Hideout by Jack Heath (iphone ebook reader txt) 📕

time I wake up, feeble sunlight is coming through the curtains. There’s a hollow ache in my belly which could be hunger or anxiety. The noisy twittering of birds is like a lobotomy stick behind my eyeballs. I can hear rushing water, too. There must be a river near here.

I don’t feel refreshed. According to the vintage alarm clock on the dresser, I’ve been in bed for six hours, but I guess only half my brain got any rest.

After meeting that guy on the bus, I used to wonder if the sharks had a dark side and a lighter side, like they only attacked people when the wrong side of their brains had control. Now I think probably both sides are the dark side. Humans too.

I dress in some clothes from the closet. A grey turtleneck, a denim jacket, some thick tan pants. I won’t be on the cover of GQ, but at least the outfit is warm, and everything’s more or less my size. I wonder whose clothes they were. A former prisoner’s, maybe.

I emerge into the dining room, where the smell of baking bread is in the air and two yoga mats are unrolled on the floor near the table. Zara and Cedric are stretching, both in skin-tight activewear, black with neon highlights, that shows off their meatiest parts. My stomach burns.

‘I know what you’re thinking.’ Zara smiles between her legs at me, catching me looking. ‘Cultural appropriation, right?’

‘Exactly what I was thinking,’ I say.

‘I wasn’t sure about it myself.’ She rolls her neck from side to side. ‘But I did some research. Apparently yoga was mostly a spiritual practice in ancient India—there may not even have been an exercise component. Modern postural yoga has Indian, European and American roots. So I figure it’s okay for us to do it.’

‘Right.’

‘Care to join us?’

‘It’s a bit early for me,’ I say.

Cedric smirks, like he had already guessed my hamstrings wouldn’t extend that far. His eyes, which last night seemed glassy, are now bright.

‘Suit yourself,’ Zara says. ‘Three more breaths here, pedal it out and, when you’re ready, move into up dog.’ She and Cedric both straighten their arms and tilt their faces upwards. I realise that the bird noise and rushing water sounds are fake, coming from a large Bluetooth speaker in the corner.

‘Did I miss anything last night?’ I ask.

‘Don’t think so,’ Zara says. ‘No more activity on the cameras. No cops showed up.’

‘I guess it really was just a hiker or a poacher.’

‘Hopefully. We’ll do another sweep of the forest anyway. Now, open up your hips for lizard—let the earth support you.’ Zara and Cedric contort themselves into another painful-looking pose. I wonder why their clothes are so tight. Wouldn’t these exercises be easier in loose ones?

Cedric tilts his head towards me. ‘Are we gonna put you to work this morning?’

‘Sure. Happy to help out any way I can.’

‘How much do you know about what we do here?’

Nothing. ‘Everything,’ I say.

‘Great. I could use a hand with some tickets.’ Cedric glances at Zara. ‘Is Kyle doing a mailout today?’

‘Tomorrow, I think,’ Zara says. ‘Lux, I wouldn’t mind your input on some marketing copy, too.’

‘Okay with me.’ Hopefully I can figure out what all this means when the time comes.

Something dings in the kitchen.

‘Bread’s done,’ Cedric says.

‘Great. Let’s finish with mountain. Lift your heart to your thumbs.’

The two yogis stand up straight, eyes closed, half-smiles on their faces. The sight is oddly chilling, so I go into the kitchen. Behind the dark glass of the oven, a loaf of bread has risen perfectly. I wrap my hands in a tea towel and take it out.

It feels like I’m dreaming. Yoga and baking with killers.

‘Wild-caught yeast,’ Zara says from behind me. ‘You like?’

I turn around. She has a gym towel draped over one shoulder, like a prop. Her cheeks are flushed and there’s a slight sheen of sweat on her throat. The spandex hugs her curves.

‘Looks good,’ I say.

A coy smile. ‘It’s not hard to do. Just leave some flour and water out in the open as bait, and you’ll snare some. Keep it nice and wet to selectively breed the best strains. I have several secluded spots around the forest where I like to do it. Each place has a slightly different flavour.’

I would have thought yeast was a poor topic for flirting, but she’s making it work. ‘Can’t wait to try it.’

‘Help yourself.’ She gestures to the knife block behind me.

I pick up a bread knife. It’s been years since I used one of these on actual bread. The serrated edge is perfect for sawing through tendons.

I carve off a wedge. Steam spills from inside the loaf.

‘Try it.’ Zara sounds so insistent that I suddenly wonder if the bread might be poisoned.

I take a bite. It’s warm, soft and slightly salty, just like Zara’s flesh would be.

‘Delicious,’ I say.

She beams. ‘Plenty more where that came from,’ Zara says. ‘All you have to do is ask. Hey, how well do you and Fred know each other?’

‘We’re pretty tight,’ I say, instantly on high alert. ‘Why?’

Zara must sense my unease. ‘No reason,’ she says. ‘He just never told me how you met.’

‘We had a mutual friend.’ This seems likely. Safe from contradictions.

‘Who?’

‘Morning.’ Donnie walks in, blinking and yawning. He’s wearing a loose white T-shirt which might be his pyjamas, and he hasn’t shaved yet. His stubble is remarkably thick and dark.

Zara loses interest in me. ‘Morning, Donnie. Coffee?’

Kyle enters next, wearing the same hoodie and sweatpants as yesterday. He looks like he has shaved, even though I’m sure he doesn’t need to.

‘Hi,’ I say.

He just grunts.

Zara and Kyle have toast for breakfast. Cedric eats nothing. Everyone else has Samson’s