Page 97 of Tracing Holland

“Where are you?”

“Um…”

“Jesse, I need you to focus for a second.Where are you?”

“Flower cave.”

“Huh?”

“Flower cave.”

The line goes dead and I curse again.

“Hey, guys, does ‘flower cave’ mean anything to you?”I call over to the others.They glance up and seem relieved.

“You got ahold of him?”

“Yeah, but all I got was ‘flower cave.’”

“It’s that one park!”Reece cries.“We went there and got wasted after the Underground Masterclass show, remember?There’s that tunnel with all the hippie graffiti.We called it a flower cave.”

“Where is it?”

“Um…shit, let me think.”He pulls out his phone and I wait as he searches.“Ok, here it is.Lewis Park.It’s nowhere near Chadwick’s.Not sure how he got there.”

“Let me see that.”I scan the map.“Alright, you guys stay here and put out fires until we get back.I’ll go get him.Text me that address.”

Lewis Park is about asshady and uninviting as I expect.I tell the cab to wait for me, and even he’s not thrilled at the prospect, but I promise to reward him for it.

I also send Tess a message letting her know I had to run a quick errand to Newark, thus adding to the train of unhappy people in my wake.

I have no idea how to find a tunnel with hippie flowers on it, but use my phone as a flashlight when the dim path lights aren’t enough.My heart is racing, blood pounding in my ears in the unsettling silence, but I try not to show my fear.I’ve played this game way more than I should have.I know I have to look like I belong if I have any hope of surviving a confrontation.I don’t see other midnight loiterers, however; just me, my fear, and another hash mark for my tally of stupid, impulsive decisions.Parker and the others had wanted to come with me, but of course I had refused the most logical option.

I shake off the self-criticism, leaving that for later, and focus back on my present challenge.Suddenly, I can hear voices to the left, and hate that the new direction would take me off the main path.Still, it’s my only clue so I change course and shoot Parker a text letting him know I’m here, heard something, and he should call the cops if he doesn’t hear from me in ten minutes.

Sure enough, after about a hundred feet, I see a very distinctive tunnel.It’s surprisingly better lit than the rest of the park, allowing for the clear illumination of a collection of lethargic bodies strewn over the ground.

I mutter a curse and move toward it, absorbing as much of the scene as I can while still maintaining my casual approach.

“Hey, man,” someone calls out.I find the voice, but don’t recognize the speaker.He holds something up to me, and I shake my head, swallowing my disgust.

“No, thanks.Just looking for a friend.Jesse Everett?”

“Jesse?”It’s a woman this time, three actually, when I turn toward the new voice sandwiched between a set of groupie clones.“Wow, hello there.”She staggers to her feet, and before I know what’s happening, collapses against me.I catch her as she giggles and grabs me way beyond what’s necessary to establish her balance.Annoyed, but fully aware she may be my best hope at finding Jesse, I let her get her fill.

“Do you know where he is?”

I scan the remaining bodies, but none appear to be a strung-out rocker who’s about to get his ass handed to him.

“He was here.”

“Ok, and where is he now?”

She gives me a coy look.“We had a blast.He didn’t tell us about you, though.We would have waited.”There is absolutely no secret in her eyes.“Yeah, definitely would have waited, wow.”

I roll my own.“Where is he now?”I repeat, finished with junkie politics.

She points to the other end of the tunnel.I force her hands away from me and start navigating through the maze of zombies.I don’t like that I still haven’t seen him, and curse when I reach the opening to find a new cluster of passed-out partiers.

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