No Exit by Taylor Adams 2

“I said thank you.”
This gave Darby a little chill, and her stomach fluttered
with emotions she couldn’t articulate. She wasn’t sure what to
say to Jay, how to answer that — you’re welcome? All she
knew was that if she were given the choice, she’d do it all over
again. Every minute of tonight. All of the pain. Every
sacrifice. Because if saving a seven-year-old from child
predators isn’t worth dying for, what the hell is?
And now, bleeding out into the snow, watching the statefunded
Wanapani visitor center burn and collapse into black
skeleton, Darby collapsed too, into a deep and satisfying
peace. She was so close now. So achingly close. She just had
one last thing to do, quickly, before she lost consciousness:
“Jay? One last favor. Reach into my right pocket, please.
There should be a blue pen.”
A pause. “Okay.”
“Put it in my left hand.”
“Why?”
“Just do it, please. And then I need you to go back to that
snowplow. Tell the driver to turn it around and drive you to a
hospital right now. Tell him it’s an emergency, that you need
steroids before you have a seizure—”
“Are you going to come with us?”
“No. I’m going to stay right here. I need to sleep.”
“Please. Come with us—”
“I can’t.” Darby’s tether had snapped and she was falling
again, dropping through floors of darkness, sliding into the
back of her own head, back in Provo now, back in her old
childhood house with bad pipes and the popcorn ceiling,
wrapped in her mother’s arms. The nightmare dispelling. Her
mother’s warm voice in her ear: See? You’re fine, Darby. It
was just a bad dream.
And it’s all over now—