73
One month before the Community
“Turn here,” the neighbor said suddenly. “Left! Sorry.”
Already halfway through the intersection, but the traffic lights were out and the streets were empty, so it didn’t matter.
The street was lush and tree-lined and somehow felt even darker than the one they’d left. She was probably only going fifteen miles per hour but it felt very fast in the gloom.
“Here,” the neighbor said. “The white one.”
The house—or what could be seen in the glow of the headlights, anyway—was laid out on a grand scale, taking up most of the lot, with fresh white paint and expensive landscaping. She pulled into the empty driveway.
“Are they home?” Zach asked.
“No, I’d know if they were in town,” the neighbor said. “His wife is some international business big-wig. They’re u
