Jane grabbed the gas can in one hand, shoving it onto one of the steps before hefting the board up and sliding it onto the porch. She nearly lost her footing as she bolted for the open kitchen door, thrusting the board into the house, almost dropping the gas can just inside the door before veering around and dashing back to her brother. She looped an arm beneath Sawyer"s shoulder and helped Ryan pull him up the stairs, slamming the door shut as soon as they were inside.
Snow sprayed off Sawyer"s clothes and onto the floor and bloodied blue tarp. He was terrifyingly pale.
"Oh my G.o.d," Jane exclaimed. "What happened?"
"His back," Ryan told her, rolling Sawyer onto a clean stretch of floor. Sawyer gave a m.u.f.fled cry when he was moved, and Jane gasped at the three long gashes in his coat. They needed to get Sawyer"s coat and the one beneath it off him as fast as possible. "Get some towels," Ryan said, but Jane was on autopilot.
She bolted across the kitchen to the living room, grabbing the kitchen shears out of a pile of knives before skidding back in place. She grabbed the bottom of Sawyer"s coat, shoving the scissors into place. Ryan grabbed her wrist.
"What the h.e.l.l are you doing?"
"We need to get these off." She began to cut, but he shoved her hand away, grabbing the shears and sliding them across the floor.
"How do you expect to get out of here?" Ryan demanded. "He"s wearing your coat."
Jane blanched at the realization, at the huge mistake she had almost made.
"Get some towels," he told her again. "Hurry up."
She sprinted down the hall and careened into the guest bathroom. s.n.a.t.c.hing all the towels she could find-all of them embroidered with an elegant A, she dashed back into the kitchen.
Sawyer was sitting up as Ryan peeled the coats from his back. He was teetering at the edge of unconsciousness. Jane dropped to her knees in front of him, caught his face in his hands.
"Tom," she said. "Hey, come on." She patted his cheeks, trying to wake him up.
"Your brother," Sawyer said weakly.
"Don"t talk," she insisted. "It"s going to be okay." But the look on Ryan"s face wasn"t at all rea.s.suring. She watched his expression go ashen when the second coat hit the floor, and she knew it was bad-worse than Ryan had expected.
"He, like"-Sawyer wheezed-"he Kill Billed the s.h.i.t out of..."
She couldn"t help it. Jane slid around to where Ryan was, only to release an involuntary cry at what faced her. Sawyer"s back was sliced into thirds, his ribs peeking through layers of skin, fat, and flesh.
Ryan looked at her, trying to keep himself in check, but there was panic in his eyes. Jane didn"t know what to do either, but they had to stop the bleeding. "Lay him down. Put pressure on that. We need sheets," she said, then scrambled to her feet.
Running up the stairs, she tore the sheets off the beds in the master bedroom. When she returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, Ryan had stripped Sawyer down to his pants. Sawyer lay on his stomach in the kitchen, and her heart lurched when she realized his eyes were closed. He was dead. He had to be-but she saw his shoulders lift just enough to a.s.sure her that he was still breathing.
Ryan shook his head at her. "That isn"t going to work," he said, nodding to the bedding piled in her arms. "We need to stop the bleeding now."
She said nothing as he slowly stood, leaving Sawyer where he lay. And she felt her legs go weak when Ryan stepped into the living room and thrust the small iron shovel into the flames of the fire.
With the smell of burning flesh filling his nostrils, Sawyer found enough breath to scream.
Ryan tore through the bags he"d brought back from Sawyer"s Jeep, seeing what could be used and what could be left behind. In April"s bag he found a can of aerosol hair spray. In Sawyer"s he found a cheap gas station lighter tucked into a half-smoked pack of cigs. He paused, listening to Jane comfort Sawyer in the kitchen, before exhaling a breath. He would never admit it, but he was terrified. If they had a hope of getting out of the cabin alive, Sawyer"s injury had just cut those chances down. But if there was ever a time to leave, it was now. If they didn"t, Sawyer was dead, and Sawyer couldn"t be dead. Ryan wouldn"t allow it.
Pulling on every last st.i.tch of gear he had, he stepped into the kitchen. He looked like an abominable snowman, wearing twenty pounds of clothing, his torch burning next to him, freshly lit by the fire in the living room. Jane opened her mouth to speak from where she sat on the floor, her arms around Sawyer, Sawyer fading in and out of consciousness, a bedsheet securing the Saran wrap they had wrapped around his torso; but she didn"t get a chance to speak. Ryan stepped through the kitchen to the door, unlocked it without a word of warning, and ducked into the snow. Moving back into view with Jane"s board sliding behind him, he stuck the burning end of the torch into the snow just beyond the door, extinguishing it, and stepped inside.
She watched him in silence as he crouched in the hallway, removing the board bindings with a mult.i.tool he had stashed in his backpack. Then he lashed both boards together with a menagerie of power cords the five of them had brought with them; cords for computers and iPods, cell phones and cameras. Perhaps their love of the digital age would save them in the end.
"You can start securing that basket to your board," he told her, tossing her a cable. "Just make sure it"s tight. We can"t lose it."
Jane caught the wicker basket by its handle and jabbed the end of the cord between the wicker weaving.
"What are we going to do?" she asked meekly. Her tone gave her away. She knew their chances were slim to none now, but Ryan wasn"t about to acknowledge her suspicion.
"What we were always going to do. We"re leaving in ten minutes."
Jane felt her face flush as she worked, clumsily tangling the cord around the front binding before triple knotting the end, trying not to cry.
"He could die," Ryan said under his breath, hoping that that sobering reminder would snap her out of her fear. This was no longer about should they or shouldn"t they. This was now all down to a simple question of when, and when had to be now.
Ryan didn"t wait for her reaction. He climbed the stairs to the center landing and plucked a picture off the wall. Their mother had bought it on a whim in an antique shop in Durango when they were kids-an artist"s rendition of the teddy bears" picnic, except the bears weren"t stuffed animals-they were real bears, some of them looking bizarrely vicious as they danced, hand in hand, around a campfire with their kin. There was something malign about that picture, like a serial killer painting clowns or twisting balloon animals at a kid"s birthday party. Bringing the painting down into the hall, Ryan lashed it on top of both boards.
He stood, examining their handiwork, and nodded in satisfaction.
"Let"s gather up the stuff," he said, motioning for her to follow him into the living room. There, they picked up the two remaining table leg torches that had yet to be lit, the collection of knives, and the pool cues Sawyer had sharpened to a point. The ax was in Ryan"s backpack, ready to go.
"We"re going to need to walk Sawyer down into the garage," he explained. "We"ll put him on this." He motioned to the makeshift gurney he"d fashioned out of two boards and their mother"s weird art. He had no idea whether it would work, if the snow would even hold Sawyer"s weight or if they"d end up getting stuck, but it didn"t matter anymore.
"What about Oona?" Jane asked.
"She"ll have to ride with him."
Jane looked startled by his answer. It was an insane plan.
"We"re out of options," he told her. "I"ll get all this stuff down there. You dress him in everything we"ve got. Grab a spare blanket to wrap him in and then dress yourself."
She nodded, trying to look brave, but her bottom lip quaked with emotion.
"Hey." He caught her by the shoulders, giving her a steady look. "I need you, okay? I can"t do this alone."
She nodded again, then turned to do what he"d asked of her, and Ryan was left staring at the teddy bears" picnic, wondering whether the artist had been trying to say something through his sinister art, like the fact that there was something in the woods, something that should have been a fantasy but was dangerously real.
Jane swallowed against the lump in her throat. She had forgotten all about the pot of blood until Ryan grabbed it from the sink and walked it out into the garage.
"Are you sure this is absolutely necessary?" she asked, her voice echoing against the cold cinderblock walls, but it had been her idea in the first place-an idea that had worked.
"It"s absolutely necessary," he told her, blocking Oona from scrambling back up the stairs. Sawyer sat against the wall, bundled up from head to toe, wrapped in the thick quilt Jane had found in the armoire upstairs. He looked terrible, but at least he was awake.
She squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she could, steadying her nerves. "f.u.c.king f.u.c.k," she whispered, antic.i.p.ating what was to come.
Peering into the pot at her feet, she reeled back at the smell. Her throat started to tighten-the sensation of inevitable sickness.
Ryan braced himself as he held on to Oona"s collar. "Just do it."
She grabbed the handles of the pot, hefted it up to her waist, and tipped it over Oona"s clean black-and-white fur. As soon as the thick liquid hit her back, Oona let out a loud whine and curved her back downward, trying to get away from the stuff that was slithering down her coat. Ryan gagged, but he held his hand steadfast beneath the stream of blood, ladling it onto her head, rubbing it into her snout. Oona sneezed once, twice, then wriggled out of Ryan"s grip. A second later she was shaking out, spraying the garage with a putrid red mist.
Jane turned away, sure she was about to puke. The stench was intense, permeating her nostrils, crawling to the back of her throat. She whimpered when Ryan pulled her back by the wrist. She sank to her knees and covered her face, her eyes watering from the stink. When she felt the liquid hit her shoulders, her stomach clenched. She tried to sit there as long as she could, but it only allotted Ryan a few seconds before she was up on her feet, vomiting onto the concrete floor.
Ryan braced himself when it was his turn. Had they been in any other situation she would have laughed at the intensity in his face. But she was too sick and too disgusted to even smile at his expression. She backed away from him when he shot up to his feet, and Ryan rubbed the foul-smelling stuff into his jacket and pants despite his obvious revulsion. They looked like a pair of serial killers fresh from a sloppy kill, and they smelled as good as they looked. Oona was having a sneezing fit, rubbing her face against the floor, desperately trying to get the stuff off her skin.
Ryan grabbed the half-empty pot of blood with bright red hands and walked it over to Sawyer. "Your turn, man," he said.
"Oh," Sawyer said weakly. "Fantastic."
"Just pretend you"re Dracula." Ryan tried for humor, but Sawyer only released a weak breath and covered his face with the quilt that was draped around his shoulders. He hardly made a peep when Ryan rubbed gore into his hair.
With the four of them drenched, he put the pot in their basket of gear. It was for later. They would remain covered in this stuff until they hit the highway, and then-Oh G.o.d, she thought, imagine seeing three b.l.o.o.d.y hitchhikers walking down the road. n.o.body will stop. n.o.body in their right mind would ever slow down.
Jane whimpered softly as she stood there, wet and sticky, not wanting to move, but there was no time for disgust.
"Hold her," Ryan said, motioning for Janet to grab Oona. Picking up the gas can from the basket, he doused the ends of three torches in gasoline. "You have to keep an eye on this. You can"t let it go out. I burned one of them when Sawyer and I were out there and they freaked. They know it can hurt them."
"What if it starts snowing again?" she asked. It was a distinct possibility. The clouds were still thick. "Or if the wind picks up and blows the fire out?"
Ryan thrust the torch into her gloved hand, giving her a look. She knew it was stupid to question it, knew it was a waste of time to think of all the things that could go wrong, because a million things could. If they operated on what-ifs, they"d never go through with it; they had to save Sawyer.
"They"re afraid of it," he told her again. "If you see one come close, hold the fire out in front of you."
"Okay," she said, her voice fading to nothing.
Ryan looped an arm around Sawyer and helped him across the garage, and for a moment she was frozen in place, refusing to believe their situation was so dire, that the pain that flashed across Sawyer"s face was real. But she wasn"t given time to dwell on those emotions. Ryan looked over at her and she immediately fell into step, limping across the concrete floor to help get Sawyer situated on his makeshift gurney. She didn"t want to think about what they"d do if the wires they had used to tie the thing together came apart, or if Sawyer lost consciousness again and they couldn"t manage to keep him on that crude sled, or if Oona leaped off Sawyer"s lap and was buried chest-deep in the snow. Wrapped in the quilt their mother had sewn when they were kids, Sawyer tried to give them both a courageous smile through his pain before coiling his arms around Oona, holding her in place.
Ryan paused as if thinking the whole thing over, then shook his head and tied the leash of the supply board around one of his belt loops. "You"re going to lead. We"ll keep Sawyer and Oona between us."
"But-" She didn"t want to lead, but bringing up the rear seemed like an even more precarious position.
"Janey." Ryan looked at her steadily. "This is how it"s got to be. Let"s go."
Before she could say another word, Ryan rolled up the garage door and the cold swallowed them whole.
Jane"s eyes watered against the wind. She pulled her scarf over her mouth and nose, hiding from the gale, breathing through her mouth so that her breath warmed the yarn closest to her lips. Reaching the driveway that would take them down the slope and away from that cabin forever, Sawyer and Oona sat on their makeshift sled like blood-soaked royalty. Ryan motioned for Jane to move ahead of him, and despite her trepidation she did, torch held out ahead of her.
They trekked past Sawyer"s Jeep without incident. The trees were still, and no matter how hard she looked, Jane didn"t spot any shifting shadows behind the pines. But she knew they were there, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. When Oona whined in Sawyer"s arms, Jane"s eyes went wide with panic. She shot a look behind her at Ryan, but Ryan didn"t see anything either. He shook his head at her, his expression anxious but mercifully put together. All it would take was for Ryan to lose his cool for the entire expedition to fall apart. Jane knew that if that happened, her own resolve would crumble beneath the weight of her fear.
"Where?" she asked, shoving her scarf down to her chin. "I don"t see anything. Where are they? Do you see them?" She waved the torch to and fro, spinning around, knowing that facing one direction for too long would render her vulnerable to an attack.
As though having heard Jane"s question, one of them showed itself. It stood a few yards down the slope as if planning on boxing them in. The moment Jane spotted it every nerve in her body stood on end, crackling with terror. She veered around, staring wildly at her brother.
"Face forward!" he demanded. He grabbed the leash of the supply basket and jerked it up the slope toward himself, grabbing April"s hair spray out of their a.r.s.enal. Oona bared her teeth and snarled, but Sawyer held her tight. His expression was unnerving, almost blank, as though his brain refused to register any more fear, as though it had shut down all his senses, overwhelmed by physical pain.
"I thought they were scared," Jane screeched. "You told me they were scared!"
"They are scared," he told her, trying to sound calm. He took a few steps down the slope toward the thing, and the creature crouched down, everything about its posture setting Jane"s teeth on edge. What if it lunged? What if it got him? What did he expect her to do if she was left alone out here with Sawyer and Oona? She couldn"t possibly pull them on her own.
Lowering his torch, Ryan pointed the spray can in the creature"s direction and pressed down on the trigger. A blast of heat hit Jane"s face as the snow lit up in a dazzling display of glittering ice crystals, fire shooting toward the monster that had decided to try its hand at derailing their escape. Ryan was too far away for the flame to reach the thing, but the explosion of fire had obtained the desired effect. The beast jumped back, startled, and ran away.
Jane found it almost disconcerting how easy it was to scare them. Was that all it took? A little fire and they were powerless? On one hand, she hoped to G.o.d that was all they needed to survive; on the other, it made her queasy to think that if it was that easy to make them scatter, all five of them could have been walking out of there instead of only three.
While Jane and Ryan slogged through the snow, Sawyer tried to stay alert. He felt strangely removed from the situation as he watched them struggle. Other than hanging on to Oona, there was nothing he could do. The pain that encompa.s.sed his back was indescribable-a kind of agony he"d never felt before. Jane had fed him a handful of Tylenol, but it hadn"t done anything to alleviate a sensation that teetered between h.e.l.lfire and numbness. Sawyer was almost positive that the numbness wasn"t his back at all-it was him slithering in and out of responsiveness, balancing on the knife"s edge of consciousness and catatonia. The nausea that roiled in the pit of his stomach was unbearable, but the cold that whipped across his face helped ease the discomfort.
At least until a haunting wail echoed off the trees around them.
It sounded almost human, like a valley of people moaning before death. Sawyer connected with something in that mournful chorus. At that very moment, it became undeniably clear-whatever these creatures were, they were in pain, more than likely racked with starvation, forced into a slow and bitter end. Somehow, on some primal level, he could relate to their plight. He swallowed against the lump in his throat, every breath harder than the last, his guilt over April subsiding enough to let a wave of calm drift over him. He had been so sure that he had lost her, but he"d been wrong.
He hadn"t lost anything. They"d be together soon.
The creatures were mercifully keeping their distance-a blessing, since the group had to stop every few minutes to catch their breath, pausing every hour for an even longer break. Maybe those things had been spooked enough to search for alternative prey. Maybe it was the blood that had frozen to their faces like war paint, stained their clothes, and clumped and matted in their hair. Ryan didn"t know exactly why they were being given this opportunity to make headway, but he also couldn"t be bothered to care. Both he and Jane were exhausted. Sawyer didn"t look good, hardly able to keep his eyes open for longer than a few minutes at a time. They were losing daylight with each pause, and all Ryan could hope for was that they"d hit the highway before nightfall. If they didn"t, they"d have to make camp, and he wasn"t convinced any of them would survive the night. Their stash of food was meager, their energy was low, and despite the lack of snowfall, the wind was relentless, biting at any exposed bit of skin. The chill would only grow more bitter with the onset of darkness. The windchill alone would be enough to end them.
But after hours of trudging forward at a snail"s pace, there was no denying that they weren"t going to make it in a single day. The five miles from the driveway to the highway suddenly seemed like five hundred. They were drained, and if they pushed themselves too hard, they wouldn"t have the energy to defend themselves if they were attacked.
Ryan shot a look over his shoulder at the tree line a hundred yards away. They were there, lurking in the shadows, watching their kill move farther and farther away as they moaned and growled within their throats; what Ryan had expected to be welcome distance made his nerves buzz with trepidation. Perhaps he had been wrong. Maybe they weren"t afraid. Perhaps they were simply waiting for the light of day to burn away before making their final move. He shoved his sleeve upward with his glove, exposing the watch that was wrapped around his wrist. It was a few minutes shy of four in the afternoon. The sun would be gone in an hour. If they were going to make camp, they had to start now.
"We should stop here," he announced. Jane"s expression immediately shifted from pained to anxious.
"What? Why? I thought we were going to the highway."
"We are. But we"re only about halfway."
Jane shook her head in disbelief. "That"s impossible," she insisted. "We"ve been out here for hours."
"Believe it," Ryan told her. "We"ve gone two miles, three if we"re lucky. Sunset is in an hour. If we keep going, we"ll get a quarter of a mile farther. We need to set up camp or we"ll freeze."
Jane"s gaze flitted to Sawyer, her face twisting with dread. Ryan knew what she was thinking-they didn"t have much time. Sawyer was weak, and without moving around like they were, he would be cold. If he didn"t make it through the night, the blame would be on Ryan. But he had expected this. He knew the trek was going to be hard and, with Sawyer incapacitated, even longer than it would have been if the three of them were able-bodied. They could continue through the night, but there was no doubt in his mind they"d collapse only hours after nightfall-spent, freezing. Sawyer wouldn"t survive it. But there was a possibility he"d survive the night tucked into a snow shelter away from the wind.
"I knew this would take longer than a day," he confessed, hoping that his admission would somehow soothe her nerves. He had kept it from her on purpose, knowing that if he had mentioned it earlier, she would have demanded to stay in the cabin rather than fight to survive.
Jane"s expression flitted between fear and anger. But without saying anything, she silently turned away from him, unstrapped the leash supply board she had taken over from her belt loop, and grabbed the lead to Sawyer"s gurney from Ryan"s hand, beginning her indignant march away from the group. She lumbered along for a few feet, the black smoke of her torch spiraling into the gray clouds overhead, releasing a frustrated cry of exertion as she tried to pull Sawyer and Oona along. But they hardly budged. Oona whined from Sawyer"s lap as she watched Jane struggle back in the direction from which they had come.
"Jane." Ryan sighed. "Come on, stop it."
"I"m going back!" She continued to push through the snow, stumbling once before regaining her footing, Sawyer"s sled sliding ever so slowly behind her.
"Why?" he asked. "We"re halfway there. Go forward if you"re going to go anywhere."
Jane stopped where she was, as though considering it. Then she whipped around and began to trek forward, deciding that the highway was a better option. But by the time she reached her brother again, she was too winded to go any farther.
"Will you please calm down?" he asked her. "We"re going to make a shelter, okay?" Ryan leaned down and swiped the supply board"s leash up in his hand, holding it out for Jane to reattach. Then he looked around, evaluating their position, took a few steps away from Sawyer and Oona, dropped to his knees, and started to dig.
Jane turned her face up to the darkening sky, shook her head after a moment, and whispered, "G.o.dd.a.m.nit," before dropping to her knees next to him, burying her gloves in the snow.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.