Page 102

Charlie swoops in, picks it up, thrusts it out in front of her. It’s the first time she’s ever held a gun, and she hates the feel of it in her hands. Her arms quake, the gun barrel unsteady as she points it at Marge.
Behind her, Robbie sits on the walkway, his right hand pressed to his left shoulder. Blood trickles out from beneath his palm. Charlie gasps when she sees it.
“Are you hit?”
“Grazed,” Robbie says. He starts to let out a low, disbelieving chuckle but stops midway. Eyes widening, he gasps and says, “Charlie, watch out!”
Charlie instantly understands what’s happening. Marge is on the move. At first, Charlie thinks she’s coming for the gun. She is, but not in the way Charlie expects.
Marge crawls toward her, not stopping until the pistol is inches away from her forehead.
“Do it,” she says, looking up at Charlie with a pained, pitiful expression. “Pull the trigger. Please. Put me out of my misery. I was going to do it anyway. Right here. Tonight.”
Charlie steadies the gun and thinks about all the damage Marge has caused that night. She deserves to pay for what she’s done. Not just to her, but to Josh and to Robbie. All in a misguided quest for information.
Then she thinks of Maddy and her habit of calling her mee-maw on the phone every Sunday. Charlie pictures her doing it. Sitting in the jade silk kimono she preferred over a bathrobe, the phone cord wound around her finger, laughing at something her grandmother had just said. The same woman who made her laugh now kneels in front of her, begging to die, and Charlie can’t bring herself to do it.
“No,” she says. “Maddy wouldn’t want that.”
Charlie tosses the pistol into the pool. It lands with a splash and disappears in the black water.
Marge says nothing. She simply stares at the spot where the gun now rests, a vacant look in her eyes.
Charlie moves past her, going to Robbie, who still has a hand pressed to his shoulder. Blood runs down his sleeve and drips from his elbow.
“We need to get you to a hospital,” she says, helping him to his feet.
“First, we need to get away from this place.”
Another rumble erupts from inside the lodge, followed by the sound of timber cracking. Charlie knows what it means. The support beams holding up what’s left of the room are about to fall.
And they don’t want to be here when it happens.
The two of them hurry along the back of the building, leaving the walkway and entering the woods to put more distance between them and the lodge. When it comes time to round the corner of the building, Charlie pauses long enough to check on Marge.
She sits next to the pool, watching the fire that will in all likelihood consume her should the lodge collapse.
Which it’s about to do in a matter of minutes.
But Marge doesn’t look scared. In fact, Charlie thinks she looksat peace, bathed in the orange glow of the flames. Maybe she’s thinking about Maddy. Maybe Marge even sees her. A movie in her own mind.
Charlie hopes that’s true.
She even wishes it as Robbie grabs her coat sleeve and tugs her until Marge fades from view.
THREE A.M.
EXT. LODGE—NIGHT
It’s all so loud.
That’s what Charlie thinks as they trudge out of the woods and head to Robbie’s Volvo.
The roar of the fire. The roar of the falls. It’s deafening, those twin sounds, like a pair of beasts in the thick of battle. It even looks like they’re fighting. Charlie sees the burning lodge to her right, the frothing head of the falls to her left, and, in between, a spot where the rushing creek reflects the flames.
Yet through that din, Charlie thinks of Josh.
He’s here. Somewhere.