He woke.
There was light again—a soft, tentative blue loitering in the clearing.
Everything glazed with frost and his pant legs had frozen stiff below the knee.
The abbies were gone.
He was shivering uncontrollably.
He needed to get up, get moving, take a piss, build a fire, but he didn’t dare.
No telling how long since the swarm had moved out.
The sun climbed above the cliff and sunlight hit the clearing.
Frost steamed off the grass.
He’d been awake now for three or four hours and there hadn’t been so much as the sound of a leaf twittering in the surrounding forest.
Tobias sat up.
The soreness from yesterday’s sprint fired inside every muscle—like overtightened guitar strings. He looked around, his extremities beginning to burn as the blood reached them.
Struggling to his feet, it dawned on him.
He was still breathing.
Still standing.
Somehow—alive.
Above him, the scarlet leaves in the scrub oaks glowed, backlit by the sun.
He stared past them into a blue unrivaled by any sky in his life before.
15
When Ethan woke, Theresa and Ben had already left for work and school.
He’d barely slept.
He walked naked across the frigid hardwood to the window and scraped the glaze of ice off the inside of the glass.
The light coming through was still weak enough to suggest the sun had yet to clear the eastern wall of mountains that loomed over town.
Theresa had warned him that in the heart of winter there always came a month-long span—the four weeks that framed the solstice—when the sun never made it above the cliffs that encircled Wayward Pines.
He skipped breakfast.
Grabbed a coffee to go at the Steaming Bean.
Walked south out of town.
He’d woken up with regret fermenting, like a morning-after hangover—everything still hazy from the night before and a sinking feeling he’d fucked up badly.
Because he had.
He’d told Theresa.
It was almost inconceivable.
To be fair, he’d already been messed up after seeing Kate, and his wife had used her formidable wiles to get exactly what she wanted. Truth was, he didn’t yet know how tragic of a mistake it was. Worst case—Theresa slipped, told others, and slit this town down the middle. Pilcher would call a fête. He’d lose a wife. Ben would lose his mother. It killed him to even imagine it.
On the other hand, he couldn’t deny that it had felt so damn good to finally tell someone, no less his wife. The woman from whom he was supposed to keep no secrets. If she could keep her mouth shut, if she could handle the information—no slips, no moments of weakness, no lapses, no freak-outs—then at least there was another human being to share the weight of this crushing knowledge. At least Theresa might finally understand the burden he shouldered every day of his life.
Walking down the middle of the road, he glanced up at the Wayward Pines “goodbye” sign—a family of four frozen mid-smile, mid-wave.
WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED YOUR VISIT TO WAYWARD PINES!
DON’T BE A STRANGER! COME BACK SOON!
Of course, that was only the setup to Pilcher’s grand joke.
The road simply curved back around a half mile later to deliver its hysterical punch line.
That same perfect, smiling family on a billboard, greeting everyone with:
WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES
WHERE PARADISE IS HOME
It wasn’t that Ethan didn’t appreciate the irony, and on some level, even the humor. But considering last night and the shit-show his life was fast becoming, more than anything he just wished he’d brought his twelve gauge along to pepper those obnoxious, happy faces with buckshot.
Next time.
The proposition certainly held the promise of therapy.
He finished his coffee as he reached the woods and chucked the dregs.
Had started to crumple the Styrofoam cup when he saw something on the inside.
It was Kate’s handwriting.
In fine, black Sharpie:
3:00 a.m. Corner of Main and Eighth. Stand by the front doors of the opera house. No chip or don’t bother coming.
The tunnel door was already raised and Pam waited for him, sitting on the front bumper of the Jeep in black spandex shorts and a Lycra tank top. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail but still sweat-darkened from what looked to have been a punishing workout.
Ethan said, “You look like the cover of a bad muscle car magazine.”
“I’m freezing my tits off out here.”
“You’re barely dressed.”
“Just finished ninety minutes on the bike. Didn’t figure you’d be this late.”
“I had a long night.”
“Chasing down your old flame?”
Ethan ignored this and climbed into the passenger seat.
Pam cranked the engine, gunned them out into the forest, and spun a one-eighty that would’ve flung Ethan out of the Jeep if he hadn’t grabbed the roll bar at the last second.
She floored it back into the tunnel, and as the camouflaged door closed behind them, they screamed up into the heart of the mountain.
Riding the elevator to Pilcher’s floor, Pam said, “Do me a favor this afternoon.”
“What?”
“Check in on Wayne Johnson.”
“The new arrival?”
“Yeah.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Too early to tell. He just woke up yesterday. I’ll have a copy of his file sent back to town with you, but I saw a surveillance report that indicated he had walked the road to the edge of town this morning.”
“He make it to the fence?”
“No, he didn’t leave the road, but he apparently stood there staring into the trees for a long time.”
“What do you want me to do exactly?”
“Just talk to him. Make sure he understands the rules. What’s expected. The consequences.”
“You want me to threaten him.”
“If you think that’s what’s needed. It’d be nice if you could help lead him down the path to believing he’s dead.”
“How?”
Pam grinned and punched Ethan in the arm hard enough to give him a charley horse.
“Ouch.”
“Figure it out, dummy. It can be fun, you know.”
“What? Telling a man he’s dead?”
The elevator arrived, the doors parted, but when Ethan moved to exit the car, Pam’s arm shot out in front of him. She wasn’t ripped in the cartoonish female bodybuilder sense of the word, but her muscle tone was damn impressive. Lean and hard.
“If you have to tell Mr. Johnson he’s dead,” she said, “you’ve missed the entire point. He needs to arrive at that conclusion under his own steam.”
“That’s cruel.”
“No, it’s going to save his life. Because if he honestly believes there’s a world still out there, do you know what he’s going to do?”
“Try to escape.”
“And guess who gets to hunt him down? Give you a hint. Rhymes with Beethan.”
She smiled that psychobitch smile and let her arm drop. “After you, Sheriff.”
Ethan headed through Pilcher’s residence and then down the corridor to his office, where he dragged open the double oak doors and strolled in.
Pilcher was standing by the window in the rock behind his desk, staring down through the glass.
“Come here, Ethan. I want to show you something. Hurry or you’ll miss it.”
Ethan moved past the wall of flatscreens and around Pilcher’s desk.
Pilcher pointed through the glass as Pam arrived on the other side of him, said, “Now just watch.”
From this vantage point, the valley of Wayward Pines stood in shadow.
“Here it comes.”
The sun broke over the eastern wall.
Sunbeams slanting down into the center of town in a blaze of early light.
“My town,” Pilcher whispered. “I try to catch the first light that reaches it every day.”
He motioned for Ethan and Pam to take a seat.
“What do you have for me, Ethan?”
“I saw Kate last night.”
“Good. What was your play?”
“Total honesty.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I told her everything.”
“What am I missing?”
“Kate isn’t an idiot.”
“You told her you were investigating her?” There was heat in Pilcher’s words.
“You think she wouldn’t have immediately assumed that?”
“We’ll never know now, will we?”
“David—”
“Will we?”
“I know her. You don’t.”
Pam said, “So you told her we were onto her, and she said, ‘Great, here’s what’s going on.’?”
“I told her that she was under suspicion, and that I could protect her.”
“Played up those old feelings, huh?”
“Something like that.”
“Okay, might not be the worst approach. So what’d you learn?”
“She says the last time she saw Alyssa was on Main Street the night she died. They parted ways. Alyssa was still alive.”
“What else?”
“She has no idea what’s beyond the fence. Asked me repeatedly.”
“Then why is she running around in the middle of the night?”
“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me. But I have a chance to find out.”
“When?”
“Tonight. But I need my chip taken out.”
Pilcher looked at Pam, back to Ethan.
“Not possible.”
“Her note explicitly said, ‘No chip or don’t bother coming.’?”
“So just tell her you took it out.”
“You think they won’t check?”
“We can make an incision in the back of your leg. They’ll never know the difference.”
“What if they have some other way of finding out?”
“Like what?”
“Fuck if I know, but if there’s a microchip in my leg tonight, I’m staying home.”
“I made that mistake with Alyssa. Let her go dark. If she’d been chipped, we’d already know where she went. Where she was killed. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“I can handle myself,” Ethan said. “You’ve both seen that. Firsthand.”
“Maybe we aren’t as concerned,” Pam said, “with your safety as we are with your loyalty.”
Ethan turned in his chair.
He’d fought this woman once in the basement of the hospital. She’d come at him with a syringe, and he’d crashed into her at full speed, driven her face into a concrete wall. He relived that moment now like the memory of a good meal, wishing he could experience it again.
“She raises a point, Ethan,” Pilcher said.
“And what point is that? You don’t trust me?”
“You’re doing great, but it’s still early times. Lots to prove.”
“I want the chip out, or I don’t go. It’s that simple.”
Pilcher’s voice assumed a harder edge.
“You will be in my office crack of dawn tomorrow with a full report. Is that understood?”
“Yes.”
“And now I have to threaten you.”
“With what will happen to my family if I should decide to run or otherwise misbehave? Can’t I just imagine the worst and assume you’ll deliver? What I really need is to have a word with you in private.” Ethan glanced at Pam. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course I don’t mind.”
When the door had closed behind her, Ethan said, “I’d like to get a better picture of who your daughter was.”
“Why?”
“The more I know her, the better chance I’ll have of finding out what happened to her.”
“I think we know what happened to her, Ethan.”
“I was down in her quarters yesterday. There were flowers and cards all around her door. A real outpouring. But I was wondering—did she have any enemies in the mountain? I mean, she was the boss’s daughter.”
Ethan thought Pilcher might erupt at this intrusion into his privacy and grief.
But instead, Pilcher leaned back in his chair and said, almost wistfully, “Alyssa was the last person to trade on her status. She could’ve lived in this suite with me in luxury, done whatever she wanted. But she insisted on keeping spartan living quarters and she took assignments just like everyone else. Never once sought out preferential treatment because of who she was. And everyone knew. And it made everyone love her even more.”
“Did you two get along?”
“Yes.”
“What did Alyssa think about all this?”
“All what?”
“The town. The surveillance. Everything.”
“Early on, after we all came out of suspension, she had her idealistic moments.”
“You mean she didn’t agree with how you ran Wayward Pines?”
“Right. But by the time she hit twenty, she’d begun to really mature. She understood the reasons behind the cameras and the fêtes. The fence and the secrets.”
“How did she become a spy?”
“Her request. The assignment came up. There were a lot of volunteers. We had a big fight about it. I didn’t want her to do it. She was just twenty-four. So bright. So many other things she could’ve contributed to that wouldn’t have put her in danger. But she stood here and said to me several months ago, ‘I’m the best candidate for this mission, Daddy. You know it. I know it. Everyone knows it.’?”
“So you let her go.”
“As you’ll find with your son soon enough, letting go is the hardest, greatest thing we can do for them.”
“Thank you,” Ethan said. “I feel like I know her a little bit now.”
“I wish you’d really gotten the chance. She was something else.”
Halfway to the doors, Ethan stopped, glanced back at Pilcher.
“Mind if I ask one more prying question?”
Pilcher smiled sadly. “Sure. Why stop now?”
“Alyssa’s mother. Where is she?”
It was like something broke inside the man’s face. He looked suddenly old, as if the underpinnings had been washed away.
Ethan instantly regretted asking.
The air was sucked out of the room.
Pilcher said, “Out of everyone who went into suspension, nine people never woke up on the other side. Elisabeth was one of those nine. Now I’ve lost my daughter too. Hug your family tonight, Ethan. Hold them tight.”