Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER 12

Iam screaming so hard that I feel something rip inside my throat. The pain is hot and agonizing and it rockets through my neck as I stumble back. Bezi's hands are on me, shoving me away from the door. She puts her hand over my mouth, but it's too late. There's shouting and a rush of footsteps.

"Come on!" Bezi screams.

She pulls me along the hall and back up the stairs. We careen through the door and race down the hall. My body feels like it's moving in slow motion, like my limbs are too heavy. Behind me, the yelling sounds closer, the footsteps louder.

Bezi yanks the front doors open and we stumble down the steps, ducking onto the path that leads toward the grove. I glance back at the entrance to the lodge just as the person in the owl mask emerges like a monster stepping out of a nightmare. I see the human legs and bare torso, the long arms, but the owl's giant head is so realistic, it gives the impression that the person is half-human, half-bird. The person wearing it readjusts the headpiece as the four people I saw in the basement cave rush out of the lodge.

My legs are pumping and I have a death grip on Bezi's hand as we rush down the path. Bezi trips and falls.

"Oh hell no," I scream as I pull her up. "Not today! Get up!"

I don't care if I have to drag her away from this place; we are not stopping. I can almost hear Paige's voice in my head telling me how horror movies always have someone who trips and falls and that's when the killer closes in on them. If I want to live—if I want Bezi to live—I have to keep going.

Bezi pops up and keeps pace with me as I run faster than I have in my entire life. My lungs burn with every gasping breath. Even though adrenaline is rushing through my veins, I feel the pain in my muscles. I feel the air moving like wet cement through my lungs. I can't keep up this pace. When we've put some distance between us and the lodge, I stop and pull Bezi down into the brush just off the pathway. I clamp my hand over her mouth as she starts to protest, but not a minute later, a flurry of footsteps and flashlight beams descend on the path.

I hold my breath even as my heart beats wildly. Bezi shuts her eyes, clinging to me in the damp, dark underbrush.

"Where are they?" an angry voice shouts. From the darkened pathway, the figure in the owl headpiece emerges. "Where?"

"I lost them," a tall blond woman in billowing black robes says breathlessly.

"Well, find them!" barks the man in the owl mask. "We need them!"

"They probably retreated to the camp," another man says. "We need to stick to the original plan. Let's get there and do what we came to do."

The man in the owl mask paces directly in front of us. His pale feet crunch across the dirt not an arm's length from where we lay hidden.

"Our order will be renewed," the woman says. "We have shed plenty of blood already."

The man in the owl mask approaches her, and while the mask doesn't show his expression, his body does. His shoulders are pressed back, his fists are clenched, his breathing deep and steady.

"I say if it's enough," he says in a tone that confirms everything his body language has already revealed. He's not just angry; he's seething. "The Owl Society will regain its power and we will remake the world but only through the blood, the ritual, and the water. We will return to the camp and use the ones who remain." The owl mask's beady black eyes glint in the glow from their flashlights as the man leans so close to the woman, she has to lean back to keep them from making contact, but she does not step away from him. "I will make this land run red with the blood of a thousand camp counselors, children, adults—anyone. I don't care what it takes."

In unison, they bow to him, and then they all move off in the direction of the lodge. I don't move. I don't even breathe. I worry that my heartbeat is loud enough for them to hear and that they'll come running back.

We wait. I don't know for how long, but we wait. Finally, when I'm positive they can't see or hear us, we make a break for the main road. We don't turn on our flashlights as we bolt past Ms. Keane's driveway as fast as we can. All I can think of is what the man in the owl mask said—"We will return to the camp and use the ones who remain." That has to mean Camp Mirror Lake, and the only people left are me and my friends. Images of Porter's eviscerated corpse flood my mind, and a wave of nausea sweeps over me. I grit my teeth and push it away as I hold open the gate at the rear of the camp so that Bezi can squeeze through. I follow her in, and we rush straight to the Western Lodge. I pull on the doors only to find them locked.

"Kyle! Open up!" I bang on the door, and there's a shuffling from inside. The curtain moves a little, and Kyle's dark eyes peer out at us. "Kyle! It's us! Open the door!"

The locks click open, and Kyle's face appears in the crack; he's holding a large kitchen knife in one trembling hand. I push my way through the door, and Bezi slams it shut. I slide the locks closed and lean against the door.

Kyle heaves a sigh and lowers his knife. "You scared the shit out of me."

I rush up to him and grab him by the arms as I struggle to catch my breath. "There are people in the woods! They're coming here to kill us! They killed Porter!"

Kyle's face is a mask of confusion. "What are you talking about?"

I peer around him and notice that Tasha isn't on the couch anymore.

"Where is she?" I ask.

"Javier called an ambulance and they came and got her, but Sheriff Lillard was with them," Kyle says. "And he didn't believe me when I told him what happened. He thinks everything is a damn prank or something."

"Did he see Tasha's wound?" Bezi shrieks. "How is that a prank?"

"He made it seem like we were messing around here, Charity." Kyle presses his lips into a tight line. "He said he was gonna come back up here and haul me off in handcuffs."

"Let him come back up here," I say. "He should be trying to figure out what happened to Tasha anyway." I picture myself punching Sheriff Lillard right in his face. I also picture me being sent to jail immediately for it. "You didn't go with them?" I ask, putting my hand on Kyle's arm. "I told you to go."

"I couldn't leave you." His bottom lip trembles as he looks down at the floor. "I knew you were still out there and—and—they killed Porter?" He sinks down onto the couch and holds his head in his hands. "I can't do this. What is happening?"

A white-hot anger ripples through me as I think of how smug and dismissive Sheriff Lillard was. I sit down on the couch next to Kyle and loop my arm under his. The weight of the situation threatens to crush me, but I hold myself together because there is something we have to do.

"We have to get to the office and make another call. We have to get help."

"Sheriff Lillard won't listen," Kyle says. "He might come back up here, but it's not gonna be till he's good and ready, and even then, he just wants to arrest us all."

"Fuck that guy!" Bezi shouts. "We call somebody else. We call somebody who will listen."

"Maybe Mr. Lamont?" Kyle offers.

That might not be a bad idea. He knows Sheriff Lillard is useless, and he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who plays around. He shut the game down immediately when he heard about what happened with Ms. Keane.

"Let's go," I say. "Right now. Those people said they were coming here tonight."

Kyle stands and shakes himself. "Okay. We go together?"

"Yeah," I say. "No more splitting up."

"Do you think Paige is still out there somewhere?" Bezi asks suddenly. Her eyes fill with tears, and she angrily bats them away. "We found her camera. She was there."

"You found her camera?" Kyle asks. "How do you know it was hers? And what does that mean? She dropped it or something?"

"It was hers," I say. "There were pictures of her and Bezi on it. And also pictures of . . ." The terrible images flash in my mind.

"Of what, Charity?" Kyle asks.

I shake my head. "Felix. And I think . . . ?I think these people, this Owl Society, killed him. Maybe Jordan and Heather too."

Kyle's lips part and his brow furrows. "How do you know that?"

"Because I saw what they did to Porter, and Felix is on that camera and Heather and Jordan are gone!" The words burst out of me like water from a dam. "They're all dead!"

A sob escapes Bezi's lips. "Tasha got away. I bet Paige did too. She's probably hiding out there like we were. And if those people are on their way here, that will give her enough time to get away and get some help."

I pull Bezi close to me as she sobs. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never should have said that. You're right. She could be out there." I have no idea if that's true or even a possibility, but it's what Bezi is leaning on, and I can't take that little bit of hope away from her.

Kyle grips the handle of his butcher knife and Bezi brandishes a broom. I unscrew the leg from the coffee table and hold it like a bat as we unlock the front doors and stand on the porch as the dark cloaks itself around us.

"Okay," I say quietly. "Let's move."

We walk toward the office single file—me in the front, Bezi in the middle, and Kyle at the back. Each of us scanning the surrounding paths, buildings, and clusters of pine trees. The exterior light from the boathouse illuminates the trail that leads from the Western Lodge to the office, but it's not enough to beat back the dark for more than a few feet. The waters of Mirror Lake look like a black void, a gaping mouth just beyond the boathouse. The sentiment that was shared by the Owl Society and by Ms. Keane was that this land was hungry, ravenous, and I can hear the lake waters lapping against the shore like a monster wetting its lips.

I immediately pick up the pace, and as we reach the office, I find the door unlocked and slightly ajar. We crowd in and lock the door behind us.

Without turning on the lights, I tiptoe around the counter and grab the phone, dialing Mr. Lamont's number as fast as I can. I hit the wrong buttons and have to start over twice, but once I've got the right numbers punched in, I put the receiver to my ear.

There is only silence.

I slam it down and pick it back up. Still nothing.

Bezi switches on her flashlight and points it in my direction.

"Something's wrong," I say as a familiar dread washes over me again.

Kyle grabs the receiver and holds it to his ear. He slams the phone down and grabs the cord connected to the back. There's too much slack and when he pulls it, the frayed end appears in Bezi's flashlight beam.

"Somebody cut it," I say as I realize exactly what this means. I turn to Bezi and try to keep my voice steady enough to make her understand that we've made a terrible mistake. We don't have to wait for these people to show up. "They're already here," I say.

Bezi's eyes glint in the dark as her hands begin to tremble. Kyle stands as still as a statue, gripping his knife.

"What—what do we do?" he stammers.

I move to the window and peer out at the parking lot. Bezi's car is sitting in the cone of light emanating from the floodlight. It's too low to the ground, and I realize it's because the tires have been cut. I can hardly think straight. A wave of panic rushes over me, and I sit on the stool behind the counter.

I'm trying to survive. That's all I want—to get out of this place alive. I stare at Bezi and then Kyle, both of whom are silent and clearly scared to death. I am too. I shift my gaze to the office counter and see the game book sitting open, the names of the guests and staff penciled in.

I've been playing the part of a girl who escapes a serial killer every night for months. It's not a game this time. The consequences are real, but we still have to play.

"I'm the final girl," I say. "It's literally my job to survive the night. We don't have any good choices here." I grab the game book and look at the roster, trying to think of a way to make any of this work in my favor. "It's just the three of us here for right now. Javier and Tasha aren't going to leave us here alone. I'm sure that as soon as they can, they'll get somebody else up here to help us."

"What about the pickup truck?" Kyle asks.

"We don't have the keys," I say. "Mr. Lamont has them, and even if he didn't, the tires are probably cut."

"Why would you say that?" Bezi asks, her eyes wide.

"Your tires are cut," I say.

A dreadful silence settles over us.

"We have to dig in and wait for help," I say. "Keep trying the cell phones. We'll get a spotty signal at some point, and we can use it to call Mr. Lamont, but until then, we have to play the game. We get our stuff together, we use the tunnels, we stay hidden. We survive the night. It's the only way we get out of here alive."

Kyle shakes his head. "I can't believe this is happening."

I put my hand on his shoulder. "They're not the only people who can put on masks and scare people."

We make our way back to the Western Lodge and bar the doors, cut out the main lights, and take stock of what we have to defend ourselves. It's not much, but it's all we have to work with—an assortment of dull kitchen knives, table legs, a half-empty can of bear spray, and the headsets we use to communicate during the game. We plug in our cell phones, and I help Bezi get her headset on.

"Just leave the channel open—that way you won't have to toggle it on and off," I say. "One of us should get to the control center and see if the cameras are still working. The lock on that outside door is the real deal, so you can lock yourself in there and be pretty safe."

"I'll go," Kyle says. "If the cameras are working, we can just avoid these weirdos until help gets here."

"Should we all go to the control center?" Bezi asks. "Just lock ourselves in there?"

"I know that's probably what we should do," I say. "But Paige might still be out there, and maybe if we can listen in on these people, we can find out if they know where she is."

"I thought we were gonna hide," Bezi says. "Now we gotta get close to them?"

"I'm not saying we go hunt them down. I'm just saying we need to keep our ears open in case they let something slip about Paige or Heather or Jordan."

Bezi nods, but fear is stretched across her face, pulling the corners of her mouth down. I close my hand over hers. Suddenly, there's a loud click, and the porch light on the lodge goes out. My phone buzzes, signaling to me that it's not charging anymore. The always-present electrical hum stops, and silence swallows the lodge whole.

"The power," Kyle whispers.

My heart ticks up. "The generator will keep the control center running for a few more hours. We gotta get over there."

Kyle sighs and pulls something out of his back pocket—the ghostlike mask he uses during the game.

"Put it on," I say.

He slips the mask over his head.

"That's terrifying," Bezi whispers.

"When you get to the control center, talk to me on the headset so we know you're safe," I say.

Kyle nods, takes a deep breath, and exits the lodge through the rear door. I lock it behind him, and then Bezi and I uncover the hatch in the kitchen floor. I slip my flashlight out of my pocket and shine it down the tunnel.

"Electricity's out down there too." I lean back and sigh. "If those lights are out, that means power to the main breaker is out. Everything in the entire camp is off that's not battery powered."

"Shit," Bezi says. "So what do we do?"

I cup my hand over my earpiece as I pick up the half-empty can of bear spray and slip it into my pocket. "Kyle? You okay?"

There's a rustling on the channel. The static is bad, but after a moment, Kyle's voice breaks through. "Yeah. I'm going . . . ? the pier. I thought . . . saw something by . . . lake."

"What? What did you see?"

"I don't know," he says, his voice tight. "Like . . . ?something white . . . feathers."

My hands are slick with sweat as I try to keep my voice level. "Keep going. Do not stop. Tell me when you get there."

There's a thud from somewhere above me. Bezi and I both freeze and tilt our heads up. We stare at the ceiling of the lodge as a slow march of heavy footsteps moves across it from somewhere outside.

"What is that?" Bezi asks.

I hold my breath.

Listening.

Something is on the roof.