She stared through the trees, willing herself to see the lake.
Abruptly, the hum cut off.
Reyva swore.
“Not necessarily bad,” Mariana said, huffing. “It could be at the dock.”
But where was the dock? Claire clutched her side. It hurt. And she felt a yawning hunger. They were using too many calories without replacing them, and it was starting to catch upwith her. Her mouth felt dry. She hadn’t had enough water. “I can’t...,” she said, panting. Slowly, her legs wobbled. She saw black spots in front of her eyes. Putting her hand on a tree trunk, she gasped in air. Her throat hurt from breathing so hard.
“Got to keep going,” Reyva said, coming back to her. “Come on.”
She tried to wave them on. “Go ahead. Keep the boat here. I’ll catch up.”
“No way,” Mariana said. “We stick together. That’s the rule. Stick together, and we’ll survive.”
“Is that a promise or a hope?” Claire asked.
“Both.”
Mariana and Reyva got on either side of her. Their arms around her waist, they hurried together, propelling her forward. Up ahead, Claire saw sunlight. An open area. They ran forward and saw the burnt house beyond the empty airstrip. The SOS was gone, the rocks scattered—either by wind or by human hand, Claire wasn’t sure which—but beyond that it looked the same.
They crossed the cracked airstrip.
Claire felt prickles on her back. They were too exposed. Anyone could see them. She felt as if she had a target painted on her back. She didn’t look at the house as they passed, but she did shoot a glance at the shed with the trapdoor.
She slowed. “Reyva. Mariana.”
Both of them slowed too and stared into the shed.
Inside, rocks had been piled on top of the closed trapdoor. Multiple hundred-pound flat rocks, stacked six feet high. Shedoubted there was anyone in the world strong enough to push that trapdoor open from the inside.
Only someone very strong and very determined could have done that. Someone who really, really hadn’t wanted them to escape.
Eleven
A flash of orange in between the trees.
Someone’s coming, Claire thought. She grabbed Mariana and Reyva. “Hide.”
Together, they sprinted to the nearest shed, which had three mostly intact walls. Crouching behind it, they flattened against the charred boards. Claire counted her breaths. She tapped her index finger on the strap of her backpack, in rhythm with her inhales. Her heart was racing again, and her head was beginning to ache.
Could you die from too much fear?
She was reasonably sure the answer was yes.
Beside her, Reyva peeked around the corner of the crumbling shed wall. Inching closer, Mariana whispered, “Who is it?”
Pulling back, Reyva shook her head.
She didn’t know.
It could be a rescue—the police, coming to belatedly investigate the fire. Or another camper with no clue what was waiting for them at the Lake House. Or their parents, worried about them.
Or it could be the man with the shotgun, the wild man, or some brand-new dangerous stranger. Maybe one of the men had an accomplice who had been called in to finish the job. She thought again of the cage in the underground bunker and wondered if there was any connection.
She heard whistling, a tune that sounded vaguely like something she’d heard on the radio, but twisted to a minor key. Off pitch, it made her shiver. Again, Reyva peered around the corner.
The whistle cut off.
