Chapter 44 Ana
Ana
Ana enjoyed the look on Ellis’s face.
No traces of his usual smug arrogance. Even the cruel twist at the corners of his mouth disappeared as his jaw dropped, a shocked flush brushing his cheeks.
He knew he was fucked. She could see it in his eyes.
Everyone had fallen silent; the only sound was the TV playing in the background, the cheesy theme from some vintage sitcom, plinking happily away, scoring the moments until Ellis could speak again.
“What the…? You all died…I saw you…” Ellis stammered.
“Died?” Ana cocked her head and looked at him. “No. I think some of us might say we were murdered.” She smiled and caught Alex’s eye—he was enjoying this every bit as much as she was.
Ana imagined Ellis’s brain was jumping through hoops right now, trying to recalibrate, trying to process the unthinkable.
They’d all been through it when they first arrived at the diner.
Caden had the hardest time of it.
He was the first across the line, and the first to be dropped off at the diner.
When he woke up, lying on an army cot on the porch, alone and high, he’d convinced himself this was the afterlife.
In true Caden style he went for a little explore around the deserted diner, made himself a grilled cheese sandwich, and went back to sleep on a comfy booth.
The sound of the red truck pulling up outside woke him. He’d watched as the two bandana-wearing cowboys carefully lifted Jax out of the back and placed him on the cot, before silently driving off to collect the next victim.
When Jax woke up, he rocked Caden’s worldview. They spent the first hour arguing about whether they were in purgatory or California. A small distinction.
About two minutes after arriving, Raya had the whole thing figured out.
Each hour, on the hour, the red truck would arrive, and the cowboys would drop another sleeping student on the cot and hightail it out of there.
They contemplated ambushing the cowboys upon their next delivery and demanding they take them home. But no one was up for it—the memory of being shot was too recent. They’d survived this far, no need to push their luck.
There was no cell reception at the diner and no way to call for help, so Raya worked up the courage to ask the cowboys if they possibly had a radio that she could borrow for a minute. They just ignored her, and she backed away as fast as she could.
They came up with a plan. They would wait for the next hour to pass, making the rest of the grilled cheese and creating sodas from a box of flavored syrups they’d found behind the counter. Then they’d feed the new arrival—the food seemed to settle them a little and help with the disorientation.
When they were calm enough to listen, Raya would take the lead and explain what was happening: “It’s okay, you’re not dead. They shot us with some kind of tranquilizer. You’re safe. Here, have some more grilled cheese.”
As they waited, the mood was subdued. There had been no time to deep-dive into processing what had happened to them. They just knew that they were alive—they had walked through fire, twice. They were survivors.
By the time Jade arrived, a sense of heightened anticipation settled in as they realized that it was down to the final three, it was almost over. In a few short hours, the Balloon Game would have played out. This fucked-up, miserable day would be at an end.
Unwelcome thoughts started to seep in through the cracks. Flashes from the last few hours—jumbled, messy images. Eyes flicked down; faces turned away as memories played out in their heads—choices made as they faced their darkest moments. Things they’d done as they died.
Unknowingly, they drifted apart, finding separate corners of the diner to hide out in.
Jade moved to a booth near the door, curling into a tight ball next to the window, arms wrapped around her knees as if holding herself together.
Jax followed, sitting uncharacteristically still on the seat across from her, hands playing with the salt and pepper shakers.
Caden tuned the old TV to an even older show and sat at the counter, his back turned to the rest of them, resolutely facing the screen.
Raya went outside and sat on the edge of the concrete porch alone, staring blankly out at the desert skyline as she counted down the minutes until the next hour was up—waiting for the next delivery.
The memory of being tied up and dragged across the line was too vivid, too visceral.
Right now, Ellis was out there in what he thought was a life-or-death battle against Ana and Alex.
More than anyone, Raya knew what he was capable of and that if it came to it, he would have no qualms about throwing someone over the line, alive or dead.
This wasn’t over yet. Someone could actually die.
Raya was sitting in the exact same spot when the red truck pulled up again, and she watched as not one, but two bodies were carried over to the porch. The cowboys set Alex down on the cot and Ana on a blanket on the ground next to him.
As they walked back to their truck, one of the cowboys paused, half-turning to Raya.
“Help will be here at dawn,” he said, his voice muffled by his bandana.
“It’s over, kid.” He gave a short nod—and that was it.
Their job was done. The cowboys climbed into the truck, slamming the doors shut.
She could hear loud country music playing as they pulled away one last time, leaving the familiar trail of dust far behind them, lit up red in the glow of their receding taillights.
It’s over, kid. That fucking easy.
Raya forced her bitter anger down—Ana and Alex were alive. In this moment, that was all that mattered. She would worry about the rest tomorrow.
One by one, the others came out of the diner. They gathered around the final two, waiting as they woke up, eager to be the first to tell them the good news. You’re not dead. You survived.
The funny thing was—it wasn’t a surprise.
When Ana sat up and looked around, she smiled happily at all the faces surrounding her, took a sip of offered water and then said calmly, “Well, thank fuck that’s over!”
***
Now, several hours later, they were all finally here.
The survivors were spread around the diner, facing Ellis—the last man standing, the winner of a prize no one wanted any more.
He had fought too hard. By the time he’d finally stepped over the white line, he had crossed many more lines, ones that should never be crossed. Ones you can’t come back from.
Voices on the TV chatted away happily. The grill crackled and spat as another forgotten grilled cheese turned deliciously black. In the far distance, underneath everything else, was a new noise. The faint wail of a siren.
It was a new day. Help was on the way at last.
“You aren’t welcome here.” Caden had been sitting sullenly by the bar, still watching the TV. He stood and turned to face Ellis; his sheer bulk made him appear to loom over the point guard.
Ellis flinched. He was breaking a sweat, shifting from foot to foot.
Caden shuffled closer to him. His face had turned red, his fists were tightly clenched at his waist.
Ellis didn’t speak. He didn’t move, his head hung low as he watched Caden warily.
“Caden’s right.” Raya’s voice surprised Ana.
She’d been sitting quietly in a booth by herself since Ana’s arrival.
She was unnaturally subdued—whatever had happened on the line must have been terrifying.
Raya rubbed her wrists unconsciously; raw, red welts cut into them from Ellis’s zip ties.
“You should go, Ellis. Now. Before we do something we’ll regret.
” Her voice was shaky, shock and anger registering in equal parts.
Ellis looked around, taking in the circle of faces surrounding him. He flexed his hands, over and over. His eyes sought out Jade, then Jax—there was desperation there.
“I…I didn’t…” He was struggling, reaching for anything that could help him. “Raya, I never…”
“Yes, you did!” Raya turned to where Ana was standing and pointed to Ana’s phone. “May I?” Ana nodded. It only took a moment to find what she was looking for. She turned the volume up and pressed play, holding it out for all to see.
Ellis’s voice rang out: “Raya cried… I know. I was surprised too. I thought she’d have more guts than that. But in the end, true colors show through…”
Ellis was shaking almost imperceptibly. His head was down again, eyes too, hands balled tightly. There was nothing left for him to say. The voice on the phone had said it all for him. Raya put the phone back on the table.
“Busted,” she said, smiling—her first genuine smile since she’d died on the line.
“We won’t…forgive you… Never.” Jade’s voice was stilted, as though she kept losing her train of thought. Her eyes were ringed red, and her blonde hair still stood up at the back in a wild bird’s nest. “You’re sick. You need help.” She looked at Jax, but he just shrugged.
“What? Ellis didn’t kill me. You did, babe…” Jax muttered, grinning, clearly pleased with himself. But Jade stared at him blankly, as though she couldn’t make sense of his words. Jax shifted on the spot sheepishly. “Just sayin’…”
Alex was sitting in the booth next to Ana, his leg propped on the seat opposite, bundled in a pile of dish towels. He nodded in agreement. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The message was clear.
Ellis looked deflated, a cloud of desperation sinking over him. He couldn’t defend himself. Not this time. Thanks to Ana, his own words, his actions had followed him out into the world. There was no way he could take them back now.
His balloon had crash-landed, and he knew it.
He looked around wildly. His eyes found Ana’s and locked on; the darkness had faded, replaced by a hooded, unreadable expression.
Words ran through Ana’s mind. There were so many things she wanted to say.
She wanted to scream at him for hurting Raya and Alex, for setting fire to the outbuilding, for trying to strangle her on the line—she could still feel his hands tightening around her neck.
She wanted him to know that all his cruelty had been for nothing, that he hadn’t escaped the Motel Loba—not really.
He never would now. It would follow him forever.
But as she met his stare, something gripped her inside.
There was genuine fear behind his guarded expression.
He was a seventeen-year-old who had just realized his future was over.
This was his moment on the white line—this was his time to face the end.
He could see no way out; he had fought for his life, for his future—and he had lost it all.
Caden edged forward, pushing Ellis towards the door.
Ellis nodded—he understood. It was over. Hands shaking, he reached for the handle and pulled the door open. The bell dinged; the wail of the distant sirens drifted in on the cold night air. Without pausing, without looking back, he walked through the doorway into darkness.
There was a clack-clack as the screen door creaked shut behind him.
The atmosphere in the diner felt instantly lighter, a collective release—they could breathe again.
One by one, they turned away from the door, moving back to their respective corners.
Caden retrieved his burned sandwich and started munching on it loudly, back turned to the others.
Raya slumped onto her booth seat with a sigh.
Jade curled up in her corner again and resumed staring vacantly out of the dark window.
A deep feeling of exhaustion hit Ana. This didn’t feel right. They’d prevailed; Ellis had finally been forced to face what he’d done, to look into the eyes of the people he had hurt. Justly—Ellis was a sadistic jerk. No question. Not to mention an arrogant, self-serving, selfish bastard.
But at the end of the day, this wasn’t all on him.
Hunt had known all along that Ellis’s secret was the key to proving Karl’s innocence.
He could have just taken Ellis and played his cruel game with him alone.
But Hunt had chosen to come after all of them, like some sick, power-hungry, avenging angel.
They had all been forced into a corner and made to fight their way out.
Hunt had done this to them—no one else, and while it didn’t excuse Ellis’s actions, on some level, he was a victim too.
Ana looked around at the faces, all turned away, unable to face each other. They were just kids, every one of them. Some she’d barely known before this trip, but now they were forever tied together, their futures, their paths entwined.
There had to be hope that they would move on, put this behind them, and live well.
Otherwise, what was the point? When did it end?
Fear, pain, and loss followed by grief, hopelessness, and guilt.
The vicious cycle that had started with the fire, with everything that had come before it, with everything that Matt Hunt had revived in his sick and twisted game—it was all still playing out. It had to stop somewhere.
Didn’t it?
Instinctively she picked up her phone and scrolled through Ellis’s confession. She watched as the distorted image caught Ellis, moving backwards and forwards, in and out of view, flexing his hands as he confessed to causing the fire, his face distraught.
Would they ever truly be able to put that night at the gym behind them and live with their terrible mistakes, or would part of them stay trapped forever in the past—trapped in the motel, inside the white circle?
Was this going to be their story? Or would they forgive themselves and move on?
The cycle had to end. But it would only stop when they made it stop.
It would only stop when they made it stop.
Suddenly she knew what she had to do—she just wasn’t sure if she could do it. She turned to Alex. He had been watching her silently.
“Alex…I think I need to go after him,” she said, searching his face for a reaction, half-expecting him to try to stop her. But Alex just smiled.
“Yeah, I know.” His soft eyes were warm. He nodded. He understood.
That was all she needed. Grabbing her phone, she jumped to her feet and ran to the door, out into the night one last time.