20: Trey

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20: Trey

Howie and I immediately drive all the way through Adams once we reach it. On the way, we discussed where we thought the Envisioneers might be, and we agreed to check the outskirts first with the reasoning that they need somewhere out of the way and secretive to operate.

“What do you suppose they’re using everyone for?” Howie asks.

“I’m not sure. Slave work?”

“Or maybe they’re not using them at all; they just get off on seeing peoples terrified faces and stabbing their friends and family with needles.”

I can’t help but chuckle at this. “That’s one theory.”

He laughs too. ”Do you suppose we’ll find them here?”

“We can’t be sure. We can only hope that we will.”

“I know. I do. I really do hope that we don’t have to search any further. I want my little brother back…”

“And I want my best friend back. Don’t worry, Howie. We’re not going to stop here if we don’t find them. We’ll check every town in Nebraska if we have to.”

He nods. “I know.”

We pull through a dirt lot and park. He and I jump out of the car. I stuff Linley’s cap in my pocket, just in case. Howie takes the lead, keeping a very quick pace. I smile. He’s really excited.

We find our way to a field.

“Where should we look?” I ask.

“Everywhere,” Howie says. “I’m not resting until I find something.”

“What if they aren’t here?”

“They’re here. I can feel it.”

We stay out searching far past nightfall. Our paces start to slow with fatigue. Howie checks his watch.

“2 in the morning,” he mutters.

“Car?” I ask hopefully.

“No,” he sighs, stumbling forward again. “We gotta keep looking…we gotta keep looking…”

I nod. As tired as I am, I know he’s right. We can’t stop now.

We look for another hour with no result. We decide to split up and look. Howie goes right, and I go left. As far as I can see, there is nothing here but tall grass and an endless supply of bugs. I feel my way around with my hands, carefully moving forward with each step I take.

I gasp in surprise as my foot falls downward with my next step. I go tumbling and I have to hold back a scream. I catch myself on the edge of the hole that I have just fallen into, kicking with all my might and trying to get back up. My arms shake with my own weight. My breathing quickens.

“Howie!” I call. “Howie!”

He comes running. “Trey? Where are you?”

“To your left and downward!”

He whirls around again, and then finally spots me. He grabs my arms and hauls me up out of the hole.

“You okay?” he asks when I get my footing.

“Yeah,” I reply, breathless. He pulls out his cell phone and shines it down into the hole. I expect to see a giant dirt chasm, but instead, I see white walls spiraling downward. Howie sinks to his knees next to it. I follow suit.

The Prison Project [-Editing-]Dove le storie prendono vita. Scoprilo ora