Within These Walls

Life After Dark: 18 (WTW Sequel)

(Sorry for the long and sucky wait and thanks for reading! I'm really grateful to those who stuck around as we wind down to the final showdown.)

Our van breaks down just before Wichita Falls, Texas, in the middle of what seems like the countryside. In other words, in the middle of nowhere. I haven't seen another car for at least the past three miles, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not in our case. With everything we've faced lately, the thought of potential killers who prey on hitchhikers isn't quite as frightening as it normally would be.

Marcus tries turning the key in the ignition several times, but all he gets for his efforts is a clicking sound.

"I told you we should have taken the Ford," Janie huffs.

He levels a death glare at her and gets out of the vehicle, slamming his door so hard the windows protest. No one says anything else. We feel his fury like a venomous viper sitting in the van with us and the first idiot who moves will be its first victim.

I glance down at my phone when it buzzes.

Do you think this will work?

It's a question from Davey that I can't answer, just like I couldn't answer the last five he asked. I already filled him in on what we learned about the Shroud agent. The startling discovery that if we kill it, we might be able to free the Blanks.

Now I'm starting to regret telling him, because I feel like I built his hope so high I'm not sure he'll survive a drop from that height.

My own hope is tempered by the brutal disappointments so far. How can anything be that easy when reality has taught me the opposite time and again? Not that I would ever dare to give up on Carson. I miss him terribly. His naïve exuberance, his unconditional support, his unending determination in the face of any adversary. He's pure and untainted and so refreshing that I can't help feeling like the world has lost something wholly good. Like I've lost that.

And it's not the only thing I've lost. I watch Marcus fiddle with the hood of the car. It's been a couple of hours since the incident on the roadside, when I treated him no better than a would-be-rapist. Things haven't improved between us. And why should they? I've done nothing except let him think that I undervalue him. Worse, that I absolutely abhor him.

At least, now I know. I know why I pushed him away. I might not remember the full picture, I might not remember each and every incident and how things played out from the beginning to the end, but I have enough parts to piece together an image I can understand.

I make a move to disembark the van, but Janie's hand on my arm stops me. "Now might not be the best time to talk to him," she says with a meaningful look that tells me she knows I have something to do with his mood.

As if to illustrate this, there's a loud bang outside and the hood jostles in place. Marcus reappears as he moves away from the van, more pissed off than before. He strides toward us and yanks the passenger door open. "Get out."

We don't have to be told twice. We scramble out onto the side of the road, huddled against the night cold and Marcus's wrath.

"What's the problem?" Pablo asks as he dares to approach him.

"It's dead." He takes a deep breath and blows it out. "Could be a broken starter or something wrong with the ignition for all I know. It's not the battery. The headlights work, so it's got juice."

"Can't you fix it?" Jones asks.

I wince, knowing that Jones' naïve question is going to set him off.

He spins around to face the other boy and thrusts out his hands. "What do you want me to do, Jones? You want me to take out my magical toolbox and make everything better? I spent seventeen years in that hole while you were living out here, getting jerked by cheerleaders in your F-150 and whining because your dad made you take chemistry instead of getting to screw around in shop with your buddies. Why didn't you learn how to fix a goddamn car?"