Chapter 17 Javi
Javi
I thought there was a lot of blood around Lucas. But this…This is something else.
It’s on the mirrors, on the walls, on the sill of the open window, where rain is slipping in, and…all over Emerson.
“Shit,” Kaitlyn says, voice shaking. “Are you kidding me? Is he fucking dead?”
She looks from Caulder to me to Avery and then back to Emerson on the ground. None of us seem to want to approach Emerson, but Kaitlyn takes three steps gingerly toward him to look down at his face streaked with red.
“What the— Ah!”
Suddenly, Emerson groans and sits up, and we’re all screaming.
“Emerson!” Avery says, streaking forward now that there are signs of life. “Oh my god, are you okay?”
“I-is he gone?” Emerson struggles to get the words out. “He must’ve knocked me out.”
“Who’re you talking about?” I ask. “What the hell happened, man?”
“He came in through the window,” Emerson says. “I just barely fought him off. He was going for Lucas, and I tried to stop him—”
“Lucas is in the hall,” Kaitlyn says. “He’s alive. Let’s go back to who the hell are you talking about?”
As she speaks, I go to the window and look out down below. There’s nothing but darkness and rain, which peppers my hands with cold, icy darts of water. I shut the window and step away, careful to avoid the streaks of red as I walk back to Kaitlyn and wait for Emerson to answer her.
“I don’t know,” Emerson says slowly. “Someone attacked us. Knocked Lucas out and then I attacked him with his own knife and he came after me. Chased me in here.”
Emerson looks at each of us in turn. When he speaks, his voice is torn between a rasp and a whisper.
“I didn’t see his face,” he says. “But one thing’s for sure. He would’ve killed Lucas if I hadn’t gotten there first. He would’ve killed all of us.”
“Where did he go?” Marlene asks, her voice a shaky, broken thing.
Emerson hangs his head. “He must’ve gone back out of the window. Or somewhere else. I don’t know.”
I look at Caulder, meeting his eyes. “We need to get the teachers.”
“Yes,” Emerson croaks. “Where are they? We need to call 911—”
“We don’t know. We were looking for them when we found you,” Kaitlyn says, then tilts her head up at me. “Where else would they be?”
“Hang on,” Caulder says, turning around and heading out of the room. So much for not separating.
I look back at Emerson, who’s climbed to his feet, wincing, clutching his side.
“What kind of knife did the guy have?” I ask.
Emerson looks at me, annoyance flashing across his face. “What?”
“The knife,” I ask. “That’s how you got those wounds, right?”
Emerson glares at me. “Obviously.”
“So what kind of knife was it?” I ask. “Butcher knife? Chef knife? Hunting—”
“Javi,” Avery snaps, drawing my gaze. Marlene’s shivering next to her, and she narrows her eyes as if to tell me to knock off the knife talk.
I swallow my other questions but keep my eyes on Emerson. He looks at me as if he knows I don’t believe him. Not entirely. I’ve watched the guy debate too many times this summer to not be able to spot when he’s up against a corner and lying his ass off. He’s hiding something.
But what?
“What the actual hell is going on?” Kaitlyn says, backing out of the bathroom. Something in my gut twists, seeing her so upset. We can’t stay here. We’re too vulnerable.
“Caulder?” I yell, and he’s there in a second.
“I checked for Mr. Jay and Coach,” he says. “They’re not up here in any of the rooms.”
“Yeah,” Kaitlyn says, waving her hands around at the blood. “Clearly, they’re fucking dead.”
“If they were dead, their bodies would be here,” I point out. “More like they’ve just disappeared.”
“Unless they did this,” Kaitlyn counters. “Maybe they teamed up and attacked the guys.”
“Kaitlyn,” Avery says, sounding scandalized. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“What?” Kaitlyn says, shrugging. “The pressures of being a teacher, right? Maybe they lost it—”
“And jumped out of the window together?” Caulder asks. “That sounds pretty ridiculous, Kait.”
She huffs. He’s got her there.
“We need to go downstairs,” I say. “We shouldn’t be here.”
“Let’s go,” Caulder says.
No one argues. We file out together but stop at Lucas, still lying in his own blood.
“Do we risk moving him?” Kaitlyn asks.
Caulder checks his side. “I think we have to. We can’t leave him up here alone.”
He looks at me. “Javi?”
I nod and step over to him. Together, as carefully as we can, we lift Lucas up and carry him down the stairs. We lay him down on the sofa in the living area before heading into the kitchen, where we can still see him.
I go straight to the sink and wash my hands. I watch the red circle the drain and disappear, and then, hands still dripping, I pick up the phone on the wall and punch in 911.
I stand there, receiver pressed to my ear, and wait for the dial tone I’ve heard in movies, but there’s nothing. I hit the buttons again, but still, there’s nothing.
“Am I doing something wrong here?” I ask the group, waving the phone at them. Avery walks over and takes it from me. She places it on the cradle and picks it up again and presses 9-1-1, just like I did, and holds the phone to her ear. The terror in her eyes tells me all I need to know.
“Of course,” I say. “The phone’s dead.”
“Could it be a power outage?” Avery asks, looking around at us. “Like, maybe we just need to flip a switch?”
“The lights are still on,” I point out. “If it were a power outage, we wouldn’t have lights and the phone would still work.”
“Oh,” Avery says, looking around. “Right.”
“So why is the phone out?” Kaitlyn says, her voice a cold sting. “And how do we get it back on?”
“Javi’s right. Power wouldn’t affect the phone line, but there might be a telephone box for an old house like this,” Caulder says, sounding robotic. “The only question is if we can open it.”
I look at Emerson. Somehow, he doesn’t seem scared enough for me. Maybe he’s in shock and I’m just an asshole. But I swear it’s only when he notices me staring at him that the terror reappears in his eyes.
“Well?” I ask. “Where’s the box?”
Emerson blinks. “How should I know?”
“You booked this place,” Kaitlyn snaps.
“Yeah, it didn’t exactly come with a manual,” Emerson says.
Kaitlyn glares at him. “We’re all going to die tonight because of your stupidity.”
“Kaitlyn,” Caulder says, voice a low warning.
I notice Marlene’s lip quivering out of the corner of my eye. She looks so much like my younger sister, Tati, that it scares the shit out of me. I don’t like when Tati or any of my sisters cry. Honestly, crying in general makes me extremely uncomfortable.
“Any boxes for the phone or electricity will be outside,” Caulder says, grabbing the flashlights Ms. Dorman left on the counter and passing one to each of us. “We should be able to find them if we follow the side of the house.”
“Wait,” Kaitlyn says. “We aren’t seriously going outside, are we? Where Emerson said the fucking attacker went?”
Caulder looks at each of us, and I follow his gaze. Marlene might be on the verge of passing out.
“Half of us can stay here,” Avery says. “You guys won’t be gone that long, right?”
Caulder’s face tells me he doesn’t like this suggestion, but we don’t have time to argue about it. And the idea of dragging Marlene out in the rain doesn’t seem right.
“Fine,” Caulder says. “Javi and I will go outside and look for the telephone box. And—”
“You’re right,” Emerson says, stepping forward with his flashlight held out like a torch. His eyes cut to Kaitlyn’s. “I have some responsibility here. I’ll go with you.”
“But you’re hurt,” Avery points out. “Maybe—”
“I’m fine,” Emerson says, sounding like the world’s biggest fucking martyr. “I can do this.”
I exchange a glance with Caulder. Does he think something’s off the way I do? If he does, he doesn’t say it out loud. He just nods.
“Let’s go outside,” he says. “Any chance there are umbrellas in one of those closets in the entryway?”
We go to look and find two. I hand one to Caulder, then grab the other. As I do, though, I realize it’s soaking wet.
Someone’s already been outside.
One of the teachers? But wouldn’t we have seen them come downstairs? Plus, whoever used this brought it back. I glance at Emerson, who’s holding his hand out impatiently. I still can’t shake the feeling that his smarmy, smirking face is hiding something.
I pull the umbrella away from him and offer him my own smirk.
“Sorry,” I say. “Looks like there’s only two.”
His eyes narrow. He knows I’m not fucking sorry, and I half expect him to push me on it. But he doesn’t. Just grabs a random jacket from the closet and throws it on, then heads for the door.
I want to tell Caulder about the wet umbrella, but the telephone box is the most important thing right now. So, as we head out into the cold, rainy night, I tuck the information away for later, and I follow Caulder and Emerson around the side of the house and find the breaker box easily.
“Should we check it just in case?” Emerson asks. “In case someone flipped something?”
I see in Caulder’s face that it’s a waste of time to check—the power’s on, after all—but because he pops it open to check anyway to appease Emerson, I step closer to shine my flashlight over the box so he can see.
“As we thought, nothing’s been flipped,” he says. “So we can check the telephone box next. It should be over here somewhere.”
We find it a few paces over. Caulder bends down, examining it, while I stick close to him.
“That’s weird,” Caulder says. “Looks like the box has already been opened. And the wires—”
“What’s wrong with the wires?” I ask.
“Can you give me some more light?” Caulder asks. “I’m trying to see what’s going on.”
“Emerson,” I say, casting a feeble ray over his shoulder. “Get your flashlight over here.”
But he doesn’t respond. At least, not with any words I recognize.
“Emerson,” I snap. “C’mon, man. I don’t want to leave the girls alone for too long.”
Still, he only mumbles. This time, one of the words is audible enough that I can make it out.
“Jay?”
I turn around, wielding my flashlight so it shines on Emerson’s face.
His eyes are wide, and he’s holding his hand out, aiming his light at a lump in the dark.
At first, I don’t realize what I’m seeing, but then I see a mop of dark, curly hair and a Coastal Canyon Debate hoodie that’s covered in mud.
No.
Not mud.
“Holy shit.” Emerson’s mumbling becomes clearer. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.”
Caulder and I are rushing forward at the same time, then dropping to our knees next to Mr. Jay, holding our flashlights so they immerse him in light.
But as soon as we do, I wish we hadn’t.
He’s covered in blood, but it’s mainly on his head and his neck, because it’s draining out of his skull. As soon as I see it, I know that there won’t be a pulse here. I know that no one, not a single soul, could be alive when their head is smashed like that.
He’s dead.
And we’re outside with his murderer.