Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Demon grunts at me from the doorway. It’s like he’s telling me to get my act together. He’s right. We need to search the house. Jamie left something behind. Perhaps a clue or…
Oh, okay. Maybe this can work. Jamie has left his keys on the table, a big ring of them. Perhaps one of them is the key to the garage where he left his car out in the forest. I think I can find it. No, I know I can find it, but I must move fast before I lose the light. I feel lightheaded and ill, but it’s just the worry.
There’s no time for that. Get to the car and Jamie’s apartment, assuming the key to the private elevator shaft is there. I can’t leave a bullet-ridden car on the street, can I? Then what? Maybe I should call the cops, but there isn’t time. They’ll have to start an investigation, but I don’t know anything useful.
I keep searching the house. There’s nothing: just clothes, canned goods, and furniture. I walk onto the porch and scan it—nothing. No, there’s something wedged between two of the floorboards. It’s a business card. There’s no address, physical or email, no name, just two words.
The Answer.
It offers me nothing, but maybe it’s a clue. Perhaps this has something to do with the website.
It’s early morning when I return to the city, gnawing my shirt sleeve as I drive. Jamie has extra gas in the trunk. The only time I stop is to feed Demon handfuls of the food I took before I left. Just enough to get home. My belly rumbles, but I don’t care.
The time helps me—four a.m. Nobody’s around as I bring the car up at the rear of the building, remembering my reaction to the small garage door the first time we came here. I thought Jamie might be behind all this. I really thought he would hurt me.
However, I was wrong. He’s the good guy. I don’t care if he’s done some bad things. He’s going to be the father of my children. He’s going to protect us. That is going to happen. He and Mom are going to be okay. I have to believe that.
Demon grumbles as he climbs into the elevator next to me. I have to try several keys, but then we’re in, gliding up. The last time we rode the elevator returns to me. The pressure in his pants, wondering if it could be true.
Once we’re inside, I rush across the apartment. Before we left, Jamie said we should leave our cell phones here turned off. As I grab mine from the counter, it occurs to me I could’ve called the police, anyway, but I always assumed my savior was right there in front of me. He just happened to be my kidnapper, too.
I open the drawer, expecting to find Jamie’s laptop, but it’s not there, dammit.
A quick search of the apartment, and I’m in his room. It’s so bare in here. It’s more like a barracks than a room. I almost expect to find a photo of him and Jack. He kept all those pictures, even after knowing what Jack did. I saw the confusion and pain in Jamie. It must’ve been hell trying to make the real him fit with his idea of what he was.
His laptop is under his bed. I guess he thought he’d be in here if I came snooping. Maybe he wanted me to so he could punish me again.
I focus, open the laptop, and play Jamie’s voice recording. Once I’m in, I open The Answer. I’ve got a feeling. Why would there be a business card? Jack must’ve dropped it or one of his men. When I ran my thumb across it earlier, I felt a raised section, like a magnetic strip or something or a ticket. That’s my hunch.
My first instinct was to think that’s crazy, but all of this is crazy. What’s one more thing added to the list?
The website loads. There’s no login screen anymore. Instead, there’s a message. This effort has always been in vain. There are no heroes. There are no fairytales. Join the fun at the meat market if you have a valid ticket. Those who know, know. Those without tickets will be executed, either upon arrival or, if inconvenient, at a later date.
Then there’s a smile emoji. I rub my forehead—the meat market. That doesn’t sound good, but I was right about the ticket and the magnetic strip. There’s an address at the bottom of the post, a butcher. I should call the cops and let them handle it, but what will I say? I could show them the website.
All of this would take time. I need to go there now. I don’t care how tired I am. I don’t care how scared. I need to save Mom and Jamie. Quickly, I close the window. I can’t let myself wonder if I’m doing the right thing. It’s time to act.