Riley remembers the directions that first brought her to Nowhere. Lilac is an entryway. She sways as she stands. She lowers herself down into the sunken place, fingertips clinging. She staggers as she reaches the ground, falling to her knees. Riley breathes and gets herself up. She goes towards the lilac, shivering as she steps gingerly over those five round shapes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers.
Pushing her head into the lilac, the scent fills Riley’s nostrils like sickness. Through the leaves and blossom, in the stone foundation, she sees darkness. A hole, a tunnel. The entrance is large enough for a deer to walk upright, antlers and all.
It takes Riley a few minutes to haul herself back up over the lip of the sunken place. She lies on the floor of the long room, leaves shushing above her in the breeze. Her head swims. She breathes deeply. She’s going to need all her focus for the next part. When her heart has settled and the world has more or less stopped dissolving, she gets up slowly and makes her way through Nowhere House, leaning on the walls at intervals to steady herself.
The walk back through the woods is like a dream; sometimes she finds herself sinking to the ground and struggles back upright. As she goes she thinks of the first time with Cal, under the tree, ofwaking shivering in the dew, his jacket spread over them for warmth. She remembers how fresh the world smelled that morning and the warmth of his skin.
When the woods begin to thin, Riley draws into the shadow of a spreading oak. She fits herself neatly behind the trunk. A cloud of purple butterflies scatter past on the evening air.
She can see Home Barn in the distance and the huddled shape of the stable block. Figures move about in the dusk. A fire burns in the pit outside, and Riley shivers, imagining warmth. She can just catch the faint scent of roasting meat on the darkening air, even the kerosene in the lamps that hang in the barn. Riley’s stomach growls. She clings to the oak trunk and waits, watches as they eat and talk. She sees the familiar hobble of one of the smaller figures. Riley can’t make out Oliver’s face at this distance but she knows how he stands and walks in every mood. His head hangs, despondent. He moves slowly.
Riley waits, shivering as darkness falls. Slowly the fire dies to red coals, and the faint sound of talk dies too. She waits until there is nothing but quiet and trees and frogs and crickets. A bat crosses quick in the night.
When she thinks enough time has passed Riley slips out from under the trees. She moves slowly, alert all the while for movement from the stables.
Close to, someone snores in one of the loose boxes. Everett, she thinks. Riley has to hope that Oliver is still sleeping in the same stall as before. The moon is clouded over and she moves forward in small grim steps. She needs things – light, for one, food for another. Riley feels her way around the barn walls and takes a kerosene lamp from its hook and lights it with an ember from the fire. She goes to the compost bin and digs through it. She eats quickly – turnip ends, a foot discarded from the roasted pigeon. The claw crunches in her mouth, savoury. She finds a crust of bread someone didn’t want, withbutter still clinging to it. They must be eating well, to throw so much away. But there has been a great deal of blood in the land, lately.
Riley creeps to the stall and opens the top door. Oliver is asleep on the camp bed with his thumb in his mouth. He hasn’t sucked his thumb in some time – since they left Cousin’s. Riley sits by him, silent as a ghost. She doesn’t know what he’ll do. He might still be angry with her. He might bring the others and then she’ll go back to the chair. She winces as she pulls her sleeves down over her forearms to cover the wounds. Whatever happens she doesn’t want him to see that.
‘Wake up, Oliver Olive,’ Riley breathes into his ear.
He starts up and makes a muffled sound against her palm. Riley puts a finger to her lips. Above her hand, his eyes are dark and serious. He nods and she takes her hand away. They look at each other for a long moment. Then Oliver throws himself into Riley’s arms. His tears wet her shirt, his back heaving silently. She can feel his mouth moving, pressed against her shoulder. ‘Sorry,’ he says silently, over and over. ‘Sorry.’
Riley strokes his head. ‘We have to go,’ she mouths into his ear. He nods frantically against her neck.
Riley helps Oliver up and pulls all the clothes she can find onto him. She takes a flashlight from the bedside. There’s a compass, too – who knows where he got that, but she puts it in her pocket. Best be prepared. It feels so like the night they ran away from Cousin. Another flight in the dark. When does it end? She hopes that Oliver, at least, can find a way to stop running.
Riley turns to close the stall door behind them when she feels it – eyes, a presence on the back of her neck. She turns slowly. Midnight’s face is golden in the light of the lamp.
‘I’m going to put every part of you in the land,’ Midnight says quietly to Riley. ‘Right now.’ She gathers herself to yell, to summon the others. Time slows and stutters. Without a thought Riley turnsand throws the oil lamp back into the stall. It arcs through the air before hitting the back wall where it shatters in a gout of flame. Oil and fire lick the wooden wall, down to the sawdust that covers the floor. Midnight throws herself into the stall, grabs a blanket and tries to smother the fire. Riley flings the stall door closed, shutting Midnight in.
Riley seizes Oliver’s hand and they run into the night. Behind them there are shouts and commotion. But no one follows. Fire beats everything.
‘Riley,’ says Oliver, panting and stumbling through the grass, ‘I can’t see.’
‘I know,’ she says. ‘No flashlight yet, ok?’
Their eyes adjust slowly. Riley can make out the forest ahead. Once they’re safely in the trees she risks pausing to catch their breath. When she looks back, half the stable is alight. It has caught like tinder.
‘Will they get hurt?’ Oliver asks.
‘No.’
‘Why did you lock Midnight in the stables?’ Oliver sounds tearful. Riley gets that, she feels like that too.
‘I didn’t,’ she tells him, stroking his head.
He twists away from her caress. ‘But—’
‘Hurry up, bud. Ok? Just walk.’ Riley adds this night to the deep place where she keeps all the things she can’t acknowledge, all the lies she’s told.Getting crowded down there. ‘Come on. We can use the flashlight now.’
The beam dances over the long beards of Spanish moss and clouds of tiny white moths swarm in its light. Riley feels exhaustion dropping on her like a hammer, but she shakes her head and keeps walking. When she looks back there is a narrow red halo in the sky over the stables. The blaze rises higher, stabbing upwards into the black night.
Oliver balks at the sight of Nowhere House. ‘I don’t like it. It’s scary. Riley …’
‘It’s ok,’ Riley says. ‘It’s just a place that’s been through some stuff. You know? Like us.’
Oliver thinks about it. ‘Well,’ he says. ‘I guess wehavebeen through some stuff.’
