“We don’t go off course. We talked about this,” Jackson says. “Why don’t you ever listen?”

“You mean why don’t I do exactly what you say?”

“You’re just like Mom. Stubborn.” Jackson looks away. “You okay?” he asks.

“Just a little shaken up.”

“He’ll be fine. He’s alive.”

“You guys…” Elliot calls out to us. “Guys.”

“What?” Jackson says. Elliot pans the night vision camera across the floor. “You need to look at this!”

“What is it?” I ask.

“Just get down here. Now.” Elliot’s eyes widen like a deer trapped in headlights.

Jackson runs to get a ladder from the back of the Tahoe. Sliding my knees as far as they can go over the splintered wood, I perch myself at the edge of the gaping hole. The floor groans underneath me. I make sure to keep the light shining on Elliot.

“This is seriously messed up!” Elliot says.

“What? What are you seeing?”

“I…I don’t even know!”

I tilt my head, hoping to hear Jackson running back to us. Soon, there’s banging down the corridor. Metal on wood. Jackson comes rushing down the hall. I help him slide the ladder into the broken floor.

“El! Buddy,” Jackson calls. “Watch yourself, all right? We’re lowering a ladder.”

Inch by inch, we lower the metal frame. It clangs as it hits the concrete floor. We try to secure the ladder against the rotting wood, but the wood is so old that it snaps under the weight. Finally, we find a sturdy enough section to rest the ladder on.

“You go first,” Jackson says. “I’ll hold it.”

“No way,” I reply.

“You’re lighter,” he says. “We have a better chance with you.”

I hesitate, and then shimmy precariously onto the ladder. When I look back at Jackson he seems distracted. “You got it though, right?”

“What? You don’t trust me?”

Throughout my life, Jackson has thrown out those little words to get me to do an array of stupid stuff. At this point, trust has nothing to do with it. I’ve been scraped and scratched and have fallen from so many random heights, I really don’t want another scar. Plus, it’s a long way down. I cock my head. “What about the maple tree behind East Hills?”

“I was twelve.”

“My knee still clicks weird when I walk.”

He stares at me like he doesn’t have time for this. I relent and climb down into the darkness, the shadows engulfing me on all sides like a black sea. The ladder is slick with rain. My hands slide over the metal. It takes all I have to not lose my grip. Focusing on one rung at a time, my feet finally touch the ground.