“What are we going to do?” I pant.
“There’s an ax by the woodshed.” Jared’s eyes are squinted against the rain, his hair slicked back, his arms tight to his side. “We’ll jump him.”
We’re going to attack someone with an ax. Not just someone. Marcus.
I look down the road. We’ve started to see some lake houses but I’m not sure how close we are now. The trees all look the same, the curve of the road that never seems to end.
I pick up a familiar scent, growing stronger. “You smell smoke?”
“Probably from the chimney. We’re close.”
Then we round the bend and see the lake house. Thick smoke hovers around it in a hazy cloud. It’s coming from the chimney, the windows, crawling over the roof.
“Mom!” I sprint toward the house, reckless now, my feet and arms wild. Jared’s yelling something behind me, but I can’t hear him. All I see is the smoke.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
LINDSEY
I can hear Marcus moving around the living room, his quick footsteps. He’s not going to come back and check on me now. I can smell smoke already. I have to get out. I swing my body around until my legs are curled under me, then roll onto my hip, and use my core to pull myself up onto my feet. I hop back to the bed, my arms straight out in front for balance. This time when I reach under the pillow, I find the knife where it had slid next to the head board.
I pause, listening. Boot steps, walking away. The front door slams. Now there’s only silence. Sitting on the floor, I use my fingers to carefully slide the knife out of the sheath, then brace it between my knees, and cut the tape. With my hands free, my ankles go faster. It’s only been minutes, but the smoke is stronger now. It hangs in the air, seeps under the door.
I peel the tape from my mouth, cry out as it takes off some skin. I suck in air. The only way out is the window. It won’t open. Something is wrong with the lock. I slam the lamp against the glass. It bounces back, flies out of my hands, shatters at my feet. I take one of the pillowcases and wrap it around my hand, then hit the window, but I’m not strong enough. Maybe there’s something in the bathroom I can use. The shower rod, the back of the ceramic toilet.
A noise. Someone shouting, loud and frantic. Two voices. Sophie and Jared. Coming closer, running footsteps. Yelling for me. They’re in the house.
“I’m in here!” I sprint to the door, pound my fists on it.
“Stand back!” Jared’s voice. Something is hitting against the door, splitting wood. The head of an ax, slicing through. Kicking sounds, and the door flies open.
“Mom! Come on!” Sophie grabs my hand, pulls me out. We run for the front door, but the living room is filling with smoke. The curtains are already in flames, curling higher.
“Stop!” Jared grabs our shoulders from behind. “The back door.”
We follow him down the hall, pressed together. I wrap my fingers around the back of Sophie’s sweatshirt, the cold wet fabric. We have our arms over our faces, coughing. My eyes are watering. I squint through the smoke, follow their shapes. Jared is leading, then Sophie. I grip her shirt harder. Jared opens the back door. I see the dark night, smell the rain.
A sharp cracking sound. I lose my balance as I jerk my body to the side, and bounce hard into the wall. Through the smoke, Marcus, running after us. He’s pointing the gun at me.
Another cracking sound. Loud, close.
Something hits the wall beside my head. I duck, drop to my knees. Sophie’s on the other side of the doorway, her face a white mask as she reaches for me, rain pouring down on her, heavy strands of violet hair splayed across her cheeks. She’s in the open, outlined by light.
A perfect target.
Jared’s behind her, pulling her arm, yelling something I can’t hear, the shot still ringing in my head. His mouth is open, panicked, his face terrified. I sprawl forward, hook my finger onto the bottom of the door, and slam it shut. More shots. Hitting the closed door.
I scramble into the laundry room on my hands and knees, searching. The box of cleaning supplies is on the shelf. I dump it on the floor, grab at the lemon polish, the spray bottle of cleaner. The door crashes open. He hits me from behind, knocking me onto the floor.
I flip around, kick up hard with my heel, connect between his legs. He doubles over and crashes into the washing machine. The gun hits the floor and spins behind the laundry tub, out of reach. I spray the cleaner wildly, coating Marcus’s body and head. He screams, claws at his eyes.
I shove past him and sprint toward the front door. The living room is ablaze. Heat hits me, almost pushes me backward. I drop to the floor, slide like a snake. Hands, knees.