Straining to hear what’s happening outside their little circle, all she can hear is the wind drumming against the windows. Whether the storm subsides tomorrow or not, they must try to make their way – no matter how slowly, or with how much difficulty – out to the main road and try to get help.
She thinks of her therapist, Donna – the woman who has been helping her regain a sense of control over her life, or at least trying to. With Donna’s help, she’s been trying to learn how to manage her negative thoughts. She certainly wouldn’t be happy with the way Riley’s using alcohol to cope this weekend. But she’s trapped in a remote inn with a bunch of strangers, and people are being murdered. She imagines being in Donna’s office, telling her all about it. She would say, You have experienced some terrible things. Yes, she has. She would say, Because of this, your mind will sometimes play tricks on you.
‘Are you all right?’ Gwen says suddenly. Somehow Gwen is standing right in front of her. She doesn’t remember seeing her move from the sofa. But Gwen is squatting down in front of her now, looking intently into her eyes, concern stamped on her face.
‘I don’t know,’ Riley whispers. Gwen stares back at her, alarmed. ‘I don’t know,’ Riley repeats, more urgently. She’s in a strange place. Hell isn’t imaginary; it’s real. It’s a real place and it’s also a state of mind. And she can feel herself slipping into the pit, she can feel the fear taking over, the paranoia, the need to react. She doesn’t want that to happen. God, not here. Not now. She grabs Gwen’s hand tightly. ‘Stay with me,’ she says.
‘Of course,’ Gwen says, and sits down beside her, the tension between them seemingly forgotten, at least for now. ‘I won’t leave you,’ Gwen promises.
Inside the woodshed, a sudden rattling sound coming from the direction of the outside door startles Matthew. He whirls towards the sound and trips over something, dropping the torch before he can turn it on. Completely blind, he senses something in the darkness, something moving. Matthew fumbles from cold and nerves, clutches the gun and raises it. He fires wildly in the dark.
David followed Matthew as best he could. He felt his way up and down the first-floor corridor, and then made his way up the main staircase to the second floor. He walked down the west side of the hall, quietly calling Matthew’s name, and then the east side, finally finding himself outside the servants’ staircase.
He pushed open the door and listened carefully. It was dead quiet. It was also dark as pitch in the back staircase. He wished fervently that he had a light. He had to find Matthew. Matthew didn’t know what he was doing. He was liable to shoot at anyone.
He called softly, ‘Matthew?’ There was no answer. But he could be there, in the dark stairwell. Perhaps he’d turned off the torch. ‘It’s David.’ He waited and listened, but there was no answer. He stepped cautiously into the stairwell. He felt around clumsily for the handrail. He searched for the first step with his foot, found it. He started down the stairs, moving slowly, feeling for each step, listening carefully. Where the hell was Matthew? David was frustrated at how difficult it was to know what was going on in the dark. The darkness was so absolute that it was disorienting. It was like floating in space, with nothing to mark where you were. He felt unmoored; he’d felt that way since they’d discovered Dana dead that morning.
He found his way to the first-floor landing and hesitated. He had a pounding headache. He thought longingly of the bottle of aspirin that he had in his bag in his room at the other end of the corridor.
David opened the door onto the darkened first-floor hall. He made his way to his own room at the other end, ears sharpened for any sound. When he got to his room, he fumbled with his key and opened the door with relief. His room was not quite as dark as the corridor. There was the briefest glint of moonlight coming in through the open curtains of the windows – and then it disappeared. David closed the door behind him. He felt around for his bag and found it on the floor, by the bedside table. He searched for the aspirin and then made his way to the sink. He poured himself some water into a glass by feel, and took the tablets, relieved to be alone, if only for a few minutes. Spending so much time with all the others, under so much strain – he wished it were all over. He was so tired. He wanted to lie down on the bed, burrow under the covers, and never get up. Instead – despite the cold – he spent a couple of minutes splashing icy-cold water on his face.
Feeling a bit better, he left his room and returned to the servants’ staircase, intending to resume his search for Matthew in the ground-floor hall along the back of the hotel. He could be in the kitchen, the cellar, or in any of the other rooms on the ground floor.
David is coming down the back stairs when he hears the gunshots.
He feels the shock through his entire body, a spurt of fear. He freezes. Tries to focus on where the shots came from. He thinks from somewhere on the ground floor. From the woodshed, maybe. He stumbles down the rest of the stairs as quickly as he can. His breath is ragged. What if something has happened to Matthew? What if he’s too late?
Matthew feels the kick in his hand from the pistol and whirls and flees. He’s not sure what he saw, doesn’t know what he shot at. He doesn’t want to stay and find out. He clutches the gun tightly in his hand and bolts out of the woodshed and down the dark hall. He stumbles his way back into the library and stops, breathing heavily, trying to listen over his own noisy gasps.
The sound of gunfire finally sends Riley over the edge. She springs up abruptly, flinging Gwen off. Gwen tries to calm her but Riley is too agitated; she takes off suddenly towards the front door, as if she needs to escape. Riley doesn’t know what she’s doing, Gwen realizes – she’s just reacting, running blindly.
‘Riley!’ Gwen calls after her, pointlessly. ‘Stop!’
But Riley pulls open the door and flees into the blustery night, leaving the door open behind her.
Gwen hesitates for only a second, casting a desperate look at the others for help, and then grabs her coat off the coat hook and follows Riley outside. She’s wearing her sneakers. She has no light, and she must feel her way. It’s pitch dark, the moon hidden behind the clouds. She hurries after Riley. Gwen is terrified of going out into the darkness, but she can’t let Riley go alone. She wishes David were with her.
She can hear Riley somewhere ahead of her in the cold, can hear her scrambling on the ice, falling and picking herself up again, can hear her panicked, heavy breathing. Gwen follows her out over the icy lawn, barely able to stay upright. She slams hard into the broken tree branch that she’d forgotten was there and falls, her bare hands scrabbling at the ground. Gwen realizes Riley is running aimlessly, like a frightened animal – she’s running and that’s all. She may not even be aware of where she is. She must reach her and calm her down. Persuade her to come back inside, where it’s safe.
She hears voices behind her. She stops briefly and looks back. She can see James and Bradley dimly outlined in the doorway; they are coming to help. The door closes and all is dark again. She can hear them behind her, quickly catching up. She glances over her shoulder and sees nothing until Bradley and James are almost upon her. Then she sees them, looming towards her in the darkness. She feels intensely grateful that they’ve come after her. They don’t have a light either; they are all swimming in the dark.
‘Which way did she go?’ Bradley asks.
‘I don’t know. She was ahead of me, but I can’t hear her any more. I don’t know where she went,’ Gwen says anxiously.