Jack stumbled to his feet, then swayed.
She hesitated for a moment and then backtracked to him. “Come on.” She draped his arm around her and tugged him with her. He didn’t budge.
The dead man lurched toward them. His legs were bent at unnatural ankles.Broken, she guessed. He couldn’t run. He shouldn’t be able to walk. But he was, inexorably, coming after them.
Mariana hurried to Jack’s other side. “Let’s go, knife boy.”
With Reyva leading the way, they barreled through theforest, pulling the woozy Jack between them. He stumbled as they rushed him forward. “What’s... going on?” he managed. His words were slurred.
“Wild man is Arthur, the missing boy,” Claire said. “He’s dead, and he’s chasing us. He’s the one who burned down the Lake House and killed all those people.”
“It was abandoned,” Jack said.
“What?” Claire said.
“There was no camp. It closed years ago.”
Claire jerked to a halt. That... How... Why? No, that wasn’t possible. They’d been sent here to the Lake House for “summer enrichment.” Their parents had talked about it, complained about checks and paperwork, and arranged transportation. Jack himself had taken them across the lake, talked about other campers and counselors. Of course there was a camp!
“You can explain it all to us,” Reyva said, “later. Keep moving, Claire.”
Claire glanced over her shoulder. The dead man was losing ground behind them, but he hadn’t stopped. She wondered if he would ever stop. He wasn’t alive. Or was he? What was he?
I want to live, he had said.
She shuddered and sucked in air.Count, she ordered herself. She began counting her strides:One, two, three, four... twelve, thirteen, fourteen...
They’d left an obvious trail when the wild man had carried Jack to the cave and they’d shadowed him—trampled grass, muddy prints, broken twigs. They followed their own tracksback to the Lake House. Claire was certain the dead man was following them just as easily.Two hundred eighty-six, two hundred eighty-seven...
Suddenly, Jack sagged.
“Whoa, stay with us, knife boy,” Mariana said. She smacked his cheek lightly. His eyes looked glassy, not focusing on anything in particular. He groaned but straightened his knees.
“Concussion?” Claire asked.
“Yeah, think so,” Reyva said, peering at him. “Seen it in the studio. He needs a hospital.”
“So do you.”
She didn’t respond to that. “We have to keep moving.”
Mariana and Claire propelled him forward, following Reyva. She kept counting steps, focusing on that, not on what was following them. Together, they hobbled across the airstrip. Without the roots and brambles, it was faster going, only slowed by Jack. She ached to run and flee as fast as she could, as far as she could. She didn’t know how far would be far enough.
“We can’t just go to the dock,” Claire said, over Jack’s head. “He’ll find us.”
“You think he’s intelligent, whatever he is?” Mariana asked.
“He can talk. I think we have to assume worst case.” Able to think. Able to reason. Able to find them, if they went anywhere obvious. “We have to lose him in the woods.”
Glancing back, she saw the dead man limp out of the forest behind them.
“Come on,” Reyva said. “Gotta move faster.”
Picking up their pace, Claire and Mariana half carried Jack the length of the airstrip, to the burned-down Lake House, while the dead man lurched behind them.
“Leave us alone!” Mariana shouted over her shoulder.
“I only need one,” he said in a gurgly voice. “One, and the rest can go free. You will leave this place joyfully, unburdened by thoughts of the one you’ve left behind. Like your parents before you.”
