Chapter 5
The wooden floorboards groaned in agonizing protest as water began to seep up through the massive gaps in the pine planks, swirling around the heels of Caleb’s boots with icy ferocity. He scrambled backward, pressing his spine against the solid wall where the front doors used to be. The air in the saloon grew thick with the smell of salt and ancient decay, replacing the dry scent of the desert.
“What kind of trick is this?” Caleb yelled, sweeping the barrel of his revolver across the empty room. “Show yourselves!”
The two little girls didn't flinch. They simply floated—or walked, though their bare feet never seemed to touch the rising water—toward the bar counter. They hopped up onto the rotting stools with practiced ease, their legs dangling inches above the dark, swirling tide. The older sister took a small bite of the gray bread, chewing slowly while watching Caleb struggle against the encroaching water.
“It ain't no trick, mister,” the older girl said between bites, her voice eerily calm. “This is just where bad debts come to settle. Your brother ran out of time, so the house needed a new collector.”
Caleb gritted his teeth, ignoring the numbing cold of the water that was now lapping at his knees. He waded through the heavy tide, smashing the butt of his heavy revolver against the newly formed wooden wall where the exit had been. Wood splintered under the repeated impacts, but behind the broken planks was only more wood—thick, layered beams that seemed to go on forever.
“There’s always a way out,” Caleb muttered to himself, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struck the wall again and again until his arm burned with fatigue. “There’s always a door.”
“Not once you cross the threshold with blood on your hands,” a voice rasped from beneath the floorboards.
Jonah’s face suddenly pressed up against a glass viewing port that had materialized in the center of the floor. Through the thick, distorted pane, Jonah’s eyes glowed with a pale, sickly luminescence in the dark water below. He wasn't drowning; he was breathing the water as if it were air, smiling a wide, maniacal grin that stretched too far across his face.
Caleb stopped hitting the wall, his arms dropping to his sides as he stared down at the horrifying sight of his brother. The water was waist-deep now, tugging at his heavy trench coat and threatening to pull him under.
“You did this,” Caleb accused, his voice cracking with rage and despair. “You led me here.”
Jonah tapped a bony finger against the glass from the other side.
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“I just left a trail for the only man stubborn enough to follow me to the end of the earth,” Jonah’s muffled voice echoed up through the water. “Look behind you, Caleb. She’s brought you your badge.”
Caleb turned slowly in the rising tide. The two little girls were no longer sitting at the bar. They were standing right beside him in the waist-deep water, their yellow dresses floating like lily pads around them. The younger sister held out her small, open palm. Resting in the center of her dirt-caked hand was a heavy, silver-plated sheriff’s star, dripping with fresh, crimson blood.
