“Uh … he’s actually moving into Blackwood next week.”
“Blackwood?” I question in shock. “What makes him qualified for Blackwood?”
“I don’t know, but he’s obviously hiding something.”
“Aren’t we all?” I mutter, then look to Grant. “Except you.”
He shrugs, accepting that he’s an open book.
It doesn’t take us long to find the remote dirt road we’re meant to park along. It’s a dead end with nothing built along it, like they had a plan but then abandoned it.
Grant pulls off the road and backs within a grove of trees. “Just in case,” he tells me.
“In case of what?”
“Exactly,” he answers with a wink.
I laugh, not understanding how his over-prepared brain works, but appreciating it all the same.
Now that we’re off Blackwood’s property, I turn on Joey’s phone, hoping Brendan will contact me. As soon as it powers on, I receive a text.
Be there in fifteen. Don’t bring your Blackwood phone.
I eye the message curiously. Now who’s being paranoid? I pull the Blackwood phone out of the side pocket of the backpack and leave it in the glove box.
“What was that about?” Grant asks, waiting for me outside the car with some sort of tarp.
“I don’t know. Brendan told me not to bring it. Don’t ask me why.”
I watch Grant cover the car with a tan tarp. Guess paranoia is in the air today.
We head back to where the dead end runs into the woods and search for the yellow strips of plastic tied to branches and bushes, leading us to the barn. I’m not any more coordinated walking through the woods in the daytime than I am at night, even with sneakers on. I stumble over roots and stub my toes on rocks regardless. Grant turns every time it sounds like I’m about to fall on my face.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asks, amused.
“Just … keep going. Don’t look back unless you hear me scream,” I urge, frustrated with my clumsiness. I am not usually this uncoordinated. I swear these woods have it out for me.
Grant laughs and continues in the direction the yellow ties indicate.
“I didn’t realize it was this far out here,” I say, sighing when we’re still not at the barn twenty minutes later.
“Sawyer said it’s about a half-hour walk,” Grant tells me, pulling out a bottle of water. “Want a sip?”
I take it from him and tip back a long swallow.
When I hand it back to him, I get a whiff of … smoke. “Do you smell that?”
Grant tilts his head, sniffing. “Smoke? Maybe someone’s camping out here?”
My gut twists. “That would be weird, right?”
“I don’t know. It is Vermont. People camp everywhere.”
Within a minute of walking, dark clouds of smoke start billowing above the tree line. A lot of smoke.
“Um, that’s not a campfire,” I say, my heart picking up pace. “Grant, I think that’s the barn.”
He glances at me. We must share the same thought because we take off running toward the fire at the same time.
Grant is much faster than I am, and by the time I reach the blaze, he has his hands cupped against a window, trying to see inside.
The back of the barn is in flames, but it’s crawling along the sides up to the roof quickly. I rush to the large sliding doors; they’re chained and secured with a padlock. A good one, not the kind I can pick easily. Especially under pressure. “Grant, is he in there?”
“Shit,” he mutters. Then he looks to me, his eyes flickering in panic. “There’s someone lying on the floor. It might be Brendan. I can’t tell. We need to get in there.” Grant tries the window, but it doesn’t budge.
I look around, searching for something to break the glass. I pick up a large rock and rush toward the window, tossing it through an upper pane. It shatters, leaving a jagged hole. I’m about to reach in when Grant intercepts me.
“Let me.”
It makes sense. He’s taller and probably won’t slice his arm open like I would. A second later, he’s pulling his hand back through and slides it open. The window is small, much too narrow for Grant’s broad shoulders to fit through easily.
“Lift me up,” I instruct.
“How are you going to get him out? You won’t be able to carry him.”
“Lift me,” I insist. “Please.” My voice shakes.
We’re running out of time as smoke rolls out the window, accosting us.
Grant eases me in. I cough immediately. Holding the neck of my shirt over my mouth eases some of the burning in my throat. I duck down and run over to the body lying on its stomach.
It’s Brendan. And he’s not moving.
I shove at him, but he still doesn’t respond. “Brendan!” I scream, shaking him vigorously.
He rouses, dazed.
“You need to get up!” I yell over the crackling of the fire.
I grab hold of his arm with both of my hands and yank him. He pushes off the floor and stumbles to his feet. Holding my breath to keep from inhaling the smoke, I guide us to the window.
“Lana! You’re almost here,” Grant calls to me, coughing. His voice is faint, drowned out by the hissing and crackling boards as they get swallowed by the blaze. “Don’t stop!”
I grip Brendan tightly and lead him the last few feet to the window. Grant reaches for me when I lean out the opening, desperate for fresh air.
“No. Brendan first.”
The flames are getting close. I don’t have to see them to know. I can feel the heat racing toward us. Burning up everything in its wake.
Brendan half-collapses out the window, so Grant reaches in and pulls at his arms while I heave his legs behind him. A burning beam falls with a deafening crash. My heart races as I desperately push while Grant pulls again. It’s a tight fit despite Brendan’s slender build. He finally crumples to the ground in a heap.
Grant reaches in to lift me out.
As soon as my feet hit the ground, I’m on my knees, retching. Grant drags Brendan away from the barn and leans him against a tree before returning for me, lifting and carrying me a safe distance away from the inferno. Even here, it’s so hot; it feels like my skin is bubbling off my bones.
“Is he …” I stop to cough, fighting to clear my lungs. “Okay?”
Grant returns to Brendan, examining him. “Yeah.”
But Brendan’s still pretty out of it, coughing and sputtering.
The barn creaks as the interior structure begins to give way, like it’s screaming out, slowly being incinerated to ash.
Grant turns Brendan’s head to the side, examining him. “You’re bleeding. Looks like you hit your head on something. Can you stand?”
Brendan shakes his head, unable to catch his breath.
“Breathe in slow,” Grant instructs. “Nice long breaths.”
I bolster myself up, leaning wearily against the tree.
“Will you hand me my bag?” he asks, still balancing Brendan upright to keep him from toppling over.
Picking up his backpack, I shuffle to Grant, my strength slowly returning. Grant holds my gaze for a beat before taking it from me. He blinks back the shine in his eyes and focuses on Brendan.