I KICKED HIM.
Hard.
“YEEEOW!”
He jumped back, leaving a path between him and the cabin.
I ran for it.
Wes darted after me.
The crowd was closer now. Twenty yards behind me, tops.
As I glanced over my shoulder, I stumbled against something.
A shovel. Someone had left it leaning against the wall.
I fell to the ground.
Take it.
My fingers clasped the shovel handle.
I stood.
No time to think.
I ran to the fire. Pushed the shovel underneath.
I lifted a mass of pulsating orange. As I tossed it into the woods, it spat sparks like a comet.
The grass caught first, the flames immediately spreading to the brush and beyond, a rolling carpet of fire.
“RACHEL!” Wes yelled.
“What are you doing?” Mary Elizabeth pleaded.
I scooped a mass of burning ash and spun around toward Wes.
He backed away. “Rachel, we aren’t the enemy. Don’t do this.”
“You look afraid,” I said. “Why? You live forever, don’t you?” I turned toward the crowd now. “DON’T YOU?”
They were already dispersing. Running for water.
I saw flames licking the bark of the trees. Climbing upward. I could feel the heat of the gathering fire.
And beyond the flames, I saw a figure in the woods. A shadow of a man. Bent, bearded, dressed in a long slicker.
Facing me.
I stood, mesmerized. Wanting for him to come into the light.
But he didn’t move an inch.
“Have you lost your mind?” someone yelled out.
Maybe.
I flung the shovel aside and ran away from the fire. Into the darkness behind the cabins.
Into the trees.
I kept my arms out in front of me, fending away branches and trees. My feet sank into the sandy soil. Scrubby bushes scratched at my ankles. I pumped harder, until my thighs shrieked in protest.
Follow the breeze.
The sound of the ocean.
Where was it?
Lost.
I was lost.
Running blindly.
Suddenly the ground rose in front of me and I was pulling myself upward on vines and grasses, stumbling, gasping —
And then I fell.
Head over heels in the sand. Sand in my hair and eyes and mouth.
It stung. It scraped my dry throat. I stood up, coughing. As I tried to get my bearings, I staggered toward the silhouette of an old hulking
What?
Boat.
It was a boat and I was on a beach.
Alone.
I could hear the crowd. Somewhere. Far.
I felt the boat. It was solid metal. It had curved sides with an enormous, jagged gash. Flat top.
A submarine.
Great. Now what? I pilot it out of here with a yo ho ho and full steam ahead?
The voices were coming nearer.
I glanced toward the water.
In the moonlight, the cloud wall appeared thick and muddy. Where it ended, a path of amber-white led to the shore, illuminating a short, rickety dock.
Tethered to the dock were two rowboats.
Footsteps.
Closer now.
GO.
I ran onto the dock, untied one of the boats’ lanyards, and jumped in.
I pushed off hard. As the boat lazily floated away, I sat down and attached the oars to the oarlocks.
I was facing the cloud wall now.
Heading into its belly.
I could hear its roar. Waiting. Hungry.
Go.
I pulled hard on the right oar and the boat began to spin. I dug again. And again.
But it wasn’t turning right. It was fighting me.
I pulled harder on the oars, but I was moving the wrong way now, moving backward.
Backward?
I looked over my shoulder and saw a silhouette in the water. Wes.
Pulling the lanyard.
Pulling me back in. Climbing onto the dock.
I set down the oar.
And I jumped.