by Kieran Scott
Creak, creak, craaack. Creak, creak—
“Will you please stop it already?” Katie demanded. “You’re driving me crazy.”
Hannah flinched. Katie was sitting on the couch, staring at an InStyle magazine by the light of a flickering candle. Hannah would have accused her of being shallow at a time like this, but the magazine had been open to the same ad for hair gel for the past hour or so. It was pretty clear Katie wasn’t actually reading it. She didn’t even use hair gel.
“Sorry. But I can’t sit still,” Hannah said. “And it’s not like I can pace outside with Nick out there.”
“Yeah. He’s a little weird, right?” Katie asked.
Hannah blew out a sigh. “Tell me about it.”
“Colin should have been back by now,” Jacob said. “Or Prandya should have sent the police. What is going on out there?”
He was standing at the front door, gazing out the window, chewing on his thumbnail. Hannah could see his jaw still working whenever he pulled his hand away and knew he was as tense as she was.
“Maybe he got lost in the fog,” Katie suggested weakly.
“He would have gotten to town before the fog got this bad,” Jacob said, his tone almost angry. “And the cops would be able to get here no matter what. They have equipment for this kind of weather.”
They all fell silent. None of them wanted to say what they were thinking—that maybe the same monster that had attacked Alessandra had snatched Prandya and Colin, too. The thought made Hannah’s throat close over.
“I’m going to bed,” Jacob announced. He grabbed his dead phone off a side table and trudged upstairs into the darkness.
“Good night!” Katie called after him sarcastically.
His answer was to slam his bedroom door.
Trouble in paradise? Hannah thought, then hated herself. Who cared what was going on between Katie and Jacob at this point? Alessandra was most certainly dead. Maybe Colin and Prandya, too. And now they were trapped with Nick lurking outside.
“We just have to get through tonight,” Katie said to herself more than Hannah. “Jacob’s parents will be back in the morning and this will all be over.”
“Not for Alessandra,” Hannah said flatly.
Katie looked at her as if she’d forgotten she was there. A surge of white-hot anger and frustration welled up inside of Hannah and she turned on her heel and opened the front door.
“What’re you—”
Hannah stepped outside and closed the door behind her. The first thing she noticed was that she was entirely alone. Nick’s chair was empty, the blanket left in a lump on the seat. The air was cool and the mist, oddly, swirled around the porch, but didn’t penetrate higher than the first step. It surrounded the house on all sides so that she couldn’t see the trees to the left and the right any better than she could see the water, which she knew for a fact was dead ahead.
She took a deep breath of the cool night air and shivered. It was so quiet, except for this constant, underlying sound, like a hissing. As soon as she became aware of it, Hannah reached back for the doorknob again, but then she realized where it was coming from.
The fog. The wetness was making a shhhhhh sound as it slipped over the grass and leaves.
“Nick?” Hannah called out quietly, then, somewhat louder, “Nick? Where are you?”
Nothing. Maybe he’d gone out to the woods to pee or something?
Steeling herself, Hannah stared in the direction of the lake.
Where are you, Colin? she thought. Are you still out there?
Far in the distance, Hannah saw the hint of a light. It undulated into view like a mirage—orangey yellow and seeming to move of its own accord. She stepped forward and narrowed her eyes, but then the light winked out.
What was that? It hadn’t looked like a fog light or a flashlight. It had looked more like a flame. Suddenly, the mist shifted and she saw it again—yes, a flame—seeming to float in midair—and then it was gone.
Hannah gasped. Where was that coming from? In the fog it was impossible to tell whether the flame was three feet offshore or thirty. But why would there be a flame of any kind out there on a night like this? What was going on?
Then, to Hannah’s left, came a sound. A crunch of leaves. She sensed something heavy moving nearby.
“Nick?” She clenched her teeth. “Nick, if that’s you and you’re messing with me, I swear to you—”
She choked in a breath and looked. The mist swirled, as if something—or someone—had disturbed it. Hannah’s insides froze. She wanted to move forward to inspect it, but couldn’t make herself go. Her feet were stuck to the floorboards. Her breath was short.
“Colin?” she whispered hopefully—fretfully. “Nick?”
Silence. An almost unnatural stillness.
What is happening? she thought wildly. What is happening?
She felt a presence as clearly as she could feel her own skin. Something was out there. Something was … watching her.
She stared into the mist. And stared. And stared. Defying whatever it was to show itself. To stop hiding. To get it over with already.
Then it happened again. Right in front of her, the mist swelled and withdrew—swelled and withdrew—as if it were breathing. As if the fog was a living thing in and of itself.
Hannah saw something move—a shadow, a form—of what she couldn’t tell—and she ran inside, slamming the door behind her.
“What?” Katie said, sitting up. “What’s wrong?”
Hannah gasped for breath, each inhale breaking over her panic. “Nothing,” she said quickly. “I’m going to bed, too.”
She ran upstairs as fast as she could, pulling the covers all the way up over her head as if that could protect her from the shadow in the mist, from the flame on the water. Her phone glowed inside the cave of blankets and she watched the time tick away on the screen until the battery finally died, and then she lay there in the dark, cold and alone, knowing she was never going to sleep again.
* * *
“It’s going to be all right, Hannah. I promise.”
Hannah clutched Colin’s hand as the movie played out in front of them. A girl was standing ankle deep in the water on the shores of Mystery Island and she was afraid. Alone and afraid. Someone was after her.
“No, it’s not,” Hannah whined. “He’s going to take her. He’s going to kill her.”
“It’s just a movie, Hannah.”
That wasn’t Colin’s voice. Hannah looked up, startled, and found that she was holding not Colin’s hand, but Nick’s. He stared at her, blue eyes cold and hard, and when she tried to pull away, he wouldn’t let go.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Why are you so afraid of me?”
The door to the projection room opened and Hannah managed to pull herself away. Claudia’s mother walked into the room dressed in black from head to toe—Colin’s mother’s theater uniform.
“You shouldn’t be here, you know,” she said, looking down her nose at Hannah.
“I know. I’m … I’m sorry. I’ll go.”
Hannah started for the door, but Claudia’s mother blocked her way.
“No. Not here in the theater. You shouldn’t be in this town. You don’t belong here.” She leaned in toward Hannah’s face, so close their noses were almost touching. “Get away from the lake, Hannah. Get away from the lake!”
Hannah backed up and bumped right into Nick—or was it Colin? “I’m sorry, I’ll go!”
Claudia’s mother’s expression softened and she reached out to caress Hannah’s face. “You look just like her, you know. Just … like … my … Claudia …”
Hannah awoke with a start, a gasp stuck in her throat. Outside, the world was completely gray with fog, but it was lighter somehow, as if dawn was trying to break through.
Katie was splayed out next to her, on top of the covers, snoring, with one arm flung across her forehead. Hannah reached for her phone, then remembered it was dead. She tried the bedside lamp, which, o
f course, did not flick on.
But if the sun was coming up, hours must have passed since Colin had left. Where were the police? They definitely would have been here by now if Colin had made it to town. Which meant only one thing: Colin was dead. Or, at the very least, hurt or trapped somewhere.
Hannah shoved herself out of bed, her heart hammering. She had no idea what time Jacob’s parents were due back, but she knew she was never going to make it that long, especially with no way of knowing what time it was now. This was torture, plain and simple. She couldn’t take being cut off like this. It was driving her crazy. This was the twenty-first century! It was insane that she couldn’t get out of here.
Hannah thought hard. Hadn’t some of the pictures she had seen over the years featured Jacob’s family paddling in canoes? Did they rent those, or were they still around here somewhere? She knew it was a long shot, since Jacob would have probably mentioned canoes if they were available, but she had to do something.
Shoving her feet into her flip-flops, Hannah walked out of the room and into the hall. The door to Jacob’s room was ajar, and he was passed out on his bed. She turned and started downstairs, her flip-flops slapping loudly with every step, hoping to wake up Nick if he was on the couch. Had he ever come inside last night?
She paused halfway down the steps. Nick wasn’t in the living room. Slowly she checked the house. He wasn’t in the kitchen. She pushed open the door to the half bath, but that was empty, too. Was he still sitting on the porch? What had happened last night? Maybe he’d walked down the dock and tripped and fallen into the lake and the lake monster had gotten him. Remembering how he’d clutched her arm in the woods the night before, she wasn’t sure whether to be horrified or gratified by the thought.
Unable to face the lake, Hannah went out the back door and paused for a moment. The morning mist swirled around her and she remembered the presence she’d felt last night. Maybe she should just stay inside. But then a fleeting image from her dream caught in her mind. A girl, alone and scared in the lake, just waiting to be dragged under. And suddenly, the thought of retreating made her hackles rise. She wasn’t going to just sit here and be a prisoner—a victim. Not anymore.
Taking a deep, bolstering breath, Hannah tromped through the fog and semidarkness in the direction of the shed. After a few steps, she could just make out its shape. Palms itching, Hannah stomped inside, pushing the door all the way open so that it slammed back against the building, making her jump.
There were two canoes, propped up against one wall.
Why hadn’t Jacob mentioned them when the boats had gone missing? Was it because he was afraid to go out on the lake?
Hannah decided not to dwell on the questions, but to focus on the hope that took flight inside her chest. Maybe if she and Katie and Jacob took the canoes and stuck to the shoreline, they could circle the lake and get back to town. If they stayed in the shallows and away from the open water, that thing out there couldn’t get them, right? Or, worst-case scenario, if it did try to come after them, they could just bail out of the canoes and run for dry land. Yes, it would take a while to get back to civilization this way—hours, maybe—but at least it was a plan.
She grabbed the first wooden canoe and yanked it out onto the ground. It clattered against the rocks and roots around the shed and Hannah glanced back at the house, expecting to see Katie in the window, but the fog was so thick she couldn’t even make out the second floor. Hannah grabbed the canoe with both hands and started to drag it. It was heavier than it looked. Her sweaty fingers slipped right off and she let out a wail as a sliver of metal cut into her thumb.
“Stupid thing!”
She kicked the canoe as she sucked on her thumb. It stung like crazy. When she looked at it again, more blood had already bubbled up.
Tears welled in Hannah’s eyes, but she blinked them away.
“You are coming with me!” she said through her teeth to the canoe.
She bent at the waist and grabbed the vessel on both sides, then leaned backward. The canoe slid forward several feet, almost knocking her off balance, but she managed to keep her legs beneath her. She dragged it toward the far corner of the house and past the screened-in porch all the way to the front. At the corner closest to the lake, she stopped and took two deep breaths.
The fog had thinned ever so slightly since last night, so that she could see a bit farther than she had been able to then—almost to the edge of the water. Watching the tiny waves lap the shoreline made her shiver. She wondered if she would even be able to get Katie to agree to her plan—if Katie would go anywhere near the lake ever again. Maybe they’d have to bring in a helicopter to take her out.
The thought made her actually snort a laugh.
Hannah glanced at her thumb again. Blood dripped down her hand and dropped off into the dirt. Forget the canoe. She had to go inside for a Band-Aid. She had to find Jacob and wake up Katie and figure out their next move. Leaving the canoe behind, Hannah headed for the house, intent on walking in the front door, right past Nick if she had to.
That was when she saw the body.
Thumb between her lips, Hannah froze. She recognized the cargo shorts first. Then the skinny legs and the light leg hair. Then the white T-shirt soaked with dark, oozing blood. She staggered forward a step and nearly fainted into the side of the porch.
Nick lay on his back, eyes wide and staring, hair matted and damp, his throat slit and the wound still pumping out blood.
“No!” Hannah screamed. The word tore from her throat, scaring birds from the trees and echoing across the lake. Tears burst from her eyes with a force she could hardly comprehend.
She was looking at a dead body.
Nick is dead.
Even as she felt the pain of this realization, she felt the underlying thrum of terror. Because it was clear that something—someone—had murdered Nick.
And whatever it was, it was still out there.
Whatever it was, it was near.
Hannah fell to the ground at Nick’s side, and her knees got soaked with his blood. She clutched his damp T-shirt, shaking with each sob. With her other hand, she reached up and closed his eyes, choking on her own saliva. He was still warm. Hannah turned her head and retched into the grass.
“Hannah, what’re you yelling—”
The door slammed and before Hannah could even turn around, Katie was screeching at a pitch that barely seemed human. She fell back against the wall of the house, her hand over her mouth as she stared at Nick.
“What happened?” Jacob said, stumbling out behind Katie.
Hannah staggered to her feet, and her flip-flops slipped in the puddle of blood. She backed up a few steps, then kicked them off and ran up the porch to Katie, who was heaving for breath. Without thinking, she grabbed her stepsister in a hug and Katie hugged her back.
“Nick is dead,” Hannah wailed. “I don’t know how, but he’s dead.”
“Oh my God,” Katie said. “Oh my God.”
Katie sobbed full-body, racking sobs as Jacob walked down the steps to hover over Nick.
“Holy—” he said, and covered his mouth with both hands. He looked green. He hurried back up the steps to face Katie and Hannah. “How did this happen? Who could’ve—”
Hannah reached out and clutched the front of Jacob’s shirt in one fist.
“We have to get out of here,” she said through her teeth. “Now.”
“But how?” Katie asked, her face soaked with tears. “And where is Colin?”
They all looked out at the lake, an automatic reflex, even though Hannah was patently sure they would never see Colin again—that he was as dead as Nick, as dead as Alessandra certainly was. And what about Prandya? Was she somehow behind all this? Hannah didn’t know the girl much, after all.
But then her jaw fell open. The mist had pulled back farther and Hannah could now see part of the dock. Nick’s Jet Ski—the one Colin had sailed out on the night before—bobbed innocently in the water, tied off to the dock
.
“Did he come back?” Katie asked with a sniffle.
“Where is he?” Hannah asked, looking at the patches of dirt and grass and wet leaves around the house—looking for another body. Her brain felt muddled and thick as she tried to comprehend the situation. “If he came back, then where are the police? Why didn’t he bring help?”
At that moment, the door burst open behind them. Katie was still screaming when Colin grabbed Jacob around the waist and held the huge, serrated kitchen knife to his throat.
“Colin?” Hannah stumbled backward, a splinter slicing into the pad of one bare foot. “What are you doing?”
Katie whimpered, flattening herself against the wall of the house. Jacob’s eyes were wide as he breathed shallowly through his nose. But Colin gazed calmly at Hannah. His grip on the blade was so tight that his knuckles were white, but his hand was steady like a practiced surgeon’s. He wore a light gray T-shirt that was clean aside from a small, dark blood splatter near the hem.
“You may want to look away, Hannah,” Colin said in a perfectly conversational tone of voice. “This part could get messy.”
“What are you doing?” Hannah repeated. “Colin. What are you talking about?”
“What am I doing? I’m getting rid of him, just like I got rid of Nick,” Colin said, like it was so obvious. He laughed and shook his head. “I should have dealt with him weeks ago,” he added, nodding toward Nick’s body. “I never could stand that loser. What Claudia saw in him, I have no idea.”
Hannah felt as if he’d just punched a hole in her chest.
“You?” she blurted, as Katie let out a low, keening moan. “You killed Nick?”
“Of course I did.” He almost seemed offended that she could ever have imagined otherwise. “Claudia still had feelings for him. She was going to get back together with him. Just like you still wanted Jakey here. It was written all over your face last night, up at Killer Point.” Colin’s nostrils flared. “And he clearly had feelings for you, too. I couldn’t have him taking you from me. And once I’m done with him and Katie here, you and I will be alone. Finally alone. Just like it should be.”
