Dirty Secrets

Part 68

In the morning, with a piece of toast clenched between her teeth, Lyla pulled the front door closed behind her and ambled down the porch steps toward Darcy's car. She was surprised when Jack stopped his car bumper-to-bumper with Darcy's.

"Hey," he called.

"Uh..." Darcy leaned across the front seat, looking up at her friend.

Lyla shrugged.

"Can I ride you to school? Or whatever?" he asked.

"Just like that?" Lyla chewed her toast.

"I need to talk," he said.

"So?" Darcy asked.

Lyla checked her phone. 7:42.

"Make a decision," Darcy pressed. "I got a first-period quiz."

Lyla leaned in the window. "You mind if I..."

"Girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta," she said, putting the car in reverse.

"Total blindside," said Lyla. "I didn't even know he--"

"I get it," Darcy cut her off. She backed up then steered around Jack's car.

Lyla jogged to Jack's passenger door and got in. "You could have texted."

With his jaw clenched, Jack checked his mirrors then drove down the street. Before he said a word, she could feel his anger.

"How much salt you think we need?" he asked, scratching the carpet of whiskers below his cheekbone.

"Uh, what?"

"Salt. For the grave thing."

"Where's your sling?"

"Fuck that sling."

"You missed the turn," Lyla said. "Shoulda gone left."

"Right." He heaved an aggravated sigh. "So how much?"

"I don't know. I never burned a body."

"I'll get a couple twenty-five-pound bags. And a gallon of gas should do it, right? Maybe two to be safe.

She shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

"Can we store the stuff in your shed, maybe?"

"I think probably, yeah."

She was glad that he'd finally accepted the urgency of their situation but she didn't believe that they were fully prepared. How would they deal with transporting their supplies to the summit of that hill? They never discussed plans for dealing with lookouts, like the big ponytail guy. And then there was the matter of the gruesome creature she'd seen on the drone footage. She didn't know how to broach that topic with Jack.

"So last night," he said. "Our cat went missing. Couldn't find her anywhere. Chelsea's a house cat. Never goes outside. My mom was losing it. She said right before lunch she heard Chelsea hissing at the side door to our deck. Some kid, some little girl was trying to get her to come outside. Before my mom could get the door unlocked, the kid was gone."

Lyla bit her lower lip, feeling her heart racing. She didn't want to hear the end of his story.

"In the middle of the night, we got woken up by the cat screaming. Not yowling. She was straight up screaming. We looked around the backyard and front yard and out in the street. Couldn't find anything."

He tightened with anger.

"So, this morning, there she is. With her neck broke, her head almost twisted off. She's laying right on my hood in the middle of that O. Bunch of blackbirds were picking apart her little body."