Chapter 6
Finn
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Finn waited until Wade and Rex walked out of view before slipping around the side of the old feed store.
The building leaned as if it were tired of standing, boards warped from years of sun and neglect.
No animals lived here, so the feed had rotted away long ago, leaving only dust and the faint smell of mold.
He checked over his shoulder once more.
No one watched. The building was off the main road, on a short street lined with cherry trees that bloomed every so often but never grew cherries. There was also a bowling alley, no one ever used, one short walk away.
He ducked through the broken doorway and crossed the dim interior, boots crunching over old pellets and splintered wood. The loading dock sat at the back, half-collapsed, a stack of warped plywood nailed over the opening.
He crouched and pried at the one board he had loosened months ago. The piece of wood came free with a soft groan. On the underside were the marks he'd made.
Lines. Hundreds of them. Carved deep into the wood grain.
Finn pulled his knife from his pocket and added another.
The blade scraped, the sound sharp in the quiet. He stepped back and counted. He always counted because he forgot how many there were every day.
One thousand, nine hundred, and twenty-six days.
But that wasn't even all of them. He hadn't started marking the days right away. For a long time, he hadn't cared enough to track anything. Days blurred. Weeks vanished. Years merged. Time folded in on itself until it didn't mean anything.
But ever since the girl had shown up, the passage of time bothered him.
He needed something solid to hold onto. The others weren't interested in finding out how long they'd lived here.
He hadn't aged since walking out of prison.
The little strands of gray in his hair and beard hadn't changed.
Wrinkles hadn't popped up on his face, except on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes. He remained strong and healthy.
He stared at the piece of wood. One thousand, nine hundred, and twenty-six days since she'd walked into town.
One thousand, nine hundred, and twenty-six days since she'd looked at him like he wasn't a monster.
But it didn't feel like one thousand, nine hundred, and twenty-six days. It felt like yesterday.
A rustling came from somewhere else in the building. Footsteps, heavy and familiar.
Finn shoved the board back into place and straightened as Moe's voice echoed through the store.
"Finn? You in here?"
Finn stepped back into the main part of the building. "Yeah."
Moe squinted at him. "What're you doing?"
Finn shrugged. "Nothing."
Moe's gaze lingered on him for a moment too long. He scratched his beard and jerked his head toward the door.
As he walked past Moe, he said, "Come on. Vaughn and Boone are mowing again. Copper's in the restaurant. Wade and Levi are cleaning the windows at the gas station, and Mace and Nolan are helping Rex put in new lightbulbs at the store. I think I'll take the bike out for a ride. Wanna come?"
Finn followed him outside. "Sure."
The sun was higher now. Finn led the way back to the main road, where Vaughn pushed a rusted mower across the patchy lawn in front of the old courthouse, and Boone trimmed the edges with a pair of dull clippers. The machines sputtered and coughed, but the grass stayed the same height as yesterday.
Moe walked beside him, hands shoved into his pockets. "Been thinking about that girl again."
Finn's jaw tightened. Here we go again.
Moe continued, oblivious. "Feels different since she came. Like the air's off. Like the place is... shifting."
Finn stopped walking. "We've talked about this."
"Yeah, and we'll keep talking about it until we figure out what it means."
"It means nothing."
Moe frowned. "A kid shows up out of nowhere. The first time in all the years we've been here, and you think it means nothing?"
Finn's patience snapped.
"It doesn't fucking matter," he said. "She's not coming back."
Moe blinked, taken aback. "Why's that bother you so much?"
Finn couldn't answer because he didn't know himself.
All he knew was that he was connected to Kallie, even though she was a young girl.
There had to be a reason why that happened, and why for one thousand, nine hundred, and twenty-six days, he was miserable when before her arrival, nothing upset him.
He couldn't explain many things, like how he watched the road every morning, waiting for her to show up again, and telling himself it shouldn't matter.
Confusion creased Moe's brow. "Our world's small, Finn. There are never any surprises, no disappointments, no changes around here. There was nothing to look forward to until she showed up. That's the only thing that's happened in... hell, who knows how long."
Finn looked away, jaw clenched. He understood why Moe kept bringing her up. But the conversation scraped at a rawness inside him.
"She's not lost, and she's not bad," Finn said. "Not like us."
Moe clasped his hands behind his head. Finn looked in the distance. Kallie didn't belong here. She wasn't broken enough, empty enough, forgotten enough.
She had a life out there. And he'd be damned before he let this place take her the way it had taken them.
He turned away from Moe and stared down the road. The one he stopped riding his motorcycle down because it looped back on itself. The road that had let Kallie in.
The air shimmered faintly at the horizon.
Finn narrowed his eyes.
The veil was weakening.
He could feel it. And he didn't know if that meant she was coming back or if something worse was coming instead.