“Maybe,” Mattie said, and started toward the bedroom. Her boot heels rang out on the floor even though she was trying to be quiet.
Mattie paused. She didn’t want William to know what she was doing, or where she was moving to in the cabin. She was certain he was listening hard at the door for any sounds that might indicate what they were doing, and that he was calculating how he might take advantage.
She handed the flashlight back to C.P. and crouched down to take her boots off.
“You’re worried about the floors?” C.P. said. “I don’t think the finish is a priority, you know.”
Mattie frowned up at him. “Noisy.”
“Right,” he said. “Sorry. I’m just really wound up, I guess. First Griffin is taken and then Jen got caught in the trap and now we’re stuck in this place with a psycho outside. I don’t know how we’re going to get to Griffin or what kind of state he’ll be in when we find him.”
Mattie didn’t say anything. She was certain that Griffin was dead now, or would be soon, and that as soon as they broke out of the cabin they should head down the mountain with all possible speed. But she didn’t want to explain this to C.P. while her bruised throat made it difficult to talk. He seemed to be depending on the idea that they would find Griffin alive.
He’s like a child, Mattie thought as she slid out of her boots and moved silently toward the bedroom. He thinks there should be a happy ending just because he believes in one.
Mattie didn’t believe in happy endings. She didn’t even believe in happy middles. It was only at that beginning part of the story, when you were young and didn’t know any better, that you could be happy and carefree. Once life piled up on you, happiness was impossible.
If she managed to escape William, she didn’t think all her problems would magically be solved. His shadow would chase her for the rest of her life, and she hated him for that, hated that her mind would never be completely easy, that she’d always be looking over her shoulder for a monster.
Mattie paused in the doorway between the bedroom and the main room of the cabin. The window curtains were open here, allowing the moonlight in. The bed loomed in the middle of the room, a haunted place made of her pain.
A man’s got to have sons, Mattie.
She shook her head from side to side, shook away the ghosts that circled there. They needed the rifle, William’s rifle, and it was right where he’d left it, leaning against the wall on his side of the bed.
C.P. directed the flashlight over Mattie’s shoulder and it caught the gleam of the rifle barrel. “Score!”
She scurried into the room, her heart galloping. She hadn’t realized he was standing so close. He needed to stop standing so close to her. Every time C.P. came near she thought of William, thought of William’s hands closing around her neck, William’s fists breaking her flesh, William’s body pressing down into hers.
He’s not William, she told herself. He won’t hurt you.
She needed to close the curtains. She needed to do that in case William snuck around the outside of the cabin and tried to peer inside. But if she closed the curtains then she would be alone in this room, in the dark, with a strange man.
He won’t hurt you. Stop being such a little mouse. Samantha again. Mattie wanted to tell Samantha that if she had so much to say then maybe she should drive instead of leaving all the work up to Mattie.
Mattie forced herself to go to the window and close the curtains. The moonlight disappeared but it didn’t really matter because C.P. had the flashlight, and of course he wasn’t waiting to menace her. He was picking up the rifle and examining it with the light.
“It’s loaded,” he said. “Where’s the extra ammo?”
Mattie went to the top drawer of William’s dresser. This was a small piece, only three drawers, and she was never allowed to open the top. She was, however, supposed to place his clean and mended clothes neatly in the other two drawers. He liked his shirts folded a particular way. It had taken Mattie a long time to learn how to do it right.
C.P. followed her, the flashlight beam bouncing, and Mattie pulled open the top drawer. There were boxes of ammunition there, and several hunting knives of various sizes, and the extra grenades that William hadn’t put in his pack that morning.
“Holy hell,” C.P. said. “Grenades? What is he going to use them for?”
“The . . . creature,” Mattie said. “He . . . thinks . . . it’s . . . a . . . demon.”
“For real? Like he really thinks that thing is an actual demon in the woods?”
Mattie nodded. Their faces were just barely illuminated by the circle of light from the flashlight.
“And he’s what, exactly? Some kind of holy warrior out to smite it?”
“Yes,” Mattie said.
“This is getting more fucked up by the second,” he said. He grabbed several boxes of ammunition and stuffed them in his jacket pockets.
“Do . . . you . . . know . . . how?” Mattie asked, indicating the rifle.
“Yeah, I’ve been target shooting since I was pretty young. My dad loves it so he taught me.”
Now they had a gun, and someone who knew how to use it. But Mattie still wasn’t sure how they were going to get out of the cabin. William had positioned himself right by the door. If they opened it he could just pick them off one by one as they went through. Even if he didn’t manage to hit any of them—an
