Under Dust Painted Skies
Chapter ElevenSomething seemed to click in Zac's brain that overpowered his paralyzing fear and gave him enough sense to cross the room to the light switch. He flicked it off with numb fingers and moved back to the window.
Cline had moved to the trunk of his car and was now removing the same two suitcases he'd taken with him earlier in the day. This time, though, something was different. It took Zac a moment to realize what exactly it was, but when it clicked, his heart rate seemed to race. Earlier, when Cline had loaded the luggage into the back of the car, he had struggled slightly to lift each of them. Now, though, he removed each with such ease that it was as if whatever had been weighing them down before was no longer inside.
What if Remy was right? What if Cline was getting ready to skip town and he was slowly removing items from his house to take with him?
"Shit," Zac muttered. Almost as if hearing his voice or merely sensing eyes on his back, Cline turned suddenly. Zac immediately stepped back away from the window, doubting that Cline would be able to see into the house due to the darkness, but he stared in Zac's direction for several moments eyeing the house before his head turned slightly in the direction of Remy's house.
What's he thinking? Zac wondered. Is he planning something for us?
These thoughts were moot, though, given Remy's house was currently vacant, and if he decided to come after Zac, then at least Remy would not be in any immediate danger. He longed to scan the yard again, but given Cline's presence in the driveway, no sign of Remy was a good thing at present.
After another moment, Cline returned to his task. With the suitcases removed from the trunk, he closed it and began to move up the path to the front door.
Zac's heart hammered. Where was Remy? Zac prayed she had the good sense to hide if she couldn't get back into the garage to climb back out the window. The idea of Cline walking right in and finding her made the blood pulse heavily beneath his eyes. It pounded so loudly that nearly every other sound around him disappeared.
What would Cline do if he found her? Remy seemed scrappy enough that she would at the very least try to defend herself, but the girl couldn't weigh more than a hundred and twenty pounds sopping wet. She stood no chance against Cline's solid looking build.
Zac glanced at the clock again. 9:44. It was amazing how quickly things could change in a matter of minutes, but Zac already knew this. It had only taken several minutes for him to go from a happily married man on the cusp of fatherhood to becoming a widower. He shook that thought away. Now was not the time to think about Kate. He had to keep focused.
He had no idea what to do, though. Should he wait and give Remy a chance to get out? And if so, how long should he wait? What if he waited too long and Cline discovered her presence? The jig would be up and then all bets would be off. This man was a murderer. Zac had no doubt about that. Killing Remy would probably not faze him, especially not if he was already on his way out of town. She would be just another victim to add to the already very long list.
No, waiting did not seem like the best option, but what could he do? He tried to think fast, but worry kept wedging its way into his mind, distracting him from finding a solution.
He needed help. That much he knew. He couldn't do anything caged, as he was, within these walls.
Calling the police seemed like the first plausible solution, but what if Remy got out of the house before they arrived? There was a chance of the police looking around the house and possibly finding something less than savory, but what if they didn't find Remy and it alerted Cline to her presence in the house?
"Why couldn't she just listen to me?" he muttered angrily as he pulled at his hair. His scalp ached, but the pain seemed to keep his mind from going into blind panic.
Help. I need help, he reminded himself. If not the police, then someone he could trust.
Despite his anger and their recent spat, his mind immediately went to his brothers. Even if they thought he was crazy, surely they would still come if he asked. Hell, he'd beg if he had to as long as they came and helped him get Remy out of there safely.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Taylor's number. He knew, of the two, that Taylor would be the one he needed to speak to. Isaac would want to argue and ask too many questions.
As it rang, Zac watched Cline's house from the window. It took three rings before Taylor finally picked up. "Hello?" His voice was muffled. Zac vaguely noted that he was probably either at home and the kids were being rowdy or he was out somewhere.
"Taylor, I need your help," he said.
"What?" Taylor's voice still seemed slightly muffled. "Just a second."
Zac growled in frustration, but he heard Taylor tell someone that he'd be back in a few. A few seconds later, Taylor returned to the phone but the background noise was gone.
"Zac? What's up?" he asked. He sounded relaxed, casual. Either he was drunk or he truly hadn't been able to hear him before.
"Tay, I need your help," Zac repeated. "It's too much to explain, but Remy's in trouble. She snuck into Cline's house while he was out and he just came back."
"What?" Taylor replied, but this time it wasn't from being unable to hear. This time he sounded both confused and shocked. "Remy snuck into that guy's house?"
"Yes, now I need you to stop asking questions and come over here," Zac commanded. Then he thought better of it and added, "Please."
"Zac," Taylor sighed, as if mulling it over before he finally said, "Okay. I'll grab Ike and we'll be over."
"Thank you." Zac hoped Taylor could hear the sincerity in his voice.
"Yeah, whatever," Taylor muttered and hung up. Zac pocketed his phone again as he watched the house across the street. Cline had turned on a few lights on the main floor, but the light did little to help Zac. If Remy were smart - something he wasn't certain was true at the moment - she would lay low and stay hidden in the shadows.
Zac hadn't thought to ask Taylor where he was at, but from the sounds of it, he probably wasn't at home, which would have been no more than a ten minute drive. Isaac's place was at least fifteen minutes while their parents were twenty minutes away. If they were downtown, it would take at least half an hour, depending on traffic. Even if traffic was light and Taylor used his lead foot, it would probably still take at least twenty minutes. That was too long.
Zac glanced at the clock again. 9:49.
He scanned the yard again for any sign of Remy emerging, but she was nowhere in sight. She'd been in the house with Cline for five minutes, and she'd been in the house for over twenty altogether. Unless she'd found something, she'd been in there for entirely too long.
"What do I do? What do I do?" he muttered to himself, wracking his brain. Even with his brothers on the way, there was still so much that could happen before they arrived. Maybe calling the police was the best option. Even if they found Remy and she was taken in for breaking and entering, that had to be better than being left alone with Ted Cline, right?
"Right," Zac answered himself aloud.
He swallowed thickly. There was a part of him that didn't want to involve the police just for the sheer fact that this incident may come back to bite them in the ass later should they try to go to them about what they thought they knew about Ted Cline, but at the same time, Remy may not have an ass to be bitten if he didn't do something quick.
Rather than use his cell phone, Zac went to grab the house phone. He dialed 9-1-1 and lifted the phone to his ear, squeezing his eyes shut tight.
"Hello, this is 9-1-1. What is your emergency?"
As he'd listened to the phone ring, he'd no idea what to say, but it seemed as if his brain clicked on and made the decision without informing him.
"I think I saw someone breaking into my neighbor's house," he said. Somehow he managed not to sound too hysterical, but there was an underlying hint of urgency that remained in his voice.
The operator asked a few questions - his name, the neighbor's address and what he thought he saw. Zac answered the first two questions truthfully and stretched the truth on the last by saying that he looked through his kitchen window and noticed a couple of people walking through the neighbor's yard and then circling the house. Then they stopped near the back corner of the house. He claimed he'd left the room and when he came back, he thought he saw one of the figures climbing in through the window.
The operator took his statement and said she'd send someone by to take a look. Zac asked how long she thought it would be. "No more than ten minutes," she said, as if this would be soothing. "But if you see anything else, please don't hesitate to call back."
"Sure," Zac had muttered before turning off the phone with a little more force than necessary. While ten minutes would mean they'd be here sooner than his brothers, but it was still too long.
It was now 9:56. By the time the police arrived, it could be too late. Cline could find Remy. He could hurt her. He could kill her. Zac flinched at this idea. The thought of Remy lying still, lifeless made his heart ache in a way that was all too familiar. He couldn't lose her too. Not after everything else. Especially not when they were just now coming around to something. He didn't even know what to call what they had, but more than anything he wanted to find out. That would never happen if he didn't help Remy.
Calling his brothers and the police wasn't going to work. He needed to move now. He had to do whatever it took to make sure she was safe. If not for his own selfish reasons and desires, then for Luca. She would never forgive him if he let something happen to her mother. He couldn't allow that. He wouldn't. He would not let Luca down.
With this resolve firm in his mind, he forced his feet to move away from the window. Unable to see the house across the street made him uneasy, but he shoved that thought away. He made himself move up the stairs two at a time. He knew what he was looking for and exactly where to find it.
When he reached his bedroom, he threw open the door to the walk-in closet and walked straight to the back where he shoe stand stood. He grabbed his worn black Converse that he had only worn sparingly around the house in the last few years. He shoved his feet inside, and something that should have felt so natural and normal felt foreign to him.
Was this how those kids in Africa he and his brothers had visited with felt when they finally got their own pair of shoes? He shook this thought away. It was something to ponder another time. Shoes on, he made for the bedroom door, but before he left the room, he faltered for a moment, his eyes on the baseball bat he'd carried with him through the dark the other night. Instinctively, he grabbed it. You never know, he thought.
He moved swiftly back down the stairs, with his brain set only on the task of getting to Remy - at least until he found himself standing in front of the partition door. That was when the gravity of what he had planned seemed to settle upon him. He had to leave the house to get to Remy. How the hell was he going to do that if he couldn't even step into the foyer without pause?
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he mentally berated his stupidity. You can't do this, his mind taunted. His heart sunk with despondence. He couldn't just leave Remy to fend for herself, though. He'd been too slow before with Kate. He hadn't done the right thing or made the right move. He'd spent hours thinking of what he could have done differently to save Kate. It was all in vain, of course, because there was no going back. He couldn't undo what was done even if he made up some scenario in his mind where things turned out differently. Kate was dead. That was it. But this was different.
Remy was - presumably, he mind uttered - still alive. He would not allow himself to believe that it was too late. "Shut up," he growled, realizing he must look and sound like a madman with the way he'd spoken to himself over the past half hour.
Thirty minutes. That was at least how much time had past. Like with Kate, everything seemed to be happening much too fast, but if he didn't move now it would be too late.
He made the decision right then. He was leaving this house, come hell or high water. He had to. There was no other alternative, and, really, even if there were, Remy was much too important to him to just stand idly by.
With this resolve, he pushed aside the partition and stepped into the foyer without the usual several seconds of pause before doing so. It was a few strides to the front door, and it took a Herculean effort to stand in front of it. His hands and legs seemed to tremble as he stared at the locks that kept him safely confined within these walls. All it would take was a few simple clicks and the turn of the knob. Then he would be back out into the dangerous world he'd shied away from these last few years.
But, he reminded himself, Remy is also out there, and she needs you.
She had stood by him and been a true friend since the moment he moved into this neighborhood. While most of the other neighbors skirted around the weird guy that at first rarely left his house, then never left his property and then eventually never left his house, she had pressed on. She'd made the effort, bringing him his mail, stopping by just to visit and eventually becoming the one person he relied on above all else. She needed him now, and he could not let his fear stand in the way of getting to her.
With hands that seemed as though they did not belong to him, he unlocked the door. He wrapped his hand around the knob and steeled himself for what may happen when he finally turned the knob and pulled it open. It had been so long since he'd even tried that he couldn't even imagine what it might be like. The last time he'd done this he'd panicked. He'd nearly passed out because his breathing has become so erratic as his heart sped at least three times the normal beats per minute.
"Don't think about that," he scolded himself, knowing that thoughts like that would only help to send him into a frenzy. He took several deep breaths and braced himself before he turned the knob. He twisted his wrist slowly until it could twist no more, meaning the door was no longer latched. He didn't allow himself to think about it too much before he forced himself to pull the door inward toward himself.
Due to the darkness, the change wasn't immediately decipherable, but as more space made itself visible, Zac felt his breathing begin to speed up. I can't do this, his mind screamed, but he did not allow himself to turn tail and run, as his mind tried to persuade him.
Standing in the open entryway was a bizarre sensation. The familiarity of moments passed was there, but it had been nearly a whole year since he'd breathed the fresh night air. As strange as it seemed, he'd half expected to die right on the spot from breathing in what had become, in his mind, toxic air, but he made himself continue to breathe in and out slowly.
There didn't seem to be anything toxic in the air that would kill him on the spot, but then the rational side of his mind had always known this. He released his ironclad grip on the door handle. His feet felt heavy as he forced them forward until he was standing upon the threshold.
Somehow he was still standing, and he vaguely reasoned that it was because he had not yet stepped outside of the house. His brain seemed to reason that as long as he stood on the interior side of the structure, he was okay.
But if it's safe to just stand there, then why isn't it safe to just take one step out onto the other side? he asked.
He waited, as if expecting an answer, but when none came, he forced his leaden feet to move until he stood on the doorstep just outside the house. His heart began to race once again and his breathing sped again. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself.
"You're okay, you're okay, you're okay," he chanted in a whisper, eyes clenched shut, as if to block out the reality of his current location. To any passersby it probably sounded like a prayer. Maybe it was. He had to cling to the belief that he could keep going. The sound of a ticking clock seemed to resound in his mind. It was distorted, though. It seemed to be ticking much too fast. Or maybe it was just the heavy pounding of his heart or the blood behind his ears.
Focus, his brain said. He made himself take several slow, deep breaths - the way he'd practice when doing yoga with Luca on the Wii Fit. This seemed to sharpen his mind slightly and slowed his racing heart to a manageable speed.
Now open your eyes, his mind told him. He nodded, as if signaling to himself that he got the message, but he did not immediately follow the command. Instead, he continued with his deep breathing exercise for a few more seconds. Your wasting precious minutes, his head said. This helped to remind him of what was at stake. Without thinking about it, he forced his eyes open.
The darkness that greeted him was not much different from having his eyes shut. Only the stars seemed to light up the night. Why don't we have any streetlights? he wondered, but his instincts told him that tonight their absence would be useful.
Something was wrong, though, he realized. It took him several seconds for it to click before he realized that the lights that had been on in the house across the street were no longer lit. How long ago had that happened? Was it before or after he stepped outside? Did Cline know what he was trying to do? Surely not. If he did, that would mean he knew Remy was inside his house.
Zac begged for that not to be the case as he tried to build the courage to move farther away from the front doorstep. This moment felt like some kind of odd combination of his last couple of dreams. He knew his destination, like the first dream that had forced him forward toward Ted Cline's house, but he could not move with the weightless ease as he had in his dream. Instead, the gripping terror of his second dream lay heavily in his limbs, but, as in that dream, he knew he had to move.
With what felt like a colossal amount of force, he swallowed back the bile in his throat and forced his left foot forward followed immediately by his right. Keep going. Don't stop and think, his instincts told him. He did not question the order. He made his feet move in spite of the iciness that seemed to wrap itself tightly around him. It wasn't until he reached the end of the walkway and was at the edge of the street that divided the small suburb down the middle that he finally paused.
He had to force himself not to look back at his house because he knew if he were do so, all the courage he'd gathered would dissolve and he'd run for cover and never make it across the street to Remy.
"Remy," he muttered, as if speaking her name out loud could strengthen him. He wanted to roll his eyes at himself for being so ridiculous, but there wasn't time for a mental berating right now.
His eyes scanned the darkness. There seemed to be nothing out of place. All was quiet on their little street. The neighbors were probably safely in bed without a clue that their reclusive neighbor was having a mental breakthrough or breakdown - Zac wasn't sure which - as their newest neighbor was possibly doing unspeakable things to yet another neighbor.
Before this terrifying thought could grip him once again, Zac saw movement across the street. At first his heart soared, thinking maybe Remy had escaped and was sparing him of the hideously daunting task of sneaking into the house across the street to save her. But when his eyes focused, he realized that was not the case at all. There was nothing moving above ground.
No, what he saw was coming from the small window that had to be in the basement. He squinted, trying to understand what he was seeing and without thinking about it, his feet began to move until he was across the street. Even though his extremities seemed to be moving on autopilot, enough common sense seemed to kick in to tell him to get down. He moved in a crouch toward the movement he could still see, ducking behind a tree, and when he was just a few yards away, he finally realized what it was: Remy.
She was at the window, but it didn't look as though she could see him in the darkness. That didn't surprise him since she'd been all but blind the other night when she was stumbling around in the darkness of his house. This time, though, he was sure it had nothing to do with her lack of night vision. No, he could just make out her expression and the look on her face was a mask of terror.
Zac's heart began to throb at this realization. If she was panicking, then she had to be in trouble, which meant that Zac had to go in after her. He made to move toward the window to let her know he was coming, but before he could move from behind the tree, Remy's face disappeared from the small square window.
His brain made the executive decision not to consider what scenario might have led her away from a possible point of escape. Instead, his senses began to sharpen and with hawk-like eyes, he scanned the darkness once again, looking for any sign of company. Satisfied that he was both alone and unseen, he moved, with feet that seemed not to belong to the stupefied boy of a few minutes ago but instead those of a man on a mission, toward the side of the garage.
He'd have to go in the same way as Remy, he decided. He moved, hunched over until he reached the last window. He stood just to the side of the opening and straightened his stance. Carefully, he leaned around to peek inside. It was dark, like the rest of the house, so Zac scanned carefully around for several seconds before he was certain that the coast was clear.
He surveyed the casement-hinged windows for a moment, wondering how he was to get in. Then common sense kicked in, and he pushed lightly against one side. It swung inward easily. Zac was curious as to how Remy had gotten them open in the first place because he doubted Ted Cline would just leave his windows unlatched, but that would be a question to ask later. Much later. Once he'd found her and got her the hell out of here and back to safety.
He pushed both windowpanes inward until he was sure they would not be in the way. Then he grasped the bottom of the windowsill and hoisted himself inside. Here goes everything, he thought.