by Laura Wolfe
“Shit!” someone yelled in the second before impact. Metal scraped against metal. Glass shattered. An airbag inflated in front of me, the driver, but not for anyone else. That’s how they’d designed cars back then, with only one airbag. The vehicle slammed to a halt, followed by a moment of stunned silence. The scent of burnt rubber and gasoline surrounded us.
Jenna screamed. “My leg! My leg!”
Jenna was sitting next to me, her face twisting in agony. The airbag suffocated me. I strained against the inflated bag toward her, but Jenna’s right leg wasn’t visible from the knee down. The car had crumpled around her, a metal monster consuming her limb. She wasn’t faking any drama this time. She was trapped. I recognized the devastation in her eyes, the shrill terror in her voice; her injury was severe.
Black spots floated in front of my eyes. I looked down at my arms and legs, making sure they were still attached. Finding no marks on myself, I lifted my hand to help her, but I was unsure what to do.
“We’ve got you, Jenna.” Sam’s steady voice sounded from the back seat. I turned toward Sam, checking on her and the others. Shock stretched across their faces. A cut slashed across Charlotte’s forehead and she cradled her head in her hands. Sam leaned forward and reached for Jenna, but her fingertips barely reached Jenna’s slumped shoulder. Sam’s skin was pasty in the dim light. Kaitlyn whimpered, her front teeth pinning down her lower lip.
“Ahhh!” Jenna screamed again.
A competing vision of Jenna tumbled through my dazed state—Jenna’s muscled limbs sprinted across the soccer field on a brisk autumn afternoon. She waited for a pass, trapping the ball and swinging her foot back, shooting toward the corner of the goal. She raised her arms overhead, jumping up and down as we cheered in the stands at Valley Fields. Her triumphant teammates surrounded her.
Cold air speared through my lungs and snapped the memory from me. The chemical smell of the mangled car burned my nostrils. “Let’s get her out of the car.” I reached for the door handle.
“No!” Sam shook her head wildly. “We shouldn’t move her.”
“We need to call 911,” Charlotte said. There was a cut on her forehead and a bead of blood dripped from it.
A knock rapped against my window and I jerked upright, my heart lurching into my throat. An older man in a thick black overcoat and a wool hat peered at us. He wore a dazed expression and, somehow, I knew he must have come from the other car. I opened my door.
“Everyone okay over here?” he asked, his worried eyes stopping on Jenna as she howled with pain.
“Our friend is injured.”
“Oh boy.” The man adjusted his hat. “Hold tight. I’ve already called 911. There’s an ambulance on the way.”
“Is everyone in your car okay?” I couldn’t make eye contact as I asked the question. My teeth clenched, bracing myself for the answer.
“Yeah. My wife bumped her head, but she’ll be fine. That SUV drove away like nothing happened.” The man huffed and shook his head.
Guilt tunneled through me, my cheeks burning despite the frigid night. I squeezed Jenna’s hand as she sobbed.
Minutes later, a siren blared in the distance, and an ambulance arrived. It took the EMTs several minutes to remove Jenna from the passenger seat, prying away pieces of metal and vinyl to free her leg. At last, they laid her on a stretcher and loaded her into the back of their vehicle. Another paramedic treated Charlotte’s forehead on-site, affixing a bandage to the cut and assuring her that she didn’t need stitches. Kaitlyn, Sam, and I were shaken but unharmed. A police officer arrived and took my information, offering us a ride to the hospital.
I hugged my arms around myself as the ambulance’s flashing lights and whirring siren faded into the distance. My insides quivered, and the realization that the ordeal was only beginning tunneled through me. I feared for Jenna’s leg, for the future of her soccer career. And I understood another crushing truth; the accident had been entirely my fault.
Chapter Seventeen
It took another forty minutes of hiking and stopping while Jenna rested her ankle, but we eventually reached the bend in the trail where the path widened and led to camp property. I slapped a mosquito away from my arm. We traipsed past the trees and into the field, where the zip line loomed above us. The handlebars dangled near the far perch, directly above the spot where Jenna had fallen. It was impossible to believe her injury had happened only yesterday. It felt like years had passed since then. Sam had been with us, and now she wasn’t. A hiccup formed in my throat.
Jenna grunted as we continued past the zip line and into the adjoining field with the archery targets. We kept walking, following the signs to the cabins. At last, the trail delivered us to the center of the camp. Six tiny bunk rooms stood in a line, watching over the main buildings. I picked up a jog, forgetting about Jenna’s injury. The one-room building marked Office appeared in the distance. My feet moved faster.
I reached the camp’s office before the others. Out of breath and cupping my hands to the side of my face, I peered through the window. Lightness flooded through me and I bounced on the balls of my feet. My vague and hopeful recollection had been correct. There was a phone sitting at the edge of a wooden desk. A curly cord extended from the receiver and plugged into the wall. I yanked on the door, but the metal handle stuck. It was locked.
Jenna leaned on Charlotte’s shoulder as they hobbled closer. Kaitlyn reached me a few steps ahead of them, her face pink and slick with sweat.
“It’s locked,” I said loud enough for all of them to hear. I moved to the side of the door and jiggled the window. Someone had locked that, too.
Jenna removed her arm from Charlotte’s shoulder and squinted into the sun. “We’ll have to break the window. We need a rock.”
We scattered in all directions, searching for a rock big enough to shatter the glass. I crouched near the perimeter of the building, finding nothing but pebbles and tall weeds.
“Got one!” Kaitlyn yelled. She heaved up a grapefruit-sized stone from the edge of an overgrown vegetable garden. She lumbered toward us, holding it with two hands. “Who wants to do it?”
Jenna lifted her hand. “I will.”
Kaitlyn handed over the rock and waved the rest of us away. “Let’s move back.”
I stepped backward.
“Don’t cut yourself, Jenna.” I leaned to the side, hoping a broken window would be enough to gain entry.
“I won’t.” She stood a couple of feet from the window. She pressed her lips together and heaved the rock forward. I squinted as it crashed through and landed with a thud. I raised my eyelids and inched forward.
Charlotte frowned. “We have to push up the window and climb inside.”
I looked from Jenna’s ankle to the shattered window. “I’ll do it.” I reached through the opening, avoiding the shards, until my fingers found the metal latch. It took three tries, but I slid the lock to the side. “Okay. It’s unlocked.”
Kaitlyn stepped forward and we shoved up on opposite sides of the window. It slid open.
“Yes,” Jenna said, a hint of a smile creeping onto her face. It was a small victory, but it was still a victory.
I motioned toward the open window. “Give me a boost.”
Charlotte plucked a few loose shards of glass from the frame. Kaitlyn crouched next to me and laced her fingers together to form a step. “Put your foot in my hands, and I’ll push you up.”
I did as she said, reaching my arms through the window and pulling my body through. I balanced on my waist for a second then lifted my knee. With my other leg, I swung forward, toppling into the office.
“Are you okay?” Kaitlyn’s voice was faint from outside.
“Yeah.” I brushed pieces of glass from my shoe and leg. Somehow, I’d managed to land on my feet and knees. Other than a small cut on my forearm, I’d made it through unscathed. The air was hot and humid inside the enclosed space. My nose twitched at the musty smell. I unlocked the door and opened it for the others,
who swarmed the desk.
My hand hovered over the phone. “Okay. Who should we call first?”
“Call 911,” Jenna said. “We need to tell them what happened to Sam. And about the flat tires.”
I lifted the phone. My hand hovered in the air as I anticipated the soothing sound of the dial tone. The connection was our lifeline. But when the receiver reached my ear, there was only silence. My chest heaved and I couldn’t look at my friends. “It’s not connected.”
Jenna bent toward the outlet, unplugging the cord and plugging it back in. I held the receiver to my ear again, hitting the buttons, but the line was still dead.
“They must have canceled the phone service already,” I said as my insides went numb.
Charlotte fell back against the log siding. Jenna scowled.
“Oh no.” Kaitlyn leaned her weight against the door frame.
Charlotte stared toward the broken window, her cheeks flushed and full; her eyes were as glassy as the surface of the lake. “We walked all this way for nothing.”
I kicked at the floor, swallowing back the sob expanding in my throat. “We had to try. We’ll find another way.”
“Hey, look.” Jenna pointed to a door at the back of the office. A small placard hung from it: First Aid. Jenna hobbled over to the door, and I followed her through it.
The back room was the size of a large walk-in closet. A padded bench sat against the far wall. Most of the shelves were empty and covered with a dust layer, but three canvas storage bins remained. Jenna pulled two of them down. I grabbed the last one, finding a roll of white medical tape and dozens of Band-Aids.
“Look!” Jenna held up a beige bandage rolled into a neat ball.
I pointed to my bin. “There’s tape in here.”
Charlotte and Kaitlyn stood behind us now.
“I can bandage your ankle for you,” Charlotte said.
“Okay. Thanks.” Jenna sat on the bench and removed her shoe. She handed the supplies to Charlotte, who knelt in front of Jenna’s ankle and began wrapping her foot.
“Wow, that’s tight.”
Soon, Charlotte taped the top of the bandage in place. “This should give you a lot more support.”
Jenna stood and tested it out. “That’s so much better. Thanks.”
“At least we gained something from our trek.” Sweat glistened across Charlotte’s forehead, and I sensed her exhaustion. She’d probably walked at least fifteen miles today already, with all of the hikes she’d made back and forth to Travis’s house in the morning, not to mention the emotional toll of Sam’s murder and our shooting of Travis.
“Maybe we should dig through some other buildings.” Kaitlyn drifted toward the door. “See if we find anything that can help us.”
I nodded. “Yeah. We might as well, as long as we’re here.”
We wandered to the mess hall first, finding the doors locked. We peered in the darkened windows, where long wooden tables with benches sat empty. A sliver of a kitchen was visible through a doorway in the back.
“The camp’s been closed for at least a couple of months,” Kaitlyn said. “I’m sure they removed all the food.”
Jenna made a face. “And if they didn’t, we probably don’t want to eat it.”
We decided there was no point in breaking into the mess hall and moved over to the bluff overlooking the beach. Under different circumstances, it would have been a joyful scene. It was easy to envision kids in bathing suits clamoring down the uneven wooden steps and scrambling to jump in the water. I remembered the online photo of the colorful sailboat gliding across the glittering waves and realized the extent of Travis’s false advertising. Only a desolate and foreboding vibe hung in the air.
Jenna, Charlotte, and Kaitlyn stood next to me with their eyes raised toward the lake.
“I don’t see our cabin over there, do you?” Kaitlyn asked.
I peered across the water, struggling to catch a view of anything familiar, but the opposite shore was too far away. Nothing but the forest was visible on the other side.
Jenna shook her head, and Charlotte crossed her arms in front of herself. I turned on my heel and walked toward the arts and crafts building. Again, we took turns peering through hazy windows, finding empty tables and canisters of paintbrushes. The camp’s owners must have cleared out everything else. We continued toward the far row of cabins. I tried the door on the first one, expecting it to be locked, but it swung open, revealing five sets of bunk beds with thin, dingy mattresses. I stepped inside and the others followed. The same oppressive air as the office surrounded me. An orange can of bug repellent lay in the corner. Otherwise, the cabin was empty. Someone had painted inspirational quotes in bright colors across the walls— Be yourself. Everyone else is taken! You are special! Kindness matters! You are in charge of your destiny!
Jenna blinked. “Wow. This is bright.”
Kaitlyn made a face. “It’s eerie, isn’t it? Without any kids here.”
“Yeah,” Charlotte said, turning back toward the door.
We poked our heads into the remaining cabins, finding different inspirational quotes on every wall. The sleeping quarters were empty, except for the bunk beds. The camp had positioned a communal bathroom behind the cabins, but a metal padlock hung from the door.
Charlotte rested her hands on her hips. “Let’s head back, guys. We need to come up with a new plan before it gets dark. Not to mention my feet are killing me.”
I was about to agree when I noticed another path cutting through the trees. The route headed in the opposite direction, away from the lake. Overgrown limbs of a bush covered a wooden sign. I walked toward it and pulled away the branches to reveal the words: Staff Quarters.
“Wait.” I lowered my chin toward Charlotte. “Let’s go see this first. It will be quick.” Curiosity drew me ahead even as guilt pulled at my gut. I knew Charlotte was exhausted, but the others stepped next to me along the trail, and Charlotte languished a few steps behind. A minute later, we rounded a bend and landed in a clearing filled with six more cabins. They were constructed in different configurations than the campers’ bunk rooms. Each one had two entrances. One of the structures was larger than the others and sat further up the incline, but that wasn’t what drew my eyes to it. That wasn’t why I stopped short, my breath catching in my throat. I did a double take, confirming my eyes were not betraying me. A ribbon of yellow police tape encircled the cabin. It was a crime scene.
Chapter Eighteen
A gust of wind chilled my skin, and the ground felt unsteady beneath me. I couldn’t remove my eyes from the yellow tape as it fluttered in the wind.
Charlotte placed her hands on her hips as her mouth gaped open. “This must be where the counselor died.”
“Oh my God.” Kaitlyn covered her mouth. “She died here. In this cabin.”
Jenna tilted her head toward the sky. “Just when I thought our weekend couldn’t get anymore terrifying.”
“If only the police were here now.” My eyes searched the perimeter for any sign of movement. I hoped a cruiser with flashing lights would suddenly pull into the clearing. But only shadows stretched between the trees.
“That would be convenient. It looks like the police are long gone,” Jenna said.
Charlotte hugged her arms around herself. “I don’t feel good about this. We shouldn’t be here. Can we please go back? I really can’t handle anything else today.” She motioned toward the cabins as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Plus, my feet are killing me.”
“Charlotte’s right.” Jenna nodded toward the trail. “Let’s head back. We shouldn’t be messing around with a police investigation. Even an old one.”
Kaitlyn tipped her head down and made the sign of the cross on her chest. “Lord, help us. This is too much.”
I fought the urge to step across the police tape and investigate the cabin. Instead, I listened to my friends, hearing the anguish in their voices. We needed to head back to the rental and figure out a new plan for escaping to
civilization. Besides, we’d already gotten some vigilante justice for the counselor if Travis had been the one who killed her.
Kaitlyn comforted Charlotte, who got her tears under control and hiked next to us. We retraced the path we’d taken earlier, passing the cabins, the mess hall, and more cabins. We cut through the zip-line area, archery field, and climbing wall until we were back on the narrow path through the woods. Hiking onward, I ducked and dodged through the gnarled branches that scraped against my arms and threatened to poke my eyeballs.
Jenna’s ankle was sturdier with the bandage, and we only stopped once to rest. It was 5 p.m. by the time our decrepit cabin appeared through the trees on the hillside. Charlotte’s red minivan drew my eye and I had to look away, knowing it doubled as Sam’s coffin.
We collapsed into our usual chairs on the deck. My body was a shell of itself—the outside scraped and blistered, while the inside ached with sorrow and defeat. I balanced my elbows on the table, resting the weight of my pulsing head in my hands. I’d barely slept in two days. The only food and drink I’d consumed today was half of a muffin, a power bar, and some bad coffee. My throat was dry. I looked at my empty water bottle. Refilling it would mean entering the kitchen where I’d have to face Travis’s body slumped against the wall in a bloody heap. I’d rather let myself be thirsty.
Kaitlyn pushed a lock of sweaty hair away from her eyes. “What are we going to do? What’s the fastest way out of here?” Her voice cracked as she glanced around the table. A jagged scratch ran along her slender arm, no doubt a result of the thorny bushes and clawing trees we’d passed on the trail. The day’s events had beaten her down, just like the rest of us.
“At least the immediate threat is gone.” Jenna’s eyes darted toward the kitchen. “Maybe we should try to rest tonight and hike out to the main road in the morning.”
