“That's not Kiara.”
Morgan stared at Thomas.
The little girl beneath the tree still wore Kiara's face.
Yellow jacket.
Dark hair.
Purple and yellow bracelet around her wrist.
Every detail Morgan had remembered.
Kiara looked down at herself.
“That's rude.”
Thomas backed away.
“Don't speak to it.”
Morgan looked at him.
“Why?”
“It learns.”
Kiara smiled.
“You taught me.”
Thomas' face changed.
Morgan caught it.
“What does that mean?”
“Not here.”
“No.”
Thomas looked toward the blackened orchard.
“Morgan.”
“I have spent the last several days being told not here, not now, and I'll explain later. You're explaining now.”
The child laughed.
Thomas flinched.
Morgan looked between them.
“You know what that is.”
Thomas didn't answer.
“Thomas.”
“It doesn't have a name.”
Kiara's smile disappeared.
Thomas continued.
“That's why it takes ours.”
Morgan's skin prickled.
The child looked at Thomas.
“You gave me yours first.”
Mrs. Bell whispered, “Thomas?”
He closed his eyes.
The orchard went quiet.
Even the black apples had stopped falling.
Morgan waited.
Finally, Thomas opened his eyes.
“October seventeenth, 1978. I heard someone calling from the western woods.”
“Who?”
“My sister.”
Mrs. Bell stared at him.
“You never told us that.”
“She'd been dead for three years.”
Nobody spoke.
“I knew it couldn't be her.”
Thomas looked toward the child.
“I followed anyway.”
Morgan folded her arms.
“Excellent tradition around here.”
Thomas almost smiled.
Almost.
“I found the red door.”
Morgan's attention sharpened.
“Where?”
“In the woods.”
“The same one from your map?”
“Yes.”
“Why is it in my grandmother's cellar?”
“It isn't.”
Morgan frowned.
“I've seen it.”
“You've seen a red door.”
The distinction settled unpleasantly.
“How many are there?”
“I don't know.”
Morgan thought of Evelyn's letter.
It counts places.
“Thirteen?”
Thomas looked at her.
“What?”
“My grandmother wrote that it counts places. Thirteen places. Thirteen names.”
Thomas stared at her.
“Evelyn figured it out.”
“Apparently.”
“When?”
“Too late, according to her.”
Thomas looked toward Mrs. Bell.
“She always was stubborn.”
Mrs. Bell's eyes filled again.
“You don't get to talk about her like you've been gone for a weekend.”
Thomas' expression softened.
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
“Margaret.”
“You disappeared.”
“I know.”
“We searched for you.”
“I know.”
“One of us didn't come back.”
Thomas went still.
Morgan caught it immediately.
“Who?”
Mrs. Bell looked at her.
Morgan pointed toward Thomas.
“He knows.”
Thomas stared at the ground.
“Who was the erased name?”
He didn't answer.
“Thomas.”
The child beneath the tree began humming.
Thomas looked up sharply.
“We need to leave.”
Morgan had reached her limit.
She stepped toward him.
“Who was the thirteenth person in the search party?”
The humming stopped.
Thomas looked directly at her.
“I don't remember.”
Morgan stared.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because that's what it takes.”
“What takes?”
“The name.”
A cold breeze moved through the orchard.
Thomas continued.
“When a place becomes empty, the name attached to it begins disappearing.”
Morgan thought of the damaged search record.
A name erased so completely the paper had nearly torn.
“From records?”
“From everything.”
“People too?”
Thomas looked at Mrs. Bell.
“Especially people.”
Mrs. Bell went pale.
Morgan understood.
“You don't remember who didn't come back.”
“No.”
“But you remember there were thirteen.”
“Yes.”
Morgan looked toward the false Kiara.
The child was gone.
No movement.
No sound.
Just empty grass beneath the tree.
“Where did she go?”
Thomas turned.
His face changed.
“Leave.”
Morgan didn't argue this time.
DC's truck pulled into the orchard as they reached the parking area.
He climbed out before shutting off the engine.
Morgan pointed at him.
“Perfect timing.”
“I got here as fast as I could.”
“You missed Thomas Mercer.”
DC stopped.
“What?”
Thomas emerged from between the trees behind them.
DC stared.
Thomas stared back.
Morgan watched both men.
“DC, Thomas. Thomas, DC. His grandfather went looking for you in 1978. We can unpack that later.”
DC looked at Mrs. Bell.
She nodded.
“That's Thomas.”
DC looked back at him.
“You've had a weird week.”
Thomas frowned.
“Who is he?”
“Declan Carter.”
Thomas' expression changed.
“Carter?”
DC noticed.
“Richard Carter was my grandfather.”
Thomas looked away.
Morgan caught that too.
“We're adding that reaction to the rapidly growing list of things you're explaining.”
Thomas ignored her.
“Where are we going?”
“My grandmother's house.”
“No.”
Morgan stopped.
“Why?”
Thomas looked at her.
“Because that's where it wants you.”
“The orchard also wanted me.”
“The orchard wanted you to count.”
“I already did.”
Thomas' jaw tightened.
“Exactly.”
Morgan opened her car door.
“My grandmother left answers there.”
“She left warnings.”
“Those too.”
“Morgan.”
She looked at him over the roof of the car.
“You disappeared for forty-eight years. You've been back for approximately ten minutes. You don't outrank Grandma.”
DC coughed.
Thomas looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Mrs. Bell walked toward her car.
“I'm going with her.”
Thomas stared at both women.
Then sighed.
“Fine.”
They reached the house twenty minutes later.
Morgan unlocked the front door.
Nothing appeared disturbed.
No supernatural fruit.
No dead relatives in the hallway.
Morgan considered that progress.
DC carried Thomas' tobacco pouch and ledger inside.
Mrs. Bell brought the wooden box of markers.
Thomas stopped at the threshold.
Morgan noticed.
“What?”
He stared into the house.
“Something's wrong.”
“That description has lost most of its usefulness.”
“No.”
Thomas stepped inside slowly.
“The house is bigger.”
Morgan looked around.
“It is absolutely not.”
“I've been here before.”
“When?”
“1978.”
Morgan looked at Mrs. Bell.
She nodded.
“We all had.”
Thomas walked toward the hallway.
“There used to be a wall here.”
Morgan followed.
“There still is.”
Thomas pointed.
“No. There.”
Morgan looked.
A narrow section of wallpaper separated the living room from the hallway.
Nothing unusual.
Then DC spoke.
“Was that always there?”
Morgan turned.
“What?”
“The door.”
There was no door.
Morgan looked back.
Then blinked.
A seam had appeared in the wallpaper.
Thin.
Vertical.
Another line formed across the top.
Morgan backed away.
“No.”
The wallpaper darkened.
A brass knob slowly pushed outward from the wall.
Mrs. Bell dropped the box.
Wooden markers scattered across the floor.
Nobody moved to collect them.
The wall continued changing.
Wallpaper peeled away.
Dark wood appeared beneath it.
A door.
Not red.
Black.
A tarnished brass number hung at eye level.
13
Morgan stared.
“I have lived in this house.”
Thomas stepped backward.
“Don't open it.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
Something moved on the other side.
A chair scraped across a floor.
Then footsteps.
Slow.
Approaching.
Morgan looked at Thomas.
“What is that?”
“I don't know.”
“You've seen one before.”
“Not this one.”
The footsteps stopped directly behind the door.
Silence.
Then came a woman's voice.
“Morgan?”
Morgan froze.
Her grandmother.
Again.
Thomas shook his head.
“Don't answer.”
Morgan didn't.
The voice came again.
“Morgan, sweetheart?”
Her throat tightened.
DC moved closer to her.
The brass knob turned.
Once.
Stopped.
Then turned again.
The door remained closed.
Mrs. Bell looked down at the scattered markers.
“Morgan.”
“What?”
Mrs. Bell pointed.
One marker lay apart from the others.
Morgan recognized the symbol.
A door.
Its wood had changed.
Where the carved door had once been plain, a number had appeared.
13.
Morgan looked toward the actual door.
Something scratched against the other side.
Then her grandmother's voice whispered:
“Please.”
Morgan closed her eyes.
Thomas grabbed the marker from the floor.
The scratching stopped.
He stared at it.
“What?”
Thomas turned it over.
Words had appeared on the back.
He read them silently.
His face changed.
“Thomas?”
He handed it to Morgan.
Three words had been carved into the wood.
ROOM FORGOTTEN. OCCUPIED.
Morgan looked at the door.
“What does that mean?”
Nobody answered.
Then another voice came from inside.
A child.
“Morgan?”
Kiara.
Morgan stepped backward.
The voice continued.
“You remembered me.”
Thomas shook his head.
“Don't listen.”
Something slammed against the door.
Everyone jumped.
Kiara screamed from the other side.
“LET ME OUT!”
Another impact shook the wall.
Then silence.
Morgan's breathing quickened.
The brass number 13 slowly turned upside down.
When it stopped moving, it wasn't a number anymore.
It was two letters.
TM.
Everyone looked at Thomas.
He went pale.
“No.”
Morgan looked from the letters to him.
“What?”
Thomas backed away from the door.
“I know this room.”
“You just said you didn't.”
“I didn't.”
His eyes remained fixed on the letters.
“Not until now.”
The doorknob turned again.
This time, Thomas reached for it.
Morgan caught his wrist.
“You're the one who told me not to open it.”
He looked at her.
“I know.”
“Then don't.”
Thomas' eyes filled with something Morgan hadn't seen from him before.
Fear.
“This is where I've been.”
Morgan stared at him.
“Since October seventeenth?”
Thomas looked at her.
“I don't know.”
“How can you not know?”
“There was no time.”
His voice had gone distant.
“No windows.”
He looked at the black door.
“No door.”
“No way out.”
Mrs. Bell whispered his name.
Thomas looked at the black door.
“I wasn't in the woods.”
Morgan felt cold.
Thomas continued.
“I wasn't dead.”
The voice inside began laughing.
Not Evelyn.
Not Kiara.
Not a child.
Something else.
Thomas stared at the door.
Then finally remembered the rest.
“I was the thirteenth room.”
