The Never List

of our faces that that was what we were doing as well. Trying to adjust ourselves to this sudden new reality. We were approaching the place where we had thought we would die. The place where we had wanted to kill each other. We didn’t know what this would feel like, but it would not feel good.
    We found the driveway, which I recognized from the newspaper photos. Tracy stopped on the road, her turn signal flashing. A light rain started to hit the windshield, and without a word she flicked on the wipers. We sat there, still in the silence. The GPS reminded us that our destination was on the right.
    “Are we ready?” Tracy finally said.
    “No, not ready,” came Christine’s voice from the back. “But let’s do it. Let’s just do it.”
    I looked back at her. Christine’s hands had stopped fidgeting, and there was a new resolve in her face. I nodded to Tracy, and she turned the car into the driveway, which twisted along up the side of a low mountain through a heavily wooded forest. I looked at the trees and remembered the time I had spent in those woods, after my escape, wandering, nearly dead from dehydration, naked. An animal in the forest, disoriented and alone. More alone than I’dever been in my life. The weather had been the same then, and I remember opening my mouth toward the sky, tasting the rain.
    As we drew closer, I noted that here and there, strewn on the ground or hanging from trees, were tattered bits of yellow police tape, hardly recognizable unless you knew to look. We finally pulled around the last corner, and the house came into view. A large A-frame lodge, dark green, blending with the forest, and a deep red barn over to the right. That barn, I thought. That barn. I shuddered as we pulled to a stop in front of it.
    Tracy looked over at me, but I couldn’t read her expression. Was she checking on me, or was she lost in her own painful memories? I couldn’t tell.
    I looked back at Adele, who had a look of wonderment on her face. I didn’t know if she’d ever been here—if this place had been a secret haunt of hers as well—but at least she seemed properly in awe of what had occurred in this spot.
    I looked over at Christine. She was calm and solemn. Her hands were still.
    We got out of the car almost simultaneously, the doors clicking in unison as we closed them gently. We all stopped in our tracks, looking at that house with silent dread. It was overwhelming. This building felt alive to me, ominous and strange. It seemed to be watching us, a part of Jack he’d left behind.
    Finally, I took a deep breath and started toward it, careful not to look at the barn. I almost laughed out loud at the irony of trying to break into this house that we’d spent years trying to get out of. But here we were. And we were all terrified.
    I got close enough to look into the window by the door. It looked well organized and scrubbed clean inside. I wondered for a moment what lucky person had had the job of restoring the house after the ransacking by law enforcement.
    Tracy, leading the way, walked over to the door and was reaching for the doorknob, when I interrupted her.
    “Should we avoid fingerprints?”
    “Well, we aren’t exactly prepared with gloves, now are we?” Still, she stretched the end of her T-shirt to grasp the door handle. It was unlocked, and she flung the door open.
    “So there we are. Our first experience as criminal trespassers—a great success.”
    “That’s weird,” came Adele’s voice from behind me. “Creepy, in fact.”
    The door stood open before us. We looked at each other again. Who would take that first step?
    I knew the answer. I had dragged us all here, so it was only fair that I should be the one to cross that threshold first.
    I took a deep breath, trembling only slightly, then entered the house. I turned back to the others.
    “See, it doesn’t hurt at all.”
    No one cracked a smile.
    I took another step in, and Tracy followed me.
    “Well, here we are, in never-never land,” she whispered, looking around at the prim kitchen. It seemed so ordinary. No one could have detected the evil residue his touch must surely have left behind.
    Adele followed us in cautiously, eyes wide.
    Christine stood at the door, immobilized by fear. I noticed her left hand start to quiver. Then, bracing her left arm with her right hand, she stepped over the threshold slowly and deliberately, inhaling deeply.
    “Okay, then,” was all she said.
    I propped the door open with a