But I won’t go down easy. I raise the ax like a bat, shifting my stance, and push the words out through clenched teeth.
“Where’s Piper?”
He winces, sticking his neck out as if to hear better.
“Please,” I beg. “Just . . . tell me where she is!”
He blinks several times before raising his arms, his bloody hand now wrapped in a piece of curtain. I grip the ax, backing away.
“I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t,” I say, shaking my head, voice trembling. “But . . . please. She’s just a little kid.”
Jon Jon steps forward and I yelp, arching the ax back.
“W-w-wait,” he begs, flinching. “Y-y-you looking for your sister, right?”
My mouth cracks open, gearing up to correct him. But he needs to know how important she is to my family . . . and to me.
“Yes,” I gasp. “I’m looking for my sister.”
Change is good. Change is necessary. Change is needed.
“I can take y-y-you to where she is,” he says, nodding, motioning for me to come closer. I eye his dirty hands and long fingernails caked with mud and grip the ax tighter.
“How do I know I can trust you?” I spit, inching my way to the steps, just in case I have to make a break for it.
A noise outside makes both our heads snap toward the basement door. Voices shouting. Jon Jon runs up the stairs.
“Wait! Where are you going?” I shout, following him. For a big guy, he can move pretty quick and silently when he wants to.
Glass shatters so close it sounds like it’s inside the house.
Jon Jon zips through the hall, creeping into the sitting room. He hugs the wall and peeks through the blinds.
“Look,” he whispers, calling me over. I nibble on my lip before following his lead, keeping close to the wall and peering out the window.
Outside, a crowd gathers around the secret garden house. They found the pallet and are making good use of it. Throwing bricks through the already broken windows, lighting gas-soaked kindle.
“That was my sister’s house,” Jon Jon says tonelessly, his face unreadable.
Inside, smoke billows, the flames growing larger, fire eating up the moldy curtains. I touch the window, watching it burn. It was mine too, I want to say. My secret garden, a place I planted my dreams, however ridiculous they were.
Jon Jon pushes away from the wall. “W-w-we gotta hurry!”
He races through the hallway, light as a feather, back into the basement, and I run after him. He shoves open the last bookcase. Another tunnel.
“Come. Come,” he insists, trying to usher me inside. “It’s this way.”
“No!” I snap. “Where is Piper!”
“I try to tell you,” he says, fumbling through his words. “Tell you to wait. Come. I’ll show you.”
I peer inside, then point my chin at the entrance.
“You go first.” No way am I going to let him have the upper hand on me.
He nods real fast, hunches over, and enters. I grip the ax tighter and follow. The tunnel is narrower than the other, but somehow tidy and warm. A string of old Christmas lights dangling along the rock-bed wall lights our way. Still, I keep six feet of distance between us.
Jon Jon looks back at me with a nervous smile as he shuffles forward. “This better, right? Better?”
Is he really looking for approval right now? I have an ax aimed at his head.
“Yeah,” I mumble. “Better.”
“Daddy built the tunnels a long, long time ago.”
“Why?” I blurt out, unable to control my curiosity.
“Daddy hated the cold. Made these tunnels so we all had a way to move around in the wintertime. Took him almost two years.”
He stops suddenly, spinning around with a frown. I flinch, backing up, tightening my grip on the ax.
“Where they taking Mama?”
Keep cool, Mari.
Have to be strategic here. Any mention of his mother could send him into another Hulk Smash fit and there’s not enough room to fight him off.
“Um . . . to a hospital.”
“Oh. Is she coming back?”
I swallow. “I . . . I don’t know.”
Jon Jon rubs his hands together, thinking hard.
“Mama . . . she ain’t what she used to be. I told her to leave that little girl be, but she couldn’t. She’s still mad. She didn’t mean it, though.”
I narrow my eyes. “You were in my room.”
Jon Jon blinks several times. “I was? Oh. Uhhh . . . Mama says I sleepwalk sometime. That . . . used to be my room, when I was young.”
“Why were you trying to scare the shit out of us all this time? What the hell was that about?”
Jon Jon stuffs his hands in his holey pockets, not meeting my eye.
“The man said, if we run you off, we don’t gotta go away. We can stay.”
“What man?”
“I dunno. Mama just told me. Said he own lots of houses.”
Mr. Sterling . . . it has to be. Maybe that’s why she tried to attack him.
“But . . . how did he know you were still alive?”
He shrugs. “Dunno. He just . . . knew. For a long time.”
Still skeptical, I take another step back. “So why are you helping me now?”
He squirms, shoulder twitching. “Mama just . . . went too far. Hurting that little boy. We don’t hurt children. But . . . she my mama.”
Jon Jon’s eyes dart away, mouth trembling. In the light, I notice the little hair he has left is all gray. Then I remember the story about Jon Jon being accused of touching kids in the neighborhood. How they all turned on him only for it to be a lie. He was so young when it happened. I take a deep breath and lower my ax, reminding myself he isn’t the real monster here. The real monsters made him this way.
“I know,” I murmur.
Jon Jon bites his lip and quickly shuffles forward, the path inclining. I snug the ax under my arm. At the end of the tunnel, he pushes against a wall painted to look like the rocks. It creaks, swings open, and we step into darkness.
“Be careful,” he warns. “Wood ain’t so good.”
Eyes adjusting, I take in my surroundings. We’re in another house, different but with a similar blueprint, feels like we’re inside a giant brick chimney. The walls are blackened, furniture charred, and wood soggy. What little light there is shines through the cracks in the boarded-up windows, vines crawling inside.
We’re in the house next door.
I take a step and Jon Jon’s hand shoots out to stop me. He points to the ceiling, at the massive hole where the second floor, third floor, and roof have caved in, dumping the house’s contents into the foyer. The air, thick with mold, still has a hint of smoke in it, even after all these years.
Staring up at the stars, I glance back down into the tunnel. So this is how they survived the fires. They escaped, never to be seen again.
The boarded-up windows muffle the voices outside, but the mob is close, and this house would be next on their list. We need to hurry.
“Where’s Piper?” I ask quickly.
Jon Jon flusters, searching around the room. “Mama took her in here, but . . . I don’t know where she put her.”
“Piper?” I shout, voice echoing.
Thump. Thump.
The noise makes both our heads snap up. I shrink away, my arms going numb.