As soon as Baxter's out of sight, our door slides down, shutting us off from the rest of the blocks. That, more than anything, tells me he's not coming back. Not tonight anyway.

Maybe never.

I hear crying behind me. Camille's petite figure is propped up against the wall and her face is streaked with tears. Alec goes over to her and puts an arm around her. "Hey, don't be scared," he says. "It's going to be okay."

"I wish I could've taken a shot at those assholes," Marcus mutters. "They're hiding behind the bracelets. Goddamned cowards."

Alec exhales a breath. "Doesn't matter what they are. They've got us right where they want us. All we can do is play along to survive."

"What'll happen to Baxter?" Carson asks.

"What do you think?" Camille snaps, fire in her teary eyes. "They're going to kill him. Him and anyone else who didn't make it. They didn't quite cut it in here, did they?"

"Seems like a waste, if you ask me, bringing us all the way out here just to kill us."

"I don't think killing us is their point," I say. "I think they want us afraid."

"Why?" Alec asks, looking at me with curiosity.

I don't know where I'm going with this other than to a place where I'll sound insane or pitiful. Because fear makes you work twice as hard to stay in line sounds like I'm confessing to something buried deep inside me. And I might be wrong. Maybe they're doing all of this just to mess with us. I'm stringing together worlds that have nothing to do with one another. Even now, so far away from him, Sam's shadow still reaches me.

"I don't know," I say with a shrug, staring at the closed door. "It's just a guess."

"Where are you going?" Alec calls after Marcus when he turns to leave.

"You're giving me a headache. I'm going to get some rest. Who knows how much longer this peace will last?"

With that troubling remark, he disappears into his bedroom.



A while later, I come out of the bathroom and find Carson on the sofa, flipping through channels. The TV in here is working. The clock says 7:23 P.M. One hour since the masked men took Baxter. I fall onto the cushion next to Carson. "What if Marcus is right?"

He looks startled. "You coming down with something? That's crazy talk."

"I mean . . . maybe we're supposed to prove ourselves in some way and only those who do are the winners."

"What's the prize?"

Worst case scenario: not dying. "I don't know. But based on what happened earlier, not being one of the fastest kids got Baxter in trouble. Maybe only the fittest people really will survive in here."

"That sucks. Why can't it be something fun? Like who's the best at standup comedy?" He grins. "Bet I'd win that one."

My smile fades quickly. "I hope Willow is okay."

I didn't see her on the stairs when we made a break for it. She's housed on the bottom floor, which should have made it easier for her to get to her block in time.

"I saw her heading off to her block about ten seconds before we got to ours. I think she's good." He keeps pressing buttons on the remote control. "You know what my biggest fear is? If something happens to us and no one ever finds out."

"Why is that?"

"Because of my ma. I'm the youngest of four boys. She treats me like the baby of the family. She always wants to know what I'm doing and who I'm doing it with." The corners of his mouth lift. "Crazy thing is, I don't mind. We're real close. My dad's an outdoorsy guy—you know, he loves building things with his bare hands and wrestling bears, but she lets me be whatever I want. 'You're my son first and foremost and that's all that matters,' she always says."

"She sounds wonderful." I wonder if he hears the wistfulness in my voice. My mom and I have never been close. I was about six when I realized we don't have the typical mother-daughter relationship. She was driving me to school, bopping her head to music while I blabbered on about my classroom's dead pet. We were supposed to pick out a new pet that morning and it was a tie between another hamster and a turtle.

"That's nice," my mom murmured when I stopped talking.

It wasn't those two words that sucked the enthusiasm out of me. It was her distracted, bored tone, like she couldn't be bothered to pretend to be excited for me. That has pretty much defined our relationship ever since. Empty of warmth.

I got over it eventually.

"Here I am and my parents probably don't have a clue what's happened to me." Carson sighs and pulls his legs up on the sofa, crossing them under him. "One time last year, I stayed over at a friend's house without telling them. My mom nearly had a stroke. And it makes me wonder. What's she going through now? What if she thinks I'm dead?"

He sounds so broken. I know what I should do. Put my arm around him and tell him it's going to be okay. Tell him his mother will never give up hope. Tell him we're going to make it out of here alive.

I'm frozen on my end of the sofa. Onscreen, an action scene from a movie I don't recognize plays out. We stare at it until he gets up and stretches his arms over his head.

"I'm off to bed. Good night."

"Good night." I hear his footsteps retreating into his room. I wonder if he's upset with me. Part of me wishes I could explain things to him—let him know it's not that I don't understand his pain, but that I don't know what to do with it. I don't know how to make him feel better. I don't know if I should even try.

Sam Parker taught me everything except how to be normal.



A couple of weeks after Sam married my mom, she told him about my fear of swimming. Even at eight, I didn't like him. He was a tall, black-haired man with wide shoulders and an angular face. His hooded blue eyes were a few shades darker than mine, but ice-cold. I didn't know at the time how deep the coldness ran.

I was naïve enough then to admit to my fears. "I don't want to swim."

My mother let out a breathless laugh. She was beautiful, with flowing blond hair and big brown eyes. "Don't be silly, April. Every child needs to learn how to swim. Do you want your classmates to make fun of you?"

"I don't care. I don't want to swim."

"Tell you what," Sam said. He crouched down so he was at eye level with me. "I'll take you to the swimming pool at the Y. It's safe there. You have nothing to be afraid of. After we're done, we'll swing by the toy store and you can get anything you want."

He had me there. Mom never bought me toys. She couldn't afford to—or so she kept telling me. And here was this man, scary or not, telling me I could have any toy I wanted. And all I had to do was swim around for a bit.

"Okay."

Soon as I changed into my swimsuit, we got in his Buick. Sam had the radio on the whole way, a jovial country song that didn't fit his quiet intensity. About ten minutes later, I saw a familiar bridge in the distance, past the intersection before us. Instead of turning right, Sam took a left.

Even then, it didn't cross my mind that something was wrong. Maybe he'd changed his mind about where we were going. Or maybe we'd get the toys first—and then I would try to weasel my way out of going for a swim. But then he pulled up to a secluded spot among some trees near the Susquehanna River, parking his car close to the water.

He told me to get out.

"Why?" I asked, bewildered.

"We're going swimming."

May was still cold and the overcast sky made afternoon seem closer to sundown. I shivered. "But I thought we were going to the pool."

Sam didn't answer me as he walked out of the car. He reached into the backseat, unbuckled my seatbelt and grabbed my arm. "I'm going to teach you your first lesson about conquering your fears. This is for your own good."

"N-no. I don't want to swim. The water's cold!"

His tone hardened. "April. Get out of the car now."

"No! I want my mom!" He started tugging at me. I wrapped an arm around the passenger seat and hugged it. "Take me back!"

Sam yanked me out of the car and dragged me to the edge of the water. I wasn't wearing shoes, but that didn't stop me from slamming my heel into his shin. It didn't faze him. A few strides later, we were beside the river. I burst into tears when the cold water lapped at my ankles. "No—please. Let me go!"

The water was at my chest now, pressing on my lungs. I stopped resisting Sam and clung to him, my fingers squeezing handfuls of his shirt. I slipped under once and came up sputtering, sobbing harder when Sam didn't make a move to save me. It was all up to me. If I let him go, he would let me drown in the river.

"I want—I want t-to go home. I want my mom!"

He peered down at me with his cold eyes. "Do you think I'll let you see her again?"

"You're not g-going to take me home?"

"That's up to you. You have to prove to me that you deserve to go home."

I burst into tears again. Annoyance lit across his face, but he waited while I quieted down. "You will learn to control your emotions, April. You will learn to control them or you will end up in a very bad place. Make your choice now. Do you want to fail?"

I didn't know what he meant, but I understood his tone; he would do worse to me if I didn't obey him. So I bit my lip and forced back my tears. Satisfied, he pulled us both out of the water and took me home, wet and shivering in the backseat.

For the next month, we went back to the river, until I got over my fear of swimming. My mom didn't try to stop him. She left me in his hands. Sam was ruthless in every way. He didn't accept failure, and I never stopped to consider why. I never understood why he pushed me to the breaking point and still wouldn't let me break, why he taught me to be a tough little soldier in my quiet suburban town of Harrisburg, why he drilled into my head that I should always, always, prepare for the worst outcome.

Now, trapped within these walls, I wonder if he always knew.