His head was throbbing. It felt like he was in a tunnel. When Luke opened his eyes, he was completely disoriented. Where was he? Why was it dark? What had happened? Was he back in the Virginia cabin? Had the past three years been a dream?
Time was playing tricks on him. He was drowsy, coming in and out of consciousness. All he knew was that he had to remember. There was some urgency. Something bad had transpired. He needed to wake up. But what was it?
Then it all came flooding back to him. Mr. Crawford was the killer! Mr. Crawford, the “cool teacher,” the one everyone worshipped, had murdered Mrs. Heckler. And now it looked like he planned on murdering Luke.
Luke tried to move around, but he discovered that his hands were tied behind his back and his feet were tied together. Not only that, but he felt dizzy. Where was he? He turned his head and looked around. It was pitch black; he couldn’t see anything.
Luke wanted to scream, but there was tape on his mouth. It twisted and yanked at his skin when he tried to open his mouth. He pulled himself forward, but his arms were pinned behind him and tied to a pole. Where was he? Somewhere underground?
When he twisted his body again, something brushed against him, and he recoiled. Keep cool, Luke reprimanded himself. Remember that you’ve been through this before, and you got out. He moved his body so he could once again graze against whatever was in there with him and was momentarily flooded with relief when he realized it must be clothes. He was in a walk-in closet. But now he had to escape.
His heart started beating rapidly. He felt that wave of nausea that comes with claustrophobia. He had to remain calm. He pulled again at his arms, but the knot was secure. His fingers traced the rope, and indeed it was taut. There was no way he could untie it by yanking. He rubbed his arms against the pole. What was it? It felt like metal. Maybe it was a table?
He had to calm down. He didn’t want his fate to be the same as Mrs. Heckler’s. Last time he had been tied up, he had used extreme patience to whittle away at the ropes with a small safety pin. It had taken days, but he’d finally cut through. He needed to summon that quiet determination to keep his head sane and find a way out of this mess. Luke leaned forward again and tried to reach his feet. No luck. He shimmied down the table, trying to lift it up, but it was securely bolted to the floor.
Maybe someone would realize he was gone? If only he had a roommate! Was it already Saturday? Maybe his teachers would wonder why he missed class. But he only had two classes, and the person they’d be notifying was his adviser, Mr. Crawford, so that wouldn’t do any good. Maybe Pippa would look for him? He had promised to meet her at Animal Hour. Or would she think he had blown her off? Was he really trapped?
Luke jiggled his body and felt something against his butt. The knife! It was still in his back pocket. Hope rushed through his veins. He was suddenly so elated his pulse quickened. All he had to do was retrieve it and try to cut off the ropes. Luke bent his knee, hoping the movement would propel the knife out of his pocket. No luck. What if he slid back and forth? Luke tried it. It didn’t seem to help; the knife remained firmly in his pants. He arched his body forward and tried to place his butt and his back pocket against the pole that he was tied to. His abs and glutes were burning. It took several minutes, but finally Luke was able to work the knife to the top of his pocket. Just once more push. Yes! The knife fell with a clink to the floor.
Luke felt around for the knife with his upper arm, frustrated that he didn’t have the use of his hands. When he located it, he bent his elbow, and dragged it along to his fingers, which he splayed out in order to catch it. He had to stop for a second. It was hot, and sweat was pouring down his face. His throat was sore and parched, and he found himself craving water. Just a drop would feel so nice! He had to remain strong; it was the only way. He took some deep, controlled breaths through his nose to calm himself.
He resumed his efforts and tried to snap open the knife. It took several attempts with shaky hands, but he finally opened it. Now was the tedious part: sawing through the rope. Luke used slow strokes to cut it. He had to stop several times to relax; his body was tensing up from the small motions, and his fingers were cramping. Finally the first layer of rope started to crack. Excited, Luke beefed up his effort. Back and forth, back and forth. Luke was feeling more and more comfortable with the knife. He’d used hunting knives tons of times with his grandfather, gathering firewood, setting up camps, and dressing game. This shouldn’t be a problem.
Dammit! He’d cut himself. His cockiness had made him careless, and now he could feel the blood trickling down his left hand. It burned like hell. He prayed he hadn’t hit a major blood vessel. Luke started to sweat more. He took some deep breaths then restarted his cutting. Every time he flicked his wrist, he felt a sting. He ignored the pain, and slowly kept to the task at hand.
The fact that Mr. Crawford had this rope made Luke’s blood curdle. What had he planned on using it for? How could everyone be so taken in by this psychopath? He had dismissed Mr. Crawford completely. He was a good ol’ boy.
Out of the same mold as Luke and Oscar. Suddenly something in his mind stirred. Mr. Crawford was here a decade ago as a student. What if he was the Southborough Strangler? What if he got his start back then? Who knew what kind of monster he could be?
He had to track him down. Before… Oh God! Before Mr. Crawford went to the fair and found Pippa. In the maze. It would be the perfect place to kill someone. And for sure he thought Pippa was involved since he had seen her wearing the bracelet. The bracelet that he had no doubt planted in Luke’s locker.
Luke worked furiously on the rope, as if his life depended on it, which it did. Blood was pooling into a sticky mess in the palm of his left hand. It was impossible for the blood to coagulate since he kept moving, but he didn’t have time to spare. What time was it? And was Pippa safe? Must work harder, Luke chanted in his head. Must work harder!
Broken! Yes, he had freed one hand! He immediately ripped off the tape that covered his mouth.
“Hello!” yelled Luke. “Hello?”
Silence. Wherever he was, there was no one else there.
Quickly Luke glanced at his watch. Luckily the numbers glowed in the dark. Almost twelve o’clock. Pippa would be at the maze already, wondering where he was, and not knowing what danger she was in.
Rather than scream, which he somehow knew would be futile, he decided to continue his efforts to free himself. That way if Mr. Crawford were somewhere close by, he’d be ready to take him on. Luke did small circular motions with his shoulder in order to loosen it up. He’d definitely be sore if he made it through this ordeal.
Luke grabbed some of his shirt to press on his cut. He held it there for a few seconds, hoping the pressure would make the bleeding stop. He could feel the blood seeping into his shirt. He was hurt badly, but he had to keep going.
It was much faster to free his feet. He worked at top speed, ripping through the threads with his knife. Then Luke glanced around the darkness, trying to establish where he was. He was terrified to touch the walls or any other part of the room, for fear he might touch another body, but he had no choice. He felt around on the floor but didn’t come across any corpses, thank God.
When he hoisted himself up, his head banged into the pole that held rows of shirts on hangers. Luke felt around on the walls, trying to locate the exit. They were padded, in some sort of felt material. When he found the doorknob it was, of course, locked. He pulled it back and forth, but it wouldn’t open. There had to be a light switch, thought Luke, running his hand along the wall. Bingo!
It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the light. Luke’s eyes flitted around. If someone were to open the door, it would appear that it was a normal walk-in closet. Mr. Crawford’s clothes hung neatly, and on the side there were a few pairs of shoes. But in the back was a metal table, which is what Luke had been tied to. And hanging over it was a rack that held various masks. They were mostly ski masks, but there was one leather hood. Luke shuddered. What went on here? Had Mr. Crawford been up to something sick, right in the dorm, just feet from where students slept?
There was not a moment to linger; it was time to escape. Luke stuck his knife in the lock and tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. He bent down and slid the knife between the door and its bolt plate. He moved it up and down, jiggling it at a side angle, jimmying the lock. Finally he heard a pop. The door was unlocked! He had been lucky twice in his life, at the most important moments.
Still clutching the knife in one hand, he pushed the door open with his other hand, stumbled out, and found himself in Mr. Crawford’s bedroom. He was alone. He glanced at the digital clock next to the bed. It read 12:15 p.m. Everyone was at the fair. Including Pippa, waiting for him at the maze. Mr. Crawford probably planned on grabbing Pippa before murdering both of them. Luke had to help her.
He ran out of the dorm, praying he wouldn’t be too late. The campus was empty. A thick layer of fog had nestled over the school, swallowing the tops of buildings. In the distance, a security guard emerged out of the heavy mist. Luke was tempted to run to him, tell him to call for help, but he didn’t have time to waste; he had to get to the fair. He had to save Pippa.
Luke dashed down the path to the stoplight that would allow him to cross Route 443 to the farm. He jogged in place, waiting for a passing car to go by. He was tired, but he knew he had no choice. Suddenly his attention was drawn to the row of white clapboard faculty houses to his left. Luke squinted to see what the commotion was. A large crowd had gathered in front of Dean Heckler’s house, and more people were pouring out of buildings, making their way toward it. Police cars with flashing lights surrounded the house, and policemen were erecting barriers to keep people at bay. Luke ran toward them.
He scanned the crowd. “What’s going on?” he asked a baby-faced first-year.
“They’re arresting Dean Heckler for his wife’s murder!” the first-year said with excitement.
“What?” asked Luke, stunned.
“They found some major evidence and nailed him. They’re in there right now cuffing him!”
“They’re wrong!” said Luke. He pushed past a throng of students and made his way to a police officer.
“What’s happening?” asked Luke, frantically.
“Step back, please, young man.”
“If you’re arresting Dean Heckler, you’ve got the wrong guy. It’s not him. It’s Mr. Crawford. Skip Crawford is the killer!”
The policeman gave Luke a dismissive look. “Young man, you have to step back.”
“Seriously, where’s the chief? I need to talk to him!” implored Luke.
“He’s not available, and this is the last time I’m going to ask you, get back,” said the policeman, firmly pushing Luke behind the barrier.
Luke was swept along with the crowd. He felt as if he were in the ocean, caught up in rough waves and pulled by a strong undertow. Every time he saw someone he knew, someone he wanted to confide in, he was hurled in a different direction before he could get to them. The crowd was thirsty for justice.
“What’s going on, man?”
It was Andy. Luke turned to him and felt a surge of relief. “Andy! We’ve got to tell them, they’re arresting the wrong guy. Mr. Crawford killed Mrs. Heckler. He tied me up in his room, he threatened me.”
“Dude, what happened to your arm?” asked Andy, recoiling.
Luke glanced down at his wrist, which was still bleeding. “I cut myself trying to escape.”
Andy gave him a strange look. “Escape?”
“Yes! Mr. Crawford tied me up! He’s the murderer.”
Andy gave Luke a quizzical look. “But they say it’s Heckler. They found his wife’s bracelet in his glove compartment. The one some witness said she was wearing the night she died, when he was supposedly in Boston.”
The bracelet! That meant Crawford had gotten it from Pippa! Luke’s stomach churned. He had to get to the maze.
“Andy, tell the police to come to the maze and get Crawford! He tied me up, tried to kill me!”
“Dude, are you sure you’re not having some sort of flashback?” asked Andy.
“He’s going to kill Pippa!”
Andy stared at him again and then his eyes widened. “What’s with the knife?”
Luke glanced down. He had forgotten that he was still clutching it. He slid it into his pocket.
“It’s nothing.”
“Luke, I think you should go see the nurse,” Andy said slowly, as if Luke couldn’t understand him.
Luke sighed with extreme frustration and took off. He didn’t have time to convince people that he wasn’t insane. Why couldn’t they just believe him? Was he really considered so delicate that he would have a breakdown and freak out?
Luke shoved his way through the crowd that was now several layers deep. It looked like everyone on campus—from town even—had come to witness this arrest. But they didn’t know the police had the wrong man! A cold-blooded killer was still lurking in their midst.
Luke extricated himself with effort from the bystanders and ran opposite the flow back to the streetlight and waited again for it to turn. He saw two passing security guards and shouted out to them.
“Tell the police to come to the maze! There’s going to be a murder at the maze!”
But his warning fell on deaf ears. They both gave him an odd look and continued on their way to Heckler’s house. People continued to flood past him, some even jogging briskly. It was like an accident, people couldn’t look away. They all wanted to see the dean taken down.
As soon as the stoplight turned green, Luke ran across the street and through the entrance, where there was a giant banner proclaiming AUTUMN HARVEST FAIR. The fair was practically deserted. Everyone had clearly heard the news of the imminent arrest and most had abandoned their activities to go see it firsthand. Luke made his way past rows and rows of booths where anonymous farmers and organic food sellers had only moments ago been purveying their goods. Everything from produce and breads to fresh jams had been forgotten. The place was a ghost town.
Luke kept up his speed and raced toward the maze. He passed a table that was set up for face painting and pumpkin carving. It was empty. On another table children’s art projects had been hastily forsaken by parents eager to witness a murderer being taken into custody. But it’s the wrong man! The murderer’s still on the loose! Luke wanted to shout. Probably here inside this very fair!
By the time Luke got to the back of the fairgrounds, he was out of breath and heaving so hard it felt as if his lungs would collapse. The maze was situated at the very edge of the cleared field. The entrance was a small gash that had been hacked through the enormous, overgrown stalks of corn. Luke stared at the imperious fortress and felt a sense of foreboding. The farmer had let the corn grow as high as possible, and their tangled leaves wove together into a thick, impenetrable wall. Was Pippa already here? Would he even be able to find her if she were?
Clutching his stomach, which had a sharp pain from his running, Luke hobbled into the maze. Immediately his surroundings darkened. He glanced up at the sky and saw that pregnant clouds were gathering and ready to burst. The day was rapidly growing grayer, gearing up for the dreaded rain that the meteorologist had promised. The air hung heavy over the cornfield.
Luke stared at the paths in front of him. He could go left or right. Taking a gamble, he gathered his energy and started down the dirt path to the left. He moved as quickly as possible, rendering the stalks of corn a whirling sea of beige in his peripheral vision. He followed the path to another left and then bang! He stopped in his tracks. It was a dead end.
“Dammit!” cursed Luke.
In order to contribute to the Halloween effect, the caretakers of the maze had added skeletons and lifelike ghouls in every corner. At this corner was a plastic skeleton hanging in a makeshift noose with a sign tacked on it that said, TRY AGAIN, SUCKER! Luke ripped off the sign in frustration and turned back to retrace his steps. When he got back to the entrance, he took the right turn. He jogged a bit before he was confronted with another choice to go left or right. This time, Luke went right.
The path was narrower this time, and Luke had to push through drooping cornstalks that were obstructing his way. The wind picked up and starting lifting leaves off the ground. Luke quickened his pace.
“Help!”
Luke heard a voice in the distance. He froze. “Pippa! Is that you?”
He waited, but there was silence. Luke started running in the direction of the voice, smashing the stalks from side to side. They fell aside, then hurled back and whipped him in the face. He felt blind, like a rat in a cage. He got to an opening and glanced left.
“Help!”
Luke jerked his head to the right, just in time to see Mr. Crawford dragging Pippa down a path before whipping around a corner. Luke followed in pursuit.
“Pippa! I’m coming!” he yelled.
Luke could feel his heart thudding in his chest. He felt pain all over his body, but adrenaline was pushing him forward.
Pippa screamed again. Luke flung himself around the corner and wham!
Extreme pain.
It took a second for Luke to realize that he had fallen on his face. His eyes flickered open, and he saw only darkness. A large, throbbing ache burst in his forehead. Luke rolled himself over, writhing in agony.
When his vision returned, he hoisted his body up enough to see Mr. Crawford running forward, dragging Pippa with him. He had obviously lay in wait to knock Luke out.
Luke sat up and clasped his head in his hands. Then he stared at his wrist, where dirt and pine needles now clung to the crusted blood in his open wound. There was no doubt it would get infected.
Taking a deep breath, Luke pulled himself up. His legs were resistant and almost gave way. But he had no choice. He summoned his energy and followed the direction that Mr. Crawford had taken. All he could think of was the look in Pippa’s eyes. Extreme fear. Had Mrs. Heckler had that same look when she was strangled?
The town had prided itself that the maze was the biggest in Connecticut, boasting that it was almost two miles long. What had once seemed cool to Luke was now his worst nightmare. People got lost in here for hours; there was no way to tell who came in or out. Would he be able to get to Pippa in time? And if Mr. Crawford was able to get out of the maze before him, he would have no problem dragging Pippa away to a waiting car. Everyone was over at Dean Heckler’s house—it was the perfect diversion. Luke shuddered.
Hobbling along like a wounded bird himself, Luke got to another fork. A witch’s head was hooked on a branch, her googly eyes rolling in circles. Still no sign of Pippa or Mr. Crawford. There were so many twists and turns, it was outrageous. Luke glanced at the ground, trying to see if there were any tracks. On the right, it looked like there were large shoes and next to it, marks that looked like something had been dragged. Pippa. He followed them. A large clap of thunder sounded, and Luke glanced at the sky. It looked angry, dark, and mysterious. In a minute there would be a downpour. Then everyone would disperse and head home and there would be no chance of getting help.
Luke pushed himself harder. He was dizzy and light-headed. He hadn’t eaten or had anything to drink for hours, and that—along with the drug he was given, his cut, the hit to his skull, and subsequent fall—was severely draining. His adrenaline kept him moving, but he felt as if he were fading. He had to hang on. He had to save her.
Finally after racing around, gasping for breath, Luke rounded a corner and saw them.
“Luke!” screamed Pippa, but her voice was muffled by Mr. Crawford’s hand around her mouth.
With every ounce of courage and strength he had left, Luke ran after them. When he spun around the corner, he saw that Mr. Crawford was still hanging on to Pippa. He had his arm tightly secured around her neck, so that she was almost choking. Mr. Crawford was moving quickly, but he was at a crossroads and would have to move fast.
Luke was closing in on Mr. Crawford, and they both knew it. Mr. Crawford was leading them down a path, but the plastic ghost at the end of the alley alerted them to the fact that it was a dead end. Finally Luke had Mr. Crawford trapped.
Mr. Crawford stopped abruptly and turned around. He readjusted his grip around Pippa’s neck. Her arms flailed wildly, and she began thrashing around, trying to free herself. She was starting to suffocate.
“Let her go!” yelled Luke.
Mr. Crawford smirked. “Back off, Chase. I want you to stay here and count to a thousand while we take off.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because if you don’t, I’ll kill Pippa.”
Mr. Crawford bent his elbow even tighter around Pippa’s neck.
“Let her go! If you kill her, it’s just one more body. Everyone knows it’s you who did this!”
Mr. Crawford threw his head back and laughed.
“That’s where you’re wrong! When Pippa dies, they’re going to think it’s you who killed her.”
Luke’s eyes remained on Pippa. Her hands were wildly trying to unclench Mr. Crawford’s grip from her neck. She didn’t have much time. Mr. Crawford was slowly asphyxiating her.
“How’s that?” asked Luke, slowly taking a small step toward Mr. Crawford.
“When the police search your room, they’ll find a shrine to Pippa. Love letters, photos, stuff like that. They’ll think she rejected you, you lost it, and attacked her.”
“They’ll never believe it.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Everyone expects you to snap one day. After what happened to you, it’s impossible to be normal. You’re a ticking time bomb!”
Luke’s eyes flitted to Pippa. She was struggling to breathe. Luke lunged, and Mr. Crawford had no choice but to release Pippa as they fell to the ground. Luke heard her gasp for air just as Mr. Crawford dug his nails into Luke’s gashed wrist and kneed him in the chest. Luke recoiled in pain. Mr. Crawford started to scramble away, but Luke grabbed his leg and slid him back under his body, pressing down to hold him. Next Mr. Crawford freed his arm and punched Luke in the face.
Luke howled in pain. He used all of his strength to push Mr. Crawford’s arms down to his sides. Luke could see his own arms shaking, and his cut from the knife had reopened and started to gush again. The knife! Luke tried to pull it out of his back pocket, but before he could, Mr. Crawford spat at Luke, causing him to twitch and momentarily lessen his grip, and Mr. Crawford used that moment to his advantage. Rolling to his side, he swiveled out from under Luke and stood up, putting his fists in the air and doing a dance around Luke.
Luke, in turn, stood up and grabbed the knife from his pocket.
There was another clap of thunder, and then the rain began to fall. It came on strong, pouring down in angry and aggressive pellets.
Luke held up the knife. “You know I’m not afraid to use this. And look around. Pippa’s gone, probably to get the police. It’s over.”
Mr. Crawford laughed. It was an eerie, empty laugh. He seemed deflated, but not yet defeated.
Luke felt the rain washing all the dirt off him, and he finally started to relax. Pippa was alive. He had a knife. The police would arrive soon. He bent down to steady himself and just as he did, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mr. Crawford’s foot. It knocked Luke to the ground, but more importantly, knocked the knife out of Luke’s hand.
“You think I’d be that easy?” asked Mr. Crawford. He grabbed the knife and flashed it over Luke. How could Luke have been so stupid? Anyone knows you never let down your guard. Could it really end this way?
Something caught Luke’s eye. Mr. Tadeckis, his long face illuminated in the flashing lightning, was standing against the corn behind Mr. Crawford. Luke’s eyes widened, and Mr. Crawford followed Luke’s gaze.
“Skippy, you really shouldn’t,” said Mr. Tadeckis, picking up Mr. Crawford and slamming him against the ground. Luke scrambled and grabbed the knife back from Mr. Crawford and placed it against Mr. Crawford’s throat.
“One move and you’re toast, and I mean it this time,” said Luke.
Mr. Crawford’s eyes flitted from Mr. Tadeckis to Luke.
“Don’t even try it,” said Luke.
Mr. Crawford’s body went limp. This time Luke knew he wasn’t going to fight.
“Was it really worth it?” asked Luke.
Mr. Crawford turned his head away.
Luke held him down. A flash of lightning flickered across the sky, and the rain continued its heavy descent.
“Thanks, Mr. Tadeckis,” Luke said, looking around.
But Mr. Tadeckis was gone.
Just then, Headmaster Thompson rounded the corner with the police. They immediately rushed over and took Mr. Crawford from Luke.
“Are you okay?” asked Chief Corcoran, putting a protective hand on Luke’s shoulder.
“I will be,” said Luke, rising and wiping hay from his shirt.
“What happened?” the chief asked.
“Mr. Crawford’s the real murderer.”
The chief yanked Mr. Crawford up while his deputy cuffed him. Luke watched, zombie-like, as they read Mr. Crawford his rights and whisked him away. Mr. Crawford had a small, eerie grin on his face the entire time. Something about his calm, satisfied demeanor gave Luke a chill.
Luke looked down at his wrist. Blood was still pouring out of it; this would leave a worse scar than the ones he already had.
“Pippa,” he said urgently to the headmaster. “Where’s Pippa?”
“She’s safe,” Headmaster Thompson said. “The medics are attending to her now. She’s near the maze entrance; she told us where you were.”
Luke followed the direction of the flashing red lights and found her on a stretcher outside an ambulance.
They hugged each other tightly, not caring about the police or the medics who were surrounding them.
“You’re a hero,” Pippa gasped, her voice barely audible. “There’s no getting around it this time. You’re an actual hero.”