Page 117 of The Last Session

He unlocked the car, which beeped softly, and we both quietly pulled open the doors and got in. I felt a wild leap in my chest. On this plot of land, nothing fit neatly into place: people lied convincingly, things went missing, and supposed past lives floated in the air. But this was concrete, undeniable. The car would either work or not.

I clutched the front of my shirt as Jonah inserted the key in the ignition. He turned it.

Nothing happened.

Frowning, he tried again.

Silence.

“Okay, then.” He hopped out and I followed suit. We locked the car and went back into the lobby. Jonah dropped the keys in the desk drawer.

A deep disappointment filled my torso. “Shit.”

“Yeah. We tried.” He massaged his eyes.

“It doesn’t seem safe, does it? To be stuck here like this?” My headache resurged. Being trapped was making me feel hot, almost feverish.

“I don’t think safety is these people’s number one concern.” He slumped over the desk.

“Well.” I took a deep breath. “What are our options?” I counted them off. “We could wait for Steven to get back. We could contact emergency services…”

“And tell them what? We need a ride?” Jonah shook his head. “There’s no way cops would drive hours out here to pick us up.”

“We could say Moon or Sol’s threatening us.”

“It’s illegal to make false statements to police officers.”

“Well, what about walking out to the road? We could try to hitch a ride.”

“You want to walk to the road?” Jonah lifted his head. His eye circles were darker than usual, a deep violet. “?‘Bye, guys! We’re just going to drag our suitcases down this gravel road for an hour or two!’?”

“Well, they wouldn’t physically drag us back.”

“Maybe not. But you think Catherine would be on board with that?”

I had to concede. “She wouldn’t. I think there’s a chance we could’ve convinced her to drive out with us. But not walk.”

Jonah drummed his fingers on the desk. “It’s also really deserted out here. I don’t remember seeing other cars on the road when we got close. It could take a while to see someone and way longer for someone to actually pick us up.”

“Yeah.” I felt the urge to scream and pull out all the drawers, fling the stuffed owl off its perch.“Fuck.”

“Hey.” He came around the desk. “We’re going to be okay. I have a gun—”

“You have agun?” I jerked away from him.

“I do. And I’m going to start wearing it on me.”

I sank down to the ground. This—all of it—was too much to process. Jonah sat quietly beside me.

“So what do you want to do now?” he finally asked in a low tone.

I lifted my head from my arms. “I want to talk to Catherine. But her door’s locked.”

He bumped my shoulder with his. “Well, let’s go break in.”

Ten minutes later, we heard the telltale click and Catherine’s door swung inward. I didn’t love having to talk to her this way, but there was no other choice.

“Catherine?” I said softly, stepping inside.

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