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HE’LL KILL MElike he killed my father, standing by the crate. If I take him to it, I’ll die. If I don’t take him to it, he’ll hurt me, but he won’t kill me. Not yet. These things I’m sure of. I’m not sure of anything else, but it’s enough to start with.

I take him around the east side of the lake. To the blackberry patch, now just a snarl of dormant vines capped with snow. Daniel has to carry the tools—shovels and picks and a bag with a big propane heater to thaw the ground—and the pilot stays behind.

Daniel hasn’t said anything except to agree with Raph’s orders, and he watches me with a hangdog look. Raph said he doesn’t kill little girls. If Daniel said it, I’d believe him, but I also don’t think he’ll do anything to protect me.

No, Raph will kill me and Daniel will stand by and tell himself there was nothing he could have done, it wasn’t him that did it anyway, it wasn’t his fault.

It’s weird, though. There’s a part of me that finds them comforting. People. Human beings. I’m not alone. I’d be safer if I was, but some stupid part of my brain doesn’t understand that. It’s doing cartwheels at the notion that I have company.

Next thing you know I’ll be wanting to put out the fine china.

We move along slowly. Mostly because of me. I stumble a lot, but at least my head has stopped spinning, and Raph even gave me a couple of painkillers. I only took one. It’s dulled the edge without making me loopy. I hid the other in my palm and snuck it into my pocket when Raph wasn’t looking.

“This is it,” I say at last, when we’ve reached a flat, empty patch that could plausibly hold the crate.

Raph inspects the ground. It’s snowed a few times since I was here last and the only thing that has come through is a deer, judging by the tracks.

“Doesn’t look like you’ve been out here,” he says.

“I don’t exactly make a daily pilgrimage,” I say. “I buried it before the ground froze. You really think I could have managed it otherwise?”

He looks at me. Sees a scrawny girl with scars on her cheeks and a bad leg. Doesn’t see the muscle on that scrawny frame. Sure, I don’t have any fat on me, but I surprise myself every day with my strength. Especially now that I have food, good protein-rich food, filling me up three meals most days.

“All right,” he says. “We dig.”

I’m worried for a moment that he’s going to make me do it, but apparently thinking I’m a weak little girl extends to his opinion of my current usefulness. On that score he’s probably right. I’m banged up enough I couldn’t swing the pickax to break the ground. And I’m not about to complain.

He situates me to the side, my back against a tree trunk and my legs out in front of me. He and Daniel set up the heater, but Raph’s impatient; he makes Daniel get to work swinging the pickax before the heater’s been running more than a few minutes, hacking at the hard-packed, frozen earth.

Daniel has my rifle slung over his back, and he positions himself so he can keep an eye on me. No sneaking off.

I figure it’ll take them at least an hour to dig even a foot down, and they won’t get suspicious until they hit four feet without finding anything. Or if they find a giant rock or something that I obviously didn’t shovel back into place.

I have to get away from them before then.

I have to get them to split up, and I have to get my hands free. No way Raph will untie me, but Daniel? I can get him to do anything short of letting me go, I bet.

I give it twenty minutes before I speak up.

“I’ve got to pee,” I say, loudly. They stop their digging. Raph looks at me. Daniel looks at Raph.

“Then pee,” Raph says.

“Seriously?” I arch an eyebrow. I have to think about the right facial expression to make, it’s been so long since I interacted with a human being.

He laughs. “Fine, then. You can have a little privacy.”

I try not to look hopeful and anxious. I figure I have even odds of either man accompanying me. If it’s Raph, I’m screwed.

“Don’t take her too far,” he says to Daniel. “And turn your back while the lady relieves herself.” He looks at me. “Happy?”

I glare at him. Daniel nods. He rests his pick on the ground and comes over to help me to my feet.

He avoids my eyes. I try to catch his gaze, but he stares stubbornly to the side.

I walk beside him into the trees. I can still hear Raph swinging away at the hard ground. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Scrape. But soon I can’t see him through the trees, and Daniel stops.

“I’ll, um, turn around,” he says, repeating Raph’s instructions like they’re his own idea.