“But what if Snare’s in total control of Mick?” Berke said, furrowing her brow. “In that case Snare would claim to be him.”
Father McKagan grunted. “Sounds like a demon’s trickery to me.”
Berke nodded. “Yep, exactly. And I bet Trent knew—that’s why he warned me. Remember when he disappeared to talk with Mick and Candace before everybody drank? I bet Trent knew the truth about that water—or at least knew that Snare was controlling Mick’s every move.”
Karl glanced at the others, trying to gauge whether they bought the idea of Snare operating Mick like a piece of machinery. He himself had to admit it made some sense, considering how a man’s brain controlled his body. And though he was no doctor, he knew the brain was what registered knee pain.
“You might be right,” he said, rubbing his mustache. “But the knee thing could be a coincidence. He could’ve hurt his knee somehow, like I hurt mine.”
“Hang on,” Ashlee said, her eyes cloudy and distant. “Earlier, right after I traded my ribs, I slapped them to test them out. Mick was there, and he reacted like he’d been hit in the same spot. It was weird.”
Berke jumped. “That’s what I’m saying! Your dad traded his knees. Then he hurts one and Mick clutches his own knee. There’s a connection—I bet Snare’s brain can feel pain in her other parts.”
The group went quiet.
“Maybe you’re onto something,” Karl said. He shuddered when he realized the next logical step. If their bodies held Snare’s weak points, then they had a way to fight back. Though not the most desirable way. “If Mick comes after us, we can hurt our traded parts to stop him.”
“Great,” Narducci muttered. “Always wanted to be a walking voodoo doll.”
“I don’t want to hurt myself,” Berke said, shuddering.
“It’s only a last resort,” Karl said.
“I have a better idea,” Ashlee said, making a fist with her left hand. “If we run into Mick, let’s put a bullet in his brain. In Snare’s brain.”
74
Fog engulfed the woods, floating and twisting like dry ice before a concert. It crept over Ash’s face, inside her nostrils, and through her jeans. It tickled along her skin, burrowing into her pores until she wanted to escape her own terrified flesh. But with haze hanging in every direction, she had nowhere to run.
None of them did.
The group’s collective fear squeezed them into a nervous cluster of bumping elbows and shaky footwork. Shovels clinked, jackets rustled. Lantern light stretched outward, then darkened. The random movements and noises put everyone on edge. Before long they flinched at the slightest noise, whether it was hissing rodents, crunching twigs, or their own footsteps.
After topping the second hill, a nervous confidence overtook the group. They upped their pace, building momentum. But when snow dumped down from overhanging branches, somebody jumped and sent everyone else into hysterics. Some dove for the ground. Others scrambled behind the nearest tree trunk. They knew it was only snow, but it could’ve been a massive linebacker or his trigger-happy mother.
When they were certain they were safe, they banded together again, bumping and stumbling and panicking until the trail ended at a familiar thicket wall.
“We’re here.” Ash set down the folding table and readied her pistol. Dad grabbed his, and everyone else clutched shovels or lanterns. “Let’s do this. If you see Mick or Candace, punish them. Once we clear the area, we’ll come back for the table and our other gear.”
Ash stuck her gun forward. They entered the thicket.
Branches scratched her face and snagged her dreads. She didn’t remember these pines being so dense. Her thigh pushed against a sturdy branch and snapped it. The sound stirred her fear. She hesitated. Something poked her from behind—a shovel—and she rushed ahead, heart bouncing within her new ribcage.
Finally she broke into the clearing. Even with the others close behind, she felt alone. Exposed. She swung her gun in a wide arc, waiting for a reason to squeeze the trigger.
None came.
There was nobody there. As lanterns illuminated the clearing, she realized the place was empty. She didn’t like how calm things were. The creek seemed awfully subdued, considering that Snare had just killed countless people. As Ash pocketed her gun, she couldn’t help but feel like she’d swallowed a nasty cocktail of false relief and dread.
The others stepped timidly into the clearing.
“Jaaake! Trennnt!” Dad bellowed, waving a flashlight. “Yell out if you can hear me!”
Ash shined her light over the creek. The surface shimmered. She saw her reflection. It looked tense and scared.
“Everybody, close your eyes,” she said. Moments later Ash saw the lie. The shade of herself. “Let’s talk.”
No mist rose to her mouth.
“I know you’re listening. I want Jake. Trent, too. And everyone you killed at sunset.”
No answer.
“Not gonna talk? Big mistake.” She turned to the others. “Let’s build that dam.”
75
Shovels hit snow. It scooped easily, but the dirt beneath was a different story. Breaking up the cold, hard earth required many strikes from their spades. Even after they broke through, the soil didn’t cooperate. They had to scoop small chunks instead of large mounds. Ash, who started the job believing nothing could stop her, soon found herself kneeling to catch her breath. Her arms and back muscles throbbed, and even though she’d barely begun, it felt like she’d done a week’s work of digging.
They started the spillway fifteen feet out from the creek, where the terrain dipped enough to send water downhill. According to Dad, that would drain pressure from the creek and allow them to slide the table securely into place.
If they made it that far.
As badly as she wanted this done, her body argued otherwise. By the time they were halfway finished, Ash was exhausted, her mouth dry, her muscles overstrung. She wasn’t used to this kind of labor. Normally her physical duties didn’t extended beyond lifting guitar amps.
Next to her, Dad and Father McKagan started wiping their brows between scoops. Narducci and Elaine stopped altogether. Only Berke kept a steady pace, flinging cold dirt without pause.
The fog thickened.
Ash cracked her knuckles and resumed digging. She gritted her teeth and thought about Jake. Though she’d barely known him two days, she admired the kid. He reminded her of herself—big goals, parental frustrations, and a never-say-die attitude. A kid like that was worth shoveling for.
Sadly, her newfound fire didn’t spread to the others. Their movements became more mechanical, their breaths heavier. Even Berke started to pant.
Ash heaved a shovelful. “Berke.”
“Yeah?”
“Why are you here?”
“Um, isn’t it obvious?”
“Say it. Remind us why you’re digging.”
“Because…Snare killed everybody and almost killed me.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “I want to bring everybody back. My parents… I don’t want to believe they’re dead. If we kill Snare, maybe everything’ll go back to normal. I hope.”