remaining tanks and put them each into a corner of the room, facing toward the center of the shack. Without a second thought, I twist the nozzle. Gas starts to hiss out quietly. I move to each canister, twisting each nozzle. They’re all hissing by the time I’m finished. I’m dizzy, the room filling quickly with gas. I’ve kept the door shut as much as possible so the gas is trapped in the room.
“I’m not going to leave you in here,” I tell Abe, trying to breathe shallowly. “I can’t take you all the way with me. Not now. But I won’t leave you in here.”
He doesn’t answer, but that’s okay.
A single spark to light up the world, I think. Flick the light switch. Electricity will try and connect through the filament. It’ll spark. It’ll spark, and all will burn. The gas is getting to my head.
I switch off the remaining light, the lantern. The shack goes almost completely
dark.
I bend down near the floor and look through the crack toward the cave entrance and the truck. Griggs walks down the metal ramp, back into the cave. They haven’t noticed the propane tanks are gone. I wait another moment, breathing in the fresh air, clearing my head. There’s no one else in the truck.
“Time to go, Abe,” I tell my old friend as I stand. I use the knife and cut his bonds. For a moment, his hands don’t move, as if he’s frozen with his arms strapped behind him. Then they fall slowly until they are resting at his sides, the fingers still pointed up toward the ceiling. I swallow past the lump in my throat because he isn’t—
he is he is he is oh please he is
—sleeping. He’s—
no no no no
—gone. He’s gone, and I can’t just leave him here. I can’t leave him to burn with
the rest of them. I can’t let that happen to him. He promised me one day a long time ago, when I was lost in the dark, that he’d take care of me. Every day he’s kept that promise. The least I can do is keep my promise to him.
I roll him over, slide my hands under his arms, and start to drag him toward the door. “I’m sorry,” I tell him, tears streaming down my face. “I know you don’t like to get dirty, but I can’t carry you. I hurt my ankle and I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”
He doesn’t say a word.
We reach the door and I set him down carefully, trying to ignore the way his head lolls to the side. The room is stifling now, the hissing sounding like a den of snakes. Water drips from the ceiling onto my sweat-slicked face. I open the door quickly and step through, then close it behind me. I look around the corner again. No one is there.
I turn back and open the door, moving as fast as I can. I grab Abe under his arms and pull as hard as I can. I drag him completely outside and then reach in to shut the shack door behind us. I take Abe’s arms in my hands again and pull him away from the shack, away from the truck and cave. Away from his killer. Away from my Cal’s killer. Away from the man who murdered my father. I pull with all my might, my ankle shrieking at me, the burning almost unbearable. I slide down the small embankment behind the shack and turn to pull Abe after me. He feels so much heavier now. Either that or I’m just tired. So tired.
I only get fifteen feet into the forest before I have to stop and rest. I lean up against a large tree trunk, trying to catch my breath. The walls I have built around my mind since I saw that first bullet strike Cal in the chest are starting to crumble. My hands are shaking. My mind is racing and I can’t focus on a single thing. I just want to lie down and sleep, float away in the dark.
But even before I can hear my father, before Abe speaks in my head, before the sweet rumble of Cal’s voice breaks me apart, I stand on my own, pushing myself away from the tree. I can do this. I can do this. I’ll leave Abe here and hoof it back to town. I’ll find someone—anyone—and they’ll take over and I’ll never have to worry about it again. Someone