What She Left Behind (26 page)

I pull at my handcuffs, then stop. A weird feeling crawls through me. Something is different about the camper. Something
smells
different. I’m sure of it. I shake my head.
God, I’m getting to be just as crazy as my dad. I have to stop imagining things!

Then a whisper, “Sara!”

My heart stops. “Alex?”

The bathroom door creaks open.

“Oh my God, Alex. Are you really here?” I’m horribly afraid that my mind is playing tricks on me.

“I’m really here.” Alex crawls to the table and hugs me.

“I can’t believe you came.” I start crying, both from relief that Alex is here and fear about what is going on inside the cabin.

“Where’s the key to those?” he says, gesturing at the handcuffs.

“There’s one in the cabin, but Dad had another one out here. I saw him put it in that top drawer when he took me in—then he came back out for Zach, so he might have moved it.”
Or put it in his pocket.
“Did you call for help?” I ask hopefully.

Alex shakes his head as he begins rummaging through the drawer. “No service. And I didn’t tell anyone where I was going because I wasn’t sure what to expect—whether you needed help or you were just running away with Zach.”

“With Zach?” I’m completely confused. “Didn’t you find the page from
Soap Opera Digest
?”

Alex starts tossing things out of the drawer—flashlight, batteries. “The thing about the Julia girl being pregnant?”

“Pregnant? What?”

“I thought that was what this whole thing was about. You’ve looked kind of sick and upset lately, and you’ve been meeting Zach every day, like the two of you are sharing some sort of secret—I thought you were pregnant.”

“No, not pregnant. Definitely not pregnant. But my dad—he’s lost it. He thinks Zach is Matt.”

“Holy shit. As soon as I find the key and can get you free, I want you to take my car and get out of here as fast as you can. I parked by the end of the driveway, just around the corner. Here are my keys.” He tosses them next to me.

Bam!
A single gunshot.

I scream, choke, and cry. Alex freezes. I cringe, bracing for a second. Nothing.

Slam!
Alex peers cautiously out of the window. “That’s the cabin door. Your dad has Zach, but he looks okay.” Alex sounds relieved.

“My mom is in there too,” I whisper.
Please, God, no! Please let it just have been a warning shot.

“Jesus.” Alex’s eyes widen. “Hang in there, Sara. We’ll get to her. Where the hell is that key?” Alex glances out the window again. “Your dad’s taking Zach behind the cabin.”

My heart pounds. “There’s only one thing behind the cabin. The river.”

Alex yanks out the next drawer and dumps it out. I hear a tinkling sound as the contents hit the floor.

“That’s it!” I say.

Alex pats his hands across the floor. “Where did it go? I lost it!”

“Over there, by the stove. Hurry!”

Alex grabs the key. His hands are shaking so hard, it takes several tries to open the lock.

Finally I’m free. Alex and I scramble down the stairs. “Go help your mom. Here, take the key,” Alex says. “I’ll go after your Dad and Zach.”

“But—” What if he can’t handle Dad on his own? And what if I can’t handle what I might see in the cabin? Images of the way I had found Matt’s body flash through my mind.
No.

“Go, Sara! See if she needs help, then meet me behind the cabin.”

I nod and take off running.
Please let her be okay.

On the porch, I yank open the cabin door, my heart thudding in my ears.

Red. Blood. On the floor.

It’s Matt all over again. Bleeding. Dying. Dead.

“Mom!”

She’s curled up on the floor, eyes closed.

No! It isn’t supposed to happen like this. We were going to get away. It can’t end like this.

My knees feel weak, as if I’m about to collapse.

A soft moan.

She’s alive.

I hurry toward Mom. She clutches her right leg on both sides, just above the ankle. Blood seeps between her fingers.

“I’m here, Mom.”

“He untied me. I—tried—to—run—”

“Shh,” I say gently. “Don’t talk.”

Think!
What did my guidebook say about gunshot wounds? I reach for the towel on the oven door.
No. Try to find something clean.
I yank open the drawer where the clean dish towels are kept.

“Here, use these,” I say, slipping the towels between her fingers and the wounds, one on each side of her leg.
Entrance. Exit.
“Try to put pressure on them.”

“Don’t—run—he—said—don’t—run.”

“It’s okay, Mom. Everything’s going to be okay.” Despite my own terror, I know I need to keep her calm.
I already lost you once, Mom. I can’t lose you again.
“Stay with me, Mom.”

I need something to keep the towels in place in case my mom passes out.
Rope? Duct tape.

“I’ll be right back. I’m just going to get something from the kitchen. You’re doing great.”

Matt, help me here. Help me save Mom.

I murmur reassurances as I wrap the duct tape around the towels, securing them.

Elevate. You’re supposed to elevate, Sara.

I snatch a pillow from the couch and slide it under Mom’s leg. Then I stroke her face. “You’re going to be fine. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

Bam!
A gunshot sounds from outside.
No. No. No. Now who has he hurt? I have to go help! But how can I leave Mom?

“Go,” she murmurs. “Go.”

Summoning every last ounce of courage, I stagger out of the cabin.

I need a weapon. Something I can use to stop Dad. I look for a tool, a branch, anything.
Do I go back into the cabin to get a knife? If I did, could I use it?

The storage chest.

I bound down the cabin stairs and over to the storage chest. Whipping open the cover, I start flinging water toys across the lawn until I find something I can use: a canoe paddle.

I round the corner. A few yards away near the riverbank, Alex is on the ground. Dad kicks him. Over and over again. I want to scream and make him stop, but I need to catch Dad off guard.

Where is Zach? And where is the gun?
It has to be nearby, but I don’t see it. I charge.

I swing the paddle back and aim for Dad. I cringe as I do it, not wanting to hurt him, even after all that he’s done. It knocks him to the ground, but only for a second. He pushes himself up and starts in my direction.

I swing again, but Dad grabs the paddle and wrenches it away from me. He turns it sideways and raises it over his head.

I’m frozen in terror. At the last second, I move. Instead of smashing into my skull, the paddle slices into my shoulder. I scream and double over in pain.

Dad kicks me in the side. He raises the paddle again. I roll out of the way just as Alex, crawling up behind Dad, grabs both of his feet and knocks him down next to me.
Where the hell is Zach?

“Gun—over—there,” Alex gasps.

I scramble toward it. Dad grabs my pants leg. I stumble, but break free of Dad’s hold. There it is, lying in front of me, daring me to pick it up. I want to get up and run, but Alex needs me. And Mom. And Zach, wherever he is.

I grab the gun.

The moment I touch it, I see my brother. A thousand images of him flash in an instant, only two of which I can see clearly: him leaning against his convertible—
Coming, Sara?
—and him lying dead on the dining room floor.

There’s a grunt behind me. It’s Dad. He’s on top of Alex, his hands around Alex’s neck. Pressing, squeezing, forcing the life out of him. Like he’d done to my family, over and over again.

“Stop!” I shout. “I have the gun! You have to let him go! He’s choking!” The gun feels cold and heavy. My hands shake. There’s no way I can do this.

Dad looks at me for a second, but he doesn’t stop. He knows I won’t do anything. I never do.

There’s a ringing in my ears, blocking out all other sounds.

I know how to aim a gun. I’m a cop’s daughter, after all. Dad taught me how to shoot way before he ever became the enemy.

“Stop! I’m counting to three! Please, don’t make me do this,” I beg, tears streaming down my face.

Stop the shaking. You have to stop your hands from shaking. Alex is going to die if you don’t.

I remember the first time I jumped into deep water. I had been so terrified, my whole body shook. And then Matt had taken my hand.
I need you now, Matt. I really need you.

“One.” I can hear the difference in my own voice and my trembling subsides.

“Two. I’m not kidding, Dad.” He must know I mean it. I can see it in his eyes as he looks up at me. For a moment, I see the sweet dad who gave me Sam. But then there’s nothing but coldness.

“Three.”

Alex tries to pry Dad’s hands off his neck. Instead of stopping, Dad squeezes harder. Alex’s hands go limp.

The roar of the river fills my ears.

“Daddy!” I scream.

I squeeze the trigger.

He lets go.

I sob and fall to my knees, knowing I’ll never have the will to get up again.

Daddy. Daddy, what have I done?

Alex, coughing, crawls out from underneath Dad’s body.

“Zach,” says Alex, his voice barely a whisper. He points to the river.

There is no way Zach is still alive in that water.

How can I even find him? Everything is a fog. Besides, I can’t get up. I’m never getting up again.

Come on, Sara, get up! You have to try.

“Is he shot?”

“In the leg,” Alex croaks. It makes sense.
Don’t run
is what Mom said Dad had told her. I get a lump in my throat as I think about how Dad didn’t want us to leave him, no matter what the cost.

“Mom’s in the—Mom—cabin.” I’m trembling so much that I can barely get the words out. And my thoughts are swirling so, I’m not sure that the words coming out make any sense. “I’m—Zach—going.”

I stumble over to the river, ditch my shoes, and jump in.

God, it’s cold! How long has Zach been in here?
I have a horrible feeling that I am way, way too late.

Where is he, Matt? You’ve got to help me find him,
I think frantically.

I let the current pull me, using my hands to feel under the water for Zach. Nothing.

“Zach!” I know it’s pointless, but I scream his name over and over again. I dive down, opening my eyes under the water, but see nothing.

As I come up for air, I slam my head into a fallen log. With no chance to take a breath, I’m back under, inhaling water through my nose. I open my mouth from the shock and more water rushes in.

I feel like I’m stuck in my horrible oatmeal dream.
So this is what it feels like to drown.
I panic, kicking as hard as I can.

I break the surface, coughing, choking, gagging. I cling to the log and rest.
I can’t do this anymore!

Yes, you can. You have to—Zach is running out of time.

I push off from the log and swim around it.
I have to get back and help Mom. It’s too late for Zach. I’ve got to get back to Mom.

Another fallen tree blocks the river, but there’s something snagged on it.
Zach’s handcuffs!

“Zach! Hold on, I’m coming!”

With every stroke, I strain to reach as far as I possibly can to get to him faster.

“Zach!” I shake him. He doesn’t answer.
Damn it! How am I going to get him back to the shore?
I can try to pull him up onto the log, but even if I manage to lift him, the log leads to the wrong side of the riverbank. I’m going to have to swim with him. Doubt nags at me. I’m a horrible swimmer.

Snap out of it, Sara. This isn’t gym class. This is Zach’s life. You can do it.

I try to pull him so that his hands will come free of the log, but I’m working against the current and trying to tread water. My strength is fading. I swing my feet to push off against the trunk. I try again.

Snap!
Suddenly I have the full weight of Zach’s body in my arms. Water pours into my mouth and nose. We’re sinking. Down. Down. Down. With one hand wrapped around Zach, I kick my feet and try to swim upward.