Page 41 of Written in Sin
He cuts me off. “You don’t have time for any of that. It’s time to go. Now. If you do not do exactly what I say, I cannot guarantee you will make it out safely. Do you understand?”
I nod. Harold walks over to Fenris’ desk, fidgeting with something. Suddenly a loud alarm begins blaring and I shutter before raising my voice as he makes his way back over to me. “You could’ve warned me!” He doesn’t pay my outburst any attention, instead he places his hand on my shoulder, causing me to wince at his touch.
He frowns at me, sadness floods his eyes as he removes his hand.
“You will keep your head down, and follow me. I’m going to take you to the barn. I’ve signaled an emergency lockdown. All of the attention will be on securing the inside of the premises before the men work their way outside. When you hear the third alarm you’ll have exactly ten minutes to run into the woods. In the woods there’s a graveyard?—”
I interrupt his directions. “With the shed.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Zed took me there,” I say. Last night, I don’t add. I just look down at the floor when he shakes his head.
“We have to go now, I need you to follow me.” Can I trust him? No. But what’s the alternative?
“What about Zed?” His name leaves my lips and I think about Fenris’ words. The doubt, the fear.
“This is much bigger than him. Even Zedediah won’t be able to help you, Catarina. You have two choices. Follow me and have the opportunity to be safe, or?—”
“Or what? I’ll be killed?” My mouth closes with the sharp sound of my teeth hitting each other when he answers.
“They’ll do much worse than kill you.” And with that he grabs my wrist and pulls me into him. “Please, just follow me.” I inhale a deep breath, look into his stare, and what I see makes my body run cold.
He looks afraid. Of what? I’m not sure. He turns and bolts, pulling me behind him.
As we walk, his arm is out like he’s shielding me. He turns to look back at me. “Take them off.” I look at him confused and he points to my shoes. I’ve been so detached I didn’t notice the loud clicks bouncing off the floor. I take them off, holding them in my hands as he quietly moves through the estate like a snake. Slithering his neck around corners, hugging tight to the wall.
I shiver when the cold from outside bites my face since I’m not really dressed for this. He picks up speed as we close in on the barn around the final corner.
The door creaks as he ushers me in. The only light shining through is of the moon. I see the seriousness in his stare and the sadness once again. He continues his instructions once the door to the barn closes. “Once you make it to the shed, I need you to stay put. I will alert someone of where you’re waiting. They’ll be there within an hour once I’ve sent the message.”
He takes my hand in his, and I don’t feel the urge to pull away until I remember watching him help bring Lucy to the table. He must see the look in my eyes change. “I’m sorry, Catarina. I’m sorry for everything.” His voice sounds dry and painful, like he’s holding back tears. He lowers his voice to a whisper. “Take care of yourself.”
Before he turns around and walks toward the door, he stops to look back at me. “Remember, when you hear the third alarm, you have ten minutes.” Then, Harold disappears into the dark.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Zedediah
The loud incessant ringing of the alarm jolts me awake. It stops, so I sink back into my mattress. We have lockdown drills every so often to keep everyone on alert. So they know where to go and what to do. I assume this is just additional punishment since bashing my head in clearly wasn’t enough. I slowly lift my head up and slide my hand back. A sigh of relief escapes me when my fingers run over the thick bandage attached to the back of my head.
The fact that I don’t feel any stitches underneath is a good sign. But with the pounding in my temples and the searing pain on my head, I’m still sitting at a strong eight on the pain scale. My thought that the alarm was just a drill goes away when I hear the second alarm. We only ring one if we’re just doing a dry run. Never the full three. So the fact that this is number two isn’t a good sign.
What if it’s the third? Could I have slept through the first?
I force myself up. My toes curl in as my feet hit the cold floor. Using my nightstand I push myself up to stand. As I start to wobble, I drop my head and close my eyes. When I pick my headup I see movement out of my window. The lights are old so the shadows they cast only allow me to see a figure opening the barn doors before disappearing inside. Harold?
I see my shoes at the end of the bed and walk over, slipping them on. I don’t dare sit down and bend in an attempt to tie them since I’m pretty sure I have a concussion. I know if I sit down the chances of me getting back up are slim. When I limp over to my door and wrap my hand around it, the door knob doesn’t move. What the fuck? I try to turn it over and over again but nothing. As I start kicking the door—well, as best I can—pain shoots up my leg when it hits at the wrong angle. If I try to yell, I know no one is going to hear me like this.
Looking around the room, I try to find something to break through the tempered glass. When I go to pull out the top drawer from my dresser I almost jerk away when I feel tiny pieces of wood nestle under my nails. I place it on my bed, giving me a minute to collect myself and hopefully catch my breath. I gently pick up the drawer, being cautious not to push the splinters deeper, and cradle it against my inner elbows. I try to figure out the best way to smash my window. Do I run into it while holding the drawer? I’m not sure I can. Can I throw it? This is making my head hurt even more.
When I hear commotion on the other side of my door, I raise my arms up, lifting the drawer. But before it can leave my hands, my bedroom door is swung open. It’s Harold. A harsh sound rumbles from my chest and I rush toward him, coming to a sudden stop when he raises his hands.
“Zedediah, it’s your father.”
“What about him?”
“He’s been attacked.”
“Attacked?”
