I turn back to the others, who have been watching us the whole time. Nina wipes a tear from her eye, and Hazel’s head shakes almost imperceptibly. “We need to go. Before the storm gets any worse. Are we ready?”

  Seventy

  6:29 a.m.

  We all crowd around the door.

  There’s a quick discussion about the order we’ll go in, like we’re kids again, playing a life-and-death game of follow-the-leader.

  The person in front won’t just lead the way. They have to be able to protect us if the killer confronts us. Someone will have to walk in the middle with Hazel. And someone assertive needs to bring up the rear in order to keep the crowd moving. And to watch our backs.

  We’ll be doing all of this in the blowing wind and rain. Our feet sinking into the soggy earth. And two of us have limited mobility—ninety-one-year-old Hazel and an injured Sawyer.

  Not ideal circumstances for an escape. But there will be safety in numbers.

  I hope.

  “I’ll go first.” Was I wrong not to accept Lloyd’s offer of the gun? “Just follow me to the outbuilding. I’ll have the key ready so we can get inside fast.”

  Ethan speaks up. “I’ll stick with Hazel to make sure she doesn’t fall.”

  “I’m fine,” Hazel says. “I don’t need any help.”

  I ignore her. “Good idea, Ethan.”

  Nina gestures toward Kiara. “We can walk with Sawyer in case he needs help.”

  “I’m not a complete invalid,” Sawyer says. “But I’m close.”

  “You’ll be fine,” I say. “That just leaves you, Alaina. Do you mind bringing up the rear? Make sure we don’t lose anyone.”

  She cocks her head to one side. “And make sure we aren’t followed?”

  “That’s the idea, yes.”

  “I’m not dumb, Jake. I watched a lot of Westerns with my grandma. The guy in back always gets killed first. You know, an ambush or something.”

  “We’re not going to be ambushed,” I say, even though I am in no way certain.

  Before we open the door, Lloyd waves me over. I know what he’s going to say before he says it.

  “Jake, I really think—”

  “Okay, Lloyd, you’re right. Hand it over.”

  He pulls the Glock out of the front of his pants—always an uncomfortable-looking spot when I see it in movies—and holds it in the space between us. “You don’t really know how to handle one, do you?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “It’s easy.” He shows me the safety, which is currently on. “Squeeze the trigger. Aim at the middle of the body. The chest. Don’t try to merely wing the guy or shoot him in the head. Just go for the body. It’s the biggest target. There will be a little kick, but not too bad.”

  “I really hope it doesn’t come to that.” The gun is heavier than I expect. Holding it is like handling a venomous snake, something that could turn on me and strike at any time. “Do I have to stick it in the front of my pants like you did?”

  “Put it in the back. Like Stanley.”

  I do as he says. Very carefully. Expecting that, at any second, I’ll touch the wrong thing and send a bullet down my leg or into my back. The cold metal rests against my body like a cancerous growth.

  “Are you sure you don’t—”

  “We’ve made our choice, Jake.”

  Lloyd claps me on the shoulder.

  “All right, then.” I look from him to Catalina, nodding at each of them. “Lloyd. Catalina. I hope to see you soon.”

  I take in my fellow tenants at the door. We look better suited to sitting around an emergency room or waiting in line at the DMV than running for our lives.

  But we’re about to run for our lives. Or, rather, walk for them.

  “Okay,” I say, putting my hand on the doorknob, “let’s go.”

  Seventy-One

  The wind is blowing hard again.

  It knocks me back a step. I can’t imagine what it will do to Hazel.

  The rain hits me directly in the face. I’m so tired of this. Tired of being wet. Tired of fighting the elements. I’ve never wanted a hot shower and dry clothes more in my life.

  But it’s going to be a while before I get them. Maybe a long while.

  The sun should be rising now, lighting up the eastern sky with color, but the back end of the storm has obliterated the sunrise, darkening the sky like it’s still night.

  “Be careful,” I say loudly over my shoulder. “Stay close to the building. The wind is getting stronger. And it’s dark.”

  My fellow tenants start to file out, moving gingerly onto the walkway. I stay near the railing, blocking the wind with my body as much as I can.

  As soon as Hazel emerges, Ethan by her side, she freezes in place, pulling her sweater tight around her body. She shakes her head, shivers. “Oh, Jacob, I’m going back inside. I don’t want to do this.”

  “Come on, Hazel,” Ethan says. “I’ll help you.”

  “You’re going to make it, Hazel,” I say. “We’ll be with you the whole way.”

  “Why does Lloyd get to stay inside?”

  “He’s with Catalina. You’re with us. Be glad you can still walk. Not everybody can.”

  She purses her lips, no doubt irritated by my gentle scolding. But she moves forward, her hand locked on Ethan’s arm. Sawyer comes out with his cane, Nina and Kiara on either side of him. “It takes two ladies to handle me, Jake.”

  “That’s right,” Kiara says. “You’re exactly what we’re looking for.”

  When Alaina emerges, I nod at her. She pulls the door shut while I rush past everyone to the stairway.

  The only things I’m more sick of than being wet—my clothes sticking to me like a second skin I can’t remove—are the blind trips down the staircase. Where I expect to find someone waiting to kill me at every turn.

  This time, I slide the Glock out from the back of my pants. I even go so far as to flick off the safety.

  “Do you know what you’re doing, Jake?” Ethan asks behind me.

  “Not a clue.”

  “Just aim in front of you, okay?”

  I turn the corner around the edge of the stairwell. There’s no one there.

  It didn’t even occur to me to lift the gun. It hangs by my side, useless. If a killer had been there, ready to pounce, he could’ve taken me before I fired a shot.

  My breath is coming in great gulps, my shoulders rising and falling like I’m sobbing. I start down to the next landing, stepping carefully on the wet stairs. My mind trips back to saying good-bye to Jordan and Mackenzie, the tears that poured over my face. I’m not sure when I last cried. When my dad died? Was that it?

  Maybe I’m lucky. If I get out of here—and find Jordan and Mackenzie—I’ll never again take a day of happiness for granted.

  When I reach the landing between the garage and the second floor, I do the same thing I did at the top of the stairs—spin around the wall like I’m in a spy movie. This time, I have the gun raised, finger near but not on the trigger.

  Again there’s no one there.

  I wave the rest of the group forward. Hazel takes one step at a time, placing both feet on a step before moving on to the next one. This isn’t going to be quick, but what did I expect?

  I run down to the garage, scouting ahead.

  The storm surge has hit the island again. The floor of the garage is still covered with a couple of inches of water. We’ll all be sloshing through here. Hazel will be thrilled.

  My eyes roam over the cars, water rising against the tires. Before today, it was always easy to leave. To jump into a car and go wherever we wanted.

  That’s what happened when I left Ohio. I climbed into the car and headed south without thinking much about it. That was six months ago. Six months! What was I thinking? What I wouldn’t give to get those months back. I only wish I could.

  But if I’d never left, would Jordan and I have figured things out? Would we know for sure how desperately we want to be together?

  And now that we’ve figured things out, will we be able to put them into practice? She and Mackenzie must have made it to the mainland by now. I need to survive the next few hours so I can get out of here and go find them.

  Hazel and Ethan finally reach the bottom of the stairs. Hazel stops on the last step, surveying the floor of the garage like someone preparing to jump off a high diving board. “My shoes are going to get wet.”

  “Everything’s going to get wet, Hazel,” Ethan says. “I’m sorry.”

  She dangles her foot in the air, then pulls it back. I worry that she’s never going to take the metaphorical leap.

  She turns to Ethan. “I wish we’d gotten more work done on my project.”

  “We tried, Hazel. We did. You told me you wanted to stop for a while. Remember?”

  Hazel nods. “I do.” She studies Ethan, examining his face like she’s never seen him before.

  The others come down the stairs, bottlenecking behind them.

  “Hazel?” I say. “Do you want to take my hand? It’s true you’re going to get wet, but I’ve been wet all night. It will be worth it. We’ll be safer in the shed.”

  She looks at me directly. “You never did get my gift, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  She turns haughty again, chin lifted.

  Hazel raises her foot and splashes down onto the garage floor before I can help. She brings her other foot down a split second later, suddenly moving with the energy and steadiness of someone forty years younger.

  The logjam breaks, and the others wade into the pooling water.

  I grab Hazel’s hand to help her maneuver. She yanks on my arm, pulling me closer, and speaks low enough that only I can hear. “I never know who I can trust. Never.”

  Seventy-Two

  When we step out of the shelter of the parking garage and into the grass, the wind whips us even harder, cutting across the island like a scythe.

  Ethan holds tight to Hazel on one side, and I brace her on the other. I can’t help her while I’m holding the flashlight and the gun, so I put the safety on and tuck the Glock into my pants at the small of my back. I can’t imagine whipping it out if there’s an emergency, but this seems like the only way to proceed. The rain smashes into our faces, probing us like thousands of tiny needles.

  I lean close to Hazel’s ear. “It’s not far.”

  “It might as well be a million miles.”

  “I won’t let you fall.”

  I take a glance back. Kiara and Nina each have one of Sawyer’s arms, their bodies bent forward to fight the wind.

  Water sloshes over our shoes as high as our ankles, then recedes slightly, giving us a break.

  I aim my flashlight beam forward, showing us the way, and pray the batteries hold until we reach the shed. The light picks up debris from the roof, and I know we’ll soon be seeing what Alaina and I saw earlier.

  Not what, I remind myself. Who.

  “Keep your eyes straight ahead,” I say, hoping everyone can hear me.

  But it’s no use. The light catches Stanley’s bloody head. His unseeing eyes staring up into the darkened sky. The rain falling against his face.

  “Oh, my,” Hazel says. “Poor Stanley.”

  “I know.”

  “I never liked him,” she says.

  I risk a look back while all heads turn toward Stanley’s body. The reactions range from shock and horror (Nina and Kiara) to near indifference (Sawyer and Alaina).

  “Not too much farther.” I can’t tell if I intend these words for Hazel and Ethan. Or maybe I’m talking to myself, trying to keep my own tired body going.

  I tell myself this is the last stop. Get to the shed. Lock ourselves in. Wait for the storm to pass once and for all. And then everything will be all right.

  But it’s hard to believe. If I’ve learned anything in the last thirteen hours, it’s this: The road never seems to end. Once one challenge passes, the next one is there waiting. Lurking around the corner.

  There’s no such thing as an easy road, no sure path.

  The water starts to rise again. A few second later, it goes even higher, coming up to the middle of our shins.

  “Shit,” Ethan says next to me. “Are we going to get completely flooded?”

  Hazel loses her balance, and we both tighten our grip on her arms.

  “Just go on without me,” she says. “I’m tired. Leave me here to die in the water.”

  “Come on, Hazel,” I say. “This isn’t boot camp. You can do it. The shed isn’t much farther.”

  The water is just below my knees now. Maybe I miscalculated. Maybe this is a mistake. Maybe we should have stayed in the building, taking our chances with Lloyd and Catalina. I’m worried Ethan is right—that we’re about to get swept away by the storm surge.

  If only the water would stop rising.

  It’s as if someone hears my wish.

  The water stops rising and almost immediately starts to recede.

  This is a break. For now. I try not to think about what might happen if we lock ourselves in the shed and the water continues to rise. We might not get off the island alive.

  What if I’ve led all these people into a trap?

  I turn back to the others, play the cheerleader. “Not much farther, everyone. We’re almost there.”

  “Jake. Wait.”

  Ethan stops moving. Hazel stops. We all stop.

  I freeze in place. “What’s wrong? We need to keep going.”

  “Something’s out there,” he says, pointing toward the outbuilding. “I saw it.”

  The wind eases. The water is back down to our ankles. It feels safe to release my grip on Hazel’s arm. I reach behind me, draw the gun out, its grip slick and cold in my hand.

  My heart expands to twice its normal size, threatens to burst out of my rib cage. It has to be the security man who works for the owners. He’s spotted our slow procession across the grounds. He’s ready to take us all down while we’re exposed and vulnerable.

  Ethan and I both aim our flashlights in the direction of the movement.

  I lift the gun, extend it into the dark morning. My hand quivers so much I don’t think I can squeeze the trigger even if I have to. I certainly don’t think I could hit anything.

  “What is it?” Nina asks. “Should we run back?”

  “Not all of us can do that,” Sawyer says.

  We move the beams around, searching for the target.

  All of a sudden I see it too. A movement in the grass. Low to the ground.

  “What the…”

  It enters the beam. Round and dark green, it’s larger than a manhole cover. As it approaches us, the head turns, revealing an inky black eye that blinks in the light.

  “Holy shit,” Ethan says. “A loggerhead turtle. Will you look at that thing? It’s beautiful.”

  The turtle ignores us, dragging itself through the shallow water with its flippers.

  “It must be disoriented by the storm,” Sawyer says.

  “Or she’s taking a shortcut across the island,” Nina says.

  We all fall silent, watching until the turtle lumbers past us and out of sight.

  “That’s a good omen,” Hazel says. “The Native people who lived here saw turtles as symbols of long life.”

  “I’ll take any good omens I can get.” I put the gun back in my pants, relieved. “Come on,” I say, taking Hazel’s arm again. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Seventy-Three

  In just a few minutes, we get our first glimpse of the shed.

  It’s smaller than I remembered. Almost not tall enough for an adult to stand up inside. Almost.

  The wet cinder blocks glisten in the weak light. The metal door is painted a dark green and splotched with rust. There are no windows, but a lone slatted vent sits above the door, allowing minimal air to circulate.

  At least it looks solid. Almost like a prison cell block.

  I release my grip on Hazel’s arm, Ethan holding her steady.

  When I approach the door, I dig in my pocket to find the passkey.

  It’s not there.

  It’s gone.

  I panic—my heart starts to race.

  Did it fall out while we were wading through all that water? What are we going to do?

  But then my fingers locate the key at the bottom of my pocket. My heart rate slows ever so slightly.

  I clutch the flashlight under my arm and stick the key into the lock. It’s rusted and dirty. Will it even turn? Will the key snap off in the lock? To my surprise, the lock turns with little effort, and I’m able to shove the heavy door open.

  “Thank God,” Ethan says.

  Stale, musty air hits my face. It feels like the place hasn’t been opened in years.

  A cobweb hits me in the cheek. I brush it away while I aim the flashlight into all corners of the small building. Cobwebs cover every inch, hanging from the ceilings and decorating the corners like a haunted house.

  The floor is littered with crumbling cardboard boxes, lawn equipment, three folding chairs, and a garden hose.

  “Well?” Ethan asks.

  “It’s okay. The floor is wet, but not as much as the ground outside. The door must create a pretty good seal. That helps. I think we can all fit.” I step back. “Go on in. There are even a couple of chairs for Hazel and Sawyer.”

  Hazel stands in the doorway. She looks like a nervous filly at the starting gate. “I don’t know, Jake.”

  “Go inside, Hazel. We’re all getting wet. And running out of time. That guy could be along at any moment.”

  Ethan gives her a gentle tug, and they step through the door. The trio of Nina, Kiara, and Sawyer follow without any hesitation.