Gone (Gone #1) (6 page)

Zoey's mom went up and gave Macy's mom a hug. Alyssa burst into tears, and the women held each other. "Oh, Valerie. I can't believe this is happening."

Zoey looked away, afraid of crying herself.

Alex sat down next her. His eyes were red and puffy.

"You okay?" Zoey asked, feeling stupid. Of course he wasn't.

"They have, like, a million questions. They're acting like Macy's dead." He shook his head and took a deep breath.

"She's fine. You know how tough she is. I'm sure it's like her update said. She wanted to get away from everything."

Alex shrugged. He looked into her eyes but said nothing.

Zoey looked over at their parents. They were talking with each other, paying no attention to the two kids. She put her hand on top of Alex's. He flipped his hand over and laced his fingers through hers.

"I don't know what I'll do if anything happened to her." He cleared his throat. "I couldn't—I mean, what would I do?" His eyes shone with tears.

"She's going to be okay." She squeezed his hand. "She is. You know what? She's probably off having the time of her life with Jared, with no clue what she's putting us through."

He nodded. "I hope. When she gets back, I'm gonna beat the crap out of her."

"Alex. We're leaving," Chad called.

He squeezed her hand before standing. They held their eye contact, their fingers lingering also. Before Alex reached his parents, he mouthed, "Call me."

Zoey nodded.

Identity

A thud woke Macy up. She opened her eyes, confused.

"I see you've made yourself comfortable."

The trap door was open, and she could see her captor staring down at her.

"Do you want something to eat?"

She sat up, nodding. "And something to drink."

He laughed. "I'll bet you're thirsty after moving those bales around. I'll get you something, but you have to do one thing for me, Heather."

Heather?

"What?"

"Call me Dad."

Dad? Had he lost his mind? Then she remembered in the truck, he said something about her looking like his Heather. "Why?"

"Because, Heather. I'm your dad. I need to hear you call me Dad."

"Tell me your real name and I'll think about it."

He glared at her. "You know my name, Heather. It's Chester Woodran."

Chester? His name was
Chester
? No wonder he was such a jerk. With a name like that, he'd have to be mean to get any respect.

"Well?" He narrowed his eyes.

"You're not my dad! And I'm not Heather."

He shook his head. "See. That's exactly why I need you to call me Dad. As soon as you do, you'll get your food and water. One more chance."

"Never."

"I'll come back and see how agreeable you are later." The trap door slammed shut, and she heard the same click as before.

Was that why Chester had taken her? Had something happened to Heather, and he was trying to use Macy to replace the girl? If he thought she was going to call him Dad, he had another think coming.

Tears poked at her eyes as she thought about her family. Did they know she was missing? She wasn't sure how long she'd been gone, but since she had sneaked out of the house, they wouldn't have found out until the morning. Maybe not even late morning, if it was one of those days when her parents let her sleep in.

Even if they did know she was gone, would they know where to look for her? She had to be several states away, if not more. Would her friends have figured out that something was wrong? She had told her closest friends she was meeting Jared. Would they be worried that she hadn't texted them about it?

Burying herself further into the bed of hay, she gave in to the tears until she was sobbing and shaking. Where were her parents? What were they doing? What about her annoying brother? What she wouldn't give to even see him and put up with his relentless teasing.

Without realizing it, she cried herself back to sleep. She woke up when something tickled her hand, which was hanging out of the hay. She opened her eyes to find a black beetle crawling on her hand.

"Augh! Get off. Off of me!"

She shook her hand, but it didn't come loose. She used her other hand to flick it away. She wiped the back of her hand on the hay furiously, as though that would get rid of whatever remnants of the bug were left on her skin.

Was she going to die in this room? Was this going to be the last place she was ever going to see? Sleeping in hay with bugs crawling on her, surrounded by rats and who knew what else?

A loud crack made her jump. Macy buried herself deeper into the bale of hay, even though she knew it couldn't protect her. Rain slammed against the barn with such force that it practically shook above her. Thunder clapped again, and with it rainwater came dripping down the wall next to her. It pooled noisily on the ground.

Did it flood down there? The rats weren't running for cover, so maybe—hopefully—that was a good sign. She could hear animals stomping around up above. They whinnied, mooed, and bahhed, making the storm even more eerie than it already was.

Macy lay there in her hay nest, listening to the sounds of the storm and of the animals. It was the distraction she needed, and finally she relaxed for the first time since the ordeal had begun. Storms had always been somewhat comforting, in a strange sort of way. At home, she used to love watching the rainfall from her house. It was almost magical, even though she was too old to believe in that stuff anymore.

The storm gave her hope, almost like a sign she was going to be okay.

Her stomach rumbled along with the thunder and the hunger ate at her, making her feel weak and light-headed. She had been hungry before and knew this phase would pass. There was no way she was going to let him win. If nothing else, she would walk away from this skinny at last.

Focusing on the storm, she ignored the hunger pangs. She thought of her poor old cat Snowflake. Imagining him beside her helped Macy relax further. He had always been able to sense when she was upset, and would show up to comfort her.

As suddenly as it had begun, the storm stopped. The quiet rang in her ears, and all she could hear was the water dripping down the wall from the spaces above. Macy closed her eyes. She wanted sleep to take her away again, but it wouldn't.

Her stomach growled again, rumbling over and over, making her light-headedness even worse. Her mouth watered for food that didn't exist.

At home, she could walk into the kitchen and grab anything—well, anything without meat or animal by-products. Alex always waved cheese slices in her face after she declared herself a vegan. Cheese had been her favorite, and was probably the sole cause of her muffin top.

A noise caught Macy's attention, and she looked toward the trap door as it opened.

"Did you enjoy the storm? I was watching it by the fire, listening to music while lunch cooked in the oven. How did you like it from in here, Heather?"

"My name isn't Heather."

"The sooner you come to terms with the fact that you're Heather, the sooner you'll be able to get out of here. For now, are you ready for some food?"

"I'm not calling you
dad
."

"That's a shame. I've got some food here for you. Can you smell it?" Chester waved his hands around, like that would send the smell her way.

"Nope."

"Are you sure you won't change your mind?"

"I'm not Heather, and you're not my dad. I want you to take me back to my parents. Everyone's looking for me, you know. They've figured out by now that I'm missing. They'll find you."

"Don't count on that, Heather."

"They know something's wrong."

He shook his head. "You posted a note online, telling everyone of your intention to run away."

"What?" She sat up.

"You didn't think I could figure out those passwords, either?" He laughed. "Snowflake415. Your precious kitty and the date you decided to become vegan."

Macy gasped. "They'll still look for me. Even if I said I was running away." She clenched her fists. Would they, really? They had to. Her parents wouldn't shrug their shoulders and carry on with life if she ran away.

"Your note said not to look for you, that you would come back when you were ready."

She tightened her grip, digging her nails into her own flesh. "They won't believe it."

"I think they will. I know all your typical typos, your lingo, and all the chat-speak. They'll have no reason to doubt you wrote it from your own account."

He'd thought of everything. Even so, there was no way everyone would sit around, was there? She was a kid. The police would be forced to look for her, wouldn't they? Or did they not bother with runaways? Not that they would know to look for her below a barn in the middle of nowhere, probably states away.

"So, Heather, are you ready for lunch? I made you some vegetable soup—vegan approved."

Macy's stomach growled again, and her mouth filled with water. She couldn't let him know how much she wanted the soup.

"I'm not calling you dad. You're not my dad."

"Eventually, you'll be hungry enough to be agreeable. I thought you'd be now, but it looks like you'll need some more time. I'll leave the bowl up here and you can think about it while I go to the store. I might make some other stops too. Come to think of it, I might be gone for quite a while. Are you sure you don't want to eat now?"

She wanted to eat it more than anything, but there was no way she was letting him know that. "I'm fine. If you know me so well, you know how I lost my weight. I can go a long time without eating."

"Suit yourself. You're only human. Oh, that reminds me." He held a bottle of water. "You'll at least need something to drink if you're going to survive. You may be able to go a long time without food, but you can't go long without this. Drink it." Chester dropped it, and as it bounced on the dirt floor, he slammed the trap door shut and locked it.

Her mouth watered at the thought of the soup, reminding her how parched she was. He was right, and she knew it. She needed water. Macy climbed out of her little nest and ran to the bottle of water, picked it up, and stared at it. It was still factory sealed. There weren't any punctures in it anywhere.

Why had he given that to her? She told him she would never call him dad. Was he not planning on killing her? Did he want her to live? If that was the case, what was his plan? Did he actually want her to become his daughter? Like that would ever happen.

She twisted the cap off and guzzled the entire bottle. She put the lid back on and threw it into a corner.

In the distance, she heard an engine start, followed by tires driving on gravel.

Sneaking

Alex sprawled out across his messy bed, playing games on his cell phone and trying to distract himself from how stressed and worried he was. It didn't fix anything, but at least he could get his mind off Macy for a little while.

As if it wasn't bad enough that Macy had taken off—or been killed, by the sounds of what the police thought—he and his parents had been questioned. Zoey, too. She had to be as worried as he was. She'd been besties with Macy for as long has he could remember.

He moved up a level in Factoryville, and then chucked his phone across the room. He didn't care about any of the games. Not now. The police had said they were going to go through Macy's room if she didn't turn up soon, and told them not to leave town. Where would they go? Jerks.

Rolling over onto his back, he stared at a poster of his favorite band on the ceiling. When would Zoey call? It felt like forever since he saw her at the station. He hoped she was okay. She seemed about as well as could be expected, but that was before talking with the cops.

Alex's parents had been in the room when he was questioned, since he was a minor. The same should hold true for Zoey. He would feel a lot better being able to talk with her.

If they could talk, maybe they could figure out what really happened. What two people were closer to Macy, really? Sure, Macy and Alex didn't spill their secrets to each other, but they were pretty close. That was why she put up with his teasing. It was their thing. Always had been.

The doorbell rang, and Alex groaned. Let it be Zoey, and not the cops. He could tell by the way they looked at him that they didn't like him. His hair was past his ears, and he liked it scraggly. The older cop seemed to have him pegged as a thug. Did he seriously suspect that Alex had anything to do with it? That was ridiculous.

Opening his door, Alex could hear muffled conversation downstairs. At least it was a break from his parents arguing. They didn't get along anymore since Dad had started that blog. People online started thinking his dad was all that, so his head got big and he walked around upset that he didn't get the same respect at home.

Alex thought about closing his door to continue hiding, but he wanted to find out what was going on. Maybe the police had found something. Macy's picture was all over the TV. Every discussion on social media was about her, too. That's why Alex had been playing games—he didn't want to read any more crazy theories. His friends had come up with everything from alien abduction to witness protection.