“Don’t hope,” Ash said. “Make it happen.”
“Right.” Berke jammed her spade down. “I will.”
“Dad, what about you?” Ash asked.
He wiped his brow. “Gotta get my son and grandson back. Same with the whole town. I was supposed to protect everyone.”
“Then act like it.” Ash threw another scoop behind her. “The rest of you, why are you here?”
They voiced their reasons. One by one, they yelled out, rallying each other. Shovels struck dirt and dirt disappeared.
“You catch all that, Snare?” Ash asked, tossing another shovelful. “Everything you stole from us, we’re taking back.”
Reinvigorated, they carved out a passable spillway. The trench now reached from the creek’s edge to the downward slope. The only thing remaining was the dirt bank separating the creek from the trench. Once they broke through it, water would fork in two directions.
“Dad, is the spillway deep enough?”
“Let’s pretend it is,” Father McKagan said, rubbing his shoulder.
“It’ll work,” Dad said. “Once we insert the table, it’ll redirect the flow.”
“Good,” she said. “Let’s bust that dirt bank. Who wants to do the honors?”
Before anyone could answer, a scream burst from deep within the woods.
A cry for help.
A kid’s cry for help.
They dropped their shovels and ran.
76
Ash chased the screams.
Pushing through the thicket, she lifted a forearm to shield her eyes from the pine needles. Branches hooked her dreads, yanking them like a bad hairbrush. Her neck bent sideways before she charged in the opposite direction, snapping wood and sending snow spilling down her collar.
Someone slammed into her from behind. She stumbled in the snow. Above her a voice apologized. Berke. The younger girl was helping Ash to her feet when fresh screams pierced the air.
These screams weren’t Jake’s. They came from behind. Must be another Trader. Ash couldn’t help but picture the guy with missing shoulders stuck in the thicket, one of his limp arms caught on a branch while Mick charged after him.
There was one way to save the guy. Ash grabbed her knife.
“What’re you doing?” Berke said.
“Testing our voodoo doll theory.”
Again the man screamed.
Ash couldn’t believe she was about to drive a blade through her palm. Trembling, she lifted the knife. Touched the tip to her flesh. Then hesitated. Even if this act of self-mutilation harmed Mick, it would leave her bleeding in agony. That won’t boost my chances of finding Jake. At this point she still needed her hand—not to play guitar, but to grip her gun and navigate these woods.
The next scream abruptly cut short.
Feeling guilty, Ash pocketed her knife, telling herself she did what was necessary. Her conscience wasn’t convinced.
Now Jake’s unmistakable shriek pierced the air to her left. Alarmed, amped by adrenaline, Ash spun in that direction and whacked her knee against a rigid lower branch. Helplessly, she dropped into the snow, Berke tumbling over her. Behind them, another scream ripped through the thicket, a woman’s scream.
Again Ash considered stabbing her hand.
Again she hesitated.
Again the scream fell silent.
Jake’s cries persisted.
Keep moving, she told herself. She struggled to her feet and charged ahead, shoving branches away till she reached open air. At some point she’d lost Berke. Now Ash stood alone in unfamiliar territory, shining her phone light across the scattered pines. Through the fog, she spotted someone running from right to left.
Someone with shaggy hair.
Trent.
The sight of him running without a cane baffled her. What bothered her even more was how he appeared right after people started getting attacked.
She hurried after him, reaching into her pocket for her pistol. She didn’t draw it, but rather brushed its rubber grip for reassurance.
“Wait, Trent!”
He stopped and turned toward her, his mouth an “O” of surprise. Blood glimmered on his cheek from a nasty cut beneath his eye. He could’ve gotten it from a tree branch or a screaming victim. The panicked look in his eyes was hard to read. She didn’t know whether to trust him.
“How’d you get that cut?”
“What?” He touched his cheek. Stared at his bloody fingers. “Shit.”
“Trent.” She approached him, her fingers closing around her gun’s grip. “Where were you just now?”
“Working undercover.” He met her eyes. “Snare’s controlling Mick. They have Jake.”
“Berke said you brought creek water back to the house. Everyone who drank it lost their parts. Did you know that would happen?”
“Ash, I’m trying to find Jake!”
“Did you know the creek water was poison?”
“Yes!” he snapped. “But Snare had taken Jake hostage. I had no choice.”
“Do you have one now?” When he didn’t answer, she drew her gun. “Trent?”
He gasped.
“Answer me, Trent.”
“For fuck’s sake, I ditched Mick and Candace.” He avoided her eyes. Whether he was hiding a malicious motive or merely embarrassed about his involvement, she couldn’t tell. “This is my chance to find Jake. Snare thinks I’m trying to kill you guys right now.”
“Are you?”
“You’re still breathing, right?”
“Two people just screamed like they’d been attacked by somebody.”
“That was probably Candace. Mick told us to kill everyone at the creek.”
“Wait, so Snare’s afraid of us building a dam?”
“I-I don’t know.”
“Trent, give me a reason to trust you.”
“I warned Berke back at Candace’s—took a huge risk to protect her. How’s that for a reason?” He glared at her. “Look, either help me find Jake or shoot me now and find him yourself.”
“Fine.” Ash pocketed her pistol. “But you’re going the wrong way. His screams came from that way.”
“No, they didn’t.”
“Trent, I know what I heard.”
“So do I.”
“You’re going the wrong way. Why the hell should I trust you?”
“Because it’s the right way,” he said, pushing past her.
“Goddammit.” She hurried alongside him. The gun in her hand felt charged with electricity. Eager. “You’re wrong. Turn around and come with me now or—” She pointed the gun at his chest.
Trent faced her. “Or what? You gonna shoot me? Because your concert-damaged ears heard something different?”
Ash set her jaw. Her eyes darted from his face to his leg. If the “voodoo doll” theory was correct, she could shoot him below the knee to cripple Mick. There was no guarantee it would work, but she didn’t trust her brother. Snare was blackmailing him. The only thing keeping her finger off the trigger was that she didn’t want to cripple her brother for the second time in ten years. Not after everything she’d sacrificed to get him upright again.