Don't Look Now by Michelle Gagnon

fields were barren, the grass brown and dead. “I never should have suggested capturing one of them.”
    “Look, we knew going into this that it wasn’t going to be easy,” Zeke said. “And that we were probably going to make mistakes.”
    “I didn’t know that,” Noa mumbled.
    Zeke laughed. “Hell, I can’t believe it’s been going as well as it has. We’ve saved how many kids so far?”
    Noa shrugged. “I don’t know.”
    “Forty-two, and that’s not counting how many know to be careful because you put the word out on the web. That’s not nothing, Noa.”
    Noa wanted to tell him that it wasn’t enough, and didn’t even begin to make up for things like Turk’s sister. Instead, she said, “Thanks. That helps.”
    “Yeah? Good.” He grinned, then added ruefully, “I’m glad it’s not just Peter who can make you feel better.”
    Noa fidgeted, wondering if he’d guessed that she’d just been thinking about Peter. “What do you mean?”
    “I don’t know. It just seems like you’re pretty hung up on him.” Zeke looked uncomfortable.
    “We’re just friends,” Noa protested.
    “You always say that.” He glanced at her, then back at the road as he asked lightly, “So nothing ever happened?”
    Noa flashed back to lying on a futon bed in Cody’s cold apartment. Peter on the floor beside her, his voice low and sleepy as they talked. A lock of hair kept falling in his eyes, and she had to resist the urge to brush it back for him. The next morning, he’d made her laugh over burnt toast and eggs. . . . “No. Nothing.”
    “Huh,” Zeke said quietly. “That’s good.”
    “Why is that good?” she asked, puzzled.
    “We’re almost there,” Crystal announced, suddenly poking her head between them. “The turnoff is about a mile ahead on the right.”
    “Great,” Zeke said, a little too brightly. “Stay close so we don’t miss it.”
    “Sure.” Crystal glanced into the backseat and shuddered. “I can’t wait to get rid of . . . it. It’s starting to stink back there.”
    “You’re sure this place is abandoned?” Noa asked, grateful for the change of subject.
    “Yeah, I’m sure. It’s been empty since I was a kid.”
    Noa resisted the urge to point out that Crystal was still a kid, barely sixteen years old.
    “There’s the turn,” Crystal announced.
    Zeke eased the van onto a long dirt driveway that wound off into a stand of trees. In the distance Noa could see the remains of a farmhouse, gray and slumped like some sort of dying elephant. A barn in even worse condition hunched a few hundred yards away.
    “So you grew up here?” Zeke asked.
    “Yeah, a few miles away. We used to come here to party.”
    “I thought you said people never came here.” The words came out more sharply then she’d intended, Noa realized, as a wounded look crossed Crystal’s face.
    “They won’t find anything,” Crystal mumbled. “There’s a well, or at least there used to be one. We can leave him in there.”
    “Good idea,” Zeke said. “Nice job, Crystal.”
    “Yeah, great,” Noa said, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet the girl’s eyes. We’re going to dump the guy down a well? This was turning into something out of a horror movie.
    The other kids started to chatter, palpably relieved that the worst part of the journey was almost over. Their voices grated on Noa, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from snapping at them. Suddenly all she wanted was to get away. The guy had been right. She should have run when she had the chance, and taken care of herself. She could have reestablished herself under a fake name in Canada somewhere, and gotten more freelance work for IT companies. Instead, she was the den mother for a group of kids who could kill someone and dump him down a well without blinking.
    “Noa.” Zeke had stopped the van. He looked at her across the seat, his brow furrowed with concern. “It’s going to be okay.”
    “You know what?” she said under her