, like a tabletop.