The Secret: A Thriller (8 page)

Whatever; they weren’t vegetarians. And one of them had taken Susie.

I was shaking again, but I forced myself to change direction and wander for a while, stopping often to listen as I went. I was not going to willingly lead the hunters—or anyone else—back to the basement.

Besides. I’d made a promise to what was left of Tim’s family. I couldn’t go back to them yet.

I had to check my house for a note from Susie.

P
eering from under a bush, again, I saw no movement near the Conways’ house. Again. I sighed and worked my way around to their backyard, then stepped out of the brush and walked up to their porch. Then I crept around to check out my house across the street.

But this wasn’t to be a repeat of my uneventful earlier visit after all: I could see bodies in my front yard.

I stood by the Conways’ house for a long time, watching up and down the street. Nothing seemed to be happening. Eventually I started walking across the street.

I recognized one of the bodies when I got closer—it was the scraggly-haired new neighbor who’d watched so intently as we unpacked the truck. There was another guy lying in the grass, but I couldn’t see enough of his face to identify the body. If I’d even known him.

There was a strange pickup in my driveway, facing out and with the tailgate down. It had some tools, a wide-screen television, and a bicycle in its bed. All of which were mine.

I was focused on the house, watching to see whether anyone—or anything—was going to jump out at me. And at the same time I tried to listen for an attack from the rear.

But…seriously? They came to rob my house, with everything that was going on, and they took the damned TV?

* * *

I
knocked on the wall beside my already-open front door. “Hello? Anybody in there?”

Nothing. Silence.

I didn’t want to, but I went inside. A lot of stuff was trashed, and somebody had taken a dump in the middle of our kitchen floor. I moved quickly, .45 in hand, but didn’t find any people inside.

But the note Tim had left for Susie, asking her to let us know where she was…was gone. Did that mean the idiots out front had stolen it too? Or had she come in, found it, and been as leery of writing down her hiding place as we’d been of revealing ours? I couldn’t even guess.

I searched the house carefully for the note we’d left, but found nothing. While I was there, I tried to turn on the water at our kitchen sink. Nothing.

Outside, I found a 12-gauge Winchester shotgun but no ammunition in the idiots’ truck. Climbing back out of it, I knew what I needed to do. First I went into our backyard shed and spilled a little of the gas we kept for mowing the lawn on my fingers, and then I rubbed it under my nose.

Back out front, I squatted next to the bodies. I didn’t want to do this. But I really needed to know whether they had the note.

They didn’t actually smell too terrible yet. The gasoline was probably a case of the cure being worse than the disease. But when I moved Scraggly’s arm so I could check his pockets I nearly threw up. Not that I’d eaten anything today—bad planning there, maybe, but just at the moment it was okay to have an empty stomach.

Focus, Ash. Never mind the self-distraction. I emptied his pockets, and found nothing. I moved the body around to make sure the note wasn’t underneath, and then eyed Scraggly’s buddy with disfavor.

That one was much worse. On the bright side, some of his pockets had been ripped open already. On the other, some important parts of him were shredded or missing…parts he’d certainly have wanted to keep handy if he’d been alive. I gritted my teeth and poked through what was left.

Eventually I sat back. All I’d found for my trouble was a rusty Ruger .357 revolver and three rounds of ammunition. The gun probably hadn’t been fired recently—I sniffed it and couldn’t be sure, but there was no used brass in its cylinder. So, whatever had torn these two idiots apart hadn’t given them time to shoot.

Or maybe they’d had time but hadn’t used it. I figured there was no way to know. Given that they were out to steal a television, and had taken the time to crap on my kitchen floor, I probably wasn’t going to be able to figure out their logic.

Anyway, I didn’t find the note with either of them.

Still carrying my .45 in my right hand, I set off into the woods, awkwardly using my left to both hold the revolver and lean the shotgun over my shoulder. This had…well, it hadn’t been the worst day of my life. That was when Mom and Dad died.

But it was up there. I wanted my family.

* * *

I
met Tim near the basement just before dark. He was carrying a shotgun too. I peered at him curiously.

“What’s up?” I asked. I wanted to yell at him for leaving our shelter—but I’d been gone myself all day.

“Watching for Susie, just in case,” he answered. “Where’s—”

“Tim,” I interrupted. “Did you go back into my house?”

He blinked at me, surprised. “No. I thought you were going to. Why? Was there a note?”

“Um. Let’s get inside. I have a lot to tell you, but I might as well just do it the once.”

Tim stuck out his arm, fingers splayed and twitching, and glared at me. I blinked in surprise. “Damnit Ash—do you
know
anything about my
wife
?”

“Oh shit,” I said, flustered, and started babbling. “I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I didn’t realize what I…no. I don’t. All I know is the note
you
left is gone.” His face lit up, and I hated to keep talking, but I did it anyway. “The place was robbed, Tim. I found the guys who did it. Or at least a couple of the guys who did it. Something killed them in my front yard. So, the note’s gone but a bunch of stuff happened over there today. Sorry, man, I just don’t know what it means.”

Tim blew air out of his mouth. “Okay. I’ll just…hope, I guess. I don’t know what else to do. But, Ash, where’s your kid? Is he okay? Did you leave him back there?”

I stopped moving. Stared at my friend. “I haven’t seen him.”

“But. Rebecca said he left with you. This morning. He didn’t?”

“No.” Oh God. For all I knew Robbie was marching with those kids I’d seen, or lying dead somewhere. Or about to walk up to me and say hi.

But I could think of only one reason he’d have taken off on his own. “Let’s get inside,” I said.

Tim started to say something, took a look at my face, and shut up. Nodded slowly. Followed me.

* * *

I
stared at the basement door. Telling my wife her son was missing was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever done. But maybe doing it in the basement would be worse—for everybody—than doing it out here. A little elbow room, a little psychological distance…it might help.

Sure it would.

“Tim?” I asked quietly. “Could you get Rebecca to come out, without telling her what’s up?”

“Sure, man. Uh—wait over there, okay?” he asked, waving me to where people inside wouldn’t be able to see me when the door opened.

I watched as he called Rebecca’s name and lifted the door. Just before it hid his face, he looked directly at me—and I could see that, in spite of his own loss, this was hitting him pretty hard. I nodded to him, and waited.

Then Rebecca came out, looked around, and saw me. She gave me a grin, tired but relieved and game. Until it faded, as she looked for Robbie.

“I don’t know anything,” I told her right away. I’d been thinking about what to say first, and that was the best I could come up with. I didn’t want her to think I was about to say he was…dead…but I didn’t want her to think he was right behind me either.

“I don’t know where he is,” I said, starting again. “I haven’t seen him. He came out after me this morning? And you thought he’d joined me?”

Her face, normally cheerful and always before stronger than anything life could throw at her, crumpled as she sank to the ground. I walked over and knelt beside her. “It’s bad out there, hon,” I said. “Really bad, and all over. But we’re going to find him. No matter what it takes. We’ll find Robbie.”

She nodded and I thought she was about to speak. But instead she leaned forward, put her face to the ground, and made a keening sound. A soft wail, a sound I heard as utter failure.

I wanted to do the same thing. For her sake, for Robbie, for myself. But I had to stay alert, with my .45 in my hand.

Okay, I’d been wrong. This was worse than what happened to Mom and Dad.

And the day wasn’t over. I wasn’t looking forward to the next part.

* * *

R
ebecca insisted on bringing us all inside to hear my story. I didn’t like the idea, but I wasn’t going to argue with her.

After being outside all day…I couldn’t decide whether the basement was dank and oppressive or a sanctuary. Some of both, I guessed.

We gathered in the larger room—why hadn’t we brought a table, and some sort of chairs?—and I decided to hold off talking about Robbie for a little while. Instead I told them what I’d learned. It took a while, and the girls seemed to lose interest early on. Natural for Abby at nine, maybe. But Rachel and Felicia? I figured they had their own reasons to distance themselves from the rest of us just now.

When I was done, Tim leaned back cross-legged against the wall separating our rooms. “Ash, if I hadn’t seen what I’ve seen, I’d never believe a story like that.”

I shrugged. “Yeah. Me either.” I glanced at Rebecca, who’d withdrawn from the conversation a while back. “I don’t buy the ‘terrorist’ angle, though. Too many targets, too widespread. It really sounds, I don’t know, more—”

“Official,” Tim said. “Like somebody screwed the pooch on a national level. Trying a new drug on prisoners or the military again, maybe, and it got away from them.”

I quirked an eyebrow at the “again” part, but let it go. Maybe he knew what he was talking about. Or not. But either way, I couldn’t do anything about it.

Felicia spoke up. “Dad? Can Rachel and I take Abby into the next room? We could play cards or something. All this talk is, just, I don’t know…”

“Sure, hon,” Tim told her gently. “Maybe you could get some—”

“No,” I interrupted, a little louder than I’d meant to be. “I need to know what happened with Robbie first, Felicia. Do you want to tell me about it?”

Tim’s face froze. “Hold on, Ash,” he said. “They’re just—”

“No,” I repeated. I looked at both of his daughters. Felicia was bright red, and Rachel was staring at the floor, doing her best to behave as if nothing were going on.

Rebecca seemed to wake from a daze. “Ash? What are you talking about?”

I shrugged. I was more angry than I could remember being…but I didn’t think yelling would help. I needed truth. “On the face of it, Robbie went out on his own for reasons unknown,” I said. “Which is—well, it’s bullshit. You kids don’t do anything without talking about it. Plus he’s been whispering with Rachel ever since this started.”

I could see Tim wanted to object. But he didn’t.

Rebecca’s face darkened, then went white. “Rachel,” she asked quietly, “where did Robbie go?”

“We don’t know!” Felicia shouted. “Don’t yell at us,
we’re
not the ones who didn’t—”

Moving faster than I’d have believed she could, Rebecca grabbed Felicia by the shirt and slammed her into the wall. Felicia’s head hit the concrete with a thunk, and she staggered.

“Damnit, Rebecca!” Tim shouted. “Leave my kid alone!”

I walked to Rebecca and put my hands on her shoulders. Slowly, she turned her head to meet my eyes.

“Rachel,” I said, and looked for the least accusing way to put it. “Robbie left to look for your mom. Didn’t he?”

Tim, holding Felicia’s shoulders and looking anxiously into her eyes, froze. “Oh my God,” he said. “Rachel? Did you…”

Rachel snarled. “She’s my mom!
Somebody
had to care!”

Rebecca lunged toward her, but I jumped between them. “Rebecca! Calm down!” I yelled. “Rachel—where was he going to
look?
”

She shook her head and set her jaw, then looked away.

“I don’t have the time for a teenage funk, Rachel,” I said. “Tell me right now, or—”

Tim raised a hand. “I think—”

Rebecca spun and punched him in the gut. Tim collapsed to the floor. “TALK!” she shouted at Rachel.

“Daddy?” Felicia asked, still looking dazed but starting to focus on her father. “Are you…”

Tim vomited on the floor.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “Everybody calm down! We just need to know what they talked—”

Rebecca put her hand over my mouth, and reached down to Tim. He looked at her hand for a moment, then nodded and took it.

“Tim,” she said after helping him to his feet, “I think you should wait outside. All of you, actually. I need to talk to Rachel.”

Tim stepped between them. “No way in hell,” he told her.

Rebecca looked at him for a moment, then shook her head slightly. She turned away from him and pushed the door open. “You three don’t belong here. There’s a family trust, and you’re not on the list. So this is
our
land. Get out.”

I stared at my wife, then opened my mouth. “Beck—”

But she snarled at me. And my anger bled away—replaced by fear. Was she contaminated with…whatever it was…after all? Were all of us?

Tim stared into her face too. “Girls,” he said slowly, “let’s all go outside for a while. Just to talk.”

“Let them, Beck,” I said, and stood between her and the children. “Let them out. We’ll deal with this outside.”

She held my eyes as the Sullivans filed out—first Felicia, staggering a little but moving under her own power, then Rachel, then Tim.

I sighed. “Okay, Beck. Let’s try to remember we need to work—”

She raised a hand. “Abigail? Stay in here, okay? We’ll be right back.”

Abby had been cowering in a corner. Terrified, her face wet from eyes and nose, she fastened eyes twice their normal diameter on her mother and nodded.

I wanted to comfort my daughter…but I didn’t trust Rebecca with the Sullivans. I did my best to give Abby a reassuring smile and went outside. Rebecca followed.