Page 19 of The Darkest Half

He stands beneath the window, and I crawl onto his shoulders, holding onto the windowsill with the tips of my fingers to steady myself.

“You’ve gained a few pounds, haven’t you?” Niklas says with a grunt.

I readjust my position, dig a heel into the bend where his neck meets his shoulder, and then press up on my toes.

“Shit…” I gasp. I’d expected trees, recalling the forest landscape surrounding the mental institution, but all I see are buildings. Not skyscrapers like New York City, but more modest like St. Louis or Charlotte, North Carolina. Hundreds of little lights glow inside the windows, dotting the darkness. Moonlight reflects off the water's surface in the distance, a river cutting through the landscape. There are two bridges, one that looks like an old train bridge. I don’t see any names on the buildings, no billboards lit alongside the highway, and the license plates are too far to see even if it were daytime outside, so I have no idea where we are.

“I don’t think we’re in Pennsylvania,” I tell Niklas. “At least, definitely not at the mental institution anymore.”

“We’re in Columbus, Ohio,” he tells me.

I hop down from his shoulders.

“You couldn’t tell me that before I climbed on top of you?”

He grins.

I smirk back at him, realizing.

“Why Ohio?” I wonder aloud. “And how the hell long was I knocked out for?”

Niklas walks back over to his spot on the floor against the wall.

“We were both drugged good—you were probably out for a day at least. And Ohio because that’s where headquarters are located.”

“Headquarters?” I probe, though I have a feeling I already know. “You mean, The Order headquarters?” I find it a little hard to believe. Ohio?

Niklas nods. “Yeah. Well, one of them.”

“How can there be more than one headquarters? And why Ohio? That just seems…odd.”

“Does any of that really matter, Izzy?”

“Yeah, it kinda does. If we’re going to get out of here, I’d like to know everything about this place.”

Niklas laughs and brings his hand toward his mouth, index and middle fingers positioned as if a cigarette were wedged between them. When he quickly realizes there isn’t one waiting for him, he sighs and drops his hand again.

“What’s so funny?” I demand.

“You’re not getting out of here,” he tells me. He raises his hands in front of him and twists them at the wrists. “They didn’t even bind us. No cuffs. No rope. No trusty fucking zip-ties. We’re not getting out of this room without a dozen guns pointed at our faces, much less out of the building alive.”

I wave my hand about the empty room. “So, they’re just going to keep us here like this? No toilet. Nothing to sleep on.”

He laughs again, and I sense a hint of irritation. “You just don’t get it, do you? We’re not getting out of here alive. They don’t give two shits about how we sleep or where we empty our bowels—and they’ll starve us to death.” He points at me briefly. “They’ll give us water, though, at least. Can’t have us dying before Victor has had enough time to attempt a rescue.”

“Then that means they have to open the door to give us water,” I point out.

All smiles and laughter gone, his irritation takes over; Niklas sighs heavily and just looks at me.

“You don’t give up, do you?”

“No—I don’t,” I hiss angrily. “And what the hell happened to you, anyway—since when do you give up?”

His eyes stray toward the floor; his knees fall open, and he dangles his hands between them, propped at the forearms.

“I’m just tired, Izabel,” he laments. “I don’t want to do this shit anymore—fuck, I never wanted to do it.” He shakes his head with surrender and laughs mordantly. “The only way out is death—I’m ready to go.”

I march across the small space and fall into a crouch before him; the strident smack! of my hand across the side of his face zips between the confined walls.

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