by L. T. Vargus
She and Allie lay together in a field of soft grass. A simple wooden fence stood in the distance, but no other buildings, no other signs of civilization.
They ate popsicles from the ice cream truck—the usual bomb pop for Charlie and one of those disgusting Mario heads with gumball eyes for Allie. Allie’s tongue was all red from licking Mario’s hat. She currently tongued one of the jeweled eyes surrounded by flesh-colored ice cream, trying to pry the tiny prize free.
Charlie laughed at this visual. Then she stuck out her own tongue to confirm that it, too, had been dyed with food coloring—bright blue in her case.
They didn’t say much. They didn’t have to. They just ate their ice cream and looked up at the puffy clouds rolling by, finding animal shapes and cartoonish butts rendered in the white, vaporous mounds.
Nothing to worry about. Nothing to fear. Just a simple togetherness. One of life’s many moments of joy—mild joy, but joy nonetheless. Profound in its own way.
Allie sat up, and the sun glinted down at just the right angle so that it looked like her hair glowed. Bars of bright light shooting through it. A gleam atop her head.
And in the distance Charlie heard the waves rolling up on the island. The smooth, wet churn of the water. The slap of the tide hitting the rock face of a cliff.
She turned to look toward the sound, but she couldn’t see it from here. Couldn’t see the water at all, but she heard the constant babble there in the distance. She stared out at the horizon for what felt like a long time. Listening.
And then something flicked her earlobe. She turned enough to see Allie out of the corner of her eye.
Her sister had moved closer. She lifted her hand again. Index finger catapulting off her thumb to strike the tip of Charlie’s nose.
Charlie realized that Allie was muttering something as she did this, but she couldn’t make out the words. She listened closer, turned to face Allie fully.
They made eye contact. Held it.
Allie flicked her finger again, connecting with Charlie’s cheek. This time she understood what Allie said.
“Wake up, dummy.”
Chapter Eighty-Two
Charlie woke in stages, reality arriving in her consciousness piece by piece.
First, the sound filtered in. The faint purr of a car engine. The hum of the tires rolling over the pavement, a kind of white noise periodically broken up by the crunch of snow and the throaty grating as the tires touched the rough places where the snow plows had chewed up the top layer of the asphalt.
Then the throbbing. Sharp jolts of pain in her skull that flashed like a strobe light.
She remembered getting hit in the head—not the visual memory of the event happening. Just that piece of information, the knowledge that she’d been struck, the reason why her skull ached the way it did.
Fear came to her next. Made her skin crawl. A sense of danger without explanation. An amorphous thing, somehow undefined, that she couldn’t understand just yet. She thought maybe that made it all the scarier.
Finally, her eyes peeled open. Just a crack at first. Trees flitted by on the side of the road. Dark shapes rising up from the ground. Hulking lines of black against the gleam of the streetlights. Crooked branches bending up toward the night sky.
Looking down, she saw that a zip tie bound her wrists. It was tight enough to crease the skin, two little bulges on either side of the plastic.
She sat in the passenger seat of a car she didn’t recognize. It smelled vaguely of pine. She could see only a glimpse of the driver to her left, a tiny flash of the side of his face, lit in the pale glow of the dash lights. Not enough to recognize him. But rather than trying to get a better look, she closed her eyes again.
An urgent voice inside told her not to lift her head. Not to reveal her return to consciousness. To wait. To rest. To breathe. To think.
None of these pieces of reality added up to make any kind of sense. Not yet.
After a few breaths, she braved another look. Opened her eyes again. Tried to blink away some of the confusion.
Looking again out of the corner of her eye, she saw him. Knew him.
Todd Ritter. Amber’s stepfather.
His head snapped in her direction, and she closed her eyes again. Waited.
He exhaled once. A vaguely aggressive sigh. Then he fell quiet again.
If he’d seen her awake, he gave no sign of it. Good.
Recognizing him jarred some of the memories loose: Todd tackling Will. Bashing him over the head. Doing the same to her.
She squinted her eyes to slits this time when she opened them. Looked out at the world through a thatch of eyelashes, through the tiny gaps between them, through the halos and smears of greenish light.
Todd faced forward. She could see the side of his face well enough to tell that much.
She took a deep breath, careful to keep it quiet. And the statistics of these kinds of situations came to her. Survival rates. Situational data.
The end result was simple: if you went quietly with the abductor, you died.
Better to make a stand. To fight. Make them drag you kicking and screaming, clawing and biting. Anything that might give you a chance.
And so she would.
She pictured it now, what she would do next. How she would go on the offensive.
Fog still roiled inside her skull. Murked up her thoughts. Fresh confusion coming in waves. But she pushed it aside, forced herself to focus.
She may not know exactly what was going on here, but she knew she wasn’t going down without a fight.
She lurched for the steering wheel. Grabbed it and jerked hard to the right. The movement was abrupt enough to wrench the thing out of Todd’s hands.
The driver sucked in a breath, spit hissing between his teeth.
His hands moved back to the wheel. Fought her for control. And then he slammed on the brakes.
Too late.
It all happened in an instant. A single heartbeat. Yet it felt like slow motion.
The tree seemed to fill the windshield like a movie screen. The camera zooming in and in and in. The big, dramatic close-up.
The front end slamming into the tree. Metal cracking against wood. Deafening.
The airbag inflating, a giant white pillow that engulfed her face.
The impact stopping their forward momentum dead, jerking Charlie so hard she could feel it in her teeth. The pressure.
And then everything going still. Quiet. Motionless.
Black smoke fluttered up from the wounded place where the metal meshed with the maple tree. Lit by the one flickering headlight somehow still glowing.
It took Charlie three shaking breaths to come back to herself. She glanced over at the driver. At Todd.
His face was squashed into the airbag, a smear of blood on the white of the material. From his nose, she thought.
Was he dead? Or just unconscious?
He stirred then, a groan escaping his mashed lips.
One word shivered in Charlie’s head. Her entire reality reduced to three letters:
Run.
Chapter Eighty-Three
Charlie burst out of the passenger door. Skidded down the banking shoulder, gravity pulling her into the ditch. Her feet gouged holes in the snow on the way down.
The bottom of the trench jammed her knees. One then the other. She stumbled. Balance teetering. Leaving her.
Some instinct waved her arms in front of her. Useless. Her wrists were still fastened together by the zip tie.
Falling. That weightless feeling sickening as the ground rushed up to meet her.
She landed on her side. Panicking. Thrashing at the snowy ground. Scrabbling like a crab stuck at the bottom of a bucket.
Then she rolled onto her belly. Pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. Climbed the other side of the ditch. Running.
Up onto the gravel. Across the street. Into the woods. Into the darkness.
The vast black swallowed her. Concealed her.
I
nstinct once again took over. No thoughts. No words. No strategy. Something animal inside that knew what to do here in the dark, in the wild. She trusted it. Let it take over. Somehow the animal self was able to see just enough to steer her away from the trees in her path, to keep her pressing forward.
She picked her feet up high. Bounding steps, each almost a small leap.
She banked hard to the left to run along a stream. Dared a look back as she made the turn.
Behind her, a flashlight bobbed along the surface of the snow. Lighting up pine boughs and glittering on icy branches. Todd was following her. And he still had her gun.
Forget that. Keep going. Keep running.
Run for your life.
She swiveled her head forward. Watched only the path ahead once more. The next few yards of the forest were the only thing that was real. A tiny reality that reset itself every few seconds. Erased all else but the next cluster of trees and bushes to avoid.
And some insane part of her, a detached part of her, observed all of this as though from a million miles away. Marveled at the notion that her whole life had led to this moment, this encounter with Todd Ritter. Everything she’d ever done and said and thought and experienced, it all delivered her to this run.
She would live or die based on how she handled this next little piece of time, this next little stretch of land. It seemed so absurd. Unlikely to the point that it verged on impossible. And yet all stories ended in death, one way or another, didn’t they? Everyone’s path surrendered them to that eventuality.
A lightness took shape up ahead. A clearing. At first, she could only make out snippets of it. The snow glowing brighter through the trees, reflecting back the moonlight no longer blocked by the shadows of the woods.
She crested a small hill, fighting the incline. Almost losing her balance as she battled through the steepest part of the slope just before the land leveled out at the top. And then she saw it.
The giant Ferris wheel towered over the horizon, lit by the moon, somehow hulking and skeletal at the same time. The sight stole her breath. Vacated her lungs. But only for a second, and then she was racing down the other side of the hill. She knew where she was now, and fresh adrenaline coursed through her system.
Hope.
She rocketed for the abandoned amusement park. Ran harder across the clearing before the park—the snow-covered parking lot that looked like some kind of frozen pond, empty like it was. Some lightness entered her body as she drew closer to the perimeter of the place. Familiarity buoying her spirit. Lifting her knees. Pressing her onward like a stiff wind at her back.
Glancing back, she saw the flashlight just reaching the top of the hill, appearing there, a flare rising up from the darkness of the hill as though it had just now beamed into existence.
She’d pulled away from Todd for the moment. Good. That’d give her options.
The front gates of the park loomed before her, but she veered away from them. They were boarded up, she knew. Reinforced with corrugated steel sheeting. Barbed wire spiraling over the top. But there were other ways in. Less obvious ways.
Perhaps ten yards from the edge of the parking lot, she spotted the gashed opening in the fence. The one all the high school kids had used to sneak in here to drink and smoke cigarettes for as long as she could remember. Still there after all this time.
She knifed through the gap, body angled sideways. She had to crouch, sliding one leg through at a time to avoid snagging on the slit links of chain. At last, she stepped into the darker terrain on the other side.
Now she was free to run again, and she did. But soon enough the running would stop.
It was here, in the park, that she’d make her stand.
Chapter Eighty-Four
Charlie shuffled out into the open space of the midway, skirting around the small trees and waist-high weeds that grew up from the cracks in the pathway. Adrenaline gushed all through her, making her movements jittery and jerky.
Abandoned food stalls squatted on all sides here. Fries. Funnel cakes. Italian ice. Elephant ears. Beyond the crumbling booths, a cluster of kiddie rides. The carousel with its rusting menagerie of mythological beasts: a unicorn, a dragon, a mermaid. A miniature rollercoaster, the cars done up to look like a sea monster.
She ran past them, knowing they weren’t what she was looking for. Not this time. The idea of where and when to hide, to mount her attack, itched somewhere inside where she couldn’t scratch it. She knew the idea, the perfect place was just there, out of reach, and she had to trust that she would know it when she saw it.
Her pace was slowing. She was jogging now more than running. Everything hurt, and the pain rushed in as the initial tide of endorphins began to recede.
Her side ached, a pair of machetes lodged in her liver. Each breath made her lungs burn. The wind scraped at the soft tissue of her throat on its way in and out, like the air had grown claws.
Still, she forced her feet to keep pounding their way over the asphalt. Even through the pain, she kept going.
Out in the open, away from the woods, the wind off the lake seemed to cut right through her coat and clothes. Digging into the flesh of her more deeply than before.
She pushed herself harder—mind still strong, still sharp—but the strength of her legs was dwindling. No longer accelerating the way she wanted, the muscles gone weak and shaky.
That hurt worse than all the physical pain, the betrayal of her body. She was so close. The end of all of this was so close. Right there. For better or worse. For life or death. The final battle loomed just ahead, and her mind was ready. But her flesh was giving out on her. Fading. Failing.
How could her whole life lead to this? Exhaustion defeating her. How could that be fair for her? For anyone?
She swallowed. Blinked back the threat of tears with fluttering eyelashes.
You can’t run forever, Charlie. You knew that. It’s time to choose a battleground. The place to make your final stand.
She swallowed again, and more words spoke in her head. A calm voice. A quiet voice. It was close, but it didn’t quite sound like her own.
Brace yourself for the fight now. Give yourself an edge. Get the jump on him here and now.
Her eyes danced over her surroundings. Scanning. Weighing. Looking for answers. Potential. Possibilities.
She gazed up at the largest ride in the vicinity, The Kraken, with its eight curved metal legs of painted glossy black. Orange light bulbs protruded from each of the limbs.
The Ferris wheel stood taller still, dead ahead, all the way at the back of the park. All those struts and beams crisscrossing into the sky. A fossil of steel and rust-stained paint.
These metallic skeletons did her no good. Offered her no advantage.
Think smaller. Closer.
She looked over the smaller attractions that stood between her and the Ferris wheel. Considered each of them.
The ball pit in Triton’s Playground caught her eye. She visualized herself hiding there, submerged among the rainbow-colored spheres. It could work, especially for a hiding spot, but it didn’t give her any kind of advantage in the pending battle. Hiding only stretched out the timeline. She needed a fight plan, some kind of strategic gain.
Fight or die, the voice in her head repeated. Fight or die.
She spotted the familiar orange-and-yellow striped roof then. The dark of the open doorway, surrounded by the gaping mouth of the giant clown.
Zinky’s Funhouse.
Chapter Eighty-Five
Inside the funhouse, Charlie slowed, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She’d only ever been in here in the daytime, and it was unsettling to have to feel her way down the strange hallways. To trust her hands to guide her.
Even after her surroundings became just barely visible—everything shades of black on black—the bent corridors and narrowing walls played tricks on her.
She paused for a moment on the threshold of the Hall of Mirrors and held her breath, listening for him. Bu
t all of the outside sounds were muffled and stilled.
The mirrored walls gave the appearance of one long, endless hallway stretching out before her. Coupled with the utter quiet, Charlie felt her skin prickle with foreboding.
She crept forward into the dark, into the quiet. Moving slowly. With care. Looking for just the right place. No mistakes now.
She brought her face closer to one of the mirrored panels. Warped versions of herself stared back.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, a sudden preternatural feeling coming over her.
She wasn’t alone.
There was a presence here, and it wasn’t just the one hunting her either.
Something else. Something spectral but not altogether malignant occupying the space.
And Charlie knew that this was the place.
Just as she reached up to find the hidden latch, she caught sight of the faintest glow out of the corner of her eye. It came from just outside the Hall of Mirrors and slowly grew in intensity. A flashlight.
An icy feeling came over her. The bitter cold of adrenaline coursing through her hands, spreading up into her wrists. It pulled her skin taut as could be.
He was here.
Chapter Eighty-Six
Charlie huddled in the dark. Waiting. Squatting behind the false wall among the mirrors. Biding her time until he was close enough.
A sensation like cold fingertips prickled against the backs of her arms. Up her spine and down her neck. A chill like no other she’d felt in all her years, not even when Allie had disappeared.
Allie said nothing. But Charlie could feel her there now. Could feel that they would be together in this moment, for better or worse.
Charlie’s breathing had slowed, her body recovering some as she crouched here in the shadows. She could feel her heart pounding at her chest, at her ribcage. Firm now. A muscle once more. Not that fluttering, frightened hummingbird of a thing it had turned to out in the woods.