Page 87 of The Midnight Knock
Through the pain, he felt his teeth chattering, his hands shaking. Outside, the wind was picking up. A terrible sense of finality suddenly struck Ethan, the crushing certainty of disaster. It was like seeing a car coming too fast to brake, a match suspended inches from kerosene.
A man with a hand to the bullet in his heart.
The time was 11:52. Ethan had no doubt the twins had been lying when they’d said they had some special place of safety, but when he saw the way the room’s lights were flickering, he wondered if they hadn’t been telling the truth about one thing:
Midnight was not going to be good for them.
And then he heard it all again, felt it all again: another double exposure. Déjà vu.
There was a knock on Ethan’s door. Somehow he knew, even before he opened it, who would be waiting for him.
It was Kyla.
“I need your shotgun,” she said. “Hurry.”
Ethan said, “How do you know I have a shotgun?”
“There’s no time. Please. We need to get to the office. It’ll be midnight any second.”
“But what do you want to do with my shotgun in the office?”
Fernanda stood behind Kyla on the porch, shivering against the relentless wind.
Ryan said, “If you want to scare the twins into revealing their hiding spot, don’t bother—they don’t have one.”
Kyla snapped, “I know that. We figured that out last night.”
“Last… night?” Ethan said.
“You haven’t remembered yet, have you? That we’ve done this before a million times already?”
“Done this before?” Ethan said.
“A million times already?” Ryan said.
“Jesus, y’all sound like the twins.” Kyla looked ready to punch someone. She pointed to Ryan. “You and Hunter met in Huntsville. You were cellmates.”
Ethan turned to Ryan, a new cold coming through him. “Huntsville?”
“And you,” Kyla said to Ethan. “Your name isn’t Ethan. It’s Carter. You took your brother’s name after he killed himself, so you could start over somewhere else.”
Ryan stared at Ethan. “You what?”
Ethan ignored him. He studied Kyla, knowing full well there was no way she could have figured that out herself. He and Hunter had brought no evidence with them. Hadn’t slipped up all night.
Behind her, the generator was still struggling to keep the motel lit. The circle of light around them was shrinking. One of the mercury lamps fizzled into nothing.
SHRIEKS. Everywhere, the shrieks.
Kyla said, “Please. You have to believe me. We have to get ready. He’ll be here any minute.”
Ethan didn’t remember the night she was talking about, didn’t know who “he” might be, but the dread in the pit of his stomach hadn’t abated. He’d ask for more answers later.
For now, he looked Kyla full in the face. He said, “I’ll bring the spare shells too.”
THE MIDNIGHT KNOCKKYLA
12:00 a.m.
