The Last Winter

Saturday: They're Coming (27)

Maggie
wwwwwwww

I didn't see it happen. The night was too dark and everyone else was too far ahead of me. But...

I saw Justin and Paul afterward. Dead.

Their eyes were still open, but they possessed no life.

It all happened so quickly. One second we're all chasing them down like a band of wild Indians--laughing, screaming, driven mad by silly excitement.

It was an accident. Just a stupid accident.

Like getting hit by a car, being in the wrong place at the wrong time--one second you're here, the next you're gone.

I sit up straight with a jolt, my eyes snapping wide open.

"Maggie, is that you?" a whisper floats softly through the air.

I go very still, trying to get my bearings. I'm tied to a chair with rope--it cuts painfully into the skin on my wrists. Vena's in a chair next to me, tied equally as tightly. She seems to be unconscious.

I shut my eyes for a long moment, trying to ignore the pounding in my skull.

"Maggie."

I open my eyes again, looking around. We're in a dark room. A heavy wooden door sits to our right.

"Who's there?" I whisper.

As if in answer, a cold hand grabs my ankle.

I give a shout, jerking my feet away. Vena bolts upright on her chair, looking around with a confused face.

"Maggie?" she mutters, squinting her eyes.

"It's me!" someone hisses from below, and I struggle to twist around and detect the source.

A barred window sits low to the floor, revealing a dark room below. Ghostly white fingers disappear between the iron bars. I lean forward just enough so I can make out the outline of a familiar round face staring back up at me.

"Veronica," I whisper.

"I got away," she tells me quietly, and I hear her clothes rustle as she moves around. "I followed him until he dragged you guys here. Then I went back and grabbed this."

A second later, a glint of silver pokes through the bars--the letter opener.

"It's got blood on it. You're not hurt, are you?" my sister asks.

"No. I stabbed him in the leg."

I shuffle forward until my bound feet are inches from the window.

"Good."

She starts sawing at the ropes. It takes an agonizingly long time until my restraints snap open, for the blade is dull. Once I managed to get my hands free, I take the letter opener from Veronica's grip. I try the door, but it won't budge.

"Can you get to the other side?" I ask Veronica, indicating the door. I begin to cut Vena's ropes.

"I think so," she replies, and she disappears from the window.

Vena groans when her ropes snap. She touches her temple gently. A nasty lump is forming.

"Oh, shut it," I snap. "You're not the only one who's hurting."

My fingers brush up against my own swollen concussion and developing black eye. Every muscle in my body pulses with a pounding heartbeat.

With a lurching sound, the door swings open. Veronica pokes her head into the doorway.