15

Chapter 3

Ben and I sit in silence. I wait for it to sink in.  I wait for him to call me a freak, a murderer. I wait for him to send me back out on my own, to continue my cat-and-mouse chase with the police.

Instead, he inhales slowly. "You killed him?"

"Did you hear a word of what I just said? Yes, I--"

"You're sure he's dead? Absolutely positive?"

I recall the putrid smell, the hair singed off his head.  I close my eyes and nod. "Yes," I say. "Yes, I'm positive."

Ben seems satisfied with my answer. "Thank you," he says, standing up and leaning on the back of his chair. "For telling me. For making yourself vulnerable. Now, it's time for me to share."

He helps me to my feet and places his arm around me for support.  I can't help but notice his hand on the small of my back.

"Let's go," Ben says, leading me down the hallway.

"Where?" I ask.  I notice there are stairs leading to a second floor, but I don't hear any movement upstairs.  I wonder where the other inhabitants of the house are. 

"I'm going to give you some answers," Ben says as he opens a door next to the stairs.  It reveals another flight of stairs, this one leading underground.  They're lit by one light above the door frame, casting a greenish light on the dusty stairs before me.

"Ladies first," Ben says, gesturing downward.

"Age before beauty," I refute. "I insist."

He shrugs, smirking. "Suit yourself."  He starts down the stairs. "You're gonna love this," he says, beckoning to me.

I know I should be wary-- a six-foot-something guy leading me into a dark basement? Not exactly equivalent to running through a field of daisies.  Still, I feel oddly calm walking down these stairs, descending into darkness.

We reach the bottom, and Ben turns around to face me. "Ready?"

I shrug. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."  In reality, I'm shaking with excitement and anxiety about what lies beyond those doors-- answers.  Finally, answers.

Ben pushes open the door and leads me forward. "Welcome, Ava, to the training center."

We're standing in a room with concrete floors and walls, far too large to use only the space under this one house.  It must extend one or two house lengths in either direction.

The walls are lined with the kind of equipment I used to see years ago when my mom would go to our local gym and brought Gemma and me to the daycare there.  The two of us would rush over to the step climbers and elliptical bikes and climb on them like they were jungle gyms, and my mother would have to enlist the help of the employees to pry us off of them.

These things, however, seem much more daunting.  Maybe it's because of the kids using them.  Boys and girls, all around my age, drip with sweat as they move from one machine to the next.  That's when I notice that there's more than just gym equipment here.  There are kids tackling complicated ropes courses, perfecting their aim with knives at target practice, even challenging each other to fencing matches.

The kids begin to turn around and stare me up ad down as if I'm their next meal.  Instinctively, I draw my arms close to my chest and keep my head down. 

"How many of you are there?" I ask, trying to ignore the eyes watching my every move.

"Fourteen," Ben says, sliding his hands into his jean pockets. "We found this place, just like you did last night.  We were led here by our subconscious thoughts.  Does any of this look familiar to you, Ava?"

I pause and knit my eyebrows, trying to recall the cold concrete floor, the rock wall, the martial arts mats.

Suddenly, it all comes back to me in a flash.