Chapter Ten

Standing at the edge of the maze, I look up at the hellish versions of my grandmothers' house. The paint bleeds and more than a few of the windows are shattered. The fence around it is sharp as knives and several of the pickets are covered in blood.

But there are no lights on, no movement behind those windows—shattered or not—and I'm not ready to walk those halls yet.

The barn doors are off their hinges and the silo…

The silo is on fire.

The cement column of a building glows hot and flames flicker from the broken half-dome roof.

It creates a perfect backdrop to silhouette the man moving toward it.

"There," I point toward the shadowy figure and shout, "Dylan!" even though I know it's futile in this stagnant air.

"Is that Dylan?" Jonas asks, but he follows me as I start toward the silo.

He's the right height—maybe… his head is bent at an odd angle—and his shirt is dark, his hair is the right length…

I shout for him again and even though I know he can't hear me, he does hesitate, but he doesn't turn around. He keeps shambling toward the silo.

Damnit.

I already know I'm going to be too late, but I run anyway. Jonas tries to keep up, and I don't let go of the chain, even though he's turned into human ballast.

The man I'm chasing reaches the narrow door in the sidewall and his hand starts to smoke as he takes hold of the handle.

This time, I scream Dylan's name.

This time, Jonas shouts it too.

I don't know which of us he heard, but he turns as he hauls the silo door wide.

I skid to a stop and Jonas runs into the back of me, catching hold of my shoulders so we don't go tumbling forward.

He doesn't let go of me and I don't try to shake him off as I blink at the guy there.

He's not Dylan, but he is familiar too. A long slit runs across his throat.

His head tips to the side, and that slit tears a little wider.

"Who is that?"

"Steven Cramer." Jonas sounds bewildered as he says it.

"Also in poli-sci?"

He shakes his head. "Math four thirty-one."

We watch as burning hands reach out of the silage and pull him in.

The door slams shut as his hell takes him.

We should have done something. "We should have…"

"Do not feel bad about him. He is—he was a scumbag."

"Full moon nights are always busy in hell." Julia looks at me with a smile that's almost apologetic. "It's the living's favorite time to do reckless things." She looks at Jonas. "You're not truly dead, so you only see the illusion of your own hell."

Her "as you know" goes unsaid.

"Okay, but what could have made him want to crawl into a literal oven?"

Julia floats beside me.

"What you see isn't the full picture." She looks at the silo and her mouth pinches.

"You're not meant to be here, so you see the truth."

"What do you see?" I ask.

"I see both truth and lie for the sins that aren't my own." She looks at us both. "Stand behind me and you should be able to use me to see what you can't."

Jonas and I share a look, but we go to stand behind her.

She has faded to near-transparency and through her, the farm is dark, but the same as it is in the living world. Except… it's not.

The silo is the entrance to a market full of delicious treats and savory delights…

"So, Steven's sin was that he was a foodie?" Jonas asks.

"His sin was not eating too much, but in taking without a thought to the needs of others."

Jonas grimaces at the silo and then me. "So, what do I have to do to make sure I don't actually go to hell when I do die?"

Julia looks up at him. "I don't know."