The same thumps from my dream.
“Is someone . . . else . . . here?” I murmur, spine tensing.
Jon Jon shakes his head. “No. It’s just me and Mama.”
Right. His whole family is gone. All these years, they’ve been alone . . . until we moved onto Maple Street.
Outside, the voices are louder now. “THIS IS WHERE IT ALL STARTED!”
Jon Jon ducks as if they can see him through the walls.
“No no no no,” he whimpers. He covers his ears, balling up on the floor.
Maybe I should tell them we’re in here. Maybe they can help us find Piper. But then I take one look at Jon Jon and realize they won’t listen to a word I have to say. They’re operating in fear; they’re out for blood.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
I pace around Jon Jon. Despite the hole, the rest of the floor looks relatively stable, the wood solid. But the front staircase is a heaping pile in the middle of the foyer, so there must be another way up.
“Jon Jon, how do I get upstairs?” I whisper.
“No no no no,” he whimpers, rocking back and forth.
A shrilling shriek then a boom echoes around us. Fireworks shoot off above and the room glows red. Jon Jon covers his head as if a bomb was set off. He’s babbling too loud. They are going to find us. And I need him in order to find Piper.
The light of the mob’s torches bleed through the cracks in the boarded-up windows.
“Jon Jon, please. We have to move.”
He closes his eyes, shaking his head. The voices, the fire, the smoke . . . he’s terrified, reliving his worst nightmare all over again. I bend in front of him.
“Jon Jon, I swear. I won’t let them hurt you. I’ll get you out of here. But we need to find Piper!”
He shakes his head, hard. “No, no, no . . . I deserve it. I deserve it.”
“You don’t deserve any of this. You don’t deserve to hurt yourself after they hurt you.”
He cries. “No, no, no. We killed that little boy. We just wanted our house back. And we killed him.”
“Who? Sammy? Sammy is alive! You didn’t kill him.”
Jon Jon stops rocking long enough to look up at me.
“He’s alive, I swear,” I say again. “You didn’t hurt anyone. But if we don’t get out of here, Piper could die. I could die. Is that what you want?”
Jon Jon pauses to think it over. Finally, he stands, wiping his face, and points to the back.
“O-o-o-over here,” he stutters, shuffling down the hall. Behind us, bricks come hurtling in. We run deeper into the house, hiding behind a wall.
In the kitchen, a set of stairs leads to the second floor. We climb, keeping our steps light. I peer down the hole at the first floor. Two of the boards are ripped off in the living room. Glass shatters and the room erupts in flames.
Oh no. . . .
“We gotta go,” Jon Jon utters.
“No! Not without Piper. Where would your mama put her?”
Jon Jon looks around, overwhelmed.
“Piper!” I call.
Thump thump. Thump thump.
She must hear us. We’re getting warmer.
“What’s over there?” I ask, pointing to a door to the right of the hole.
“That’s Daddy’s study.”
We hug the wall, tightrope walking across the remaining floor, rising flames threatening to lick our heels.
Another two Molotov cocktails are thrown in, the fire scorching. Black smoke fills the house. Jon Jon stares into the flames, weeping. He’s terrified. I shouldn’t have made him do this.
“Jon Jon, you can go,” I offer. “I’ll find her. Don’t worry!”
He shakes his head and keeps moving, sweat dripping down his face, the heat sweltering.
“She’s in here!” Jon Jon says, and busts into the room. But the office is dark and empty. A window broken, bird feathers blanketing a large mahogany desk. I step back out into the hallway and listen.
“Let’s split up!” I cry. “You look down there, I’ll check this room.”
Jon Jon nods and makes his way around the hole. I open up the next door, ramming right into a four-poster queen-sized bed, soup cans on the dusty mattress. I glance at the ground. Footprints.
“Piper?”
THUMP THUMP
“Wait! She’s in here!” I cry out into the hall.
The sound . . . it’s coming from behind the bed, which is blocking a door behind it.
“Piper, hang on! I’m . . .”
And just as I grab the mattress, I see them. Bedbugs. Real ones this time, an entire family gathered on the corner, bloodstains a scattered black painting.
“Ohh, ohhh God,” I whimper, dropping the mattress and slamming into a wall, clutching my wrist, hand frozen into a grip. I stare at my hand, the invisible eggs now on my skin, try to fix my mouth to call for help. Where’s Jon Jon? Is he gone? Did he run away? I don’t even blame him.
THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP
Run, run, run, get out of here, they’re on you now, you need bleach, blow-dryer, burn your clothes, can’t breathe, need air, no, need hot water, run, run, run . . .
But Piper . . . I can’t leave her.
With a babbling sob, I suck in a breath, grab the mattress, and push it off the frame. Then, using my whole body weight, I shoulder the bedframe aside, screaming, dying for this nightmare to be over. Wake up! Wake up!
Jon Jon rushes in, stepping behind me, easily pushing the frame over, freeing a path to the door.
“Piper, I’m here,” I gasp, coughing up smoke and wiggling the handle. Locked. “Piper, stand back!”
I arch the ax up and bring it down on the handle with one swoop. Then another. The handle breaks off. Jon Jon jabs his fingers in, wiggles, and yanks the door open. And in the corner of the closet . . . is Piper. Wrists and ankles bound, mouth gagged. Her eyes bulge as she screams through the dirty rag. We work quick to free her, then she leaps into my arms, sobbing.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she cries, then coughs, then we’re all coughing. The smoke is rising, filling the boarded-up house, suffocating us as we file into the hallway.
We’re closer to the front of the house. I can look up into the night sky, fireworks sparkling blue above us, black smoke swirling.
“This way,” Jon Jon says, opening another door down the hall, ushering us in and slamming it closed. The room is pitch-black. I can’t see my hand in front of me. Piper clings to my waist.
“How are we going to get out of here?” she cries.
I have no clue. The fire is too massive. We may burn up trying to make it back to the tunnel.
BOOM!
Piper yelps, gripping tighter. “What’s that?”
Another BOOM and the sound of splintering wood.
“Jon Jon?”
BOOM! Jon Jon slams his shoulder into a boarded-up window. The board flies into the night and sweet air slips in.
“Come on,” I say to Piper, holding her hand, and CRACK! The floorboard breaks under my foot, swallowing my leg, and I fall through before grabbing hold of the sides. Flames scorch my legs and I tread the air.
“Ahhh!”
“Mari!” Piper shrieks, clutching my arms. “Noooo! Help!”
Jon Jon leaps over, one-handedly pulling me back up. Little flickers of fire sprinkle down my leggings. I kick furiously, patting them out, my ankle covered in blood where the wood sliced into me. Jon Jon tears a piece of his shirt and wraps it around the wound. The pain is blinding; I bite my arm as he ties it tight, trying to stop the bleeding. A crack splits down the room like we’re standing on a thin ice-covered lake. The fire sizzles below us. This whole floor is going to cave at any moment. I swat Jon Jon’s hands away.