Reid grabbed a broken leg of the rocking chair that still lay in a heap, then marched up to the frosty window and repeatedly slapped it into his palm.
Heather stared at him, her gaze following his every move. The feeling of being needed, relied on by Heather, made him even more determined.
He nodded back to her. “I’m getting us out.”
“What about Alex? We can’t leave him.”
“We won’t.” Reid tapped the wooden leg in his hand. “I’m gonna get us outta this house. Once outside, you’re going for help and I’m going back inside to get Alex. But I need to make sure you’re clear of this house first.”
“But what if—”
“But nothing. This is the plan.”
She shook her head. “We should get Alex first, then come back for the window.”
Reid stopped tapping the broken leg on his palm, and faced her. “We will get Alex. I promise I’ll get him out. But this chance might not come again. This room might not be here when we come back for it after finding Alex.”
“But if that’s true, if we turn our backs on this window, it might go away forever.”
“I have to get you out. Now.”
“But—”
“But nothing. Trust me.” Even if it meant his own sacrifice, he was determined.
But what had he ever done to prove he was trustworthy? A bully, a jerk, a bad seed. He was the reason they were stuck in the house. The reason Danny and Clint were dead.
He swallowed down a lump of guilt. “Not now,” he whispered to himself. There would be time for regrets and guilt later.
Silence passed between them.
“Okay. It’s a good plan, Reid.”
“Here goes everything. Good thing this attic is on the first floor and not the third like my real attic.” His smile was forced and awkward.
He closed his eyes, quieting his mind. Once he opened them, he gripped the chair leg like a baseball bat and pulled it back like Carl Yastrzemski, about to smack one out of Fenway Park. He braced himself and firmed up his stance.
After saying a silent prayer, he wound up all the way and let it fly.
The leg went tearing through the glass and landed a few yards away, kicking up a cloud of snow around it.
He picked up another broken piece of wood and smacked out all the remaining shards of glass until he stared through an open window.
Cold air rushed in and assaulted his senses. The sting of it on his face never felt so good. He took a deep breath and coughed as the iciness tickled his throat. He reached out and felt flakes of snow. They quickly disappeared as they met with the heat of his hand.
He turned to Heather. “You first. That snow felt pretty soft—it’ll ease your landing. Now go.”
She gave him the biggest smile he’d ever seen before she went. Her eyes lit up like a Fourth of July sparkler and the sides of her mouth creased up almost to her ears. It made him feel lighter, hopeful for the first time in a long time.
She vaulted up and through the pane like a champion gymnast, springing through with ease.
Then he dove through head first, anticipating that the cold snow would envelop him.
But he realized it was a trick. Another illusion. There was no snow. Maybe there never had been. The chill from the cold fell away from his skin, and all he felt was defeat.
Heather slowly got to her feet. Reid’s body ached from the fall, but he was okay. He stood behind Heather and they looked down a long winding corridor. It seemed like it went on forever. His shoulders slumped at the realization that getting out of this house wouldn’t be so easy. Should’ve known better. He dropped his head, still hoping to see snow, but they weren’t outside on a New England winter day. They were trapped in a hallway that could be anywhere in this world, or some other strange world.
“You okay?” Reid asked.
“I’m not hurt. You?”
“No.” He sighed. “Sorry. I thought we had it this time.”
Heather didn’t answer.
Reid released a string of expletives that came bursting up through him like hot lava from a volcano. “Fuck, shit, goddamn son-of-a-bitch, whore-faced—”
“Stop it.”
“I fucked up.”
“Be quiet.”
“I’m sorry, Heather.”
“Seriously, snap your yap. I hear something. Can’t you?” She pointed down the corridor.
Reid lifted his head and closed his eyes. “No—well, yeah. Wait. I think I do.”
“Someone’s yelling.”
Heather took a step forward, but Reid yanked her back. She shook him free and took another step.
“It’s Alex.” She took another two steps. “Alex. He needs us. Let’s go.”
Before Reid could try to fight her, she was sprinting down the hall. He followed.
Tried to keep pace, but she was the Tasmanian devil, racing toward her brother and disregarding any dangers ahead.
Alex’s cries were getting closer, which seemed to fuel her fire even more.
Reid tried to call out to her, but she either didn’t listen or didn’t hear him. So he picked up his pace to keep her in his sight.
“Slow down, Heather.”
She didn’t listen.
“Stop. Come back.”
All of his pleas fell flat on the air around him. Useless words. He had to get to her physically. Make her listen. As he chased her, life threw out a wildcard. He realized too late what was about to happen. Alex came running around a sharp corner. Unable to do anything to stop it in time, he watched the scene unfold like a car crash in front of him.
“Get up! Get up! Go! Run!” Alex screamed. He pushed at his sister, trying to free her of the tangle. “It’s coming!”
Heather lay on the floor, dazed by the collision.
Alex fumbled about, trying to get up. After finally standing, he yanked her arm.
“Up! Up!”
But Heather didn’t look like she even knew where she was.
Time slowed, the milliseconds playing out like minutes for Reid, and he wondered if it was that way for Alex and Heather as well. He saw the shadows on the walls, dancing, swirling, dipping and tumbling around the corner, toward his friends. The whispers came with them.
“Watching.”
“Waiting.”
“Which will it be…”
The last word held too long, turning into a piercing squeal.
In Reid’s ears, a rhythmic drumbeat began, slowly, then built in intensity. His heart picked up on the rhythm and synced to it. An idea sprung into his mind and he closed his eyes and willed time to do another funny thing—shift to another place.
“Back in my attic,” he whispered. “Always safe in my attic. Back in the attic. Keep them safe in the attic.”
Over and over the words came, pouring over each other and running together so that he couldn’t understand them anymore. As he said the words, he heard another voice, from the inside, echoing his words. King Philip?
A distant beat rang out, though Reid wasn’t entirely sure if it was his heart or a drum.
He stole a peek at his friends, through a slit in his eye and saw Alex getting Heather to her feet. A ray of hope shot through him, and then his hopes were crushed when Heather cried out in pain.
“My ankle. I twisted my ankle!” She fell back to the floor.
And that was all the time the creature needed. It reached its shadowy claws out, inches from the curls on her head.
Reid shut his eyes tight and started his prayer once again.
“Back in the attic. Safe in my attic.”