Page 25 of The Stranger

“Where’s the dog?” the girl asks when we’ve been walking a while. “How far away is it?”

“Just right up here.” I hear the sounds of the creek as we grow closer to it. “It was down in the water but trying to climb out. I think I saw a shallow spot where we can climb down and call it to us. Between the three of us, we should be able to get him out of the water safely. I just didn’t want to chance it alone.”

We reach the edge of the water, staring down at the creek several feet below us.

“Where is it?” he shouts over the rushing water.

“I don’t know…” I search the water, looking for this imaginary dog with all my might. “Oh, I hope it didn’t get carried away. Check down there!” I shout, pointing forward toward the water up ahead. Both of them rush forward at my command, trying to find this animal, which gives me the perfect opportunity.

I pull the knife out, shoving it forward and into the boy’s lower back.

“Ah!” He jerks, cries out, and turns to look at me. “What did you do?” He tries to reach for the knife, swiping a hand toward it as I pull it out. I stab him twice more until his knees give out. At the same time, the girl notices what’s happened and begins to scream.

Rather than trying to help him, save him, or do anything heroic, she does the predictable thing and runs.

I’m very aware of the fact that I could’ve gone about this a different way. I could’ve threatened them. Or just lured them from the car and taken it. But either option would be too risky once they’d seen my face. I can’t leave anything up to chance, and God knows how teenagers like to run their mouths.

Without an ounce of regret, I grab hold of the boy’s shirt, taking the keys from his pants pocket. He doesn’t fight me, doesn’t struggle. He’s limp in my arms as I toss him into the ravine below us. It’s quick. He goes over fast, lands face down in the creek, and disappears. He was dead before he hit the water.

I go after the girl next. She’s still screaming, and that has to stop.

There should be no one around for miles, but on the off chance there is, I can’t let them hear her. I lunge forward, grabbing her head and pulling her down on top of me as we both fall to the ground. I cover her mouth with my hand.

A new way of killing someone for me, but why not? Let’s give it a whirl.

I apply more pressure as she struggles, wrapping my legs around her body to keep her as still as possible. She writhes under my grasp, pushing and pulling air from her lungs with every bit of her strength. Her legs and arms flail as she reaches for me, punching the space between us with all her might. Her hands reach out, slapping at the air, but it’s no use. She’s a fighter, I’ll give her that.

But so am I.

I squeeze harder, refusing to let go until she goes still in my arms. Slowly, I lift one finger at a time. When I’m sure she’s really gone, I stand, dusting the snow from my clothes as I stare down at her limp body.

In the water, the boy’s body has floated to the surface, face down, moving with the current. I grab hold of her—one hand on the back of her shirt, the other on the waist of her jeans—and drag her to the edge.

She’s thin. Easy to move. Probably skipped meals, definitely skipped dessert, to look this way. To be perfect, even in death.

With two easy pushes, she goes over the cliff and into the water below. I dust my hands and clean the knife off in the snow. Problem solved.

Just like that, I have a car.

CHAPTER TEN

TIBBY

I don’t know how I managed to fall asleep in a room with this stranger, but somehow I did. I use the word sleep lightly. I slept, though not well. I tossed and turned, uncovered and covered, struggling to find a way to be comfortable. When I’m fully awake again, I realize the struggle was likely more internal than external.

I survey the room slowly. It’s still dark out, and the clock on the nightstand tells me it’s just minutes after two in the morning.

I check Walker’s bed from where I’m lying and notice it’s empty. Instantly, I sit up, taking in my surroundings from the new angle. The bathroom door stands open, light off.

“Walker?” I call, my heart picking up speed as I realize I’m alone in the dark without a clue where he is.

I stand from the bed, jumping far away from the edge so a monster doesn’t get my feet. As a fully grown adult, I still reserve the right to do that, thank you very much, especially after the night I’ve had.

I peek out the window, staring into the dark parking lot, and breathe out a sigh of relief.

His car is still there. He hasn’t left me. I don’t know why I feel so much comfort over that realization, but I know that I hate it.

I hate myself for trusting him, for wanting to stay with him, for telling him anything about me, and for falling asleep.