“Help her up,” Bon Jovi told Zach. “You promised, man. Don’t make this worse than it has to be.”
Zach yanked Sam up so hard that her shoulder made a popping sound. She bumped against the table. Zach pushed her toward the door. She bumped into a chair. Charlie grabbed her hand to keep her from falling.
Bon Jovi opened the door. “Go.”
Charlie went first, shuffling sideways to help Sam down the stairs. Sam had her other hand out in front of her like she was blind. Charlie saw their shoes and socks. If they could put them on, they could run. But only if Sam could see where to go.
“Can you see?” Charlie asked her. “Sam, can you see?”
“Yes,” Sam said, but that had to be a lie. She couldn’t even open her eyelids all the way.
“This way,” Bon Jovi indicated the field behind the HP. The soil was freshly planted. They weren’t supposed to walk on it, but Charlie walked where she was told, guiding Sam behind her, helping her navigate the deep furrows.
Charlie asked Bon Jovi, “Where are we going?”
Zach dug the shotgun into Sam’s back. “Keep walking.”
“I don’t understand,” Charlie said to Bon Jovi. “Why are you doing this?”
He shook his head.
Charlie asked, “What did we do to you, mister? We’re just kids. We don’t deserve this.”
“Shut up,” Zach warned. “Both of you shut the fuck up.”
Sam squeezed Charlie’s hand even tighter than before. She had her head up, like she was a dog trying to get a scent. Instinctively, Charlie knew what her sister was doing. Two days ago, Gamma had shown them a topographical map of the area. Sam was trying to remember the landmarks, to get her bearings.
Charlie tried to, too.
The neighbor’s acreage went past the horizon, but the ground was completely flat that way. Even if Charlie managed to zigzag as she ran, Sam would end up tripping and falling. Trees bordered the far right side of the property. If she could lead Sam that way, they might be able to find a place to hide. There was a creek on the other side of the forest that went underneath the weather tower. Beyond that was a paved road, but people didn’t use it. There was an abandoned barn half a mile north. A second farm was two miles east. That would be the best bet. If she could get Sam to the second farm, they could call Rusty and he would save them.
Zach said, “What’s that?”
Charlie looked back at the farmhouse. She saw headlights, two floating dots in the distance. Not Lenore’s van. “It’s a car.”
“Shit, they’re gonna make my truck in two seconds.” Zach jammed the shotgun into Samantha’s back, using it like a rudder to steer her. “Y’all keep moving or I’ll shoot you right here.”
Right here.
Charlie stiffened at the words. She prayed that Sam hadn’t heard them, that she didn’t get their meaning.
“There’s another way out of this.” Sam’s head was turned toward Bon Jovi, even though she couldn’t see him.
Zach snorted.
Sam said, “I’ll do whatever you want.” She cleared her throat. “Anything.”
“Shit,” Zach said. “You don’t think I’m gonna take what I want anyways, you stupid bitch?”
Charlie swallowed back the taste of bile. She saw a clearing up ahead. She could run with Sam there, find a place to hide.
Sam said, “We won’t tell them it was you. We’ll say you had your masks on the entire time and—”
“With my truck in the driveway and your mama dead in the house?” Zach snorted again. “Y’all Quinns think you’re so fucking smart, can talk your way outta anything.”
Charlie didn’t know any places to hide in the woods. She’d been stuck unpacking boxes since they moved, no time for exploring. Charlie and Sam’s best bet was to run back to the HP where the policeman was. Charlie could lead Sam across the field. Her sister would have to trust her, the same way she kept saying Charlie should trust her with the blind pass. Sam was a fast runner, faster than Charlie. As long as she didn’t stumble—
“Listen to me,” Sam said. “You’ve got to leave town anyway. There’s no reason to kill us, too.” She turned toward Bon Jovi. “Please, just think about it. All you have to do is tie us up. Leave us somewhere they won’t find us. You’re going to have to leave town either way. You don’t want more blood on your hands.”
Bon Jovi was already shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”
Charlie felt a finger slide up her back. She shivered, and Zach laughed.
“Let my sister go,” Sam said. “She’s thirteen. Just a kid.”
“Don’t look like no kid to me.” Zach made pinching motions at Charlie’s chest. “Got them nice high titties.”
“Shut up,” Bon Jovi warned. “I mean it.”
“She won’t tell anyone,” Sam tried. “She’ll say it was strangers. Won’t you, Charlie?”
“Black fella?” Zach asked. “Like the one your daddy got off for murder?”
Charlie felt his fingers brush across her breast. She turned on him, screaming, “You mean like he got you off for showing your wiener to a bunch of little girls?”
“Charlie,” Sam begged. “Please, be quiet.”
“Let her speak,” Zach said. “I like it when they got a little fight in ’em.”
Charlie glared at him. She marched through the woods, pulling Sam behind her, trying not to go too fast, anxious to go fast enough so that Zach didn’t walk alongside her.
“No,” Charlie whispered. Why was she going fast? She needed to go slow. The farther they got away from the HP, the more dangerous it would be to break off and run back. Charlie stopped. She turned around. She could barely see the lights in the kitchen.
Zach had the shotgun in Sam’s back again. “Move.”
Pine needles cut into Charlie’s bare feet as she trudged deeper into the woods. The air got cooler. Her shorts were stiff with dried urine. She could feel the inside of her thighs starting to chafe. Every step felt like it was wearing away a fresh layer of skin.
She glanced back at Sam. Her eyes were closed, hand out in front of her. Leaves rustled under their feet. Charlie stopped to help Sam over a fallen tree. They walked through the stream, the water like ice on her feet. The clouds shifted, letting in a sliver more of moonlight. In the distance, Charlie could see the outline of the weather tower, the rusted steel structure like a skeleton against the dark sky.
Charlie felt her sense of direction click into place. If the tower was on her left, then they were walking east. The second farm was about two miles north on her right.
Two miles.
Charlie’s best mile was 7.01. Sam could do 5.52 on a flat surface. The forest wasn’t flat. The moonlight was unpredictable. Sam could not see. They could do an eight-minute mile, maybe, if Charlie paid attention, if she looked straight in front of her instead of looking back.
She scanned ahead, searching for the best path, the clearest route.
It was too late.
“Sam.” Charlie stumbled to a stop. A trickle of urine rolled down her leg again. She gripped her sister around the waist. “There’s a shovel. A shovel.”
Sam’s fingers felt along her face, pushed up her eyelids. She sucked in a quick rush of air when she saw what was in front of them.