Caleb Summer's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

The food still sat between them when Zyane crossed to the window. He parted the curtain an inch and looked down at the street. "They're two doors away," he said. His voice stayed level, the way it always did when things were worst. "Front and back. We have minutes." Caleb pulled Lily up by the hand. "The car," Zyane said. "Mine. Parked behind the loading door. If we move now, through the back, we can reach it." He grabbed the medical bag. "But they'll see three people leave. Not two." Caleb understood before Zyane finished. "No," he said. "They're looking for a man and a girl with strange eyes." Zyane met his stare, cold and sure. "If a man walks out the front and talks to them, they stop watching the back." He had chosen medicine at seventeen to keep Caleb safe. He was choosing this the same way. "I'll give you the back door. Take her and go." "Zyane." Caleb's throat hurt. "They'll know your face." "They don't have my face yet." Zyane pressed the car key into Caleb's palm. "Gray lot. Blue sedan. Don't stop for me." Lily looked between them. "Caleb," she said. Just his name. A line she wouldn't cross, asking him to decide. He decided. He hated it. He pulled his sister toward the hidden wall and the stairs below. Zyane went to the front. He opened the loose door and stepped into the street like a man who belonged there. "Evening," Caleb heard him say, flat and bored. "You're looking for someone? I live above the shop on the corner." The gray coats turned toward him. Flashlights swung. Boots gathered at the front. Caleb pulled Lily down the dark shelves. Dust. The smell of old paper. He found the loading door at the back, cracked it, and listened. Empty. The coats had moved to Zyane's voice. He shoved Lily out ahead of him. The lot held three cars. The blue sedan sat against the far wall. They ran low. Caleb's hands shook as he jammed the key in the lock. It turned. He pushed Lily across the seat and climbed in after. He did not start the engine yet. Through the gap between buildings he saw the street. Zyane stood in the ring of flashlights, talking slow, buying seconds. Then a coat grabbed his arm. Another checked something against a paper. Their voices changed. Someone shouted. "Caleb." Lily's hand closed on his sleeve. "He said don't stop." Caleb turned the key. The engine caught. He pulled the car out and away, tires loud on the wet lot, Zyane's voice swallowed behind them. Lily did not cry. She stared back at the loft going small in the mirror. "He's not coming," she said. "No." Caleb's hands locked on the wheel. They were out. They were free of the block. And they had left the one person who came for them in the hands of the gray coats.