“Killers!” Creed screams, his voice venomous as he quickly shifts into gear. The Jeep lurches forward, tires spinning in the mud before they find a grip. The Jeep tears off, kicking up mud in its wake.
Coward.At the same time, Creed’s accusation stings all of us. A typical Collective insult that still cuts pretty deep.
At that thought, I look at Tech again. He’s standing there, perfectly still, alarmingly so. But as I watch, his entire body tenses like a rubber band being pulled too tight. His jaw clenches, and his hands curl into fists at his sides. And then… he snaps. He lets out a low growl, something filled with pure anger and frustration. It’s wounded, and it hurts in my gut.
Suddenly, he takes off running after the Jeep.
“Tech!” I shout, stirred out of my daze. I grab for the ladder, carefully swinging my legs over before scrambling down the rungs. “Wait!” But he’s already halfway down the block.
I rush to where Shawn’s standing at the edge of the lawn, and we watch as Tech’s figure shrinks in the distance. I yank off my work gloves, tossing them aside before putting my hand over my heart, trying to slow its beats so I can calm down. I’m still shaking.
“What is he doing?” I murmur. “And what’s he going to do if he catches them? It’s two against one.”
Shawn shakes her head, lips pursed tight. “I don’t know, but if they beat his ass, we’re getting torches and burning their resort to the ground.”
The Jeep disappears around the curve, and when it does, Tech finally stops running. My breath rushes out in a half sob of relief. I’m not sure which scared me more: the idea that he might get hurt, or the uncertainty of what he planned to do if he caught up to them. Tech doesn’t have a temper; he’s more methodical than that. But this… this was pure anger. It was completely unexpected, and I need to know why.
He doesn’t come back right away. Tech bends forward in the street, his palms on his knees, chest heaving. The sound of the Jeep engine fades in the distance, leaving a thick silence when it’s gone. I’m furious with them, but I’m more concerned about my friend right now.
When Tech finally starts walking back, he’s slow, as if each step is an effort. I imagine he’s trying to calm down before talking to us, but I can tell it’s not working. He still looks pissed. When he reaches the end of the driveway, he picks up the beer bottle and hurls it as hard as he can at the empty road. We watch as it shatters in the distance.
“Tech,” I call out. He turns toward me, and my heart breaks a little. I realize it’s not just anger in his eyes—it’s fear. Frustration. Compounded trauma. “It’s okay,” I tell him, not because it is, but because I can’t bear to watch the pain in his expression.
His lips downturn, but then he sniffs hard and looks back at the road. Next to me, Shawn hums out that she’s going to slash their tires. She’s trying to make a joke, mostly, but I’m not in the mood to laugh. If anything, I want to understand what the hell just happened.
“Why would they come here?” I ask, looking over at Tech again. “Why to your home? They’ve never come out this far before, so why now?”
Tech’s mother makes a sound from behind me, and I spin around in surprise. How long has she been standing there? My guess is a while. There’s a deep crease between her eyebrows as she watches her son.
Although we didn’t start the argument, I’m still embarrassed that it happened on her property. “I’m sorry,” I say automatically. “We didn’t mean to—”
“They came today because it’s the anniversary of the fire at the Starline Hotel,” she replies, answering my earlier question. “They wanted to remind us. They do every year.”
Shawn curses under her breath, and I’m struck with guilt. I was distracted by the hurricane, but how could I forget? No wonder Tech lashed out. Today is an absolute tragedy for his family. A day when his uncle was accused of… murder.
The breeze picks up suddenly, the tree branches rustling softly along the road. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing mind, my frayed nerves. And yet, the image of Creed’s sneer flashes across my mind. The word “killers” echoes in my ears.
Just then, I process what Angela had said. “Wait,” I say, confused. “What do you meanevery year?They’ve come to your house before?” This is the first I’m hearing about it, and I check with Shawn and see the same disbelief in her expression.
“Every year,” she confirms. “Although it’s usually at night. They shout their lies, damage a little property, maybe take some things. And then they go away. We need to just let them go away,” she orders.
“What?” Shawn and I ask at the same time.
This is insanity. I had no idea this was happening, and the level of harassment is so far out of line. It’s cruel—even for them.
Tech turns toward his mother, and by his expression, I can tell that it’s worse than it sounds. And now I’m angry, protective.
“Last year they wrote ‘killer’ across our garage, Mom,” Tech points out, his voice tight. “I’m done letting this go.”
Another revelation. I look toward the newly painted garage door. I never asked why they redid the door; didn’t think I’d have to. I’m hurt that Tech would keep something like this to himself, processing it alone. We could have helped.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” I ask him.
“Because I told him not to say anything,” Angela answers for him. “I’m trying to keep us all safe. What’s left of us, at least.”
Her tone cuts through my questions, and I’m struck by the fact that so many of the Chasers are gone now. How devastating and lonely it feels. We’re a dying breed in Cape Hope.
“I know you like to fight,” Angela continues. “But this isn’t about us—not really. Those boys in that Jeep, they don’t care about the past. And they don’t care about the people of this town. They only care about winning. So you all listen to me right now: Don’t go and make this any worse. If you act out, if you get arrested, it’ll give them a reason to push us out for good. Or… or maybe worse.”
