Crazy House

He nodded. “Definitely. Where’s Cassie?”


Tim came with me through the woods and was surprised to see we had the Kid and Nate with us. I was so thankful for Tim’s hulking strength as he put his arm under Nate’s shoulder and practically carried him to the truck.

Five minutes later Nate and Cassie were in the backseat of the United truck, and the Kid was next to me as Tim sped down the road away from the crazy house, toward freedom. Toward home.





94


“NO,” THE KID SAID, HIS small, pinched face set in an all-too-familiar stubborn look.

“You’ll like it in our cell,” I said.

“No,” the Kid said. “I’m goin’ home. You cain’t stop me.”

I didn’t point out that we could totally stop him, since there were four of us and we were all bigger and, oh yeah, we were in a speeding truck. Instead I said, “Is it safe for you to go home?”

He sneered. “Safer’n comin’ with you guys!” he said. “You got taken from yer cells, didn’t cha? Me, I jest wandered off! I’m goin’ back. Ain’t no way I’m comin’ with youse.” He crossed his thin arms over his chest and stuck his jaw out. His black eyes were narrowed.

Tim looked at me. I shrugged: the Kid had a point. “I can take him to his cell,” Tim said. “I know where it is. My dad drove a semi for the United, picking up wheat here, delivering stoves there. I used to go with him.”

“Now yer talkin’,” the Kid said.

His cell wasn’t far away. Only twenty minutes later we pulled up to the gates of a run-down cell. When we got close to the entrance gate, Tim stopped the truck and cut the headlights.

I got out to let the Kid jump down from the front seat. It was barely daybreak and only a few of the houses showed lights on.

“Take care, Kid,” I said.

“Yeah. Hope I never sees you again!” He turned to run off, but I grabbed his wiry little arm. He glanced back at me, startled, as I pulled him to me in a fierce hug. His too-thin body told the tale of how hard life was in a mining cell, and yet it was home, and he wanted to go back.

“Thanks for everything, Kid,” I whispered into his ear. “We would have been lost without your dad’s tunnel.”

For one second he softened into me, becoming just a scared little boy who had gone through a horrible experience. Then he stiffened and pulled back.

“Yeah. My dad did good.” Without another word he turned and ran off. He didn’t look back.

“Geez, I hope he’s okay,” Cassie murmured, and I nodded.

Feeling suddenly older than dirt, I climbed back into the truck. Now that the Kid wasn’t in between us, I moved over and leaned my head on Tim’s shoulder.

“What about the rest of us?” Tim asked.

“We gotta go back, too,” I murmured, trying not to fall asleep.

“You can’t come with me to my cell?” he asked, trying not to sound hopeful.

I sat up and looked at him. “I don’t want to leave you. But our Pa is still back home. And we have scores to settle. Can you come with us?”

Regretfully, he shook his head. “My mom and my little brother—I need to go check on them. Who knows if Strepp is going to track us, or whatever.”

“Yeah. I get it.”

At Tim’s cell, Nate contacted someone in the Outsiders, and then we waited by the side of the road for them to fetch us. It was now broad daylight and I felt super vulnerable, missing the cover of night. My throat was tight: I didn’t know if I’d ever see Tim again. I leaned against a tree, out of sight of Nate and Cassie, and kissed Tim for what might be the last time. He’d almost killed me, and he’d saved my life. Both of them more than once.

He pushed a piece of paper into the ripped pocket of my jumpsuit. “This is my cell, my last name, and my phone number. Don’t forget me.”

“I don’t need your phone number,” I said, trying not to cry. “I couldn’t call from my cell anyway. No outside lines.”

“Just in case,” he insisted, and I nodded, tears spilling down my cheeks. “Hey, hey,” he said softly, wiping away my tears. “It’s okay. If you don’t come find me, I’ll find you.”

“You broke my ribs, and now you’re breaking my heart,” I said, trying to joke. It came out much more seriously than I’d intended, and Tim looked like someone had just punched him in the gut.

“I’ll find you,” he promised. “Soon.”

The sound of engines coming closer made us look up. It was the Outsiders, three of them, on three motorcycles.

“You head on,” Tim said. “I gotta go drive this truck into the lake.”

Taking a shuddering breath, I nodded, then hugged Tim as tightly as our injuries would allow. We kissed again and again, until Cassie said, “Guys, come on! Let’s go!”

I went over and nodded hi to Cecily, who was waiting on her motorcycle. Cassie was behind a guy named Jefferson, who I also recognized, and poor Nate was propped uncomfortably behind Tara Nightwing.

Climbing onto Cecily’s bike, I felt again the muscle stiffness, injuries, and general pain involved with being an inmate. I held on to Cecily as she kicked the bike into gear, my lip trembling as I felt how small and un-Tim-like she was.

Then we were tearing down the road, away from prison, away from Tim. Heading home. Heading back to Pa. At last.

The big question? What the hell do we do now?





95


CASSIE


ALL ALONG, THIS HAD BEEN the plan—to get back to the cell to see Pa. I admitted (only to myself) that I had absolutely no idea what else we would do. Go someplace else? Now that we knew there were thousands of other cells, it still didn’t seem possible to go anywhere, live somewhere else. Could we live out in the woods somehow? Not be part of any cell at all? That didn’t seem better.

But first we had to go back to our cell. We didn’t know if there would be cops waiting for us at the gates, or whether the gates would be closed and locked against us or what. But we simply drove through them, and no one seemed to notice.

I didn’t know how long we’d been gone. In prison I’d lost all sense of time. But the cell looked different somehow, as if the seasons had changed or it was a new year.

“Where to?” Cecily yelled back at me, and I yelled, “Healthcare United!”

In the broad daylight three motorcycles drew attention, especially as we roared up to the hospital. But we made it there without being stopped or accosted. Once we’d parked it took all of us to drag Nate off of Tara’s motorcycle.

“Thanks so much,” I said to Jefferson and the others. They didn’t smile, but nodded as they revved their engines.

“See you soon,” Cecily said, and they tore off down Main Street, drawing surprised stares from passersby.