Chapter 2
Finn
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The moment the young girl walked out of sight, the men's eyes locked onto Finn. Kallie's arrival had spooked them all.
They all had a right to be suspicious. A ten-year-old girl wandering into their forgotten town was enough to upset the balance. They'd worked too hard to make sure all the residents stayed busy and remained content.
The men gravitated toward him. He ignored them and kept walking. They knew as much as he did.
The windows at the restaurant were fogged from the heat inside. He pushed through the door. The bell gave a half-hearted jingle when he stepped inside. Copper stood behind the counter, wiping down a mug with a rag that had seen better days.
Finn dropped into his usual booth and jerked his chin toward him. "Dinner."
Copper grunted, set the cup aside, and disappeared into the kitchen.
Finn leaned back against the cracked vinyl seat and exhaled slowly. The girl's face flashed in his mind. It'd been years, decades, probably longer since he'd seen such wide-eyed innocence. Too young. Too pure. Too wrong for this place.
He rubbed a hand over his whiskered jaw. Her arrival left him unsettled.
There were many things he couldn't explain about living in Everstill. How he ended up here was one of them.
The last thing he remembered was walking out of prison after serving time for murder. The sun was too bright, the air too fresh, and the world seemed too damn big after sixteen years behind bars. He took a breath, stepped through the gate—and then he was walking down the main street of Everstill.
No transition. No memory. Just a shift, like blinking and finding the world rearranged.
He'd attempted to leave. Everyone had at one time or another. But the one road out looped back, bringing them right back to where they started. Eventually, he gave up trying to escape.
Time meant nothing here. He could've arrived a year ago or maybe twenty years ago. There were no clocks, no calendars, no way to tell how many days had passed.
Copper returned with a plate of food. Meatloaf, potatoes, and a side of peas. The old man set the food down and shook his head.
"You might as well spit it out," Finn muttered.
Copper leaned over and braced his hands on the table. "Things are changing, I can feel it."
As the one who had been here the longest and watched everyone else arrive, Copper lived each day as if the others were interrupting his solitude.
"Well, if anything changes, you'll be the first to know." He met Copper's gaze. "Nothing ever—"
"The fuck it doesn't. A little girl walked into town as if she came here every day. You don't think that's strange?" Copper straightened and wiped his hands on the bottom of his apron. "Mark my words, something is happening, and we'd better be ready."
"She left." He shrugged. "Everything is the same now."
Finn had barely picked up his fork when Moe slid into the seat across from him.
Broad shoulders, unruly mop of dirty blonde hair, eyes dark enough to make you wonder what he was thinking, Moe fixed him with his gaze. "What the hell was a kid doing here?"
Finn didn't look up. "Don't know."
"Someone has to know." Moe lowered his voice. "No children have ever drifted in. Ever. You know that."
Since arriving, he has been closest to Moe because of their shared love of motorcycles.
When they finished their work for the day, they often went riding around the perimeter of Everstill.
He spent little time with the others because their whole focus was on their job.
As soon as it hit five o'clock, they'd go inside their house and shut the door, not coming out until morning, when they'd start the whole process of working again.
Every single one of them was a recluse who needed nobody. Or maybe they were like him and had no one. He had no desire to know anyone deeper than their roles within Everstill.
Finn forked a piece of meatloaf. "I said I don't know what's going on."
Moe rubbed the back of his tattooed neck. "I thought this place was supposed to be closed. The seam, veil, or whatever let all of us in sealed behind us. You've tested it. We've all tested it.
"It wouldn't bring kids here. It had to be a mistake," whispered Finn. "It's been a while since it opened."
"It's been years, man," muttered Moe.
"Has it?" He looked up. "None of us know how long we've been here."
"It's gotta be." Moe pressed his back into the seat cushion. "The girl coming here doesn't make sense."
Finn shrugged. "She wandered in. She left. That's all."
"That's not all." Moe drummed his fingers on the table. "A kid showing up means something's changing. And change is a threat."
Finn set his fork down, appetite gone. "She won't be back."
"How do you know?"
He didn't hesitate. "Because she doesn't belong here. She's not like us. She has people connecting her to the outside."
Moe studied him for a long moment. "You sure about that?"
Finn nodded once.
Moe sat back. His expression was unreadable. "If she or someone else comes through, it'll be a crack in the system. And cracks mean it's broken, which means there will be a way for us to leave."
Finn refrained from telling Moe how the girl had looked at him. She was fearless and trusting. He didn't tell Moe how wrong it had felt to watch Kallie walk away, or how part of him had wanted to follow her, just to make sure she made it back to wherever she came from.
He didn't tell him that when she'd asked if he was dangerous, his chest twisted almost painfully.
Moe was right. Something had changed.
Dishes clattered in the kitchen. Outside, the loose sign over the street quit swinging. It was dangerous for the child to come to Everstill. Every man living here had a past marked by wrongs.
Moe stood. "What happens if she comes back?"
"If she comes back, we will deal with it."
Moe exhaled heavily and looked away. "The men...she can't be around them. They'll hurt her."
"I know."
He watched Moe leave the restaurant, then looked down at his half-eaten dinner, which he couldn't remember tasting.