Chapter 50 Sloane
Sloane
The sky looks like a photo I saw once in National Geographic.
Without the light pollution from the city, the stars are spilled diamonds on black velvet, pinwheeling across the night with a blatant disregard for how suddenly unsafe human existence seems. My breath fogs on the desert night air, and for a second it’s as though I can feel the earth spinning beneath my feet.
Like I’m a tiny speck of sand balanced on the tautly stretched drum skin, and I could go flying off into space at any moment.
I am small and meaningless against the vastness of that sky, and yet I’m paralyzed by its beauty.
I haven’t spent time in the desert since I was a child, camping with my parents, too young to appreciate the experience.
What I wouldn’t give to stare up at the sky a little longer now… but I can’t.
“Come on. Move it.”
Clark shoves me in the small of my back with the butt of his gun.
I’ve known the man for all of five seconds and I can safely say that I do not like him.
I’m glad it’s him taking me across to the girls’ building in the compound and not Anton, though.
The guard at the gate was beaten within an inch of his life technically because of me, so I doubt he’d be harboring any affection toward me.
Rumor has it his arm is broken and he can’t even walk, anyway.
If luck works in our favor, we’ll be in an entirely different state by the time Anton can walk again.
Zeth, Alexis, and I—all three of us, long gone.
God, Alexis. My heart hiccups when I think about seeing her again.
It’s about to happen, and I’m unprepared.
She’s going to freak out when she sees me.
I hope she keeps it together long enough to rein in her surprise and not blow my cover.
There’s a lot riding on this first meeting.
If anyone notices tension between us, or the fact that I look an awful lot like my sister, then who knows what they’ll do.
Clark gives me another firm shove of “encouragement,” and I respond.
The girls’ house is a large, two-story Spanish-style building with a wraparound porch.
It looks pleasant. The sort of place a family would vacation, perhaps.
Nothing about it screams den of iniquity, that’s for sure.
From the desert flowers and succulents growing in blue pots on the steps to the clean and tidy entrance porch, this place is evidently maintained by a woman’s hand.
The ground floor is lit up, blaring soft light out into the darkness.
Inside, the chatter and laughter of female voices can be heard.
I hesitate. What the hell am I doing? I can’t go in there.
What if she’s sick or something? What if they’ve beaten her?
What if they’ve given them all drugs to keep them compliant, and my sister’s now a junkie with track marks up her arms?
I’ve seen it all before. I don’t need to imagine how easy it would be. God, I can’t go in there. I—
“I got food waiting for me back indoors, woman. You done staring at the front door or what?” Clark spits on the ground, jerking his head toward the front door.
Indecision tears at me. But it isn’t really indecision.
It’s cowardice. I’m afraid of the condition I might find my sister in.
And I’m afraid I won’t be able to fix whatever they’ve done to her.
She’s alive, though. I need to hold on to that.
Whatever else happens, she’s still drawing breath, and she needs me.
“All right, all right. I’m going.”
I walk up the steps and go inside.