Birdhouse

6

"You were telling the truth," Ally breathes.

"That's what I said."

"There's a—a guy in your playhouse—"

Dylan's expression turns sour. "It's not a playhouse—"

"Who is he?" Ally interrupts. She looks at the man on the floor. "Who are you?"

"His name is Falcon," Dylan says happily, pointing. "Like the bird."

Falcon shifts, dragging himself back a few inches and then rests his head on the wall. His skin is pale. Sweat drips down his cheeks and neck and he reaches up to brush it aside, smearing blood everywhere.

"We need to call for help," Ally says fearfully as she stares open-mouthed at the blood.

"No," Dylan and Falcon say at the same time. Ally looks from one to the other.

"You're both insane!"

"Somebody wants him dead. Look, they shot him," Dylan waves a hand wildly in Falcon's direction. "Everywhere," he adds, stretching his mouth in a sudden grimace.

"That's exactly why we need to call for help—"

"You can help him!" Dylan grabs Ally by the arm and drags her closer. She resists, pulling away, and slips on the pool of blood. It's wider than ever—more blood than a human body should be able to lose.

"He should be dead," she mumbles, staring at the carnage. "How is he not dead?"

"What?"

"Nothing. Just listen to me, okay. He needs a hospital." She knows that look on Dylan's face. The stubborn little asshole has no intention of listening to her at all. "Didn't you say he tried to kill you?" she demands, hoping for some leverage.

Dylan nods—very slowly—and crosses his arms. "Yeah. So?"

"So? So?" Ally grabs Dylan's arm and drags him toward the door.

"Hey!"

"Shut up, idiot!" she snaps, pulling him through the door. It's lighter outside, and the air smells damp like morning. With Dylan outside, Ally pulls the door shut and turns on her brother with a look of pure exasperation. "You need to do what I say."

"Or what?"

"Or nothing, Dylan! This isn't some little game you're playing. This is someone's life on the line. Your life!"

"I'm alive," he retorts.

Ally sighs, pressing two fingers above her nose as a headache begins to knock along the base of her skull. "Look, if what you told me on the phone is true, then that guy is dangerous. Mom would kill me—and you—if he hurt either of us."

Dylan looks away, frowning deeply. "I shouldn't have told you that," he mumbles.

"What? Of course you should. What is wrong with you right now?"

"Nothing is wrong with me. What is wrong with you? You're supposed to be a nurse. Didn't you promise to help people? Isn't that what the hypnotic oath is for?"

"Hippocratic."

"I am not!"

"No," Ally shakes her head, trying not to laugh. Aside from this being the wrong time for hysterics, laughing would hurt her head more. "It's called the Hippocratic oath. The only oath I've made is to take care of your sorry butt when I'm home. And boy do I regret it."