She was quiet for a long time.
“What was Rachel like when you were with her?” she asked.
He considered his answer for a while. “Like a reminder that it’s worth it to be alive.”
Holly pulled her feet up to the step beneath the one she sat on. She hugged her knees. “It’s a hell of a thing to be truly sorry for something. Sorry with every part of yourself. Do you think she could ever accept that from me?”
Dryden heard needfulness in her voice. He wanted to tell her it was possible. Instead he pictured that last moment between Rachel and her mother, and said nothing.
The wind picked up. Holly shuddered and pulled her knees closer. Dryden looked at her. Her bangs hung past her temples. Her eyes were almost shut. Something in her vulnerability commanded his attention.
She looked up and met his eyes. For a few seconds she seemed almost afraid of him, the way he was looking at her. She was caught off guard, at least. Then she took a deep breath, and her eyes changed. Not afraid—intense. And still needful.
A second later they were kissing. Hands on each other’s backs, grabbing, clinging. Her knees dropping out of the way, her body turning, mashing against his as hard as she could manage. Her mouth alive with her excitement, her breathing accelerating to match his. They were moving, then. Pushing up past the steps, sprawling on the old wood planking of the porch, hands going to shirt buttons, fumbling, pulling. He found her bra clasp and got it undone. She pulled her mouth back from his just long enough to speak.
“I haven’t done this in a long time. If I seem—”
Dryden shook his head. “Same here. You don’t even want to know.”
Kissing again. Shirts coming off. Skin against skin with nothing in the way. Jesus, how had he waited this long to do this with someone again?
She pulled back once more, their foreheads still touching. “Is this a good idea?”
“It’s a great idea.”
“It’s not really staying alert.”
“It’s really staying close to each other.”
She breathed a laugh. Pushed in again. Kissed him. Her hands traced the contours of his ribcage. His sides. Moving downward— Dryden opened his eyes. He pulled his face back six inches. All his excitement receded like hot water down a tub drain. His thoughts focused.
Holly reacted. “What?”
“Twelve days, and there hasn’t been any kind of spark between us. Not a thing.”
She looked confused. “It seems like there’s one now.”
“You’re not even close to my type,” Dryden said.
“Well—okay, thanks. Jesus Christ—”
“Think about what I’m saying,” Dryden said.
For another half second she remained baffled. Then it hit her like a shove.
“Oh shit,” she whispered.
Dryden nodded. “It’s not us. It’s her. She’s here.”
*
Dryden got out his phone even as they pulled their shirts back on. He brought up the contact list and tapped Gaul’s number. As it began to ring, he turned and scanned the grassy field south of the house. Holly was already doing the same thing.
It was almost pointless, though. In the near-total lack of moonlight, the terrain lay deep in darkness.
The call rang a second time. Then a third.
Sensing the delay, Holly turned and looked at him.
Four rings.
Five.
“What if she already got to Gaul?” Holly asked. Her eyes were wide at the implications. “What if he’s dead and there’s no plan anymore? No help coming?”
Six rings.
Seven.
Dryden turned and crossed to the front door, keeping the phone at his ear. Holly followed him into the house.
Eight rings.
Dryden hung up and pocketed the phone; Gaul could call back as easily as he could answer.
They stood in the middle of the living room, all indoor lights doused, the night visible through the windows of every room that surrounded it.
“She locked you and then me,” Holly said. “Right? The way you looked at me on the steps—you felt it first, and I didn’t. And then I did.”
Dryden nodded. “She can only lock one person at a time, but—I guess with something like that, you give people a push and they’ll probably keep going.”
“It worked.”
“Yeah.”
She went to the screen door and looked out again. “She wanted us distracted for a long time. Long enough for her to cross the open space to this house.”
Holly turned and faced him.
She wants to be looking me right in the eyes at the end.
Dryden nodded, seeing her point.
All the same, something about the situation didn’t add up. Rachel had locked them each just long enough to turn them on to each other, but she wasn’t locking them now. Why not? If she wanted them preoccupied while she herself approached the farmhouse, she could’ve just kept locking them, alternating from one to the other, and made them sit on the floor helplessly. That would’ve been the surest move. So why hadn’t Rachel done it? Dryden had no answer to that. Which put him on edge.
He took out his phone again. Stared at the blank display.