“Wait,” Fynn suddenly says.
I know the sound of that voice. I know that tone. I’ve gotten to know him enough to recognize when he’s on the verge of something, something important.
“What is it?” I stop crying, taking my hands off my face. Anderson also releases me from his embrace.
“Where was that house?” Fynn asks, looking like he got lost in his own thoughts, but he is trying to let us in.
“What house?” Anderson interferes.
“The one we burned down, with Kayne in it,” Fynn reminds him. “Where was it?”
“Wait,” Anderson taps his chin with the tips of his fingers in an effort to remember. “Wasn’t it by the boondocks?”
“I can’t remember. Are you sure?”
“Not a hundred percent, but it’s as good a guess as any,” Anderson shrugs. “Why?”
“Well, Kayne was obsessed with revenge, wasn’t he?” He pauses, allowing us to nod quickly. “He did all of this because he wanted to get back at Hugo, and at us. So, there is only one logical place where he would leave him.”
“You don’t mean – “
“Yeah,” Fynn nods gravely. “We need to get to that house. Now.”
Chapter 24
“Are you sure my dad’s there?” I ask, sitting on the backseat of the fast moving car.
Anderson is driving, and I can see the tight grip of his hands on the steering wheel. He wants to get us there as soon as possible, and I fear that every second counts. That is, if my father is even there, which is something we can’t be sure of.
“That’s my best guess,” Fynn replies in his usual nothing-is-certain manner. “If he isn’t there, then I really don’t know where he could be. But, knowing Kayne, that’s not only a possibility, but a probability.”
I know this is as hopeful as his words would ever get, and I’m grateful for them. I huddle in the backseat, wishing for a blanket, but my body is still functioning under the strain of the adrenaline rush, and I don’t even feel the chill of the night.
We drive in silence, each of us lost in their own thoughts, fighting our own demons. Somehow, I feel like there are less of mine. This nightmare is almost over. The persons who were responsible for this will never be brought to justice, but at least they will never do any harm again. That in itself is a solace of some sort.
As for my father, that lack of knowledge still bears heavily upon my soul. I look out the window, into the darkness, and wonder if that is what he sees if he is still alive. Is he breathing his last breath? Is he breathing at all?
All those questions are pressing onto my soul heavily. I feel like the burden of the world is on my back. I want to know. That’s all I want. Even if the knowledge will bring me more pain, but anything is better than not knowing.
The drive is endless. We all shake and rattle on the dirt road that seems to take us into more darkness. A part of me wonders if this darkness will ever end, or will it just continue indefinitely?
Finally, the car stops. The bright lights are on, but I can’t see anything in front of us. Just pure, unadulterated darkness that seems to mock our efforts at finding what we are looking for.
“We’re here,” Fynn informs us, even though it’s unnecessary.
Still, no one gets out of the car. Not yet. My legs seem frozen. I’m petrified with the possibility that my father isn’t here. Because, if we don’t find him here, than he could be anywhere in the entire world, and he could be waiting for me to come and get him. The thought of him waiting somewhere, hurt and alone, brings tears to my eyes.
At that moment, Anderson turns to me. “Hey,” his voice is soft and gentle, as always. Nothing changes it, and that constant returns some of my courage. “We’ll find him.”
“You can’t promise that,” I hear myself say, surprising everyone in the car.
“You also can’t not promise,” Fynn adds, and I chuckle against all conscious effort not to do so.
I sigh and without thinking, open the door and jump out. The guys immediately do the same. For a moment, we’re in obscure darkness, the lights of the car gone. Fynn takes out a flashlight, and switches it on. It beams a long line of luminous path, like an angelic messenger. He aims it at something in the distance. I try to focus my eyes on it, but it’s too far away. It’s one of those things you see only if you know what you are looking for.
“There,” Fynn points his index finger in the direction of the flashlight. “That’s the house.”
“Technically, it’s not a house anymore,” Anderson corrects.
He walks over to me. I hear his feet grinding the gravel. It feels soothing to know he’s around, to know they’re both around, and I don’t have to go through this alone.
“Two of the outer walls are still standing tall,” Anderson explains. “At least, they were the last time I was there.”
“You went there?” Fynn asks.
“Just passing by,” Anderson quickly replies, not wanting to elaborate more, and Fynn doesn’t push him. “But everything else is grounded. There’s nothing left.”
“If there’s nothing left, then why are we going there?” I suddenly interfere. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“You see, that house was special,” Fynn explains, as we slowly start to walk over to the subject of our conversation. “It was used in the old days as a safe house for runaway slaves. Of course, that was a long time ago, but anyone who’s ever been inside and knows what the house was used for, knows the outline of it. And, even though the upper, ground level is reduced to cinder, there is still an underground part. I think that’s how Kayne managed to escape. We neglected to cover it, and, you know the rest.”
“So, you think he was keeping my dad somewhere in the basement?” I wonder.
The crickets are loud, much louder than my thoughts, which are swarming inside of me like angry bees. I walk slowly, each step more insecure than the previous one. But, I still follow. There is no other path but this one.
“It’s more of a whole underground level,” Anderson takes over. “There is a big room underground, and tunnels that led away from the house. We thought that the tunnels were closed. There was an implosion of the ground at some point, and the tunnels were off limits. But, we didn’t check it when… you know.”
I can’t see him clearly, but I know what he is doing. He is raking his fingers through his hair, nervously, trying to calm himself down.
“That’s why we need to check the bottom level of the house,” Fynn concludes.
“That sounds hopeful,” I say it out loud, expecting that this will make it more believable.
“It’s our only shot,” Fynn adds.
“It’s our best shot,” Anderson chimes in as well.
I know they’re on my side, and each of them, in his own special way, is trying to convince me to be strong and not to give up, no matter what we find there. Or, what we don’t find.