Twenty-Six

We go into the great room. Outside, dark clouds hover a looming threat over the lake, and I almost laugh at that.

You think we're afraid of a storm? Right now, that's the least of our concerns.

Talking about my past is even less of a concern, but I'm doing this for Madison. While she might say she needs the information, that's only to guilt me into talking. We're trapped here, and she's just heard something that rips her world apart and jams it back together in a shape she can barely comprehend. She wants details because that is something she can focus on and, for a few minutes, pretend there is something more critical than being on an island with the undead.

I settle onto the sofa, and Madison takes the other end, turning to face me, her feet up and pressed against my crossed legs. Kit is in the kitchen, where I can see him puttering, giving us a chance to settle in. Jayla is in the recliner with her bare feet on the coffee table.

"I was fifteen," I say. "Sadie and Jayla and I had just started high school. We were best friends." I glance at Jayla, who's waggling her hand. "Fine. Sadie and Jayla were my best friends. I'd met Sadie in second grade. Then I met Jayla when we went to middle school. It was a slightly awkward three-way friendship, but mostly it worked. Anyway, it was a Saturday night. Jayla and I had been at Sadie's place that afternoon. Jayla had to leave right before dinner. I stayed, watching movies with Sadie. I lost track of time, and it was dark as I was leaving, and Garrett was just heading out. He offered me a lift."

"Was that normal?"

I scrunch my nose. "Not abnormal. He'd given me a lift before, when I was younger, right after he got his license. I didn't know Garrett well. It wasn't like with Kit, eighteen months younger than Jayla. Kit hung out with us, and it never felt weird. With Garrett, it would have been weird. He was four years older. Sadie adored him, and he was a good brother, so to me…" I shrug. "I just thought of him as Sadie's older brother. He didn't ignore me, but didn't pay much attention to me either."

"And you?" Madison asks Jayla.

"Same. He pretty much ignored me, but I got the sense that was more about…" She waves a hand around her face. "I didn't like going over to Sadie's. Her parents were…"

"Racists?" Madison says.

"The garden-variety sort. When your parents are rich and Black, people can be weird. Like, how did you really get that money? Black folks running a tech company? Who believes that?" Jayla rolls her eyes. "The Emersons didn't know what to make of me, so I limited my visits. Let's just say that I didn't actually have to leave before dinner that night."

"What?" I twist to look at her. "You never told me you were uncomfortable there. In fact, I remember getting the sense you were, but you insisted their air fresheners gave you a headache."

Jayla shrugs. "If I told you the truth, you'd have done something about it."

"Which would have made things harder for you."

"Nah, but you'd have made sure I never had to go to Sadie's house again, and at some point she'd have figured it out and demanded answers and…" Another shrug. "Drama." She turns to Madison. "The point is that Laney didn't know Garrett well, and neither did I, but she had no reason to think there'd be anything suspicious about him offering her a ride."

"I didn't think that," Madison says. "If there was, she wouldn't have gotten in."

"Oh, don't give me too much credit," I say. "I wasn't quite as mature as you at that age. I did way more stupid things. Like agreeing to go to a college party when Garrett invited me." I pull a pillow onto my lap. "Gran and Gramps were out at a party of their own, and your mom was married and gone by then, so if I was a little late getting home, no one would know. Here was a college guy who thought I was mature enough to go to a college party. He wasn't creepy about it or anything, and that made me feel like maybe I was pulling off this grown-up thing more than I thought."

"No one's blaming you for going to the party," Jayla says. "I'd have gone."

I meet her gaze, and she knows I'm quietly asking her not to defend me. Let Madison draw her own conclusions. Jayla and I have been through this countless times. Was I wrong to accept a ride? Wrong to go to the party? Wrong to drink at the party?

Jayla would defend my choices to her dying breath, as would Anna and my parents. I would do the same for Jayla, if she were in my shoes. But being in those shoes myself, I can see every angle where my choices could be attacked.

Why did you get in the car?

Why did you go to the party?

Why did you drink?

What were you wearing?

Are you sure you weren't flattered by his attention? An older boy? Good looking and popular? What would a boy like that see in a fifteen-year-old—?

Stop. Just stop.

I continue, "It really did seem like he was just being nice. Taking me along to a party as his guest—his sister's friend. We got there, and it was… a lot. The one time Garrett stepped away from me, two guys swooped in. He yelled at them, said I was just a kid, and stuck by my side after that."

"Like you'd expect if he'd brought you along to be nice," Madison says. "Not creepy."

"He wasn't creepy. At all. He hung out with me, and talked to me. I had a beer and then something stronger. Punch that packed a real punch."

Which he gave me. Convinced me to try it. Didn't mention how potent it was or tell me to slow down when I slammed it back.

I don't say that. I am walking a fine line here. I always expected, when this came out, that I could just pretend I'd been young and stupid and slept with my friend's older brother. I didn't see the dangers in keeping that part of Garrett from Madison. Now I do, but I will still proceed with caution.

I pluck at the pillow. "And that's pretty much the story. I had too much punch, and I woke up in a bed with Garrett."

"You blacked out?"

"I wasn't used to hard liquor. Gran and Gramps let me have a sip when I started getting curious but…" I quirk a smile. "… they made sure I had the kind that made me decide I was in no rush to drink more."

"Mom did the same to me," Madison says. "Gave me a half shot of whiskey."

"It's a valid strategy. But it also means that whatever was in that punch didn't taste like booze to me, so I had too much."

"And he had sex with you after you passed out?"

"No, no." I don't think so, at least. "I must have passed out later. I was just too drunk to remember anything."

"And too drunk to consent. Which he must have known. He was nineteen, and he took a kid younger than me to a party, helped her to get drunk, and had sex with her."

I let it stand at that. There are nuances, including the suspicion that Garrett spiked my drink with more than booze, but this is enough for her to never get into any dangerous situations with him.

I won't tell her how I woke up, panicked, and found him sitting there, completely chill, as if we'd had consensual sex. How he'd said we could keep hooking up but warned it had to be a secret, because people wouldn't understand. How I'd run into the toilet and puked, and he'd acted like it was just the booze. Acted like nothing had happened… right up until I insisted on getting myself home, and he realized something was wrong and told me I'd enjoyed it. He didn't insist I consented or hadn't been "that" drunk. Nothing like that. Just that I enjoyed myself.

"You had fun. You liked it. Remember that."

He'd done nothing wrong—that's what he'd been saying, and if I didn't get the message clear enough?

"You tell anyone, and it'll be my word against yours. Everyone knows you're a slut. You can't even pick a side. You like it all."

A slut.

Bisexual, he meant, which clearly translated to slut, even if—at barely fifteen—I'd never gone beyond kissing.

Had I really thought I could get away with only telling Madison that I'd been young? Pretending Garrett was just some guy I hooked up with? Trusting him around her and her friends if he wanted to be part of her life?

"So that's it," I say.

Jayla clears her throat, and when I look over, she shakes her head.

"She needs to know the fallout," Jayla says. "Sadie and Garrett are sure as hell going to give their version."

"Sadie didn't believe you, right?" Madison says. "When you accused Garrett, he denied it, and Sadie sided with him."

"I didn't accuse him. Or I tried not to. Afterward, I told Jayla, who convinced me to talk to my sister—your mom. They said they'd support whatever I wanted, and I wanted to drop it. There was nothing to be gained by going through with an accusation. And there was no reason to… until there was."

"You were pregnant, and he was the father, and you didn't want anyone acting like you'd knowingly slept with him."

"I didn't want him to have any right to you," I say. "That's why I told my parents the truth. If Garrett decided to take responsibility and be your father…" I shake my head. "I needed my story out there first."

"Garrett said it was consensual, right?" Madison says. "Sadie believed it, and that ended your friendship."

"It ended a lot of things. Their father believed me. Their mother didn't. Sadie's parents split up before you were born."

"They had other problems," Jayla cut in. "Even I heard the fights in the little bit of time I spent at their house. But to Sadie, Laney accusing Garrett is what broke up her parents."

"She begged me to take it back," I say, my voice low, as I remember her pleas, her tears. "Begged me to save her family."

"How the hell would that have helped?" Jayla says. "The problem was that one parent believed their son and the other didn't. Even if you lied and said you'd wrongly accused him, it wouldn't have changed that."

Kit comes in from the kitchen finally and walks over to where Madison can see him.

"Sadie wants to have contact with you, as your aunt," Kit says. "Laney won't want to interfere with that."

I open my mouth, but Kit lifts a hand. "That isn't to say you shouldn't have any kind of relationship with her, Madison, but there's a lot that needs to be discussed and Laney"—he glances my way—"is not necessarily the best person to discuss that with."

I start to protest. Then I stop. He's right, as uncomfortable as that is. What happened with Garrett was guaranteed to leave me with a lifetime of doubts and regrets, hammered in by every person who questioned my story. And the one who'd led the pack of deniers? My best friend.

Instead of cutting Sadie loose, I've accepted the guilt she piled on me, and there might always be part of me that wants to make it up to her. If I need to do that, fine. But I can't pull Madison into it. Sadie cannot be trusted with Madison, unless Madison is aware that anything Sadie says about me—or Jayla, or maybe even Kit—could be a lie. Someone else needs to talk to Madison about that. I'd pull my punches.

"Does it matter?" Madison says, her voice dropping as her gaze turns toward the windows. She wraps her arms around herself. "Is Sadie going to… survive this?" She turns to me. "Is she even alive?"

"I hope so. She was the last time I saw her."

"Was she? Are you sure?"

I flinch, and Madison twists to face me, hugging her legs. "Kit told me you found the people we think staged that stuff. Found their bodies. He said they were dead but moving. Reanimated."

"I had to tell her," Kit says. "Warn her. In case she saw something. And also let her know whatever's out there, it's not necessarily a person."

"Can we stop this?" Madison says, lifting her hands to her ears, her sleeves tugged over them. "Just stop, okay? No more protecting-Madison bullshit." She looks at me. "I get it. You're responsible for me, and you want to do this right. You're my guardian. You're my aunt. And you're my mother. That all makes it really complicated, and you're scared of screwing up. I see it at home, too. Renting that shitty house so I don't have to move out of my school district. Selling your motorcycle. Staying home every night, even if I'm out with friends, so you'll be there when I get back. I don't want you doing all this for me, Laney. I just want…" She waves her arms. "I want to be with you. Like before. I used to think how cool it'd be to live with you, and I feel like I ruined everything."

"You never—"

She presses her hands to her ears again. "I know, okay? I know you love me. I know you wanted to be my guardian. And I know this isn't the time to talk about any of this. So forget all that. The point is that I'm not a child, and I'm pretty sure I'm handling this whole thing better than any of you. We have dead people who aren't dead. Call them zombies or whatever. I get it, and I'm dealing with it, and I'm not trying to tell myself maybe there's a mistake, maybe there's a natural explanation." She looks across the three of us. "Can any of you say that?"

We don't answer.

"I didn't think so," Madison continues. "I have no idea what's going on, but I accept that it is. You said Sadie was badly hurt. Really badly hurt. Are you sure she's alive?"

We look at each other, but again, we don't answer.

Madison exhales. "Okay, so Garrett might be out there looking for his zombie sister. My father might be out there looking for my zombie aunt." She shudders. "Nope, that's weirder than the zombie part. Garrett and Sadie. They're Garrett and Sadie." She looks at me. "I know you're going to say we need to warn Garrett, but I've heard enough to know it's not going to work. He'll say we're all crazy, and we all hate him and Sadie, and he won't abandon his sister. Yes?"

"Yes," Kit says. "If he comes back—or comes near—we will warn him that it's possible Sadie is already dead—and dangerous—but I can't see him believing us."

"Then as shitty as it is, we need to do what he said. Stay in here. Hole up until tomorrow, when the Hayeses will send help."

I glance at Kit, my brows arching.

"I told Madison, but I didn't mention it to you," Kit says. "Because, at that point, we were trying to get off the island immediately. No one wanted to hear that it could be sometime tomorrow. Our parents know we're here. I was supposed to have dinner at their place tonight, and on the way here, I called to cancel. They know Jayla and I are on Hemlock Island with you and Mads, but we'll be back late tonight. I have a board meeting tomorrow morning and Mom is still on the board, so we were having breakfast to discuss strategy."

"When you don't show up, she'll know something's wrong," I say.

"Well," Jayla says. "First she'll call me, desperately hoping it means you and Kit got back together again. But she's going to know that's not happening." She glances at us. "Oh, not that you guys won't get back together. Everyone knows that's coming. But Kit's not going to skip a board meeting without at least boating to shore and calling to explain."

So help will come. That's an absolute. The moment their mother realizes they aren't back yet, she'll launch a commando search team, possibly with actual commandos. There's no point in having mountains of money if you can't use it to track down your missing children.

"Helicopters gonna land," Jayla says, as if reading my mind. "And that's tomorrow at the latest. Bridget expects me home tonight. If I don't check in before midnight to say I'm on my way, she'll call me. Within an hour, she'll be calling our parents, apologizing profusely but wanting to know if they've heard from us. Now, Mom might say Kit and I must be running late, and Bridget will buy that, but by the time Kit misses breakfast, the troops will be ready to launch. They know where we are, and they're coming for us."

"That's the important part," Kit says. "Help is coming, and that doesn't mean our parents taking a leisurely drive to the coast. There will be a helicopter, and it'll have everything and everyone we need, maybe even a doctor if they're worried enough. All we have to do is hold tight until—"

A shape lurches toward the huge bank of windows.