Points for improvisation, I thought drily.
Tate picked the lantern back up and began treading his way through the maze of grain bags and silver silos on the ground floor.
I pressed the button on the side of the walkie-talkie and sang to him, “Hide and seek, hide and seek, in the dark, they all will shriek; seek and hide, seek and hide, count the nights until they’ve died.”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Tate shouted. He held his hands to his ears.
I went down to join him.
The grain dust floating in the air smelled sweet and old and tickled my nose when I breathed it in. Tate was easy to spot by the light of the lantern he was carrying like it was the thing that could keep him safe. That and his belt, apparently.
I bent down and scooped up a pebble that I’d stepped on. I threw it and it pinged against one of the silos. Tate spun and the lantern bobbed wildly.
“Show yourself,” he demanded. Because he was used to being the type of person who could make demands and people would listen. I wasn’t listening.
A system of cables and pulleys with steel hooks hung from floor to ceiling. Puppet master on a string. I ran my fingers up the length of one of the taut cables as I glided past. I picked up another pebble from the floor and chucked it at another silo, enjoying how he jumped at the clang.
I remembered how he’d laughed, how he’d encouraged the other ones, told them what to do. I remembered how he wore a smug look on his face like he was untouchable. I remembered it and I hated him.
Slowly, I reached into the front pocket of my hoodie until my hand closed around a thick, solid object. I pulled the Taser gun out and flipped it over. Can you believe you don’t need a license for one of these? I mused.
I would hang Tate high until the last breath was squeezed from his neck and his eyes bulged and his tongue fell out of his mouth.
Tate turned just in time. We were both bathed in the glow of the lantern. I shot the Taser at him. The lantern banged against the cement floor. He hit his knees, muscles convulsing. It was a good look for him.
I wasted no time, though. I stuffed the Taser back into my pocket. Then I wrapped the rope twice around his throat, twisted the ends together, and hooked it onto one of the iron claws hanging on a cable cord. He squirmed like a worm on a hook. I wrapped my hands around the cable and pulled with all my might.
There was a crank and the hook moved up. The rope tightened around Tate’s neck. His feet dragged on the ground. He wriggled to try to get them underneath his weight for support. His time was short and the flashes in his eyes told me that he knew it.
“Pop quiz,” I said, keeping my hands gripped around the metal pulley system.
“Go…” He struggled. “… Screw … yourself.”
“Wrong answer,” I said, and pulled the cable again. He lost his balance and struggled against the rope to right himself. “Let’s try this again. First question. What was the date on which you assaulted a high school girl named Cassidy Hyde?”
The pupils of Tate’s eyes flitted from one side to the other. I tapped my toe on the floor.
“Aw, come on, Tate. You can do it. Here, I’ll offer a reminder. She was about this tall.” I held my hand even with my scalp. “She had brown hair.” I slipped my hood off and flipped my hair over my shoulders. “Pretty. Very pretty, if I do say so myself.”
Tate’s Adam’s apple bobbed against the rope.
I frowned. “No? Well, that’s a shame.” I tugged on the pulley cable and the rope tightened again.
He worked his fingers into the rope at his neck and tried to loosen it. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
“Are you ready for the next question?”
He twisted and fought against the rope. It began to creak. He had his fingers in between his skin and the rope. “You’re not giving me much of a choice here, Tate.” His eyes bugged. I reached into my pocket for the Taser gun again.
But out of the corner of my eye, I saw a scrap fall from my pocket and land on the toe of my boot. I blinked and glanced down. I bent and picked it up. For a second, I was lost in the satin texture. It felt familiar. Instinctively, I brought it to my cheek and rubbed it against my skin. Soft.
I took a deep breath and touched it to my nose. “Mmmmm…” I closed my eyes for just a moment.
Strawberry shampoo. Laundry detergent. Maybe a hint of something else …
TWENTY-THREE
Cassidy
I came to like a person breaking the ocean surface having held her breath for too long. My lungs welled up and I gasped. My first thought was of Honor. I looked down at the scrap of blanket clutched between my fingers and clasped it to my chest. I was back. But where was I back to?
“What…” I startled at the anger in a voice so close by. “… question?”
And then I saw him. Him. The boy from the dining hall. The boy from Dearborn. Tate.
Or at least it was a version of him.
I took two steps back.