I don’t give up. What else do I have to do than plan an escape?
All day and night, I wait for him to open the door. My plan repeats in my head. Sooner or later, I’ll make my move. What happens afterward is best left unplanned. I don’t know what is outside the cabin or how to return to the highway. The first step to answering those questions is escaping this room.
I lose track of how many visits Quill makes before he creates enough noise to alert me in time. The moment I hear him at the door, I bolt from my spot and nearly lose my footing from sitting for so long. I’m ready, though, and I reach the door as it opens and blocks me from his view.
Only a second passes before I slam the door into him and knock him away from the entrance. I rush around the door and yank it shut. I’ve gotten it nearly closed when his hand grips the inside handle.
A shot of panic passes over me, and I nearly let go. My instincts take over. When I release my side of the knob, and the door flies toward Quill, he loses his balance. Though he stumbles for only a heartbeat before reaching again for the door, it’s all the time I need. His face is the last thing I see before the door shuts, and I slide the lock into place.
Quill’s final expression is one of intense rage.
Staring at the lock, I can’t believe my plan actually worked. I outwitted the enigma.
Quill doesn’t struggle against the lock or turn the knob once he realizes he’s trapped inside. Instead, he’s silent, which scares me more than any rage I could imagine.
I hurry down a hallway toward the front door. My feet are bare because he’d have noticed if I wore shoes. Before walking outside, I stop in the kitchen and search for a weapon. Long shiny knives sit in a cutlery block on the counter. Grabbing the longest, I head for the porch.
If I believed Quill couldn’t free himself, I might take my time searching the house for a phone or supplies. Even without knowing how he’ll break out, I sense he’s already working on his escape.
Standing outside the front door, I scan the woods for movement. The porch feels grainy under my feet, but I don’t look down. I keep my gaze focused ahead.
I take one step down from the porch and then a second. My heart beats wildly in my chest, and I steady my shaking hands. The feel of the dirt under my feet erases my fear. The wind warms my skin, and I shudder at the sensation of being outside. Locked up for too long, I look upward to allow the sun to warm my face. This simple gesture changes everything.
Rather than an open sky above, I discover a mirror image of my world. I crouch instinctively, feeling as if the other cabin will tumble down on me. The trees around my cabin nearly touch the ones on the other side.
I sit on the steps and stare upward, unable to look away. Did I lose my mind waiting so long to escape? Had Quill drugged the food? Was I still hallucinating in the closet?
After some time, I realize the world above isn’t a mirror image at all. I spot a Winnebago and cars parked near the other world’s cabin. A large family carries bags inside. Kids play ball. None of them see me except a dog who stares upward and barks.
I finally glance around to see how far the worlds connect, but the trees block my view outside of the small clearing around the cabin.
Standing up, I walk inside and sit on the couch. Escaping feels like a dream from long ago. I imagined returning to the highway and hitching a ride to safety. Even if I spent my life in prison for killing John, I’d be away from here.
Unfortunately, there’s no “away” any longer.
Chapter Ten
Quill
Odessa’s final look before slamming the door shut on me is one of surprise. I’m startled by her strength after days of appearing more and more dazed. I watched her on the monitors and waited for signs of her unraveling sanity. Despite her passive demeanor the last few days, Odessa looked quite lucid when she locked me in her room.
Tom showed me a secret door in the wall of the trophy’s bedroom. He was very proud of his additions to the cabin. I wasn’t nearly as impressed as he hoped, but his ingenious efforts do help me escape.
Having never been used, the door sticks when I push on it. Only a hard kick breaks through the sealed hinges. I crawl into the tight opening, having trouble wedging my shoulders into the space.
Tom was quite a bit smaller than my six foot five frame. I struggle in the tunnel, becoming stuck more than once before tearing through the outside exit. Once I grip the sides of the opening, I yank my large build through the small doorway only feet from the bedroom’s one window.
Shaking out my arms, I focus on catching Odessa before she stumbles into one of my traps. I run around the front of the cabin and scan the woods for which direction she might take. She’s a simple woman and likely ran straight ahead.