Hideout by Jack Heath (iphone ebook reader txt) 📕

‘Druznetski didn’t tell Fred who I was.’ I stagger over to them. ‘That was bullshit. It was Ivy. Fred took her away for a shower and then came back knowing. You told Ivy, she told him. Look in the confessional, near where she was chained up. Dollars to doughnuts you’ll find something you didn’t know she had.’

Emily is already opening the door. ‘Motherfucker!’ She holds up a tube of antiseptic lotion.

Hailey aims a kick at Ivy, who shrinks back in terror. ‘You goddamn treacherous—’

Thistle shoves Hailey away. ‘Back off.’

‘Leave her chained up here,’ I say.

‘No.’ Thistle is still holding Ivy against the floor. ‘We don’t know what the Guards will do to her.’

‘Who gives a shit?’ Emily demands. ‘She’s working with them.’

‘We’re not leaving her behind.’ Thistle takes her hand off Ivy’s mouth.

‘I’m sorry,’ Ivy croaks. ‘I couldn’t take it anymore.’

‘Fucking bitch,’ Hailey says.

Thistle ignores this. ‘Hey. Look at me.’

Ivy does, with big, wet eyes.

‘You want to come with us?’ Thistle asks.

‘Yes.’

‘And you’ll be quiet?’

Ivy nods desperately.

‘Okay. Let’s go, before that kid realises he forgot to lock the door.’

‘This is bullshit,’ Amar says.

‘We can’t just walk to the nearest town.’ I cough and wipe my mouth. ‘They could notice we’re missing any minute. They’ll catch us long before we get anywhere safe.’

‘We don’t have a choice,’ Thistle says.

‘We need the car keys,’ I say. ‘I’ll go get them.’

‘You can barely stand. I’ll get the keys.’

‘I know where Fred keeps them.’ I swallow, and stagger towards the door. ‘I know the layout of the house. Every squeaking floorboard. It has to be me.’

‘Blake, they’ll kill you—and not just you. If they see you in the house, the first thing they’ll do is check on the rest of us. We won’t get half a mile away.’

‘Then I’d better make sure they don’t see me.’

Thistle doesn’t look convinced.

‘Look,’ I say. ‘Go to the pick-up. Wait for me. Plan A is I come out of the house with the keys and we drive. We’ll be back in Houston before the Guards even realise we’re gone. But if I’m not at the pick-up within ten minutes, or if you hear yelling from inside, let the air out of the tyres and then run like hell. That’s plan B. Okay?’

Thistle exhales through her teeth. ‘Okay. Just try to make plan A work.’

‘Yeah, no kidding.’

The door is still open a crack. Hailey has her eye pressed to the gap. ‘All quiet out there,’ she says.

‘Can you take the same path through the forest we took last time?’ I ask Thistle. ‘To avoid the cameras?’

Thistle nods. ‘I remember.’

‘Okay. Go.’

Hailey pushes the door open. We all flood out into the night, like roaches fleeing when a box is lifted up. I head for the house while everyone else runs for the woods. Thistle tries to keep them in line, away from the cameras, but in their panic it doesn’t look like they’re paying much attention. I don’t know how much time I have.

Halfway to the house, I can hear that howling on the breeze again. I look at the dogs, but they’re sleeping. The sound seems close but far away at the same time. Hopefully it’s nowhere near where Thistle and the others are.

The windows on this side of the house are dark, but I can hear conversation. Too far away to tell who is talking, or what they are saying. It doesn’t matter. Sounds like they’re in the living area, which is a long way from Fred’s room.

Miracle of miracles, Samson’s house key is still in my pocket. The Guards must not have thought to search me, or maybe the key is so small that they missed it. I pinch the key between my knuckles and unlock the door as quietly as I can, then I push it open, fast enough that it doesn’t creak.

The lights are off in the kitchen and dining area, but there’s a reflected glow from the living room around the corner. Donnie is at the stove, working in the semi-darkness. I’m looking at his back, at the apron tied around his waist and neck, as he fries something on a hissing skillet.

The kitchen bench is between us. A large cleaver rests on a bamboo chopping board. How quietly could I snatch it up and dispose of Donnie?

I tiptoe further into the room, willing him not to turn around.

He turns—but not towards me. He faces the oven, leaning down to check something inside. He’s out of reach now. I’d have to go around the bench, or throw the cleaver.

I do neither. I sneak past and slip into the corridor, heading towards the bedrooms. Once I’m out of sight I listen for a moment. Donnie is humming quietly, oblivious.

I creep up the corridor towards Fred’s room, trying to work out how much time has passed since I left the slaughterhouse. One minute, maybe. Distracted, I nearly step on a squeaky board. At the last second I put my bare foot somewhere else, and reach for the wall to steady myself. But that hand doesn’t exist anymore, so I overbalance. Hit the wall with my shoulder, my bandage leaving a red smear.

The humming in the kitchen stops.

I hold my breath, heart racing.

‘Zara?’ Donnie calls. ‘That you?’

‘What?’ Zara calls, from the living area.

I open Fred’s door, slip through and close it again, just in time. Donnie’s footsteps thump out of the kitchen, past the dining table and around the corner into the corridor.

I scan Fred’s room for somewhere to hide. Under the bed might work. But crawling would make a noise. I stay frozen.

Several agonising seconds tick past. I picture Thistle and the prisoners, picking their way through the woods towards the car.