31. 31 – Chess
31 – Chess
I roar Buck’s name as he falls. There’s a shocked expression on his face as he tumbles down a good six feet, landing heavily on his back.
I climb down as fast as I can. No further bullets fly past us, now that we’re no longer on top of the maze. “Buck.”
Nothing. I drop down beside him, taking in the scarlet spreading out beneath the white shirt. “Shit.”
He stirs as I rip the sleeve open. I find the entry point easily, and he groans as I prod at it before lifting his arm. “Went straight through. Keep your arm elevated.”
“Fuckers.” He hisses, his arm wavering but staying up as I rip off a strip from the bottom of my shirt, undoing my tie.
I press the tie down over the wound, ignoring his bellow as I apply pressure. “Keep still, you idiot.”
“I’ve been fucking shot ,” he snaps. “Take a bullet and see how still you can stay.”
“You’ll survive. It’s not spurting. Didn’t hit an artery.”
“Fucking fantastic,” he mutters. But I pick up the edge of something that might be relief. “Funny how you can find the will to live just at the wrong moment.”
I give him an askance look as I tie the makeshift tourniquet around his upper arm. “Keep that on for a few minutes. You didn’t want to live before?”
He grunts as I pull the edges of the material together, looping it until I can create a tighter knot. “Not particularly. When every day is an alcohol-soaked haze, you start wondering what the fucking point is. Wonder is like Groundhog Day on steroids. Every day is just more of the same shit.”
“And now?” I press down again on the wound, ignoring the cursing under his breath. “Changed your mind?”
His head tips back. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
I stare at him. “Because of all this?”
He knows what I’m asking.
Or because of her?
I called her a magnet before. Something about Lyss is drawing the men around us in, moths to a fucking brilliant blame.
I can’t even blame them for it. I’ve belonged to Alyss Lidell for longer than I can even remember.
It was never even a choice. There has never been anybody else.
Nobody else exists for me but her.
“Impossible.” He grunts as he struggles to sit up. “Besides, she didn’t like the idea of a group, or whatever the hell it’s called. However the fuck that would work, anyway.”
“I know what she looks like when she doesn’t like something. Believe me when I say that she doesn’t hate the idea.”
Dark eyes swipe toward me. Surprise and pain linger there. “I figured you’d be against any of it. You were together before, weren’t you?”
“Yeah.” I study the makeshift bandage, avoiding his eyes. “Until around six months ago. We’re still…,” I pause. “We’re working things out.”
But the Alyss I knew… she’s gone. Probably forever. And if I keep expecting her to be the same, we’re always going to be locked in a battle neither of us can win.
Buck stiffens. “I can probably walk now.”
“Slowly.” He takes my hand when I stand and hold it out.
I pull him to his feet, and he wavers, his face pale. “Which way do you want to go?”
I glance up and down the dark passage. “Every fucking way looks the same to me.”
We start moving. Buck is slow, but he doesn’t stop walking. “You think they’re alright?”
My chest tightens, squeezes. “Hopefully.”
If we all get out of this unscathed, it’ll be a miracle. And Lyss… if she loses anyone else—
I force those thoughts away. I don’t want to think about it.
We keep limping along until we reach a crossroads. Buck turns to me. “Can you hear a clock?”
Brows dipping, I listen. “Yeah.”
We silently follow the noise. It grows louder, the noise merging into a drone. “How many clocks are we—,”
Buck goes silent as we turn the corner.
A lot.
The whole passage is fucking covered with them.
“That’s not fucking creepy,” Buck mutters beside me. I don’t disagree. There’s something eerie about them, the way they stretch out in front of us in a seemingly never-ending collection, every shape and size. They cover the hedging on either side, the floors.
And that fucking noise .
I look further down. “Is that—,”
“The twins.” Buck grimaces, holding his arm. “I… I just realized why the clocks are here.”
“Why?”
His face has paled. “Hatter.”
“He’s not a fan of clocks?” We pick our way through the sea of ticking.
Buck hesitates. “The ticking… it triggers something in him.”
I stop at that, at the undertone in his words. “Something dangerous?”
Lyss.
“Sometimes,” Buck admits quietly. “He loses himself. He can’t stop it.”
I turn and charge toward the twins. Clock faces crunch beneath my feet.
“They might be booby-trapped,” Buck mutters.
I kick at one, sending it flying until it crashes into another. “Nothing went boom. I think we’re good.”
As we get closer, the twins turn to look at us. Aiden holds up his hand in a greeting. “He’s not doing so well.”
“Shit.” Buck pushes past me, and I pause at the sight of Lyss kneeling beside a vacant-looking Hatter.
He doesn’t look up at our arrival. Doesn’t respond. Doesn’t pay us any attention at all.
He rocks. Back and forth, the movement timing with the ticking of the clocks around us as he mumbles something I can’t hear.
Lyss looks up as he drops to his knees. Her eyes scan me, shoulders relaxing before she turns to Buck. “He’s not responding to me. Did you – did you get shot ?”
“Chess patched me up. I’m all good.” We watch as Buck leans in. “Hat?”
He nudges Alyss. “Back up a little for me, trouble. He can be… unpredictable, when he’s like this.”
Lyss frowns, but she doesn’t move away. “Unpredictable, how?”
I yank her away just in time. His eyes fly wide, and he lunges.
Buck is ready, catching him. He grunts as Hatter’s fist lands in his injured arm. “A little fucking help .”
The twins throw themselves past me as I hold Lyss in place to stop her going to him. She struggles against me. “What’s wrong with him?”
“No.” He’s roaring. “No – no !”
It sounds as if his soul is tearing apart.
And Lyss - she rips herself away from me, launching herself forward and grabbing his head in her hands. “Listen to me. Hatter!”
He thrashes. Buck grunts again. “He can’t hear you.”
“He can.” She shakes him. “Hatter. It’s not real.”
He bellows, a sound of pure rage. “Get them out .”
God. I’ve never heard a human voice ring with that level of pain. It sounds… unbearable.
Lyss’s eyes are damp. “Not real. Come back , Hatter.”
He moans then. His voice cracks. “Get them out.”
And he’s sobbing, his body shuddering. Lyss looks at the others. “Let him go.”
I step forward. Buck glances between them, then to the twins with a nod.
But he doesn’t lunge again. Lyss lifts up his head, cradling him. She murmurs as his sobbing fades into something more coherent.
A name. Two names. He chokes on the sound of them, his face contorting.
Myra.
Erin.
Lyss’s face is dark when she looks up at Buck. “Who?”
He swallows, but her gaze doesn’t move. “You should—.”
“Tell me.” It’s almost a plea. “Please.”
Buck sighs. “His wife. And his daughter.”
We all fall silent. Lyss nods slowly, before she looks down at him. Her fingers brush tears off his cheeks. “It’s alright.”
Her fingers tremble, but she doesn’t stop.
A shout comes out from behind us.
Twisting, I look to the end of the passage. The other remaining participant stares at us, tall and sallow.
He takes a hesitant step in our direction.
Another.
Alyss ignores him, her attention on Hatter, but the twins come to stand at my side as the guy makes his way toward us.
He looks like a mess. His shirt is ripped, blood around his mouth.
He looks broken.
He’s around thirty feet from us when his foot crunches on a clock face.
The explosion knocks me off my feet. I’m thrown sideways, landing in a tangle with one of the twins – Kayden. He pushes me off, his face already turning to check on the others.
Aiden rolls to his feet. Behind him, Buck has his arms wrapped around Alyss. Shielding her.
And Alyss has her arms wrapped around Hatter.
She raises her head, eyes wide.
“So,” Buck straightens. “Turns out one of them did go boom after all.”
The alarm begins to blare before he’s even finished speaking.