It’s you after all.
Yes. Look. We don’t got much time—
Where’s my mom?
I told you, we don’t got time for that right now. You can look for her later. Right now you need to save yourself, so you can save my son. I worked on getting you here, and now you need to fight back. You need to save Mitchell.
Mom.
Ruby! Pay attention. But don’t open your eyes. Don’t let him know you’re awake.
I’m not awake.
But she was. She could feel the soil under her, feel the coolness on her bloody head as she was dragged into the forest. There was the sour taste of fear in her mouth. For the first time she could remember, she felt afraid, because now she had a sliver of hope that her mom was still alive, someplace out there, and if Ruby died, she would not be able to save her.
Charise?
Yes. I’m here. It’s not easy for us to talk so directly. I won’t be able to do this for very long. Please listen.
What do I do?
In a minute, he’s going to pull you over a rock. It will be right next to your hand. Can you feel your hand?
Yes.
Grab that rock.
Ruby did. She felt its rough surface in her limp fingers.
In about ten more paces, he will stop. That is where he will dig the hole.
I want my—
This is your only chance. When he drops you, lie there like you are still out. Hide that rock in your hand. Don’t let him see it.
He stopped, dropping her feet. She could feel him turn around to look at her. His gaze felt hot, scornful. Then he went to work. The rock was hidden in her hand, buried under the cicada shells.
She could hear the sound of a shovel parting the earth. He must keep it out here, she thought. The soil, clumped with clay, crawling with worms and smelling of death, was deposited near her head. She was lying above a mass grave. Under her, she knew, lay Betty Dubois. Betty called to her now. All of them called, clacking at her from under the earth.
A drop of foul dirt hit her face. She heard him grunting with effort. The shovel moved faster.
Ruby?
Yes.
You’re going to swing when I say swing. He’ll be done digging in a few minutes.
I’m... hurt. He hit me hard.
Stay awake.
There was silence. She felt dirt trickle near her face. There was a sound: He was setting the shovel aside. She could feel his foul breath as he knelt over her, ready to push her into the rotting grave.
Now, Ruby.
Her eyes popped open, and she was looking right up at her father, who was reaching for her with long, dirty fingers.
Their eyes met, and his widened in surprise. All the power and rage of all the missing women was in her fist, and she swung the rock, hard, right where she knew it would count the most: his soft, fragile temple.
