Trapped

by Sally Mason

  “Do you think I’ll ever be able to have a boyfriend?”

  I remember what Finn told me. “It’s up to you to fight for your happiness; no one else will do it for you. I lived for over three years in total misery and it took your kidnapping to wake me up. Don’t worry, I’ll help you get through this.”

  A tear rolls down her cheek. “I’m just so glad I’m not alone. I can’t even imagine how hard it must’ve been for you when there was no one around who had your back.”

  This is not the time to wallow in self-pity. “Let’s go.”

  She takes my offered hand and I pull her on her feet.

  “Where’s the phone?”

  I grimace. “Jed was lying on it and there was no way to get it without waking him up. We’ll call the police as soon as we’re safe.”

  Her head points to the bed. “This is everything I found. Where are our shoes and coats?”

  I curse myself. “I forgot. Jed almost caught me and all I could think of was getting back in here. Let’s grab them on our way out.”

  The next minutes are spent to transform us into Artic explorers. We layer up on thermo underwear under two sets of jogging pants with several short and long-sleeved t-shirts covered by warm wool sweaters. I just hope I will still manage to get into my boots with the three pairs of socks I’m wearing.

  I wrap a scarf around my neck which I can also pull up to cover my mouth and tie another one around my head like a bandana. Hallie opts for one of Jed’s beanies and pulls it far over her ears. Her scarf is even thicker than mine and scratchy, her skin reddened when she can’t stop itching her neck. Sweat pearls on my forehead; it’s now stifling in the room.

  “Ready?”

  She nods and wraps a small blanket around Maisie. “Let’s do this.”

  I peek my head into the living room, but Jed is back asleep, snoring like he’s planning to tear down the house. We scurry over the floor like little mice and halt by the closet. It is locked.

  “Damn it,” I silently curse, starting to fumble with the keys. I get lucky, the third one fits. The door swings open with a loud squeak. Goosebumps spring up when my eyes dart to Jed, but he is just drooling in his sleep, oblivious to our latest scheming.

  With trembling fingers, I slide into my boots, glad that I went for the unfashionable combat-style model which cost $300. My mom almost had a seizure when she saw the price and forced me to buy a larger size with room to grow. My socked foot slides easily inside. With fast fingers, I begin to tie the shoelaces.

  Hallie is not so lucky and cannot get into her shoes which are flat ankle boots. Her feet will be frozen within minutes if she only puts on a pair of flimsy socks like she wore this afternoon. It was a miracle that she was even able to run that fast in the snow, but her boots are totally impractical on the ice.

  I point at Jed’s working boots. “Put those on. The van is parked right outside.”

  While she fastens the straps, I turn toward the front door, the last barrier between our prison and the outside. This time, I find the right key on the first try. When the door swings open, I brace myself for more squeaking, but the hinges must be oiled well. Only the howling wind greets us. A cold breeze floats in, heading right for Jed, who stirs in response.

  My hand finds the light switch for the outside lanterns. I usher Hallie with Maisie in her arms outside, glancing one more time at my tormentor before pulling the door quietly shut behind me. The cold wind hits me full force as soon as I step out of the house’s shelter and chills me right to the bone despite all the protective clothing. Freezing rain stings my face like little daggers, the downpour turning into ice right in front of my feet. I pull the scarf up so only my eyes are showing.

  When I take a step forward, I land on my butt. Frozen in shock, I stare at the door, certain that the thump woke up Jed. When all stays quiet, I let out a sigh. “Be careful, Hallie. It’s real slippery.”

  She hangs onto the banister, staring at me with wide eyes. “Do you think it’s a good idea? It hasn’t been this bad in years.”

  I roll my eyes. “Unless you want to go back inside, there is only one way out of here and that’s down those steps.”

  My feet move forward slowly, making sure I have solid footing before shifting my weight to my other leg. Progress is slower than a snail on the worst of days. My knees are wobbly; in my mind, I’m back on the ice rink for the first time when I was little. I remember my mom’s words—always find your center. After that, it becomes easier.

  I get to the top of the stairs and slowly make my descent. The freezing wind hits me like a wall. I get down on my butt and slide from step to step until I reach the bottom. As I turn to tell Hallie to do the same, she loses her balance. With a small yelp, her feet fly toward me, her arms instinctively cradling the puppy into the crooks of her elbows for protection. When she hits the frozen snow pile next to me, pain spreads across her face.

  “Are you okay?” I shout over the howling wind.

  Maisie has freed herself and is shuffling around at the bottom of the stairs, trying to find a hiding place. I grab her and shove her inside my coat where her warm body wiggles around in panic.

  Hallie tries to stand up, but her knees buckle. Her face twists in pain. “I can’t put any weight on my right foot.”

  I slide my arm around her waist and drag her toward the van. With gritted teeth, she hops along on one foot, pain burning in her eyes. Luckily, the area between the steps and the van has been cleared before and is not as slippery as the rest of the way. Yet by the time we make it inside the vehicle, my legs are so numb that I can hardly feel them. Maisie is deposited on the backseat and goes into hiding.

  Hallie leans back in her seat, whimpering. “I think my ankle is broken. It hurts like hell.”

  “I’ll take you to the hospital and they can call the cops for us.” I start the car. “Check the glove compartment. Some people keep painkillers in there.”

  Hallie pops the compartment open and grins. “Look what I found.” She pulls my cell phone from the dark space.

  Finally, something works in our favor. “Does it turn on?” I ask while shifting into first gear. The car rolls forward as soon as I release the emergency break, but I am careful not to accelerate too much because of the ice.

  She shakes her head. “No, it’s totally dead.” She pops the back open. “The battery is gone. Jed must have taken it out.”

  I curse under my breath. “Check in the glove compartment. Maybe he stuck it in there.”

  My eyes focus on the road. It is dark inside the car, only the green digits of the clock on the radio cover the dashboard in a surreal light. It’s just before ten. I am tempted to turn on the radio to drown out Maisie’s whining in the back, which is nerve-racking. Hopefully she didn’t get hurt as well, but I’m reluctant to ask Hallie to check on her. Every one of Hallie’s moves is accompanied by a low hiss—she must be in a lot of pain.

  “I found it,” she suddenly announces.

  I glance at her while she pops the battery into the phone. “Does it turn on?”

  The van is having trouble climbing a hill and I accelerate, my full attention focused on the task. I remember Luke telling me that I need to gain momentum on an icy road when I drive up an incline or the car will stall and roll backward.

  “What’s your pin?” Hallie asks.

  “Two, six, nine, two,” I reply absentmindedly, my eyes squinting at the road ahead. It looks like there is a curve on top of the hill, but it’s hard to make out in the headlights. To the right and the left of us, the woods lay in total darkness. The wind rattles the van, making it hard to drive straight. My wrists hurt from my tight grip on the steering wheel.

  “Okay, I got in,” Hallie says. “It’ll take a few minutes to find a network.”

  I grumble something under my breath, my gaze glued on the road. The top of the hill is approaching too fast and I steer frantically to the right to make the curve. The van is not responding, heading straight for a huge snowbank at reco
rd speed.

  In a panic, I yank at the steering wheel at the same time I slam on the brakes. The car swerves before turning into a spin. I lose all sense of direction as the van spins faster and faster until it is finally stopped by the force of a tree. The screeching sound of bending metal is painful. My eyes try to find a focus, but the forest keeps spiraling out of control. Dizziness twirls in my head. When the airbag blows, my face slams into the cushion, which isn’t soft upon impact. Hallie’s piercing scream is the last thing I hear before my head threatens to break into pieces. With the consuming pain comes the darkness which completely swallows me up.

  CHAPTER 23

  The coldness has soaked through every layer of my clothing when I try to pry my eyes open. A dull pounding in my head competes with the nausea in my throat; it is easier to drift back into the nothing than fight to stay awake. The cycle repeats itself, but I can’t fight the cold darkness. It’s like someone has stuck my eyelashes together with superglue.

  When something wet and rough tickles my nose, I finally force my eyes open. Maisie is crawling around on my chest, busy with licking a sticky substance off my face. As her tongue swipes at my forehead, a sharp pain shoots through my skull. Probing with my fingers, I hiss—there is a cut just above my eyebrow, which is bleeding heavily.

  I push Maisie away when she tries to lick me again and sit up. My chest hurts from the collision with the airbag though the pain doesn’t worsen when I breathe in and out. I take it as a sign that my injury can’t be too serious. Wriggling my fingers and toes, I let out a sigh of relief—the rest of my body appears to be intact. Maisie is panting and moving around without any effort. That only leaves Hallie.

  My hand reaches over to her and gently strokes her hand. Her skin is freezing cold and for a second, my heart stills. “Hallie? Are you okay?”

  A small moan drifts over from her side. “I’m alright, I think.”

  The air escapes my mouth with a sigh. Her speech is clear, which is good. With my shoulder, I push against the door but it doesn’t budge an inch. I glance around as much as my stiff neck allows, but I can’t make out anything in the darkness. Turning the key in the ignition, the radio clock springs to life. It is just past midnight. We have been in this car for hours and will get hypothermia if we don’t start moving soon.

  My fingers run over the carpeted ceiling by the mirror until I find the switch for the interior light. I gasp when the extent of the damage registers. The tree has totally smashed the back seat. Several thick branches block my exit and the tree is at such an angle that I cannot climb out through the back. The fact that I am trapped once again makes me shudder.

  “Hallie, can you get out?”

  She cries softly as she pushes open the door before heaving herself out of the car with a low growl. A freezing draft blows through the van, but it has stopped raining. Light snow flakes fall instead. I push Maisie toward the opening, but she takes one whiff and decides to hide in the footwell. I curse under my breath as I crawl over the seat—not that I blame her. It’s dark and miserable out there.

  My head hurts with every move and warm blood trickles down into the collar of my coat. With every passing second, the soreness in my body worsens. I clench my teeth and push on, though I’m uncertain how long I will be able to continue without collapsing. The exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours is settling in; the adrenaline rush I felt during the escape has evaporated into thin air. All I want is to lie down and close my eyes. In a fleeting moment, the memories of my mom’s hot cocoa and lullabies stifle my breath before I remind myself that I have no time to wallow in nostalgia.

  When I finally make it outside, I’m greeted by a gust of wind, the force almost knocking me off my feet. My teeth chatter uncontrollably and shivers battle my body. Hallie is half leaning, half holding onto the van, balancing herself on one foot. Wetness glistens in her eyes as she regards me with a clenched jaw—I can tell she’s in a lot of pain. The van is totaled. My gaze wanders aimlessly around in the darkness. What are we going to do?

  “Where’s the phone?” I ask her.

  She pulls it from her pocket and hands it to me.

  No signal.

  “Damn it!” If there’s truly a guardian angel up there, he and I need to have a serious chat.

  I use the light from the phone to find my way to the back of the van and open the door. Jed’s tool box is right in front of me. I snatch a flashlight that could be used as a weapon before grabbing a crowbar. After a good shake, the flashlight flickers to life, casting the area around the van in a bright glow.

  Directing the beam at the road, I scout out the path that winds through the forest. If it wasn’t for the cold, it would be a magical winter wonderland, but with the storm, nature is as big an enemy as Jed and Napoleon.

  My gaze returns to the road we just came from and I ponder whether we should try to walk back toward the cabin in hopes of getting a signal closer to the lake. We could hide under the porch if things get too bad. Even being with Jed might be better than freezing to death.

  The path ahead ends in darkness—it could be miles to civilization. Yet it’s the route to the main road, and at some point, the phone should pick up a signal. I shine the light in Hallie’s face, who is paler than a ghost—she won’t make it far without breaking down. We could hide in the back of the van until the storm eases, but that could take hours. At some point, Jed will also come looking for us.

  I sigh. No matter what I choose, every option looks dire. Finally, I decide to go with my gut feeling—move forward and put more of a distance between us and Jed. Squatting next to the passenger door, I lean in to scoop up the struggling puppy. Maisie kicks when I shove her back into my coat, sending throbbing stabs down my side and temporarily stealing my breath.

  “We need to get out of the forest to get a signal,” I tell Hallie, handing her the crowbar. “Let’s go.”

  She wraps her arm around my shoulders and I support her by her waist as we begin our journey. The cold night air bites at my exposed body parts. My fingertips lose all feeling within minutes. I don’t complain and just grit my teeth. The newly fallen snow crunches under our boots, giving us a firmer grip than before.

  We make little progress and Hallie leans into me, putting more and more weight onto my shoulders. I drag her along, but my knees are getting weaker, my arm numb from her tight grip. Just as I’m about to suggest a break, my eyes fall onto the pillars of a driveway, hidden under the snow—finding shelter in an abandoned summer cabin might be the best solution. Hallie still has the crowbar and we could break open a door or smash in a window. Even if the owners are assholes and press charges, there must be some type of extenuating circumstances to breaking and entering in a time of crisis.

  With a jerk of my head, I motion to the driveway. “Let’s go inside and call the cops from there. Even if the cell doesn’t work, they might have a landline.”

  Relief is written across Hallie’s face; she’s close to collapsing. “Good idea. I also really have to pee.”

  The log cabin is tiny and surrounded by trees with a small porch in the front. I drive the crowbar in the gap between the door and the frame right under the lock and lever it in a way I once saw on a cop show. To my surprise, the door pops open. There is neither a deadbolt nor a chain nor an alarm. This is Maine, after all, and people here still trust their neighbors.

  I take Hallie straight to the bathroom before setting Maisie down in the middle of the floor. She is probably thirsty and I rummage through the cabinet to find a bowl. When I turn on the water, all that comes out is a gurgling sound. Either the water pipes froze or the power is out, which makes the water pump useless. I try the lights, but the cabin stays dark.

  “There’s no power,” I say when Hallie hops out of the bathroom.

  She grimaces. “I noticed when I tried to wash my hands. Get some snow from outside which we can melt. That way, we at least have some water.”

  It’s a good idea, and I grab another bowl, filling them both
up with snow before placing them on the kitchen counter. The cabin is surprisingly warm, a hint of orange and cinnamon still lingering in the air. When I walk over to the open fireplace to start a fire, I notice glowing ashes. Whoever owns this place must have just recently left. Maybe a family who sought some peace and quiet from the usual Christmas turmoil but decided to return home before they get stuck in the storm.

  Matches are right on the mantle and several candles are scattered throughout the cabin which I light to preserve the battery of the flashlight. I get to work on the fireplace next, stacking the logs in a circle with kindling in the middle. Soon, I have a blazing fire going.

  Hallie finds a seat on the couch and takes off her boot and socks to inspect her ankle. It’s swollen quite badly. I find a towel in the cabinet and wrap some snow inside as a cooling pack. When she presses the pack carefully against the sore spot, her lips twist in pain.

  “Okay, let’s see if we have a signal.” My hand slides in my pocket where I stored the phone but find nothing. I check the other side, again, to no avail. The cell is gone.

  “Shit. I think the phone fell out of my coat when I got Maisie out of the van.”

  I scan the cabin for a phone, but the equipment is absolutely basic. Even the fridge is a bit of a dinosaur.

  “What are we gonna do?” Hallie asks as she gazes into the fire. The flames dance in her eyes—she seems to have aged a decade in the last day. Her youthfulness and innocence has been replaced by so much sadness and bitterness that it makes me cringe. I know this look too well—having stared into the same eyes for the last three years in the mirror.

  “I’ll go back to the van and get the phone. It isn’t far. I should be back in half an hour.”

  Hallie frowns. “You can’t go out there on your own. It’s too dangerous and the storm is still raging. Maybe we should wait until the morning.”

  I shake my head. “We only drove a few miles and Jed will be able to find us. We have to get out of here as soon as possible.”