Sara shouts for Danny and throws open the door.

  The pitch black room could hold anything. I try to pull her back, but she’s already in. I have no choice but to follow.

  Sara keeps calling for Danny. I’m flicking the light switch, but it’s still broken. Someone’s feet crunch over the tiny pieces of plastic and metal. I can’t tell if it’s Sara or someone else.

  “Danny, it’s me,” Sara says.

  The bleach is making my eyes water, but I can still smell Rachel. My hand feels for the closet. It’s closed.

  “Shut the door,” a voice says.

  Sara asks who’s there, but I know that gravelly voice coming from my couch. It’s the sound of insanity, of someone who has seen far more death than me.

  The next sound is just as familiar. I’ve heard it since I was a kid. The shotgun being racked.

  “I’m not going to tell you again.”

  I reach out for Sara, but she’s moved. I can’t see anything, know the only way to find her is to either rip open the drapes or close the door.

  Let in the light or adjust to the darkness.

  The drapes are too far and I hear Sara’s panicked breaths. I close the door. Slowly, my eyes gain focus. Shapes, faces, the apartment spread out before us.

  Wayne sits there on the couch, shotgun resting on his lap. He looks at Sara and says, “You must be Loverboy’s new gal.”

  “Where’s my brother? Is he here? If you’ve hurt him…”

  “He’s safe,” Wayne says, “for now.”

  “Tell me where he is.”

  Wayne smiles, looks to me. “Bossy like your mom, huh? You do have your type, don’t you, Loverboy?”

  “Tell me or I’ll scream,” Sara says.

  Wayne laughs, the sort of cackle I imagine his victims heard before he drove in the knife. But Sara isn’t backing down so Wayne lets us hear his thoughts, how he found Danny in their room, how he didn’t have to touch a single hair on that boy’s head, simply told Danny if he wanted to see his sister again he needed to follow. Danny obeyed, followed Wayne right out the door. Wayne ends it there, not letting us know where he took Danny.

  Like we’d come over to his house to play cards, Wayne says, “Why don’t you both have a seat.”

  Sara says she’s fine, but I take her arm, guide her to a chair. Pissing Wayne off isn’t going to get Danny back.

  I actually start wishing Danny was in The Cabin. It’s better than this. At least we’d know he was still alive.

  Wayne removes one of his hands off the shotgun, scratches at his beard. “You really should take better care of your place, Joe. You’re kind of a slob. I mean, just cramming everything into the closet like that. It’s lazy.”

  Rachel…

  “But I suppose Mommy used to clean up after you. I never had that luxury.”

  I ask Wayne what he wants and immediately regret it when he starts smacking his lips. I tell him, “We just want Danny back. That’s all.”

  “And you’ll get him. Unharmed. Mostly.” Wayne waits for Sara to speak her violent mind, but I touch her arm. Wayne is loving this too much. Silence is our only option.

  Finally, Wayne gets bored, lifts the shotgun, aims it at me then Sara, then back at me. I close my eyes, suddenly more fed up than Sara.

  “Just do it,” I say.

  Sara shouts my name. What the hell you doing?

  “No, if he wants to pull the trigger, fine. But he’ll never make it out of here alive. He knows that. Don’t you, Wayne?”

  I let this hang in the air until it lands. I hear Wayne shifting in his seat, suddenly paying attention to every word out of my mouth. “It’s why he staged Robert’s death the way he did. He’s trying to draw attention, keep everyone busy. He’s trying to get out of here, just like us. And if he fires the gun, that deafening blast, it’s all over and he knows it.”

  “Rachel did it,” Wayne says, “and no one came running. Not a single soul.”

  I figure the storm covered the noise, but his grin says there’s more to it than that. “And that’s why you killed Sheila,” I say, not really knowing, but trying to put this together. “You killed her to distract everyone.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “You knew what Rachel was going to do. You must have heard her thoughts when she left the office. You must have—”

  “Well, Loverboy, then why didn’t I stop her?”

  “Because you’re a sick bastard. Two deaths were better than one.”

  I have no idea why my mouth won’t close. I’m not a detective. I don’t even know if any of it’s true, but my heart’s racing like I’m jacked on caffeine.

  Wayne’s teeth click. “Loverboy’s using his big brain.”

  The satisfaction of being right is erased when Sara thinks what an asshole I am. What is this accomplishing?

  I ask Wayne what he wants. “You obviously came here for a reason, and it’s not just the shotgun.”

  Wayne’s smiling again, pushing out his lower lip like a little kid. “I wanna be in your club, Joe.”

  Sharon’s chosen ones. The lucky group I’ve somehow joined. Seems Wayne has been eavesdropping, listening to more people than me. Who knows where he’s been lurking?

  “It is a small town,” Wayne says.

  I realize Wayne could’ve escaped the moment he broke out, but he knows he can’t last, not with the helicopter, not with every Boot on his trail. He learned Sheriff Melvin had disabled most of the cameras or put them on a loop of old footage. But it won’t last. He knows the only way off this mountain is with my help, because Sharon isn’t going to let him join in. Her club obviously has a better way down the two hundred foot drop than my stupid rope. They probably have a getaway car. Sharon didn’t tell me, but I figured the same. Still, Wayne’s here because I’m the only one who can get him in with Sharon.

  “Do you feel special, Momma’s Boy?” Wayne asks.

  He’s trying to intimidate me, but he’s already shown his cards.

  “Why would I help you?” I say.

  “To save that Bob Dole retard, of course.”

  I can hear Sara’s teeth digging into her tongue, that squishy sound of saliva the slow trickle of blood.

  I ask, “How do I know you won’t just—”

  “Kill him?” Wayne cocks his head. “You don’t know. Hell, I could kill all three of you.”

  I start humming to drown out the bad thoughts, the ones of Sara and Danny, both faceless, both piled on top of Rachel like some expired orgy.

  Wayne stands, his nose blowing puffs like a weary Grizzly. He knows we’re wasting time, that if we can’t come to an agreement, we’re all fucked. So he tosses me the gun. I can barely see in the dark, but somehow catch it. My first thought is to aim, pull the trigger, end this piece of shit’s life.

  Wayne says, “Remember, it’ll be loud, Loverboy.”

  Still, my finger finds the trigger, my left hand under the pump, the grooves, everything Dad taught me. Never be afraid to fire the shot.

  I’m stepping closer, the hollow end only a foot from Wayne’s chest, but Wayne doesn’t flinch, his nose breaths still coming at the same steady rate. The gun’s getting slick. My hand’s sweating. I start to feel my finger slide off the trigger. I’m worried if I adjust, I’ll crack off the shot.

  Sara’s hand gently touches the barrel, forces me to lower the gun. We’ll never find Danny if Wayne’s dead. He could be locked away somewhere suffocating. We need him just as he needs us. At least for now.

  “Listen to your girlfriend, Joe,” Wayne says. “She’s smart.”

  Firing would sound the alarm, send the Boots storming, but I can’t let Wayne just walk away without a nick. My trigger finger slides off and back towards the butt, my hand gripping the wood, which I crack into Wayne’s chin. He stumbles back, bends over, almost drops to a knee, but stays on his feet. He laughs, spits blood all over the floor. He slurps up the rest and that laugh of his comes back, but only for a second. It’s followed by this icy stare, the “I’m going to fucking love watching your girlfriend squeal under my knife” kind of look.

  I tell Wayne I’m not doing shit until we know Danny is alive. Wayne says they’ll be at the mineshaft at sundown, says if I don’t like it I need to end this right now. I don’t even realize he’s just prying my mind until it’s too late. I’m already picturing the path to the cave. My hand grips the butt of the shotgun, but Wayne’s not going to let me hit him again. He gave me one and that’s all I’m going to get. He says if I don’t fulfill my part of the plan, it’ll be the last sunset Danny ever sees.

  Everything’s too goddamn tense. I force a smile. “Guess I’ll tell Sharon we need room for one more,” I say.

  “That’s the boy Momma raised.”

  Wayne pushes me out of the way, peeks his wild eyes out the door. The coast is clear so Wayne slips out and disappears back into Brightside.

  I stand there shaking, my hands going numb on the Mossberg 12-gauge.

  Sara takes the gun, tells me I need to calm down. I have no idea why she’s being so rational, but I figure it’s all for Danny. Some people can lower their pulse to save the ones they love. My heart feels like it’s going to rip at the seams.

  So what do we do next? Sara thinks.

  “Nothing really,” I say, “I just have to take out that helicopter.”

  “Oh,” she says, “that all?”

  * * *

  When I was thirteen, Dad told me there was no honor in killing anything over a hundred yards away. If you can’t see a man’s features, then he’s not a man at all, just a target, which lessens the consequences of taking a life. Consequences are necessary. Without them, this fucked up existence has no value at all. That’s why he never showed me how to use a rifle or anything else long range. The Mossberg 12-guage could shatter your skull across a football field, he said, but move twenty rows into the stands, and you’ll just end up with a bruise or blind if you’re not smart enough to blink.

  Dad’s lecture worked in theory, but it didn’t do much to inspire confidence in my part of the plan, the part where I have to take down a fully armed chopper hovering in the sky.

  When I was nine, I used to point my finger as a gun and take out the airplanes flying over Columbus. I didn’t realize I was playing terrorist, never imagined one day that’s what I’d be called. Thought Thieves were deemed the most dangerous people on the planet by the President, the government, every school board across the country. All because we knew everyone was lying.

  The politicians weren’t a surprise, but the pastors and priests; the little league coaches and lunch ladies threw everyone for a loop. It was just easier to get rid of us, ship us here to this mountain, than to face the truth that our society was based on the ability to lie. Parents tell their kids they’re special, that they love them. Teachers tell students they can achieve anything. Bosses want their employees to know they’re valued, that they aren’t just a warm body underpaid and abused. It’s how everything keeps moving. Without the lie, people have to fix shit, face conflict, come to terms. Lying is the buffer that keeps us all from ending up like Rachel.

  Thought Thieves aren’t any better. We told ourselves Brightside could be worse, we bought into the bullshit, even though we’d been ripped from our homes, stripped of our jobs and families. We were banished to this prison in the clouds, but we told ourselves we’d just relocated. We had jobs, went on dates, fucked coworkers and the last person left at the bar. Lies have kept this town intact. They give us a reason to shower, brush our teeth, make our beds.

  But none of it was real. It was no different than when I was back in the outside world. The other salesmen at BMW were just like us. We worried about paperwork, what we were going to have for dinner. We wondered if we should move the couch to the other side of the room. Little tasks and stupid nonsense kept our minds busy, but also kept us from realizing all of it was shit. Our lives, jobs, the people we called friends.

  I’ve been hearing other people’s thoughts for as long as I could remember, but no matter how many times I heard their lies, their excuses, their justifications for doing horrible stuff, I never realized that I was no better. Until Day 100. That’s when I saw who I really was, a coward, a fraud, a waste of potential.

  I could have been anything, could have used my gift to get elected to office or the head of a company. I could have rubbed elbows with the rich and powerful and had my own island. But I pissed it all away, told myself I was better than those cheats, even though I did nothing but swindle. I stole girls’ hearts, told them what they needed to hear to get them in bed. I sold luxury cars to unsuspecting souls. I convinced people I was sensitive, caring, when I was simply regurgitating all the things seeping out of their heads.

  It was easy to keep secret because no one was like me. Not like Brightside, where secrets are more precious than life. I still can’t believe I’ve lasted a hundred days. I guess I’m lucky Wayne escaped and Sharon accelerated the plan. Another week and I’d be locked away in The Cabin or in a cage with the orange jumpsuits. I’ve been cracking, letting too many people in. Now Danny’s with Wayne and Sara’s involved. Then there’s Rachel, poor faceless Rachel, shoved in my closet, her version of a suicide note still stained on the ceiling, the floors.

  Sara’s in the bathroom, so I decide to take the opportunity to say goodbye. I open the closet and crouch down next to Rachel. I tell her I’m sorry again, imagine she forgives me. I tell her there’s a good chance when this is over I’ll be joining her. I wonder if they’ll put us side by side in the cemetery.

  If the rumors are true, we might all end up there soon. Wendell and Carlos; Krystal and Phuc. Every Brightsider buried to keep the world safe. I honestly don’t know how they ever thought this could last. Selling timeshares and other crap over the phone was never going to keep this place going. Just another lie we told ourselves to keep one foot moving in front of the other.

  I just keep thinking about Wendell and all the people we’re going to abandon, the ones too risky for Sharon’s club. If I succeed and take out the helicopter, there’s going to be panic and chaos, bullets ripping through bodies. The Boots won’t know who’s with Sharon and who just happened to be taking a walk. It’s all a part of Sharon’s plan. The distraction, the confusion, the melee that follows. It’s going to buy us time, keep the Boots one step behind.

  Collateral damage is just another detail in this fucked up scheme.

  Sara comes out of the bathroom and says she wants to know how I’m going to pull this off. There’s no point in lying. I haven’t a fucking clue. Sharon had suggestions, like climbing a tree or throwing rocks to get the pilot’s attention. Our brilliant leader is an idiot.

  Sara asks how close I have to be. I tell her under fifty yards, but probably under twenty to be safe. It’s been over ten years since I’ve fired this shotgun, and I know I’m going to be shaking and scared out of my mind. I’ve only hit a few birds, but that was because of the buckshot spray. It only took one tiny pellet to take out a quail. The helicopter’s going to take a hell of a lot more.

  Sara says she wants to come with me, but she’s only being polite. She also needs to stay hidden. The Boots are busy looking for Wayne, but if they find her they won’t hesitate to take her in. I tell her she needs to stay here until it’s time to make a run for the cave. Sara refuses, says there’s no way she’s going to just sit here while I’m out there risking my life. Plus, she wants to find Danny. She says she saw a flicker in Wayne’s thoughts. It was just a blip, but she saw Danny near a tree. I tell her Wayne isn’t dumb enough to slip up like that. In all likelihood he’s trying to get her caught, giving the plan another distraction to keep the Boots off our ass. Still, she’s definitely not staying here, she says, so we make a compromise. I tell her she needs to make sure no one sees me go to the office. She can help me get in so I can get to the roof.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I promised Wayne I’d talk to Sharon, but there’s no point telling her shit. If I do and she agrees, there isn’t a damn difference, but if she freaks, like I know she will, then I’m only putting Danny in more danger. Wayne’s going to be there whether I talk to Sharon or not, and his big ass isn’t going to climb down a rope by himself. And he’s going to want in on the getaway vehicle, whatever that might be. I’m such an idiot for not asking Sharon for more details. I was too caught up in arguing about Sara and Danny being sent to The Cabin and my father turning me in.

  Still, I have to call her. Sara and Danny have to be included in the getaway. I take out the cell phone, the one Sharon said couldn’t be traced.

  “There a problem?” Those are the first words out of Sharon’s mouth and I almost tell her there are more problems than she can handle.

  “Just one,” I say. “Sara and Danny are both coming.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Then I’m not firing a fucking shot and that helicopter will be sitting right outside the mineshaft. You can kiss your little plan goodbye.”

  Sharon’s breathing, and while I can’t hear her thoughts, I know that damn mantra is on full blast in her head.

  “It’s your call,” I say. “But I’m not doing shit until I know they’re in.”

  Sharon’s teeth click a few times. She says, “Fine.”

  “Yeah? I have your word?” As if her word means anything.

  “Yes, but if they get caught on the way to the cave or if they’re one second late, we’re not waiting.”

  “Okay.”

  “And Joe?”

  “What?”

  “If you fail, the deal’s off.”

  “Yeah…” I start to ask how we’re getting off this mountain if we actually pull this off, but Sharon’s already hung up.

  I know Sharon has something waiting for us when we get out, a bus or car or even a plane. She told me there were others in the real world, ones yet to be discovered, willing to help us. Unlike Danny, Sara, and me, there were a lot of Thought Thieves rolling in cash. They broke into banks already knowing the security codes. They bought stocks on silent information. They took down casinos one table at a time, knowing exactly what the dealer or other players were holding. Unless they were stupid or too goddamn greedy, there are probably hundreds, even thousands, still on the outside.