“That’s not going to work,” Cole says. “Wilson would slaughter every single one of them before he would give up his search for us. He knows we aren’t stupid. He knows we wouldn’t give up that easily.”
“Oh, that’s reassuring,” Grace says.
Seconds pass, and no one speaks. The only sounds come from a young boy crying in the back of the car and a woman speaking in Spanish to her elderly companion.
“I can get us in, if we can get past the guards waiting at the station,” Cole says finally.
“Okay. Let’s say, by some miracle, we make it past the firing squad after the doors open. Once we’re in, then what?” I ask.
“I know a place where we can hide out, at least for a little while. Then we go in search of the monitors,” Bruno says. He rubs the back of his neck.
“Whoa, hold on a minute. What about Sutton?” I ask. “We have to find him.”
“Our first mission’s to find the monitors and help them retrieve the information they need to end this.”
“Wait, what?” I ask, as my stomach plummets to the floor. “Why would we do that?”
“Think about it. You know Sutton better than all of us, and this is what he’s worked so hard for. If we don’t help the monitors succeed, nothing changes. We can’t hang the future on saving one man. We get to the monitors first, then save Sutton.”
I clench my fists and release them, allowing the anger to escape my fingers. I know they’re right, that it’s what needs to be done. I unclench my jaw and relax my shoulders.
“All right, but once we find them—”
“Lexi, one day at a time,” Cole says. “This isn’t going to happen overnight. There are only five of us. We’re up against hundreds of guards and thousands upon thousands of Sinners.”
“You’re right,” I say. “Don’t worry, I can do this.”
“I know you can.” Cole pulls me into a hug, and I soak in his warmth.
Bruno begins banging on the wall opposite the door, drawing people’s attention. “Aha, got you, bugger,” he says.
Grace gives him a funny look. “Bruno, what are you—”
Just then Bruno uses the heel of his boot and kicks through the wall, shattering glass and revealing a brightly painted red handle in a hidden compartment.
“Just a little trick I learned when I worked at the station.” He smiles. “Only a few know there’s an emergency door release. All I have to do is pull it when we get close, and we can jump out before the guards show up.”
“You’re a genius,” Cole says.
“Yeah, let’s just hope this sucker still works,” Bruno says. He sits down next to it, bringing Grace to his side. “When we slow enough to jump without breaking our legs, I’ll hit it, and the engineer won’t see the alarm in time to stop us.”
“All right then, tell us when,” Cole says, leaning his head back against the wall.
I lean against him, but I can’t rest. I can’t relax. Something is eating away at me. Aside from the fact that we’re heading into the lion’s den.
My attention’s drawn to the end of the railcar, where someone’s coughing. The rasping reminds me of holding Alyssa as she passed away in my arms. I place my hands over my aching heart, missing my friend. The figure’s body wracks and then goes silent. I let my eyes be drawn to the thin aisle separating slumbering bodies, and that’s when it hits me.
The small country church has only six pews on each side, all of which are empty. It’s night time, and it feels like someone threw a thick, black blanket over us. I can feel something’s not right when I see Keegan standing, empty-handed and shell-shocked, at the front of the church. The pastor’s kneeling down with Mom at the altar. My feet stop, and my breath catches. I subconsciously reach out to hold the pew next to me, and the smooth wood meets my fingers. I’m afraid to go any farther.
I watch as Keegan gently folds up the piece of paper he’s reading and motions for me. He’s not smiling. He’s not even cursing, for a change. His eyes look like two giant pieces of coal lodged in a pale face, and I step back.
“Lexi, Mom needs to tell you something,” he says with a broken voice. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. Or me. He’s whispering, but it feels like he’s shouting.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask, hesitantly moving away.
My mom’s head snaps up, her makeup smeared and eyes swollen. Terror begins washing over me, and cool sweat trickles down my forehead. Mom slowly stands, letting go of the pastor’s hands. She gives me a thin smile, but it brings me no comfort. Next thing I know, she’s standing before me, and she looks even worse up close. Her lower lip trembles, and she stops to take a breath.
“Daddy’s not coming home … ” she whispers.
“What do you mean? You told me he’d be home by the weekend.” I feel my voice come out sharp as a razor. I miss him. I want him home so I can swing with him and read stories with him before bed.