Page 101 of Survive the Night

Although there’s no blood on them, like there was in her imagination, Charlie knows they belong to Marge and that this time it’s not a movie in her mind.

A second later, she feels the barrel of a pistol cold against her forehead.

“Keep climbing,” Marge says. “We’re not done yet.”

She backs off, giving Charlie just enough room to crest the ladder and step onto the walkway. The two of them stare at each other, Charlie drenched and streaming dirty water, Marge’s face darkened by smoke.

“Where’s Josh?” Charlie says.

“He’s safe.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Marge’s shoulders rise and fall. “I don’t care.”

Beside them, a low rumble rises from inside the lodge. Anotherchunk of roof—bigger than the first—crashes down. The walkway under their feet shakes. Smoke and sparks roll over them—a wave so dense it blots out Charlie’s vision and makes her head swim.

When it clears, she sees Marge still across from her, the pistol now aimed at her chest.

“And what about Maddy?” Charlie says, getting a flash of the most recent movie in her mind. Maddy in full glamour mode. “You care about her, right? She’d hate it if she saw us like this.”

Marge starts to speak, changes her mind, goes silent again. She can’t argue with Charlie’s reasoning. Both of them know it’s true. If she were here, Maddy would be sickened by what she saw.

“I can’t just let it go. I have to dosomething.” Marge keeps the pistol pointed at Charlie. “I swore—”

“That you’d get revenge? Hurting me won’t do that. It won’t bring Maddy back. She’s gone, and I hate that fact. It makes me sad and angry, but most of all, I just miss her. I miss her so much. Just like you do.”

“It hurts,” Marge says, her voice cracking. “Missing her—it hurts so bad.”

“I know,” Charlie says. “It hurts me, too.”

“And this uncertainty. I don’t know what to do with it. I need to know who killed my Maddy.”

Charlie does, too. But she also knows life doesn’t always work that way. It’s not the movies, where plots are often tied up in a tidy bow. In the real world, you may never learn what caused the crash that killed your parents or who murdered your best friend. It’s hard and it hurts and it’s so unfair that sometimes it makes Charlie want to scream. But it’s life, and everyone must go on living it.

“Let me go,” Charlie says. “Let me go and we can get through it together.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry, sweetie. I need to learn as much as I can. That all depends on you now. You can tell me what you saw—whoyou saw—right now. Or we can do it the hard way.”

Marge cocks the pistol.

Behind her, Charlie sees something flitting through the smoke. A lightness amid the dark.

Robbie.

Creeping through the smoke, a tire iron clutched in his hand.

Charlie’s eyes widen, tipping Marge off to the presence behind her.

As Marge spins around, Robbie lifts the tire iron and brings it down hard against her shoulder.

The gun goes off.

A horrible bang.

Robbie grunts and falters backward.

Marge collapses outright, crumbling to the ground, the pistol falling from her grip and skittering across the walkway.

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