The mud didn’t help. It grabbed hard at her clogs, making her feel like she was running in deep water. She had to stop for a second just to catch her breath.
A sound made her jump. It was a crack of thunder—or what she thought was thunder. She spun around and peered through the streaming rain. There was a dim light glowing toward the rear of the gatehouse, along the base. She realized with a start that the outside bulkhead door to the basement had been flung open. And then she saw Rory. She was charging toward her with one hand raised high, carrying something. It was a shovel, the kind with a small pointy scoop.
Lake turned and forced herself to keep running. The car wasn’t far, but she could hear panting close behind her to the right, and the slurping sound of Rory’s shoes fighting the mud. Lake was almost at the car, almost. Then the blow came. She heard the whack on her head before she felt it and it seemed to echo in her brain. Then a searing pain shot through her.
Lake stumbled forward and tried to right herself, but the blow had knocked the wind out of her and finally she fell forward, landing on her knees in the mud. She was still clutching the car key in one hand and she tightened her fist around it as she struggled onto her back. Rory had the shovel raised, ready to deliver another blow. As she started to bring it down Lake threw her body to the right. The shovel missed her head but the metal scoop landed hard on her arm, making her yelp in pain.
Lake scooted backward in the mud, trying to get leverage to stand. As Rory brought the shovel up again, Lake kicked hard at Rory’s shin. Rory lurched backward, instinctively lowering the shovel as she reached one hand to her shin. Lake struggled up. Her clothes were sopping wet now, almost weighing her down. With all the force she could muster, she charged toward Rory, knocking her to the ground. The shovel dropped from her hand. Lake picked it up and flung it across the yard as Rory let out a scream of rage.
This was her only chance now. Lake lunged toward the car, yanked open the door, and flung herself inside. With wet, slippery fingers she fumbled along the door until she found the lock and clicked it closed. At the same moment, Rory threw herself at the car and yanked hard at the door handle. When it didn’t open, she began to bang on the window.
Don’t look, just go, Lake told herself. Her right hand was trembling and she had to steady it with the other one just to make the key go into the slot. Rory kept banging on the window, so hard Lake was sure it would shatter. She turned on the engine and put the car in reverse. As she pulled away, she could see Rory standing in the headlights, dripping wet, her mouth slack in angry confusion. Then she turned and plunged into the darkness.
Lake began to edge the car backward down the driveway. In the dark, in the pouring rain, she could see next to nothing in the rearview mirror. I can’t do this, she thought desperately. She tried to concentrate but she still felt dizzy and her head ached. Within seconds she veered off to the left and her back bumper rammed a post or a rock along the edge of the driveway.
Turn around, she told herself. It was the only way she would be able to get out. In the headlights she saw grass to the right of the driveway and she guessed that there was enough room to swing the car around. She put the car in drive, tapped the gas and maneuvered to the right. Then she jerked the gearshift into reverse and cranked the wheel so she could point the back of the car toward the house. She touched the pedal. The back wheels lurched but the front wheels didn’t move. They’re stuck in mud, she realized, hitting the brake. She gunned the motor but the wheels spun round and round, shooting mud into the beams of the headlights.
Lake was almost hyperventilating. She breathed through her nose, trying to calm herself so she could concentrate. Turning the wheel slightly, she tapped the gas again. This time the car jerked backward and she positioned it so she was facing out of