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They fell silent. After a while, Mary spoke.

‘I don’t think what I said about Allison really helped. I can’t believe he pulled the wool over my eyes all this time. I had no idea.’

‘You don’t, with people like him,’ Carl said. ‘He’s a psychopath, no doubt about that.’

‘I was so stupid. How did I not notice?’

‘People like him are very skilled at acting a part. They’re not like you and me. They completely lack empathy. To them, other people are nothing. They are like animals – they want something, and they do whatever they can to get it. The fact that it might involve hurting another person never even enters into their minds. That’s why I think it was so disturbing for him to hear what you said about Allison. He thinks of her as a pawn in his game, who is going to do what he expects. The fact that she may have lied to him is a threat to his entire worldview.’

‘It may have been better if I’d kept my mouth shut.’

‘Honestly,’ Carl said. ‘I doubt it would have made any difference at all. He has his plan and he’s going to carry it through, whatever we say. There’s no talking him out of it.’

‘Then what can we do?’

‘I don’t know.’ He jerked his ankles against the strap. ‘And unless we can get off this bed, we’re going to die on it. Soon. How long will he take to get firewood?’

‘A few minutes,’ Mary said. ‘He has to go to the shed. And then he needs to start the fire in the living room and let it get going.’

She realized she was talking about the fire that was going to kill her and her children and was gripped by a sudden, overwhelming panic. She yanked her hands forward, fighting against the strap. The canvas edges bit into her wrists and pain flared; she didn’t care.

‘It’s hopeless,’ she said. ‘There’s no way to get free.’

She turned to Carl.

‘We’re going to die here,’ she said. She twisted again against the straps. ‘Aren’t we supposed to get some kind of super-strength in moments like these?’

‘I’m not sure that’s how it works.’ He caught her eye, his face fixed in a grim expression. ‘But there might be something we – I – can do.’

‘What?’

‘I remember reading about a lobsterman who got his hand trapped in a line attached to his winch,’ Carl said. ‘It was slowly winding him in, pulling him closer to a watery grave.’ He sniffed. ‘He had a fishing knife with him, so he did the only thing he could. He sawed off his hand.’

‘You have a knife?’ Mary said.

‘No.’ His tone was flat, almost distracted, the look in his eyes far-off and resigned. ‘But I have an idea.’

A Sickening Crunch

Carl was pale, and she realized he was frightened.

‘What’s the idea? You don’t seem very happy about it.’

‘These straps are pinning me in place,’ he said. ‘But if I could loosen one of them I might be able to move enough to get free.’

Mary looked down at his body. One strap was tight across his chest and arms; the other was pinning his ankles to the frame.

‘I can’t move up or down the bed,’ he said. ‘Because my ankles are fixed. If they weren’t I think I could slide up enough to release the pressure on my chest, and then I could pull my hands free.’

‘Sounds good,’ Mary said. ‘What’s the plan?’

He stared at his feet.

‘If I pull hard enough,’ he said. ‘I can break my ankle. Dislocate it; whatever. And then maybe I can release it. That’ll take the tension off my other ankle, so I can release that one. Then I’m free.’

His foot was standing at a right angle to his shin, the strap situated at the front of his ankle, where it hinged. That right angle was what was trapping him; if his foot was flat, then it would no longer do so.

But that would mean destroying his ankle.