The Inn Between (14 page)

Quinn and Kara stood closer as the elevator zipped up what felt like only a floor or two. The man gripped Quinn's wrist.

The pillowcase filled with the rest of the pizza and the water bottles still sat in a heap on the floor of the elevator where Quinn had dropped it. She eyed Kara, then the pillowcase. Kara understood immediately. Kara picked it up and slung it over her shoulder.

They weren't done running.

 

24

P
ERSEPHONE STOOD OUTSIDE
the elevator. As soon as Sharon slid open the iron gate Persephone began scolding them.

“What were you two thinking? Do you have any idea?” Her eyes were wide and her hair a mess. She looked frazzled and wild. It was the first time she wasn't wearing her perfect smile.

Quinn looked up into the crazy man's eyes. He still clutched her wrist. She exchanged glances with Kara. Kara's chin bobbed once, letting Quinn know she was ready. She was focused. It was time to leave Inn Between.

Kara swung the pillowcase with all her might, striking the man on the side of the head. He let go of Quinn and yelped. Together they pushed past Persephone, making a beeline for the front door.

“Stop!” shouted Persephone.

“Wait!” said Sharon.

Aides was standing outside, but luckily he was facing away. Quinn grabbed the pillowcase from Kara in case she needed it. She tucked her chin and burst through the door, bulldozing past the huge man before he had a chance to react.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Come back!”

“You can't leave!” yelled Persephone, who had reached the door. “You can't leave yet!”

Side by side, Quinn and Kara ran blindly into the dark desert dust. They followed the path that led away from the hotel. All the while the pillowcase thumped against Quinn's back like a sledgehammer. Running with their hands tied was awkward, but she and Kara were a team, and they managed to train their crazy legs and get their bodies to move as one.

Persephone, Aides, and Sharon kept calling for them to return. But Quinn ignored their calls and continued to run until she and Kara were swallowed by darkness. The voices faded into the distance.

“Keep … going…” breathed Quinn. “We … can't stop … until … we're sure they're not coming.”

But Kara was slowing.

The hotel with its lit windows and high roof disappeared behind hills of gravel and rock. Ahead, the orange sun was sneaking over the horizon. They'd be easy to spot in daylight.

Quinn kept checking over her shoulder. There was no one there, but she just couldn't push the idea from her mind—something had followed her out of the hotel.

The farther they got, the stronger Quinn felt. They were going to be okay. They would make it to the diner, and Not-Norm would help.

“The bracelet—” breathed Kara. “It's cutting into my skin. Can we take them off?”

Quinn could see crisscrossed rings of bright red wrap around Kara's wrist. She remembered the dull aching pain all too well.

Surprisingly there were no such rings around her own wrist. “No. Not until we're safe. We need to stick together and it's the only way to be sure.”

“But we're away from the hotel,” said Kara. “We're okay now.”

Kara was right. But it all seemed too easy. Like Persephone and Aides had let them go. Quinn wouldn't feel safe until they reached the interstate. Maybe not until they were back at Not-Norm's and calling the police.

They slowed to a brisk walk. Quinn stared gloomily at the alien landscape—the bleak mounds of rolling gravel. The rising sun melted over the terrain and the dust began to glisten gold again. Patches of creosote appeared, telling Quinn they were getting closer to the interstate.

Kara rubbed her wrist. The skin was breaking. The bruises on her arms had spread. In the morning light, her face seemed pale and her eyes dark and sunken. Quinn wondered if she looked as bad as Kara. She didn't feel bad, though. In fact, she felt pretty good. Better and better by the minute.

“I need some water,” said Kara. “Just a sip.”

Quinn took out one of the pop bottles they'd filled with water and they each had a sip. It was lukewarm and tasted like medicine. Maybe it was Quinn's imagination, but she thought it smacked of mold.

“No one's following us,” said Kara. “They'd have caught us by now. Let's stop for a rest. Just a short one.”

Kara was right. If they had been chased by a car, the girls would have been caught by now. Even if they had been pursued on foot, with their hands tied they'd have been no match. Still, Quinn couldn't shake the feeling she hadn't seen the last of Inn Between.

They left the path and climbed over a huge rocky hill. Tucked safely on the other side, they sat for a rest. With the sun beating down, the creepy crawlies had slunk back into hiding. Still, Quinn kept a sharp eye out for anything slinking or slithering.

“What happened to my parents? To Josh?” said Kara. “Where did they go?”

“I don't know,” said Quinn. “But Persephone was right about one thing. You'll see them soon. I'm sure of it.”

Quinn pulled Kara to her feet. “Come on. We have to keep going.”

They walked for hours, easing along the gravel road. The heat hit them from both ends—the sun pressed down from above and the sand from below. Quinn could feel her body beginning to boil.

They'd taken a few more sips of water, emptying one of their two reserves. Kara was getting weaker. Though Quinn felt surprisingly strong, it took all her strength to hold Kara upright.

It was past noon when they settled into the pizza. Though it tasted like cardboard, Quinn chewed her slice, making each mouthful count. Just the thought of the disgusting buffet made the old pizza seem like a treat.

The hills began to look alike. Quinn searched the distance for any sign of the interstate. She saw none. By late afternoon, Kara had reached her end.

“I can't go on any farther,” she said. “I need to rest.”

They settled down for a short break in a thin patch of shade behind a hill. Kara rubbed her wrist and ankle.

They sat for some time in silence. The sun was beginning to descend. The ride in from the interstate to the hotel hadn't seemed this long, though Quinn recalled they'd circled around a few times. Still, by her calculations they must have walked over ten miles already. The last two or so had been slow going. Kara needed to stop frequently, and Quinn let her rest. Though she kept a suspicious eye out, nothing was following them. At least nothing Quinn could see.

Kara closed her eyes while Quinn kept watch. Far off in the distance, black dots circled. Turkey vultures. Just what they needed. Quinn watched their swaying, swooping motion, just to make sure they weren't going to dive-bomb them again. Their movement was relaxing. Kara had fallen asleep. The evening air cleared Quinn's head. It smacked of rain, though there wasn't a cloud in sight. The creosote, Quinn thought, as she inhaled deeply. She closed her eyes and was drifting off, too. But then she heard it and startled awake.

It was back. The hum.

 

25

Q
UINN SHOOK KARA GENTLY.
“Wake up. Time to go.” But Kara didn't respond and her eyes stayed shut. Panic zipped through Quinn's veins. She shook harder. “Kara. Come on. Please.”

Kara's eyelids fluttered and opened. She looked at Quinn and smiled, but then her eyes clouded over. It was like she couldn't focus. Like she was looking past Quinn at some distant point beyond.

“I feel thin,” said Kara. “Like smoke. Like I could blow away.”

“Don't say that,” said Quinn. “Please don't.”

The look in Kara's eyes frightened Quinn. It was the same look she'd seen in the face of the old man in pajamas. In Joe before he rode the elevator. Kara was fading fast and there was nothing Quinn could do to stop it.

“I can't lose you, Kara. You're all I have left.”

“Go get help,” said Kara.

“I'm not leaving you. You're going with me. Or I'm staying. Just like that time in the tree.” Quinn tried to drag Kara to her feet. “Come on. We're close now. Can't you hear it? Can't you hear the hum?”

The last time Quinn had heard the hum they were on the interstate, heading into the bright lights. It meant they must be close to the road. Close to the diner.

“Kara,” said Quinn, tugging at her arm. “You can do it. We're almost there.”

Twilight had cast its spell over the landscape. The air was the same hazy gold it had been when they'd seen the bright lights. Soon it would be dark and the beautiful yellow-orange sphere of the sun would be swallowed by the horizon.

Quinn shaded her eyes. That's when she saw him.

Silhouetted against the disk of the setting sun, a shadow rose. Quinn had to squint, but there was no mistaking him—the crazy man with the ball cap. He'd followed them. He'd found them. A small animal sound escaped her lips.

She mustered her strength and found her voice. “Get up!” she hissed. “We have to run. Now!” She pulled Kara to her feet. They took a few steps then stopped. Kara collapsed like dead weight. Quinn pulled with all her might and managed to get Kara back on her feet.

The man walked toward them steadily, drawing nearer by the second, bearing down on them like a bulldozer.

“Stop,” he snarled.

Quinn managed to get Kara moving again. They weren't fast, but they hobbled as best they could along the path. The interstate was just ahead. Quinn could see a piece of it around the bend. If they could just make it to the road, someone would see them. Some car would stop and they'd be saved.

All the while, the hum grew louder and louder in Quinn's ears. It nearly drowned out the man's yelling. It sounded like an engine—a diesel engine getting closer and closer.

“Wait!” the man yelled.

Quinn didn't hear him. All she heard now was the hum. All she saw was the road—getting closer. She pulled Kara with all her strength and together they made it to the shoulder of the interstate.

Headlights approached. Quinn could see the bright beams coming straight out of the burning sunset. Something was headed toward them, toward Norm's Diner. If they could just catch a ride they'd get there. This was their chance.

Quinn slipped her arm under Kara's. She had to get to where the vehicle could see them. She had to stop it.

Whatever it was, it approached at high speed. The lights grew blindingly bright and Quinn had to shield her eyes. The closer it got, the louder the hum became. Whatever was coming toward her was the source. The source of the bright lights. And the hum.

She stepped out into the middle of the road, dragging Kara along with her. She waved frantically with her free arm, hoping to get the driver's attention, hoping he or she would see the two girls and stop.

As it drew closer, Quinn could see it clearly. A huge eighteen-wheeler—fully loaded, thundering toward her. She let go of Kara and waved wildly, flapping both her hands, along with Kara's, so hard she thought they might just take flight. The driver had to see them. There was no way he couldn't.

The truck was only half a block away when Quinn realized something was wrong. Its speed wasn't changing. It wasn't slowing down. Instead, it barreled toward Quinn and Kara at lightning speed, heading straight for them. Straight at them.

Quinn shut her eyes as the light enveloped her entire body and the sound exploded in her mind. The truck was going to hit them head-on.

 

26

Q
UINN HUGS HER ARMS
to her chest. Her cheeks flush scarlet. Embarrassment and anger battle inside her.

“I have to stay late,” she says, biting off each word.

Emma stares. Her shoulders sag. “Why? What'd you do?”

“Never mind,” snaps Quinn. Her voice lashes like the November wind. “I just have to.”

Emma sighs. She lets her orange backpack—the one with the huge smiley face—slip from her shoulder. It thunks to the ground by her once-white-now-gray sneakers. “I'll wait for you.”

Kara is hurrying to catch her bus.

Quinn grabs her arm. “Sorry,” she mutters.

Kara casts Quinn a withering glare. “You should never have asked me.”

“Kara,” says Quinn, but Kara's already rushing to make her bus. “I'll call you,” Quinn yells after her.

Other kids from Quinn's class walk past. They look at Quinn. Some whisper. Some giggle.

Tears burn at the back of Quinn's eyes. She frowns hard and licks her dry lips. She wants to yell—tell them not to gawk, not to be so nosy. Instead, her anger forms a fine point. It flies like an arrow toward Emma.

“Go home.” She digs the house key from her pocket and holds it out.

Emma draws back. “I can't walk by myself. Neither can you.” She's wringing the pink cap in her hands, twisting it tighter. Tighter.

“Don't be such a chicken. Just go home.” Quinn thrusts the key into Emma's hand.

“This isn't a good idea,” says Emma, refusing to close her fingers on it. “You know the rule—we have to walk together.”

“No one's gonna know,” snaps Quinn. “Not if you don't say anything.”

Emma shifts from side to side. “How long will it take you? I can wait by the office doors. I'll sit right here. Or—I can wait on the climber in the park.”

Anger and frustration explode from Quinn. “I don't want you to wait for me, okay? I'm tired of you always hanging around me. Can't you do anything by yourself?”

A hurt look washes over Emma. She deflates like a leaky beach ball. Her fingers curl slowly around the key.

She waits a moment longer, as if hoping Quinn will change her mind. When Quinn says nothing, she places her cap on her head, picks up her backpack, and slings it over her shoulder. With one last look at her sister, she turns and walks away.