Carrie was reminded of the scene inFriday the 13th Part 3when Chris’s old flame Rick asks why she’d returned home. To prove her own inner strength to herself after a traumatic past event, Chris had replied. But Carrie couldn’t tell Mama that. Her mother would scoff and tell her that only praying would give her strength.
Carrie had tried prayer, with zero results. Now it was time for action.
“I just wanted to—” she started.
“Have you returned forhim? I hear he’s back in town.”
Carrie’s mouth dried up. Flushing to the tips of her ears, she fled the room.
Aunt Deb hovered anxiously outside the doorway, wringing her hands. “She’s not having a good day today,” she whispered. “Maybe come back later.”
Carrie had nodded, blinking back the humiliated tears she’d sworn she would never cry again. This would be the last time she’d see Mama. There was nothing for her here anymore.
And so she was heading up to the cabin a little earlier than she’d planned. Via the scenic route. She avoided Cedar Lake’s main roads and instead stopped at a gas station closer to a neighboring town. She didn’t want more people to recognize her than was necessary, even though her therapist had told her it was important to acknowledge the past in order to move on from it. She didn’t know what she’d do if the people of Cedar Lake reacted how Mama had. Returning to the cabin was intimidating enough.
But her therapist was right. Leaving home four years ago hadn’t solved a thing. It hadn’t taken away the devastating shame. She needed to accept her mistakes, or else her regrets would follow wherever she went, stalking her like the killer in a horror movie. Otherwise she’d always be looking over her shoulder, terrified that everyone she met would recognize her from The Photo.
And a weekend in the woods was a good way of dealing with the emotional fallout from her breakup. She was still processing how things had gone down between her and Daniel. His domineering personality couldn’t follow her to the cabin, not with the secluded location and spotty cell service. She shuddered, thinking of his last text message from the night before. She should’ve blocked his number but knew he would’ve bought a burner phone and kept texting her anyway.
I’m coming for you, Carrie.
He wouldn’t be able to find her now.
The gas station was deserted, save for a white SUV with a Park Services logo parked beside one of the pumps. Cedar trees rose from both sides of the highway, obscuring all signs of human civilization. Just what Carrie hoped for. The lonelier, the better. She pulled up beside the second pump, behind the SUV, and climbed out of her car.
The smell of cedar hit her in the face like Mama’s farewell slap. It was shocking how many feelings the scent of her hometown evoked. Anguish, remorse, and a deep longing. She thought she’d changed since her teenage years, but the minute she stepped out of the car, the woods reminded her she was still Carrie Zhao. The good girl who’d made a terrible mistake.
The gas station was self-service and stood in front of an abandoned-looking convenience store with dusty windows and a faded Coca-Cola sign. Even better for keeping a low profile. Carrie inserted her credit card, and as she filled the tank, she registered the tall, hulking figure of the SUV’s driver as he finished pumping gas. She shivered, despite the warm July sunshine on her bare arms. His height and hunching shoulders reminded her of Daniel.
The ranger’s narrow face turned, and pale eyes met hers. Carrie pulled the bill of her baseball cap lower over her forehead, afraid he would recognize her. As a teenager, she’d volunteered at a few lakeshore cleanups. The ranger grabbed the squeegee from the cleaning station and stoically turned back to wash his windshield, and her breathing eased.
Door chimes tinkled behind her. Startled, she spun around. An old man in grubby denim overalls stepped out of the convenience store, scratching his wispy white hair and squinting under the bright sun.
“You headin’ to Cedar Lake?” He eyed the full duffel bag riding in the passenger seat of her car.
“Yes, I am,” Carrie said. She didn’t see any point in lying.
The man spat onto the ground. “Whaddya wanna go there for? That’s where they’re holding that weird horror movie festival next week.”
“Oh, I’m not going into town. I’m heading to a cabin by the lake,” she said.
“Even worse. It’s real lonely in the woods. No internet or cell phones, and nothin’ but trees and crazy movie fans for milesaround.” He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Nice girl like you won’t be safe. There are some B and Bs close by that I can recommend.”
Carrie hid a smile. This old man was straight out of central casting. The grizzled local, from all the slasher movies she’d watched in high school, who warns young people away from the deserted house or summer camp. Little did he know that she was local, too. She and the Cedar Lake High horror film club had once been those crazy fans.
“I’ll be okay. I’m meeting friends.”
The old man didn’t seem to hear her. “Russ!” he hollered to the ranger.
Panic surged in her chest like a rogue wave. “No, you don’t have to—”
It was too late. The ranger stuck the squeegee back into its bucket and ambled toward them, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. Carrie noted with alarm he was in his early twenties, around her age. That meant he might have gone to Cedar Lake High. She didn’t recognize him, and prayed to all of Mama’s saints he didn’t recognize her.
“This young lady’s headin’ for Cedar Lake cottage country. Keep an eye on her, will ya?”
The ranger looked Carrie up and down. She shrank back, resisting the urge to yank her hat down farther over her face.
The ranger nodded. “Sure will, Jeb.”
