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Chris topples to the ground while Sal scrambles up.
The world spins. Her head’s on fire. Which way is out?
Oh god, go, Sal. Move your ass. Get out. Go. Go.
Go where? Anywhere.
And then she’s racing up the stairs, a rush of adrenaline and panic as she staggers through the kitchen, her eyes lasered on the back door. She fumbles with the lock, fumbles like a fool from those awful horror movies her sister loves, and then—the lock pops.
Exhilarated, Sal whips open the back door only to find a screen door.
“Noooo,” she moans, almost screaming in frustration when she finds that locked as well.
Then she hears Chris pounding up the stairs behind her. Lumbering, screaming in pure rage. He flies into the kitchen, slashing the knife.
Sal goes rigid and braces herself for the blow, but there’s a black blur, and then there’s Winston, leaping between her and Chris. The mangy mutt is now a beast and he lets loose a vicious snarl before savagely burying his teeth in Chris’s thigh.
Chris cries out, staggering backward as he tries to shake Winston loose.
It’s all the time Sal needs.
She gets the lock open, the screen door open, and then she’s free.
“Get the fuckin’ lead out, Luke.” Seth sits on the edge of his seat, long fingers drumming the dash, his leg bouncing anxiously.
Luke grits his teeth, bites back his retort. He’s pushing the truck as fast as it can go. His nerves are lit and on fire. His attention laser-focused. Focused on finding Sal. Worrying about what’s been done to her. Trying not to let fear and panic take over. Because Luke knows Sal will fight. She’ll never stop.
Jace swears at the map blinking bright on his phone. “Goddamn reception.” He shakes his phone as if giving it a reboot. Extends a finger. “Should be off Route Five here.”
“There!” Seth slams a fist against the dash when the sign for Ashland City appears. He sits back, his face stunned. “Sal was right. Two train tracks.”
Luke jerks the wheel to the right. The truck bounces as it flies over a pothole and then his pulse kicks up when he sees the cabin in the distance. Gravel road. Blue shutters.
“Middle of fuckin’ nowhere,” Seth mutters.
Luke grips the wheel and punches the gas. He can feel the adrenaline pounding in his veins.
The truck speeds ahead. Close. So damn close.
Almost there, Sal.
“What do we do when we get there, Luke?” Jace’s quiet voice interjects.
Luke clears his mind. After a second glance at Seth, whose jaw is tight in solidarity, he says, “Whatever we have to.”
Sal bolts out the back door and into the brightening sky. Sunrise. Pinks and golds and purples. Colors that are certainly cheerier than her current situation.
It’s hard keeping her balance, and her sense of direction is off, but she’s free. She takes off into the woods, concentrating on finding a road, civilization. Concentrating on not letting her body take over. She knows it wants to shut down. Knows shock is on the horizon. Because she’s stressed and she’s tired. She tired as hell.
Push. Move, Sal. You can rest when it’s over. In fact, there will be nothing but rest because Luke will never let you out of the house again.
At the thought of her husband, Sal balls a fist and readies her feet to fly.
She run-limps over loam. Dark branches like gnarled witch fingers graze the golden sky; her breath comes in herky-jerky gasps. She keeps a hand over her belly as she runs, a reminder, her motivation never to stop, to give it her all.
Bolting left, Sal stumbles, trips over thick scrub, rights herself. But when she exits the thick grove of trees, what she sees makes her want to break down and bawl like a baby.
Her eyes wide, she turns around and around, staring at the sky, her surroundings.
