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“She’s right,” Robby said. “We all need to go. Don’t ask me how I know that. I just do, and you gotta believe me.” He looked over at Riley, at her arms. “Her in particular … it wants her more than anything.”
It?
Buck didn’t want to think of whatever this was as some kind ofit. On some level, he was still trying to sell himself on the idea that none of this was even happening; he desperately wanted it all to just be some drunken stupor gone horribly wrong.
“Those maps you showed us,” Robby went on. “This is the center. It’s all coming from right here. More accurately, from right down there, below us. It’s radiating out. Like when you throw a rock in the middle of a lake. It’s starting down there and spreading. I think … I think it’s been contained, until today, until this tree fell. The tree made a hole, this hole, and now it’s getting out. This black stuff isn’t mold. It’s something else. Something ugly. Bad.”
All of that sounded like a very solid reason not to let the kids go anywhere near that hole, force them to stay put, but Buck knew that was a loser’s game; the second he went down there, they’d be right behind him. It was what the boy said next that convinced him.
“It took your Emily the same way it just took my sister, Mason, and the sheriff. You know it did. And if that’s true, she’s still down there somewhere, and I’d be willing to bet she’s still alive. Just like them.”
Riley moved to the edge of the hole and played the beam of the flashlight over the edge. It made as little sense as everything else did. While the fallen tree may have started it, somehow punched a hole not only through the floor but the granite below, it had only been a wedge. The branch was twice as thick as Buck’s thigh, but the hole was bigger, had grown to nearly three feet across. He couldn’t be sure, but he was fairly certain it had grown just in the few minutes they had been here, was still growing. The ragged edge of sharp rock going down the insides made it look like a mouth filled with rows of teeth. The flashlight tried to illuminate the length of it but failed miserably; he could only see down about seven or eight feet before the beam petered out.
Riley scratched at her arm again, and when she lifted her sleeve, Ellie and Evelyn’s names had been added to the others.
Buck swallowed and repositioned his shotgun across his back in its sling, then took the flashlight from her.
If they were going to do this, they needed to do it now, because things were growing worse. He could feel it.
He clipped the flashlight to his belt so it was hanging down, then lowered himself into the hole. “There’s plenty to hang on to; just be mindful of the tree branch. Don’t touch it. Take your time. If you change your mind, you get scared, there’s no shame in coming right back up.”
As he said this, he studied both their faces and realized the fear rising in his gut was enough for all of them. He started down before some semblance of good sense got him to change his mind.
104
Matt
WHEN THE GIRL WHOlooked a lot like Emily Pridham touched Matt’s head, his vision flashed. He was back in his apartment, his body warm and drunk on the half-finished bottle of Jim Beam perched precariously on the kitchen counter next to Addie’s half-naked body. He didn’t remember her jeans coming off, but they were puddled there at his feet as she sat on the edge of the countertop, her bare legs wrapped around his waist, gripping him like a vise.
He was watching this scene as well as living it, no longer two separate Matts but one, both about to make the biggest mistake of his life.
“Fuck me right here, Matt. Right on the kitchen counter. Then tomorrow, or the day after, when you’re cooking breakfast for Gabby, I want you to look at this spot and remember what we did. I want you to think about this …” Her hands found their way inside Matt’s jeans; warm fingers wrapped around him and gently squeezed. “The next time you bed Gabby, when she’s lying under you unmoving like some dead fish waiting for you to finish,I want you to remember all the things I used to do to you back in high school, all the things the other girls wouldn’t, and think about one simple truth: I’ve had ten years to learn more.” She leaned in close and flicked her tongue across the side of Matt’s neck, her words hot at his ear. “Some might say I’ve perfected my craft. I know a dozen ways to make you come … a dozen ways to remind you she’ll never be more than a placeholder. Her only purpose is to keep you warm for me. I’m okay being your girl on the side, your dirty little secret. You can fuck us both—just promise me one thing: when you’re inside her, I want you to think of me. I want my name in your head.”
Addie tugged his jeans and underwear down over his hips, and although Matt knew everything about this moment was wrong, he let her. He stepped out of his clothing and kicked it all aside as she brought the bottle of Jim Beam to his lips and held it as he took a long swig. She drank, too, and when she did, Matt’s hands moved with a mind of their own. His fingers brushed down the buttons of her blouse and found their way inside the folds of the thin fabric to her flesh beneath. She was still drinking when he tore the blouse open, sending those buttons skittering across the hardwood floor. He didn’t remember removing her bra—one moment it was there, then it wasn’t, and his palms were cupping her breasts, tentatively brushing her nipples, and Addie moaned softly. “Make it hurt, Matt. You know I love it when you make it hurt.”
She tugged the back of his hair, then ran her fingers down his spine, her sharp nails digging into the skin of his back with enough force to draw blood. He didn’t care. He wanted more. Matt pulled her so close, so tight, it was like both their bodies became one, folded over and into each other until there was only a single being, and he pulled her tighter still. She guided him inside her even as he thrust, raising her hips to meet his, gripping him with her thighs. The gasp that escaped her lips was filled with ahunger, an animal-like sound that only fueled the heat between them, and they both began to rock, pressing into each other with a ferocity that grew with each moment until Matt felt himself spill out inside her, unable to hold back anymore.
When it was over, they remained there, holding each other in a stillness that was only matched by the intense movement only moments earlier. The guilt crashed into Matt like a thick wave, and although he knew he should let go, get dressed, get her out of his apartment, his life, another part of him was unwilling to do all that. He wanted to love Gabby, he did, he told himself that over and over again, but that didn’t make it true, and while he equally wanted to hate Addie, wanted to push her away, he couldn’t. Every inch of his being wanted her to stay no matter how wrong it might be.
Addie’s face was nestled in the crook of his neck when she whispered, “I think you just put a baby in me, Mr. Maro.”
It had all happened so fast, so intensely, the idea of protection hadn’t entered Matt’s mind. A slight ting of panic rolled through him, but quickly vanished, melted away. If he got her pregnant, so be it. Maybe that was what he needed.Maybe that was what he wanted.
Yes. That was—
The door to his apartment slammed behind him.
He hadn’t heard it open, and he certainly hadn’t heard Gabby come in but there she was, standing in the gloom, her face masked in shadows. She was holding her overnight bag, clutching it far too tight. And although she didn’t speak, her breathing told him all he needed to know.
There was no surprise.
No shock.
There was only anger.
This seething that only grew more intense as she stood there, her gaze boring into them both.
Addie’s limbs were still twisted around him when Gabby lunged. He was still caught up in Addie, and while he tried to pull away, he simply wasn’t fast enough. Gabby crossed the small room and pulled a knife from the butcher block on the counter as she came toward them, did it with a movement that was fast, purposeful, and fueled by pure rage. The blade glistened in the thin light as she raised it high and whistled as it came down in a harsh arc.
