Part 8 (2/2)

He didn't happen upon any keys, though he located a hunting knife with a five inch blade that was cased in a leather satchel. He looped it in his belt to feel safer.

Returning up the stairs, Hannah called out, ”Hey, I found 'em!”

Brock doubled his stride and met up with her in one of the bedrooms. She had located the keys on top of a bureau next to a wallet. He smiled at her and then hugged her. ”Good job. Let's get the h.e.l.l out of here.”

They marched out the front door together seeking a match for the keys.

NO WAY OUT.

Walking down another cobbled path outside, they reached an open garage. Inside was a Land Rover that was parked among wheel barrows, shovels, bags of mulch, cedar chips, and the necessities to inject new life into a garden. Hannah moved ahead of him, and when she tried the first key in the vehicle, her face locked up in frustration.

”f.u.c.king thing, it's blocked!”

Brock stared at where the car's keyhole used to be. A square of steel covered the slot with a slit in the center centimeters wide, the same that covered the cell phone's keys.

Hannah leaned up against the car, channeling her distress by pounding the hood with her fists. ”What do we do now, Brock? We're stuck in the middle of nowhere without a phone and without a way out of here. We're screwed.”

Brock shook his head. ”No we're not.”

”What do you mean?”

Brock moved towards the lawn and picked up a brick from a large pile. The owners had been in the process of laying down a new path. Brock heaved it through the driver's side window, the gla.s.s shattering instantly upon impact.

Hannah clapped her hands. ”Good thinking!”

”Despite my age, I still have moderate brain function.”

Brock reached through the window and unlocked the door. Opening it, he grabbed the keys from her hands anxiously. His moment of victory was squelched when the key tinged against steel. ”G.o.dd.a.m.n-it!”

Hannah examined the keyhole herself. ”There's just no way.”

”I don't know how to jumpstart a car, but if I did, I have a feeling there would be something preventing me from doing so too.”

”None of this makes sense.”

”I think we should go inside and get a few locked doors between us and the outside.”

”But what are we hiding from? I know there's people out there, but maybe this s.h.i.+t is what's making them carry guns. There's something else happening, and I want to know what it is.”

Brock had other questions. ”Why is Angel here, of all places? So she sent me a letter, wanting me to get in touch with her. That was days ago. Maybe she was calling out for help.”

”Then why didn't she outwardly tell us this was happening? Why did she lead us into this dangerous situation?”

”I have to find Angel either way.” Brock was determined to win back his sister, but also to escape Blue Hills with everybody safe. ”When we find her, that's the first thing I'll ask her. Just what the h.e.l.l is going on.”

”I don't know who can explain the steel panels over the phones and the keyholes. Angel didn't do any of that. Angel didn't make that man at the mountain climbing store take our fifty cents and run. And she certainly didn't have anything to do with the four who burned up our car. She's in the middle of something weird here, and it's a strange coincidence that while this is going on that she makes contact with you, and then off you go on a whim to see her. There's something sinister behind what your sister contacting you.”

She was scared, he kept telling himself, and she had a right to be bitter and mad at him and his sister. This was surreal, and he couldn't shake the feeling this was still an imaginary occurrence, a bad dream, and someone would pull back the curtain and tell them this was an elaborate magic trick.

The dead bodies aren't a magic trick.

”I admit Angel's reasons for having me come here are suspicious, but I know for certain it isn't her doing these things. We know nothing. We would know more if we were in town, not in these woods.”

Hannah turned her head up to the sky, what was dark purple with the sun on the very edge of the horizon ready to kiss the day goodbye. ”I guess we're not going anywhere until tomorrow.”

”Right,” Brock said, taking her by the arm and leading her back into the house. ”It's not like we have much choice. The answers aren't here. We calm down, lock ourselves in tight, and try and sleep.”

She scoffed at the idea. ”I won't sleep in ten years.” She turned her nose. ”And I can't stand the smell of those bodies.”

Brock pointed at the guest house to the right of the garage. It was the size of a large shed. ”Then we stay in there.”

Hannah sighed. ”I guess we have no choice.”

THE GUEST HOUSE.

The guest house was used for extra storage. Another large sewing loom took up a quarter of the s.p.a.ce. After blocking the front and only door with a set of fine oak chairs, they were convinced the barricade was enough protection to flag their attention if anybody tried to break in. The windows were locked and would have to smashed, and that would surely wake them being in such short vicinity of the noise.

Hannah rushed to the phone hanging on the far wall and was once again disappointed there was no access to the digits thanks to the steel covering. She trailed her finger along the center slot. ”What's this hole for? I mean, seriously.”

Brock turned his head at the phone. ”I don't know. And any guess can't be proven right or wrong. I really don't know.” He walked towards the corner sofa and entered the small alcove for a kitchen and was startled by the sight. ”What in h.e.l.l is this about?”

Hannah followed him to the kitchen. She saw it too. They both approached it like a fallen meteor that could spread cancer if they came too close. The handle of the refrigerator was bolted down by a strip of steel, making it impossible to open. And there was the thin slit in the middle of the steel square. He imagined the slit where one placed a quarter into a vending machine, but it was longer, and wider, and purposeless.

”First the phones, and now the refrigerator.”

Hannah rubbed nervously at her eyes, and then ran her hand through her hair, issuing out a long exaggerated breath. ”I can't take anymore of this s.h.i.+t.”

Brock agreed. ”Let's just sit and relax. There isn't anything we can do until sunup.”

He urged her towards the couch with a coaxing arm. Hannah lowered her head into his chest. Brock rocked her softly, easing each scene from the day from her mental slate. He catalogued his thoughts during the quiet time, imagining what they'd be doing tomorrow to get out of Blue Hills.

The main roads aren't safe. Or maybe they are. It could be just those four people we have to worry about. Maybe Michael from the store knew they were coming, or he was with the four, and he later joined them. If the phones aren't working, then I have to locate the actual police station. And I can't leave without seeing Angel. I don't even know if she's here. She didn't say how long she was staying. It's only been a few days since she contacted you. Either way, I have to find the Piedmont Inn. I have a feeling the way things have been going, she's still here. Maybe she knows why things are growing locks on them.

After fifteen minutes, Hannah spoke. She sounded like she was on the verge of sleep. ”It's a strange feeling being in someone's house. Using their stuff, making ourselves at home, I feel like I'm intruding. It's interesting.”

”Interesting?”

”Yeah, it's interesting.” Brock knew she was speaking for the sake of speaking, to alleviate the tension in her body that was slowly unwinding itself. ”I wonder what it'd be like under different circ.u.mstances to crash someone's house. A better house. If they had good liquor, or a hot tub, or what about a sauna? That'd be nice.”

A laugh escaped him, alien sounding. ”What if that was our honeymoon? Breaking into vacated houses and enjoying their amenities, I mean. You would save money on expenses. We could hit twelve different houses before the honeymoon was up.”

”You wouldn't have to make the bed.”

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