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HER MIND WAS PLAYING tricks on her. That was it. Like kids who purposefully freak each other out telling ghost stories at summer camp until they can’t go to sleep all night. It was all in her imagination. She was doing this to herself.
The reason she didn’t find Roger was because he was buried so deeply in the debris. The reason he was buried so deeply was because he was a deplorable human being who had finally met God’s judgment. Simple as that. She had no reason to be afraid. He was a nightmare, and that was all.
He didn’t exist anymore.
Kennedy couldn’t see the shed in the moonlight, but she knew she must be getting close. Just a few more minutes, and she’d be inside. Together again with Willow and Brandy, and before long, this entire vacation would be nothing but a terrible memory.
Just like Roger was.
Something sounded behind her. She refused to look. Refused to give in to her childish fears.
There it was again. A footstep?
No. It was nothing more harmful than a squirrel. Did they have squirrels in Alaska? Whatever it was, it couldn’t hurt her. It wouldn’t ...
“Get back here, girl.”
Kennedy lunged ahead as if a few extra inches could save her from Roger’s grasp.
His fingers grazed the back of her coat, but he couldn’t hold on.
She surged forward, no longer aware of the cold but only of the burning in her lungs and the terror in her psyche.
A dream. A hallucination. She wished it were something that innocuous but knew from the pain as tree branches whipped across her face that she was stuck here in reality.
She had no other thought but to get to safety. Screaming now, as if the extra exertion could somehow lend her more energy.
Someone was standing in the doorway of the shed. Was Willow waiting for her?
She didn’t know what else to do but run. That was her only plan. Into the shed. If Willow was there, if she saw what was happening, maybe they’d find a way to barricade themselves in.
Closer now. She was shouting warnings, at least she thought they were warnings. Her brain was so focused on escape she wasn’t even sure what she was saying. She just had to trust that Willow ...
Except it wasn’t Willow in the doorway. It was Brandy. Her huge swell of a belly protruded out in front of her. She stood with one hand behind her back looking peaceful and serene.
“Out of the way!” Kennedy tried to yell. Had the poor girl lost her mind? Had her imprisonment driven her insane?
Kennedy raced past the threshold of the cabin, nearly plowing into Willow, who was waiting for her with outspread arms. She tried to pull Brandy inside, but Willow held her back. “Wait.”
Roger stopped a few paces away from Brandy. “What are you doing off your wall, girl? Did I tell you to come outside?”
“I got scared. I was waiting for you. I thought something bad might have happened.”
“Something bad will happen all right if you don’t get back on that wall,” he snarled.
Kennedy sank into the shadows but kept her mind focused and alert in case Brandy needed her help. Roger was drunk and couldn’t have gotten out of that wreckage uninjured. The three of them could fight him off. They would find a way.
“Come on.” Roger’s voice was calmer now. Steadier. He took Brandy by the hand and led her as if she were a child to her chains. “You know this is for your own protection,” he crooned.
“Yeah,” she answered submissively. “I know. But before I go back on the wall, will you hold me for a minute? I got really scared. I thought you were hurt. Those two girls told me your cabin was destroyed.”
He scoffed quietly. “They’re just jealous. That’s what. You don’t pay them any mind, ok? You know I love you most. I always have, and I always will.”
He wrapped his arms around her.
Kennedy glanced at Willow, wondering what they were doing waiting here in the shadows. If a pregnant girl wanted to allow herself to get chained back up on a wall in a shed that might collapse at the slightest hint of another aftershock, was there anything Kennedy or Willow could do?
“Hold me,” Brandy pleaded. Her voice was so small, Kennedy thought she sounded more like a ten- or eleven-year-old than a grown woman. Pity gripped her soul and held her feet in place even while her brain begged her to run. She watched sadly while Roger held Brandy, murmuring kind words into her ear.
“You’re so sweet,” she said, but something in her voice had changed. Roger must have noticed it too. He pulled away as Brandy reached into his back pocket.
“This is for what you did to me.” Brandy plunged his knife into his abdomen, pulled it back out, and hacked again.