Part 8 (2/2)

I let out a long breath. I ran my hand up through my hair. Man, poor Alex, I was thinking. He is way messed up. Way.

”All right,” I saida”trying not to sound like I was arguing with him, keeping my voice really quiet. ”Look. I'm not gonna tell you I know what you're going through.”

”You don't!”

”You're right,” I said. ”I don't. And maybe you're even right about things being easy for me. I mean, I've got my problems like everybody, but at least my mom and dad are at home and I'm not worrying about where I'll live and all that . . .”

”Right!” Alex drove his fist down onto his knee. ”Right.”

”But look at it from the other direction, okay? Maybe with you being upset about things and all . . .”

”I'm not upset,” he said, upset.

”All right, all right. But maybe, with the way your life is going right now and the way you're feeling about thingsa”maybe you're not thinking so clearly. You ever consider that? I mean, like, maybe you're so ticked off about everything that you're not picking your friends too well right now. You see what I mean?”

He didn't answer. He sat in the dark looking down at his lap, shaking his head back and forth, shaking and shaking it as if he didn't want to hear me out.

”I mean . . .” I looked around for an example to explain what I was trying to say. ”What if you lost a ball game, right? A really big game, you know, so you felt really bad. And you're sitting there on the bench with your head hanging down to your knees, right? And people start coming up to you and saying things like, What're you playing this stupid game for anyway? Look how bad it makes you feel. Just give it up, man, you know. All that working out and traininga”you don't need that stuff. You could just go to the mall and have a beer instead. It's just a dumb game anyway, right? And so on, like that. Those people saying that stuffa”would they be your friends, Alex? Would they be your real friends? Or is your friend the coacha”you know, like, even big dumb Coach Friedmana”who'd come over and say to you, Hey, I know how tough that was. I been there, but now you gotta work out even more and train even harder and become even better so you're ready to try again.”

”You don't know what you're talking about.” Alex just went on shaking and shaking his head. His voice was a low growl. ”You don't know what you're talking about.”

I sighed. ”Looka”I'm not saying I know. I'm just trying to figure out what makes sense. I mean, your folks broke upa”that happens to a lot of people.”

”That doesn't make it any better. People keep saying that. That doesn't make it better.”

”I know. But here you are, you're feeling really bad, you're feeling down, and I'm asking you: Who're your friends now, Alex? Are they these people who are saying to you, Hey, things are going bad and you feel bad so you should give up on everything you know is good and true? Or is your real friend that other voice that's, like, talking inside you . . .”

”Shut up!”

It was like a punch the way he said it. The way he turned to me suddenly with his eyes so bright and furious that they seemed to glow in the dark of the car. It was the tears that made his eyes look like that. The tears in his eyes caught the glow of a streetlamp and reflected it at me.

Alex sneered. ”What do you know about what's going on inside me? There's no voice inside me. There's nothing! There's n.o.body! That's the whole point.”

I reached over to give him a friendly punch in the shoulder. ”Man . . .”

”No!” He slapped my hand away. ”I've had enough of all these . . . lies! Don't give up! Trust in G.o.d! Get up and try again! What for? Why is it all on me? I didn't do anything. I didn't leave anybody.”

”n.o.body's blaming you. I'm just saying . . .”

”I know what you're saying! I know what everybody's saying!” He was really yelling now, really loud. A woman walking her dog on the opposite sidewalk actually turned and looked our waya”that's how loud he was yelling. ”And I'm sick of it! You understand me? You and Beth and my father and everybody! I'm just sick of all of you!”

”Come on, man, chill out . . .”

He shoved mea”harda”hit me in the shoulder with his open hand. He let out an ugly curse and pushed the door open. He was so furious it took him three tries to get the handle working, and then he kicked it in a rage. He jumped out of the car. He started stalking away from me into the park.

I climbed out of the driver's seat.

”Hey, Alex, come on . . .”

By the time I came around the hood, he was already striding across the gra.s.s, his figure getting dimmer and dimmer as the darkness of the park closed over him.

”Alex!” I shouted.

I ran a few steps after him into that darkness. I guess he heard me coming because he wheeled around. He pointed his finger at me. ”Just stay away from me!” he shouted. ”You're not the only one who knows how to fight! Next time I won't be so easy on you!”

Then he turned and started jogging away from me toward the tennis courts.

What could I do? I stood where I was and watched him go.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

The Cave

I opened my eyes and a jolt of terror shot through me. I couldn't see. Where was I? What was happening?

I had fallen asleepa”I had no idea for how long. And when I came toa”before I remembered where I was or even who I wasa”I could see nothing, absolutely nothing. It was as if I had gone blind.

Then I remembered. The torture room. My escape from the compound. The woods. The cave.

I was still in the cave. I had escaped the guards and fallen deeper underground. That's why I couldn't see, why the darkness around me was so complete.

As soon as it came back to me, the terror I felt was replaced by another kind of feara”a low, pervasive, sickening despair. How was I going to get out of here? What was I going to do now?

I sat up slowly. It hurt. Oh yeah, I remembered the pain too. The cuts and sores and bruises all over me, the ache all through me. Swallowing hard, I pa.s.sed my hands over myself, checking the damage. I felt sore spots and frightening damp patches that might have been blood. But at least it didn't seem as if anything was broken.

My hand stopped at my belt when I felt the gun. Now I remembered that too.

I reached down and felt the s.p.a.ce around me. Stone: slick, cold, and damp. I moved my hand and felt a small puddle of water. I scooped some up and splashed it into my mouth. It tasted metallic, but it eased my thirst.

I reached out until I felt a wall of stone. Slowly, holding on to the wall, I stood up. I felt wobbly. My legs felt weak. I leaned against the wall.

Now what? I was afraid to move. It was so utterly, so completely dark, there could've been an open pit in front of me and I never would've seen it. I could've taken one step and dropped into nothingness, a longer fall this time that would've really busted me to pieces. I could see myself lying broken and immobile in the blackness with no one to hear me screaming for help.

These and other images kept flas.h.i.+ng in my mind as the scattered memories came back to me. The torture chair and the thugs with the acid syringe. My karate demonstration at school. Grabbing the rat-faced guy by the throat and running down the cinder block hallway, running for the black square that was the window. Talking to Beth in the cafeteria. Arguing with Alex in my mom's car. Stealing the truck to break out of the compound. The truck turning over. Grabbing the gun from the driver . . .

I caught my breath. There was something else I remembered now. Quickly, my hand went to my pants pocket. Yes, I felt it there. I reached inside and pulled it out: the keychain. The truck driver's keychain. I had taken it from the ignition to keep the bad guys from using the truck. Before I'd shoved it in my pocket, I had noticed it had a flashlight on it.

No matter how close I held the keychain to my face I couldn't see it, not even a little. I had to feel my way blindly along the shape of the keys, seeking out the flashlight. I moved my fingers carefully, resisting the urge to hurry. A frantic voice kept whispering in my head: Don't drop it, don't drop it! In this darkness, if I dropped the thing, there was no guarantee I would find it again.

But now, I felt it: the flashlight. My fingers made out its shape. I pressed the b.u.t.ton. Hope sent my heart pounding wildly as a thin beam of white light shot blessedly through the dark. I shone it briefly around what turned out to be a small cave chamber. Then I pointed it up, looking for the place from which I'd fallen.

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