I lower the gun to my side and say, “I’m sorry . . . I thought—”
She looks past me and into the room, and her expression cascades into wide-eyed fright. She drops a hand to her side, and the globe that I stole from Adam’s house falls, shattering into pieces on the floor.
“Honey, I can explain that. It’s not what you—”
Jenna shoves past me, then takes unsteady steps toward the center of the room. She scans the walls, papered with a plethora of charts, of graphs, of floor diagrams, a peppering of pushpins holding them all up. Red-scribbled markings everywhere. Arrows and special symbols, discernible only to me. Directives scrawled like graffiti: POTENTIAL ESCAPE ROUTE! PRIMARY STAGING AREA! STOP DONNY RAY!
“This probably looks a little strange to you,” I say, taking long strides toward her, “but it isn’t what you—”
Jenna stops me in my tracks, because riding through her eyes, on her face—everywhere—I see things I’ve never before witnessed. I see naked fear. I see heartbreak.
I see my wife looking at someone she doesn’t know.
“Please just listen to me!” I say with hands raised in the air, swallowing hard against my distress and agitation.
Jenna studies the walls again, then turns back to me. With tears welling, she says, “Chris, we need to get you help right away.”
I stare at her for a few seconds, then start pacing the floor, vision fixed there as I talk. “No. You have to hear me out. I’m very sorry if all this looks frightening, but you’ll understand much better once I explain.” My body involuntarily and abruptly jerks. “Now, please listen very carefully when I tell you this. A flagrant evil has descended over Loveland. People—scores of them—are vanishing. The employees, the patients, everyone. They’re being transported to some secret place. I don’t know where yet, but I do know who’s behind it all. Donny Ray is doing it. He’s moving them out.”
I stop pacing to look at Jenna, and now she appears more frightened. I can’t blame her, and I hate being the one to bring this frightening news, so I come back, reach for her hand, and get full confirmation of that fear. With her arm so stiff and unyielding, I’m now fully aware how unsettled all this is making her.
“Sweetheart,” I say, trying to temper my voice, looking at her with compassion, “our son is in grave danger, but please don’t be scared right now, okay? You just have to trust me. I’ve been giving this a lot of thought. I have a plan. I’m going to save him from—”
“Chris,” she says and starts backing away from me. “Please. Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop doing all this.”
“I don’t understand. I’m trying to tell you right now what’s been—”
“I know what’s been going on.”
“Wait . . . What? You already know? About Donny Ray? And about Devon?”
“Adam told me everything.”
“Damn it!” I shout and look away with an angry smile. “I should have known he’d get to you first!” I turn quickly back to her. “But don’t believe him. Don’t believe anything he says. He’s lying to you. Adam is in on it!”
“Adam is trying to help you!” she says, tears rolling down her face. “Chris, I’m frightened of you. We’re frightened of you.”
“You’re—of me?” A loud and frenetic laugh escapes through my lips. “How could . . . I don’t understand this at all. I’m trying to protect you!”
“Please, you have to put a stop to all this, to what you’re doing to yourself . . .” She takes in a shaky breath. “. . . To everyone.”
I launch forward, then spin back toward her. “But it’s not what you think. I’m doing it all for a very good reason. I have to save Devon, because—”
“Chris!” she yells. “Listen to me! Devon is not the one who needs saving. He’s never been the one!”
“Yes he does!” I grab hold of my hair, shake my head vigorously, then through clenched teeth, “He needs it! He needs it very badly! I have to protect him!”
“No, baby . . . ,” she says, voice cracking. “The problem isn’t happening at Loveland. It never was. All this time, it’s been happening in your mind. You’re trapped inside it, and now everything is falling apart. You’re falling apart.”
“That’s not true! It’s just not! You have to believe me! Devon will die if I don’t do something! Look, I know”—my body jerks again but harder this time—“I know I’ve been having some problems lately, but this part is actually real.”
“None of this is real,” she says, sadness so plain. Sadness I can’t at all comprehend.
“You . . . You don’t believe me?”
“Not because I don’t want to. Because I can’t.”
“Please . . . Please! Don’t do this to me, not now. Don’t abandon me. You’re the only one left who can help me. I need you!”
The sound of tiny footsteps interrupts us. Jenna gives the open doorway a wary glance, then rushes toward the wall and starts pulling down my papers.
“Wait!” I shout at her. “Don’t touch those! I’ve been working all afternoon! It’s extremely important!”
I leap toward my wife. She startles and lets out a shriek so appalling that it knocks me off-balance. I stumble forward, try to regain footing, and grab hold of Jenna’s arm, but she shoves me away. Her breath is heaving. Her cheeks are soaked with tears.
Devon screams.
I turn around and the blood drains from my face.
My son stands in the doorway frozen by terror, sobbing to the point of hyperventilation.
Directly behind him, I see Donny Ray Smith, a smarmy smirk spreading across his face.
“Nothing in this world can hold me, Christopher,” he says. “Nothing at all.”
“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” I shout and vault toward them.
Donny Ray lowers his hands, but before he can touch my son’s shoulder, I crash into him. We fly backward onto the floor. I land on top of him, and we wrestle for control, but the man is so much stronger. In one powerful move, he flips me over and slams my back against the floor.