But no. None of that is real, or can ever be real again. He can’t even think of her laugh, the brightest, most joyful thing in the world, without hurting because he kept his bubble formula a secret, worried that the prophet would ban it. Now what makes her laugh? Now who carries her so she can see other parts of the compound besides her bed? Now who figures out what she needs, since she can’t tell anyone?
She must think he abandoned her, like he abandoned God and all their teachings. He did it for her, and she’ll never know, and none of it mattered anyway.
It’s been seven months. Seven months is an eternity. After all, God created the world in seven days, and LeGrand destroyed his own in seven hours.
* * *
—
Brandon half dozes, tucked into a car in the middle of a dim, musty fake tunnel. Shiny material drifts from wooden hearts. A menacing swan with one broken wing guards him, and cherubs—somehow still garishly painted after all these years—hang overhead. There were two choices this morning: Lovers’ Hideaway or Underworld Inferno, but the other building had a big scary devil hanging over the entrance so he picked the hideaway, which also fits nicely for the game.
He can’t decide which he likes best: the hiding, which is exciting even if it is kind of boring, or hanging out with everyone after. He hopes they’ll keep in touch when the game is over. Maybe even come visit him. Or he could visit them! He really likes Ava, even if her buzzed hair intimidates him. He suspects she’s a lesbian, which is super cool. He’s never been friends with a lesbian before. He doesn’t think they have any in Idaho. And Mack is quiet but he likes her, and he’s sure she likes him. Jaden and Christian seem too much like the big-city kids in Boise who have dads and summer cabins on the Snake River and steal things from the gas station even though they have money. But the other Ava, well, he can barely talk to her, she’s so pretty. Rebecca, too. And Rosiee. He likes them all. Except Jaden and Christian. But that’s unfair of him, because he doesn’t even know them.
Tonight he’ll try to talk to them, too. Poor sunburned Sydney—hopefully she feels better—and the sullen guy, Ian, and the cheater guy, Atrius. Depending on who’s out. Maybe he can get everyone playing a game or something now that they’ve had a couple of days to settle in. He beams back at the grinning cherubs. God, this is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him.
* * *
—
Jaden was careful. He’d have to be even more careful if he was going to pull this off. He wanted it to be someone else—the creepy quiet girl with the blanket, or the stupid gay chick who thinks she’s so tough, or Atrius, preferably. But he found Sydney, so Sydney it is.
He watches from the shelter of a building that once served as a restroom and now serves as a breeding ground for spiders. Sydney climbs up a service ladder and crawls out across one of the arms into a miniature airplane suspended in the air. She has more guts than he expected. She sprays herself copiously with sunscreen, and then tucks herself into the airplane, invisible.
He settles in to give the seekers enough time to get this deep into the park.
* * *
—
Sometime after the sun has hit its zenith and is creeping toward the western horizon, Mack hears it again.
She slowly pulls the blanket off her face, careful not to disturb Ava. She can’t afford Ava startling and making the roof creak.
Close by, the snuffling. A wet, hungry breath. A sound like something pawing at the ground. Mack can’t be sure, but it seems like it’s coming from where she peed behind the clown shack yesterday. Her skin prickles with relief that she didn’t pee right by her own building.
The noise—a huff, then soft padding around and around—makes her want to scream with terror and tension. She’s being hunted.
She can tell herself otherwise, but she knows how it feels to be stalked as prey. He’s dead, he’s dead, he can never find her. Something else has taken up his task.
It brushes up against the side of her building, sending a tremor through the whole thing straight up to the roof. Straight through her bones. She opens her mouth to whimper, to cry, to release this terrible tension and let it find her, let it be over.
A hand closes around her own, tight, anchoring her there. The blanket is drawn back over her face, centimeter by centimeter, sealing her in the hot dark with Ava. Ava, who woke up without a sound. Ava, who is with her.
Come out, come out, wherever you are, he croons in her memory. She squeezes Ava’s hand hard, too hard, but Ava doesn’t move. A single rubber duck on the ground beneath them makes an agonized, slow death squeak.