CHAPTER ONE #2
We continued to walk for another few blocks, crossed a couple of main roads, and kept on walking until the streets grew quieter and the houses grew a bit farther apart.
We weren’t too far from the city we’d come from, yet we were far enough that I no longer felt the need to watch my back every step of the way.
Isaac was dragging his feet. Shawn had yawned at least six times in the last ten minutes. And although I hated to admit it, my legs were growing heavier with every step.
“Here,” I told them, ducking into a bus stop shelter to sit and figure out what to do next.
Ike and Shawn followed, both of them dropping onto the bench on either side of me.
“We’re not staying here,” I warned them before they could make themselves too comfortable.
But despite what I said, I knew they would. That was part of the issue.
Last time we had run away, they had talked me into taking a quick nap on a park bench. A cop had woken us up and ensured we got home safely.
In most cases, we were safer on the streets.
With a quick shake of my head to knock some life back into me, I took in the surrounding area.
There was a McDonald’s across the street and a shopping center with a dollar store, a discounted greeting card shop, a liquor store, and a Kmart.
On the side of the road we were on, I could see a florist, a couple of gas stations, and a …
“What is that?” I asked, leaning forward to peer at the sign hanging from the awning.
“What?” Shawn asked, following my gaze. “The flower place?”
“No, next to it.”
He squinted his eyes and shrugged. “Looks like a house.”
“It’s not a house,” I said. “There’s a sign on it.”
Ike yawned and lifted his head from off my shoulder. “It says … Ll … Lou … I can’t read that,” he said, shaking his head and slumping against the shelter’s smudgy glass wall. “It’s a funeral home.”
“Hmm,” I muttered, then stood up.
“What?” Shawn asked, scrambling to his feet as Ike groaned and took his time picking up his things.
I was already on the sidewalk, casually making my way toward the towering house to get a closer look at the sign.
The Llewellyn Family Funeral Home, it read in fancy gold lettering against a black background.
It was nice, old … and huge.
Huge meant lots of rooms. Lots of rooms meant plenty of places to hide, less chance of being found and more time to get some sleep before we started walking again.
Standing in front of the dark and dreary building, I tipped my head back to sweep my gaze over its pointed turrets, arched frames, and diamond-shaped windowpanes.
It had a spooky feeling to it, like it belonged in an episode of The Munsters or The Addams Family, and although it gave me the chills, I didn’t quite hate it either.
In fact, staring at that house, I was filled with an excitement I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt before in my life.
“We are not sleeping in there,” Shawn protested, already catching my drift.
“Yes, we are,” I declared, heading up the pathway to the steps that would lead to the wraparound porch.
“Abraham,” he hissed, following quickly on my heels.
“I’m gonna need you to shut your damn mouth, Shawn,” I warned him, tiptoeing up the creaky steps.
This is a bad idea, I thought, wishing I’d circled around back to find a way in instead of taking the steps. They were too loud beneath my weight, and Shawn nor Isaac were taking much care to be as quiet as I was.
“I am not staying in a fucking funeral home.”
The porch floorboards groaned under my feet, but I made my way around the house quietly enough.
Shawn and Isaac followed, though Shawn wouldn’t quit sighing and worrying.
But I wouldn’t take his protests to heart.
This was the last place anyone would look for us, if they cared to look in the first place, and we were unlikely to come across a better option anytime soon.
He could brush aside whatever issues he had and suck it up for a handful of hours for the sake of getting a little bit of sleep.
I rounded the back of the house and tried to open a window.
It was locked.
Shit.
Tried another, only to find that it was also locked.
Standing back, I put my hands on my hips. I didn’t need to try them all to know that the rest of the windows were likely to be locked as well.
There was a back door though, and carefully, I reached out to touch the handle and gave it a little jiggle.
Locked.
Fuck.
I headed further down the porch, past the door, and the other two followed close behind.
“Hey, Shawn,” Ike whispered.
“What?”
“Where do you think they keep the dead bodies?” my little brother asked in a teasing tone.
“Shut up,” Shawn muttered, unamused.
“You’ve seen a dead body before, right? Why are you so scared of seeing another one?”
“Ike, shut the fuck up,” I threw over my shoulder, following the porch around a corner.
Another door came into view.
"What did your mom look like? I dunno that I've ever asked you that …"
Shawn spun on his heel and grabbed my brother by the throat, pressing him against the side of the house with a thud, rattling a nearby window.
"Isaac, shut your fucking mouth before I rip out your tongue and choke you with it," he hissed in a low, menacing tone.
With an impatient growl, I turned and hurried toward them with catlike precision, quiet on the planks beneath my feet. I loomed over them, looking down with a deadly glare.
"We are here because you two wouldn't shut the fuck up about needing to sleep," I reminded them in a mocking tone. "I'm gonna murder both of you if you get us caught."
Shawn swallowed his pride and nodded, releasing Ike easily. Ike smirked with triumph, the snide little prick, and I leveled him with another glare.
"I'm going to say it one more time," I told him. "Knock it the hell off."
The grin was wiped off his face, and satisfied, I turned away to check out that door on the side of the house.
It was dirtier, definitely older. It looked like it hadn't been used in a while, and that fact was made obvious by the dry, dead leaves that had collected at the bottom, when the rest of the porch was clean and swept.
And then I noticed the cracked windowpane, just above the doorknob.
It’s almost too easy.
I grunted in reply to myself, swinging my gaze over one shoulder, then the other.
Unease settled in my gut. It would be no problem to break that window the rest of the way, slip my hand inside, and unlock the door.
The possibility of walking inside unnoticed and finding a place to crash for a few hours was tempting and maybe even likely, given the size of the place.
But anxiety or intuition—couldn’t tell which one—was telling me there was a reason this door had been left untouched when the rest of the porch was kept clean.
What if the bodies are kept in here?
“What’s wrong?” Shawn asked, noticing my hesitation.
“Just thinking,” I answered.
Something might’ve felt off, and, hell, maybe it was. But what other options were there? It was this place or the streets, and as much as I wasn’t too thrilled myself about sleeping among the dead, it was still more welcoming than the cold ground.
So, with my leather-clad elbow, I quickly jabbed the broken windowpane. Instead of shattering, the pieces gave way from the confines of the frame and fell to the interior floor.
Too easy.
Shawn and Ike watched from beside me, silent but eager despite the creepiness of the place, as I slowly eased my fist through the gaping hole and found the doorknob inside and turned the lock, successfully granting us access.
The door swung open on squeaky hinges. I resisted the urge to flinch or demand it shush itself as I carefully peered inside, poking my head in and swinging my gaze this way and that.
“What is it?” Shawn asked, worry in his tone.
“Looks like … I don’t know … storage or something,” I replied, taking in the stacked boxes, some taped shut while others lay open.
“What kinda storage?” Ike asked. “Like … coffins?”
“No, dumbass,” I muttered, taking a step inside.
Carefully, I lifted one cardboard flap to take a peek inside one of the boxes to find office supplies. A glance inside another uncovered sealed boxes of tissues.
Ike and Shawn wandered in behind me, and Shawn pulled the door shut with the careful precision of a guy who had sneaked out of a house or twenty in his time.
Another quick look around, and I concluded that, while the room was used for storage, it wasn’t entered too often, judging by the layers of dust on some of the boxes and the dirt, dust bunnies, and debris collected in the corners.
“We’ll sleep in here,” I announced, wandering around stacks of boxes to find the room’s perimeter was sparse, with plenty of room for three teenage boys to tuck away and sleep.
How convenient, I thought. Almost like it was meant to be.
“You’re serious?” Shawn asked, watching as I got down to stretch out on the floor.
At least it’s carpeted, I thought as I took off my jacket and tucked it beneath my head to use as a pillow.
“Yeah. Why?”
Ike was already making himself comfortable along another wall as Shawn stared at me incredulously.
“What if someone sees us?”
“You should probably hide then,” Ike said, and I gestured, as if to say, He gets it. Why don’t you?
“If someone comes in, they’ll find us.”
I frowned. “You wanna go scope out the rest of the place and find a better room to hide in? Be my guest.”
Ike’s disembodied voice came from behind his wall of boxes as he snickered. “Have fun with the dead bodies, Shawny.”
Shawn ignored his teasing and said, “Bram, what if they catch us?”
With a groan, I sat up and saw the terror in my friend’s eyes. He had a right to be scared. We all did. But nobody ever escaped from hell for good without dealing with a little fear.
“We’re not getting caught, okay?” I promised. “Now, shut the hell up and get some sleep.”