Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I hold my breath as I sneak into the hallway, stopping at the open window above the sink to peek out. Brendan is a safe distance away from the RV, arranging large rocks into a circle. Between him and the RV is a bundle of firewood like you'd find in any grocery store. The seam of dark trees runs along the far side of his fire-pit-in-progress, but he's kept a safe distance to them.

The sound of the rocks scraping against each other as he arranges them is fraying my nerves. I keep picturing him smashing my head in with one of them. Half of me is paralyzed with panic; the other half wants to burst through the door in the living area and start running.

My gaze shifts from Brendan to the side door. It's locked, plus it's on the side facing Brendan, so he'd see me immediately.

It feels like someone is choking me very, very slowly. Dazed, I look back at him. He straightens up, walks over to fetch the bundle of firewood, and then kneels in front of the stone circle. He pauses for a moment to smooth back a strand of dark hair that's come loose from his ponytail. The afternoon shadows of the trees tremble in the summer breeze, making them seem more alive than he does. Every movement he makes is like the minimalist version of itself. Even now, as he lays thick hunks of wood between the stones, creating a barrier between the fire and the moist earth. My brothers used to do that in the yard in Ash Springs, even though the ground there is practically never damp. They made it into a competition, though, pulling pieces out and rearranging them again and again. Brendan positions each piece perfectly the first time. Once he's got the base down, he piles smaller chunks on top with an expert precision that suggests he's done this hundreds of times already.

I take a deep breath and take a look around the inside of the camper. All the windows have those burglar-proof bars across them, except for the one in the driver's cab.

Maybe I can get out through the driver's side door. It's facing away from the campfire. If it's not locked, I can sneak out, cross the forest road, and disappear into the trees before Brendan notices. I peer through the window by the dining-room table, gauging the distance between me and the spruce trees. Thirty feet, maybe. And Brendan's probably thirty feet from the camper in the other direction. If I can get to the tree line before he realizes I'm gone, I'll have a sixty-foot head start, which should be enough time to hide.

I glance between Brendan and the door a few more times. My legs are like toasted marshmallows, but I still take a step forward, and then another. Now I'm almost up front in the driver's cab.

"Go ahead and pick out what you want to eat later!" Brendan suddenly calls.

I freeze in place, racking my brain feverishly, trying to decide what to do. Then I squat down and crawl back to the sink, handcuffs clinking. Carefully, I straighten up.

"Okay," I call back. Did he hear how shrill my voice sounded?

He glances toward the camper, but not to the open window I'm standing beside. Maybe this is my lucky day, and he can't see anything clearly through the window screen.

"It's all in the fridge. Pick me out something, too!"

"Right." I clench my fists in agitation.

Brendan returns his attention to the wood. If he's planning to start the fire right away, he'll probably be busy for a while. He might even have to go gather tinder.

I can't wait any longer. This time, I crawl up to the driver's cab on all fours, and then wedge my body through the narrow gap between the seats, across the gearshift. I ease myself into the driver's seat as quietly as I can and glance at the ignition. The keys aren't in it. Of course not. Then again, I wouldn't have any idea how to drive this beast anyway. Ethan's only given me a couple of driving lessons, and that was months ago.

With trembling fingers, I feel around behind me for the door handle without taking my eyes off the passenger-side door, sick with terror. Finally, I find it. How loud will the click be when the door opens? I scoot to the left, preparing to make an immediate run for it if Brendan hears. Thirty feet, I just have to make it thirty feet, and then I can disappear into the underbrush.

I pluck the handle like a guitar string. Nothing happens. I pull again, harder. Still nothing. He's got it locked. Tears spring to my eyes, but then I notice the window crank. It's a crank! Not electric! I can barely believe my luck. With sweaty palms, I roll down the window. If only I knew where Brendan was. Is he still working on the fire, or has he started sneaking around the camper? With every second that ticks by as I crank the window down, I expect him to fling open the side door. Once it's completely open, I listen hard for quick footfalls or suspicious cracking-twig sounds. Birds sing somewhere overhead, and far away, across a horizon I can't see, thunder rumbles. It's only now that I realize how cool and humid the air outside is. If Brendan heard the thunder too, he might change his mind about grilling.

I shift into a squatting position on the seat and grip the top of the window frame with both hands. First I slide one leg outside to straddle the bottom of the frame, and then I pull the other leg around so that I'm sitting side-saddle.

Now!

I drop to the ground, scraping my back against the door as I fall. I grit my teeth to keep myself from screaming in pain.

The muted thump of my feet hitting the ground makes my heart freeze in my chest. It takes me several seconds to jolt myself out of my shock, but then I start sprinting toward the trees in a blind panic. My legs are nightmarishly heavy. The forest seems to be receding in the distance. Stones bore into my bare feet, ripping the skin.

"Louisa!" Brendan shouts behind me. My name, and some other words that I don't hear, don't care about. I just have to get to the forest. To hide. To be invisible to him.

I'm about to reach the tree line when I trip on a rock and go flying. I hear myself wheezing; everything is swimming. At the last second, I manage to break my fall with one hand.

But then I see Brendan. Like a flickering shadow at the edge of my vision, faster than I would have ever thought possible. He's running not from behind, but from the side, his eyes wild and smoldering. Before my mind has even processed what I'm seeing, the full weight of his body hits me.