Ed sat in the passenger seat with Tina on his lap. I was squeezed tightly against Mr. Martin, with Burt and Josh also packed into a back seat that most definitely was not intended to accommodate four people. I could barely move, and my hands and feet were free, so I had to assume that Mr. Martin posed no danger unless he decided to try to bite a chunk out of my neck.
All of the shovels and flashlights were now in the trunk of Mr. Martin’s car.
“You dumbass,” said Mick.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Ed insisted.
“You were driving.”
“The wheels just spun out of control. What was I supposed to do? Levitate the car?”
“You’re paying for the tow truck.”
“I’m not paying for shit. Curtis can pay for it. We’re out here because of him.”
“I’ll pay for it,” I said. “How much further?” I asked Mr. Martin.
“I’m not sure.”
“Give us an estimate.”
“About a mile.”
The road split off every once in a while, but we kept on the main path until a mile and a half later.
“There,” said Mr. Martin. “Take a right.”
“There’s no road there,” said Mick.
“Yes, there is.”
“It hasn’t been plowed.”
“That’s not my problem. I said this was going to be impossible.”
Mick stopped the car and looked back at me. “What now?”
“I guess we walk. We knew this was going to be a bitch.”
Everybody got out of the car except for me and Mr. Martin. I waited for the others to distribute the shovels and flashlights. Instead of a shovel, Burt had a gasoline can. Josh had a snow shovel, while the others had one for digging in the dirt.
“Don’t try to screw me over,” I told Mr. Martin.
He glared at me. “You’ve already made that point.”
“If I get the sense that you’re jerking me around, or trying to lead us into some kind of trap, even if I’m wrong, it will be horrible for you. Those guys are psychopaths. They would love nothing more than for me to give them the go-ahead to fuck you up. The whole reason they’re helping me is because they hope you screw up.”
“And the fact that I’ve said over and over that I’m not going to be able to find the grave doesn’t mean anything to you?”
“Nope. It sure doesn’t.”
I slid out of the car on the other side, then went around to open the door for Mr. Martin. We’d lose a lot of time if I made him hop through the snow, so as he swung his legs out of the vehicle I cut the rope binding his feet.
He held out his hands.
“Sorry,” I said. “Your hands stay tied.”
“What if I fall?”
“Then we’ll pick you up.”
He got out of the car. “This will be a lot easier if I can hold a flashlight myself instead of just telling you where to point one.”
“That’s a good point,” I said. “But fuck you.”
Mr. Martin shrugged.
“Every person here has permission to bash you with their shovel if you get out of line,” I informed him.
“Noted.”
“How far do we have to walk?”
“Far.”
The snow in the woods was not quite waist-deep, but it was above our knees, and trekking through it was absolutely miserable. I couldn’t remember ever having been so cold. Slush was leaking into my boots and my feet were going numb. I couldn’t feel my face, though I supposed that was a good thing.
It was possible that Mr. Martin was telling the truth; that he literally would not be able to find the spot where he buried Todd. He would have done the deed in daylight—even if he did it at midnight—and without snow on the ground. Yet I had to believe that if you murdered a boy and buried him in the woods, you’d remember where you did it. Even if it wasn’t seared into your memory, you’d want to find your way back in case you heard that the area was being searched.
Or maybe not. Maybe you’d want to hide him where nobody, including yourself, could ever find him again. I was trying to guess the thought process of a diseased mind. I at least assumed that there was only so far into the woods that you’d take a corpse. You weren’t going to hike for ten miles dragging a dead teenager behind you.
It honestly felt like we’d been walking for ten miles, but I doubted it was even a full mile yet. To their credit, nobody had asked to turn back and nobody was complaining. That is, nobody was complaining about the walk. Mick and Ed were still arguing about the car going off the road.
Blood had soaked through my hat and then frozen.
“How close are we?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” said Mr. Martin.
To be very clear, I was not bluffing. If Mr. Martin failed to bring me to Todd’s resting place, I was going to take whatever measures were necessary to set him on the right path.
We kept walking. My pants were soaked all the way through, and I was surprised I could hold on to the flashlight and shovel, since I could barely feel anything below my elbow.
At least we had our trail in the snow to guide us back to civilization. We wouldn’t all get lost out here and freeze to death. That was about the only positive aspect of this I could think of right now. I’d known this was going to be hell on earth—well, frozen-over hell on earth—but it was worse than I’d expected. I wanted to move somewhere warm when this was over.
“I think that’s the spot,” said Mr. Martin, pointing ahead.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“No, I’m not sure. How many fucking times do I have to say it? I think it might be the spot. Shine your flashlight on that tree. That one. No, to the right. Yes, this could be it. No promises.”
It was going to take forever to dig through this frozen ground. I wanted to make sure
