The Tree Line: Chapter 3

Upstairs, the man in the construction vest was getting excitable again.

“I know it was T-93. It had to be him,” the man yelled.

Miles approached the man, just as the lady in the summer dress also reached him.

“Patrick,” she placed a hand on his arm. “Hey, Patrick. Look at me.”

She said this as he pulled away, wildly turning in circles. He abruptly shifted his gaze around the room, sending accusatory looks at each person. Most did not seem bothered by his behavior. Only Chuck and Miles noticed him. Chuck appeared amused while Miles was clearly on edge.

The lady turned to Miles and introduced herself.

“I’m Cindy. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she extended a hand.

Miles returned the handshake, his confusion evident.

“Do I know you?” he asked.

Her posture softened as she looked over each shoulder before softly speaking.

“No, not anymore,” she replied.

“Never mind all that,” she cheerfully continued. “Let’s calm this guy down before he gets out of control.”

“Wait,” Miles interrupted. “What did you mean when you said ‘not anymore’? Have we met? You seem familiar to me.”

She didn’t respond verbally, but her eyes took on a dark hue as her pupils widened, seemingly conveying a message. She reached for Patrick, placing her arm over his shoulders as she guided him across the room to an open chair.

Just then, Celeste burst up the stairs and back into the room.

“Everybody out!” she shouted.

Celeste had sat in the car for a few moments, weighing her options. She could walk in the rain for miles to seek help or confront the strangers. She was sick of the dirty little secrets kept hidden in closets and corners of her mind. She was ready to break free from this mess, one way or another.

The room fell silent as everyone turned to her, though no one moved. Celeste swallowed hard, feeling her mouth dry and palms sweat.

“I said get the fuck out. Now!”

The last word shattered the silence with rage. She stomped aggressively in the direction of the woman in the pantsuit, who stood her ground without flinching.

Miles finally found his voice.

“Uh, maybe it’s best if everyone leaves?”

Thick with sarcasm, Celeste turned to him.

“Aw, how sweet, Miles, asking them for permission.”

Suddenly, Chuck was by her side, close enough to make her feel uneasy. She hadn’t even noticed him approach.

“Can we talk privately, darlin’?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” she replied, her voice steady despite her unease.

“I believe I can sort some things out for you.”

“We can talk right here. No need for privacy,” she insisted, her frustration growing.

Without waiting for a response, he began to walk down the stairs. Celeste rushed after him. “Hey, hey!”

He didn’t look back, so she turned to the room. “The cops have been called. You better clear out before they get here.”

Though his face was turned away as he descended the staircase, Celeste heard Chuck mutter, “We know that’s not true.”

How would he know that? Celeste followed him down and watched as he entered the nearest bedroom. Flipping on the light, he stood at the open door, observing her.

“You can come in. I won’t hurt you,” he said coolly.

“Why would I believe you?” she shot back. “You’ve already entered my home without permission.”

“Cause if I wanted you dead, you would already be dead.”

He laughed, a sound devoid of warmth.

Resistance built in her gut, the unease rising. Her instinct screamed to run, yet she found herself locking eyes with him and taking one cautious step into the bedroom.

Once inside, she positioned herself in the corner, near a heavy lamp that could serve as a weapon, and a drawer containing her grandfather’s collection of antique knives. She was preparing for the worst.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“My name is Chuck.”

She rolled her eyes in frustration.

“No shit. I figured that out, but who are you and those other people? Are you part of a group? Why are you all dressed so differently?”

He settled into an armchair, one leg casually resting on the other.

“I guess you could say we are a network.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

A smile crept across his face. “We are looking for Dr. Neil. Do you know him?”

Flustered and angry, she snapped back, “What?”

“Dr. Josiah Neil. Do you know him?”

Celeste shook her head defiantly. “No, I don’t. Why are you with others looking for him?”

“That’s not for you to know, sweetheart.”

“First of all, I’m not your sweetheart, and I’m not your darlin’,” she replied, pacing the room.

“I don’t know Dr. Neil. I don’t know you. I don’t know any of those other weirdos in my living room. After today, I’m not even sure I know my own husband. So yes, Chuck, I need to feel sure about something, and I believe any information you have is mine to know.”

Chuck remained unfazed by her outburst. He continued calmly.

“Ben mentioned earlier that we would need to stay awhile, so that’s what we are going to do.”

“Wait a minute,” Celeste began, but Chuck interrupted.

“Let me be clear. That was not a question. It was a statement. We are staying here. We won’t hurt you. We need to find Dr. Neil, and you are going to help us.”

She was too stunned to respond.

“It’s been twelve years, and the cycle has ended. The time has come.”