RATTLER DROVE STRAIGHT through town, not bothering to disguise his route. I knew that people got out of the way when they saw Rattler’s truck coming, because any encounter with Rattler was bad news, whether you were Banished or not. No one followed us; it was past the dinner hour now and people were at home for the night.
The truck’s shocks had seen better days and every jolt and bump jarred my spine, but Rattler didn’t seem to mind. I was wedged against the passenger door. Between us, Prairie rode with her hands folded in her lap and her head held high. I knew better than to try to argue with her now, but I couldn’t believe she had agreed to stay with Rattler once this night was done.
She’d done it for me and Chub. And for Anna and Kaz. She’d done it so that Rattler would never come after us, never drag us back to Trashtown to live out our lives in poverty and abuse. I felt sick at heart knowing what she was willing to sacrifice to save us.
I told her almost everything. About how sorry I was that we’d left her behind. About our pulling over to rest and Rattler and Derek’s finding us. About surviving the explosion only to end up in Prentiss’s new headquarters. About seeing Chub, and Dr. Grace, and Bryce and about the terrible thing Prentiss had asked me to do. About nearly falling for the trap and escaping to the utility room, and about Kaz’s plan to destroy the data before we got back.
There were a few things I didn’t tell her about. Like the night Kaz and I had stayed in the motel, and the kiss we’d shared. And the room Rattler had set up for her, with the photo of the two of them when they were children. Those things I saved to tell her later, because that way I could pretend that there would be a later, that she would be leaving with me when everything was over.
Throughout the trip, Rattler drove with a half smile on his face. Every now and then he rested one of his big callused hands on Prairie’s knee. It was as though he was trying to reassure himself that she was really there, as though he didn’t quite trust his spinning eye not to conjure her image from nothing.
If Rattler was afraid, he didn’t show it. And if Prairie was afraid, her fear had little to do with the next few hours-and much to do with what would follow.
We fell silent as we pulled off the road. We approached the circular drive in front of the complex on foot, staying in the shadows cast by the decorative landscape lighting. The foyer was dark, the reception desk empty, but I knew that inside, a frantic search was going on, if it hadn’t already concluded with Kaz’s capture.
I was waiting for the doors to open with shouts and gunfire when a small figure shot out of the bushes and came running toward us at a gallop, then collided with me, nearly knocking me down.
“Hayee!”
It was Chub. We tumbled together, hugging each other, Chub babbling excitedly, me holding on for dear life. Prairie was next; she scooped him up and kissed his cheeks, his forehead. He laughed and shrieked with delight-and then, suddenly, he stopped.
He regarded Rattler solemnly from the safety of Prairie’s arms. “Your eye hurts.”
Rattler chuckled. “No, little man, it don’t. This here’s a magic eye. It tells me tales.”
But Chub shook his head and ducked his chin. “It hurts,” he repeated. “It makes you sad.”
Rattler’s grin faltered, but he played along, winking at Chub. “I ain’t sad. You’re lookin’ at a man what’s about to do what he does best. Gonna bust some ass and take what’s mine is what we’re fixin’ to do.”
“We can’t take Chub in there with us,” I protested.
“He can wait in the truck,” Rattler said. “Jes’ as soon’s he shows us how he got out here in the first place.”
We followed Chub back along a brick path that wound behind lattice screens, thick with wisteria. Shielded from view, the path took a turn toward the back of the complex, where Dumpsters were clustered next to a loading dock. The air smelled of garbage, and flies buzzed.
“I saw that, I saw that door,” Chub said proudly, pointing. Sure enough, a door stood open. Trash bags were stacked haphazardly outside, as though someone had been interrupted in the middle of a task.
By an alarm sounding through the complex, for instance.
“I’ll take the young’un back,” Rattler said, reaching for Chub. But Chub backed away from him, clearly frightened. “Oh, now, I won’t hurt you none,” Rattler crooned.
The sound curdled my blood. My father’s voice was not one that would ever sing a lullaby or soothe an injured child. There was no comfort in it, and Chub-who knew far more than most little boys-didn’t trust it.
Not until I told him to. I hated doing it, but there was no other way.
“Chub, you go with Mr. Sikes now,” I said, kneeling down to give him a hug and a kiss. “You get to sit in his nice big truck and wait just a little while and then I’ll be back for you. Lie down and try to sleep, and maybe you’ll have a nice dream.”
Chub looked skeptical, but he reluctantly went to Rattler.
Rattler was back in moments. We were barely inside the building when we heard a woman’s scream.