down at the tunnel, and said, “Clear.” Jopek stared blankly at him, then replied, “Oh. Five points.” Then Patrick brushed his nose with his sleeve, and began to crawl into the tunnel.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“What are you doing!” Michael cried. He lunged for Patrick.
Jopek’s hand seized Michael’s shoulder. “You watch yourself, boy. Don’t you get called for interference, now. Bub, you let us know what you find.”
“Bub, do not go in there!”
Patrick gazed down the tunnel another moment, then turned around. He had never looked smaller: his mouth so tiny and pink, his nose so slender. He got those features from Mom, but right now Michael saw something on Patrick’s face that he had never seen on their mother’s: a stubborn determination.
He’s trying to be brave. He wants The End. And he’s not going to stop until he gets it.
“You said you would go in with Michael, Captain!” Holly shouted.
And that broke the pause: Patrick wriggled forward, the snow-stamped bottoms of his sneakers slipping away.
“Why did you do that, Jopek?” Michael said. “Why the hell did you do that?”
“He volunteered,” Jopek replied in a “who me?” voice. “He’s used to getting through tight places, he said. Kinda got the impression he didn’t trust you to do it.”
The feeling drained from Michael’s face.
“You didn’t say Patrick would go by himself,” Holly breathed.
She was so smart. She had once seemed so good. So how could she still be surprised?
Michael spun from Jopek’s grip. He got two steps toward the tunnel before Jopek shoved him and knocked him sprawling, rubble-pebbles poking through the chest of his suit. “Pay-trick!” Michael called desperately in his Game Master voice. “Ten points for comin’ back right now! Ten p—”
Jopek, towering over him, a boot on each side of his chest, cocked the AK. “You play nice, Mikey. Now, your brother’s safe in there. There ain’t no monsters in there, just calm down—you hear anything talkin’ back to us?”
“What did you even freaking bring me for?” Michael spat.
Jopek bent, offering Michael a hand up. Three drops of sweat glided down his brow and fell on the barrier over Michael’s mouth.
“’Cause I need a backup in case the retard gets killed.”
Michael roared, his fist flying to hit Jopek’s belly. Jopek slapped away, no problem, grinning like a man at a carnival game.
Patrick’s voice, flattened through the tunnel: “Maaaade it!” he said. “You’re right! There’s something in h—”
Then, a shriek.
The shriek of Cady Gibson.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Michael waited to hear a cry of pain. He waited for the snap of his brother’s bones. And he waited to hear Patrick shouting that it was Michael’s fault.
There was a second shriek, sounding like it had the night before: a knife tearing into this world from another.
Rocks clattered in the tunnel.
Patrick screamed.
Running footsteps. And an enormous, metallic shutting-slamming sound.
Then Patrick’s scream stopped. Echoed. Stopped echoing. And Michael suddenly was on his feet and running.
A boot flew out and sent him spilling. He flipped onto his back, ready to punch through Jopek. But it was Holly who had tripped him. What are you doing, Holly?
Michael got to his feet. “No, wait wait, that Thing is in there!” Holly said, grabbing him, rough-handed.
“Patrick is in there!”
Tears of relief shimmered in Holly’s eyes. “I think he hid, though. Didn’t you hear that slamming sound? I think Patrick got into the vault.”
Michael knelt, peering in the tunnel. He could see flickering, fluorescent light. No child-sized lumps of clothing. No tossed-off shoe. No blood. And no movement. As if the Thing—the Shriek—had left . . . or hidden.
Jopek pushed Michael aside and threw a lit flare down the throat of the tunnel. “Patrick! It’s the Game Master, bud! C’mon back!”
Silence.
“Yeah. The vault. Sounds like it,” Jopek agreed. He sighed in relief, almost moaned, and Michael knew it was not a relief that Patrick was alive. It was relief that his mission had not just been screwed up.
Patrick was in the vault. Locked away. He found a Safe Zone, Michael thought, and felt a clutch of love.
Michael tried crawling toward the tunnel again, but Jopek grabbed him.
“Let go!”
“You’re going nowhere till we’re sure that Thing’s gone.”
“Because you need a backup?” Michael spat.
“Yeah,” Jopek said simply.
“How long, exactly, do you plan on waiting, sir?” Holly spat with mock respect.
Jopek glared. “A while.”
There were choices.
Patrick. Patrick.
“Then I’m going outside,” Michael said.
Jopek scoffed, “Bulls—”
“I’m going to start a fire in the road. To keep Bellows away. You said there are some Bellows left; we’ve made enough freaking noise to bring all of them here. Look, do