Beth twisted violently in Trent’s hold, her movements too coordinated, too fluid. She broke partially free, and before either man could react, she drove the scissors toward Trent’s neck. He jerked back, the blades missing by inches. Dutch grabbed for her arm, trying to control the weapon, and Beth spun on him instead.
The scissors punched into Dutch’s upper arm, deep enough that he grunted and staggered back a step. Beth wrenched them free, blood coating the blades, already turning back toward Trent.
“Dutch!” I gasped, clutching Sophia tighter.
“I’m fine,” he growled through clenched teeth, grabbing Beth’s wrist before she could strike again. “Just get her down!”
Together, the men forced Beth to the ground. She bucked and thrashed beneath them, but Dutch pinned her legs while Trent controlled her upper body with his right arm doing most of the work, his left shoulder held at an awkward angle. The scissors clattered from Beth’s grip, skittering across the floor to rest against the wall. It was horrible to watch. Beth Morris, who sang silly songs about butterflies and helped kids tie their shoes, was now snarling and fighting like a rabid animal.
“Careful,” I found myself saying. “Don’t hurt her. It’s not her fault.”
“We know.” Trent’s voice was strained with effort. “She’s in there somewhere.”
He managed to flip Beth onto her stomach, one knee pressed against her back to hold her down. From his pocket, he pulled plastic zip ties. Dutch held Beth’s ankles together while Trent bound her wrists behind her back, blood from Dutch’s arm dripping onto the floor.
“It’s okay, Beth.” Trent’s voice softened, even as he tightened the zip ties. “This isn’t you. We’re going to fix this. You’re going to be okay.”
Beth continued to struggle, but with her limbs secured, her movements became less dangerous. Her body bucked against the floor, her head twisting to the side. For a split second, I thought I saw something in her eyes—a flash of the real Beth, terrified and confused, before the vacant stare returned.
“Is she... can you help her?” I asked, still clutching Sophia tight against me.
Dutch secured her ankles with more zip ties, his weathered hands surprisingly gentle despite the blood running down to his wrist, then he straightened and retrieved his gun. “First priority is getting you all somewhere safe.”
Sophia whimpered against my neck, her whole body trembling. I stroked her hair, murmuring nonsense words of comfort.
She was alive.
She was unharmed.
The scissors had left no mark on her soft skin.
I kept repeating these facts to myself, trying to slow my hammering heart.
“We need to check her for weapons.” Trent methodically patted down Beth’s pockets. “Anything she could use to hurt herself or us if the ties fail.”
Dutch nodded, helping with the search despite his injury. They found nothing else, just a small tube of lip balm and a folded tissue. Such normal, human things. It made what had happened to Beth seem even more grotesque.
“How are you not like them?” I asked Dutch, the question bursting out before I could stop it. “Everyone else in town...”
He snorted, pressing his palm against his bleeding arm. “Never trusted the town supply. Not since ’78, when the mining company dumped into the reservoir. Got my own well.”
Trent sat back on his heels, wiping blood from his scratched cheek. He winced slightly as he shifted his weight, favoring his left side. “Your paranoia might have saved all our lives.”
Beth had gone still on the floor, but her eyes remained open, staring at nothing. Occasionally, her body would twitch like someone having a bad dream. Was she in there, trapped inside her own mind, watching as her body tried to hurt a child she loved?
“What do we do with her?” I asked.
“Can’t leave her,” Dutch said. “Not like this. She might hurt herself trying to get free.”
“We have to leave her,” Trent said. “She’s too dangerous. Too unpredictable. And for all we know, they can track her.”
Sophia lifted her head from my shoulder, her face streaked with tears, to look at her teacher lying bound on the classroom floor. “Ms. Beth,” she whispered, and the heartbreak in those two words nearly shattered me.
“We need a safe place,” I said, forcing myself to think beyond the moment, beyond the terror we’d just survived. “Somewhere we can figure out what to do next.”
Dutch nodded. “Got just the place in mind. But we need to move fast. Won’t be long before the rest of them realize something’s wrong.”
Trent rose to his feet, his eyes meeting mine over Sophia’s head. In that moment, I saw something unguarded in his expression—relief, yes, but also a fierce protectiveness that made my breath catch. For a heartbeat, we were just three people who had survived something terrible together.
