Chapter Twenty-One
The thunderstorm raged through the night, promising a grueling hike ahead.
We spent the early hours hunched over the area map.
Mitchell traced the lines, trying to make sense of them, while Nick pointed to where he guessed we were.
Pinpointing our exact route was nearly impossible.
Without a signal, we were navigating blind.
Even Nick’s expensive watch, with its built-in navigation, came up empty.
Mitchell remained skeptical of our so-called paranormal experiences, convinced we had simply lost our way and were lucky to have made it back.
I flipped through the photos we’d taken from Duane’s place, not really looking for anything but unable to stop myself. Deep down, I wanted to catch some detail we’d overlooked.
Sammy’s missing child poster lay on the table, staring back at me like an unspoken accusation. This is your fault.
"…and the Reverend," I caught the tail end of Mitchell’s sentence.
"But why? What’s his motive?" June asked.
"For one, he could be one of them," her brother said.
"One of whom?"
"The cult members. It’s the only thing that makes sense."
His sudden agreement with Nick startled me.
All the same, it was a relief to see his earlier irritability had lifted.
Mitch was now on a more productive path.
A cult would explain almost everything—the organization, the secrecy, the missing people.
Even the connection to the Harvest Moon.
The symbols weren’t just landmarks. They carried meaning.
"But what’s the endgame? And why do they need all these people?" I shook the pack of photos in my hand.
"Recruiting new members or," Nick suggested, "human sacrifice."
"Are we seriously looking for a secret cult that specializes in human sacrifices?" I asked, incredulous.
Mitchell shrugged, his expression confirming the unthinkable.
"It still doesn’t explain how people just... vanish," I said.
"Well, we know of at least one Sheriff who covers up crimes," Nick said. "What if they have more?"
"But Sammy didn’t go missing on the Harvest Moon," it suddenly occurred to me.
"And that’s why there’s a chance he’s still alive," Nick said.
When I was sixteen, my dad taught me how to drive.
He used to say, "Stay away from morons on the road," and that advice stuck with me. So, when an old Cherokee caught up with us on the narrow one-lane road, tailgating aggressively, I hugged the road verge to give them space to pass, even though I was driving five above the speed limit. The other car’s windows were tinted, obscuring the driver’s identity, but instinct whispered it was a man.
We reached a stretch of road where passing in the opposite traffic lane was permitted. The Cherokee suddenly accelerated, cut me off, and then adjusted its speed. I expected it to speed away, but instead it slowed down, and now I found myself tailgating.
Behind us, another car approached, and I was suddenly sandwiched between the two vehicles. I tried to put more distance between me and the Cherokee, but the car behind me nearly rear-ended me.
"Why pass if you’re not going to drive, asshole?" I muttered.
The Cherokee began weaving between the left and right sides of the lane, accelerating and decelerating with menace.
"What the heck?" Nick muttered, turning back.
The car in front of us turned on its hazard lights and started moving to the side of the road, giving me space to pass. However, there was no passing lane.
The car behind me signaled aggressively.
"What’s wrong with people here?" Taking a leap of faith, I spotted a long enough stretch of road before the next curve and sped up, passing the Cherokee in the opposite lane.
"Nellie, don’t!" Nick’s warning came too late.
Two things happened.
The Cherokee sped up, not letting me pass, and the car behind it did the same, maintaining a tight distance from the Jeep, making it impossible for me to squeeze back into my lane.
I tried to slow down, letting them both go, but they slowed down too.
The SUV swerved to the side, side-swiping us.
The impact almost shoved us into the gutter along the opposite lane, but I managed to regain control.
"Don’t stop, go!" Nick ordered, and I floored it. As I struggled to maneuver back into my lane, the huge 4x4 swiftly pulled up beside me, maintaining our speed and effectively trapping me in the oncoming lane.
"Don’t panic," Nick said, his voice oddly composed. "Let’s hit the brakes in three, two, one..."
I followed his instructions. The SUV hit the brakes too and turned violently into us, scratching our side.
And there we went again, side by side. Only now it also tried to swerve left and bump us again.
My hands trembled on the steering wheel as I veered left to escape the clash.
The Jeep and the SUV still shadowed our moves.
Up ahead, a car hurtled towards us, careening around the turn at an alarming speed. Its horn pierced the air, but its driver remained oblivious to the full extent of our desperate plight.
"Take a left, now!" Nick’s words snapped me out of my panic.
"Where?" I asked, already turning the wheel, blindly heeding his instructions. We were mere feet away from the oncoming car, its relentless signaling piercing the air.
Just as suddenly, the forest road appeared like a lifeline, almost invisible from the main road. It was a close call. We swerved, narrowly missing a tree. I brought the car to a halt and sat stock-still, still clenching the wheel.
"Everyone okay?" Nick asked, looking back. I turned to check on them as well. June’s eyes were like saucers, her face pale. Mitch opened the side door and carefully glanced back at the road. Dust motes danced in the air.
"I think they’re gone," he said, and I finally released my sweaty grip on the wheel.
With stiff fingers, I fumbled to open the door, stepping into the cool air.
The adrenaline coursing through my veins left me queasy, but thankfully, the nausea subsided quickly.
I pretended to inspect the car, running my hands over the scratches and dents left by the hostile Jeep. The right taillight was broken.
"Fucking hillbillies," Nick said through his teeth, "Can’t stage a believable suicide and can’t organize a car crash."
"You think they were trying to kill us?" I asked.
"You think that was normal road rage?"
"Probably not," I agreed, still shaking.
This Caravan was a family car. It was intended for long drives to Florida, not for car chases. It didn’t deserve to be treated like this, nor did it sign up for such adventures.
"I don’t think they are coming for us, but let’s wait a few to be sure," said Mitchell.
"Why did they try to make us crash into that other car?" she asked, still doubtful. "Why didn’t they just follow us here to finish the job?"
"Maybe they were trying to scare us," Nick offered.
"So we’d leave?" I prayed we would.
"Are we going to?" June asked.
"We’ll leave town, for sure," Mitchell said.
"Are we leaving-leaving?" June didn’t seem ready to throw in the towel just yet.
"No, just leaving. These woods are giving me the heebie-jeebies." Mitchell looked back into the trees as we were loading into the car.
"Can someone else drive, please?" I asked plaintively. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving a heavy, draining sensation in my limbs.
"Sure thing." Mitchell took the driver’s seat.
We rented a room at a highway motel, the kind where no one checks IDs and guests come and go so frequently that blending in is effortless.
The letters on the "Riverbend Inn" sign hung in tattered strips, and the floors were filthy, but the place had two advantages: its remote location and its cash payments.
Mitch insisted we get food first, so we walked in carrying bags of Chinese takeout. "Gotta fuel up after that adrenaline dump," he said. I didn’t know how he could eat after that car chase. I was still shaking, and it felt as though if I put anything in my stomach, it would come right back out.
We squeezed into a tiny room reeking of stale fabric and dust. The bathroom faucet dripped nonstop, but no one complained.
"It’s just for one night," Mitchell said, trying to reassure June, who hadn’t spoken since we arrived. She didn’t even seem to notice the stains on the covers.
"And then what?" Nick asked.
Mitch didn’t respond. His eyes had gone glassy, brows drawn tight like he was bracing for something. I half expected him to say we needed to leave before anything else went wrong.
"We should stay," Nick said instead. He glanced at each of us, then added, "Find that place. The one with the trees with eyes, or whatever Duane was talking about. Find the boy."
Mitch looked contemplative, his jaw shifted from side to side. A vertical line formed between his brows. He put his elbows on the table and clasped his hands.
June sat quietly, her gaze flicking between the two men as she held her fork upright, the tines pressed into the plastic plate as if it were a battlefield.
I thought about Nick’s mother, Duane, Sammy, Amanda, and Lucas, and what had happened to them, wondering whether there was anything we could still do.
Ahead of me was the option of going back to Ohio, staying with my mother, taking that job, maybe even returning to college.
Doing what she always wanted for me. But it all felt distant, like someone else’s life.
A future that didn’t belong to me. I’d spent years following someone else’s lead, swinging between doing what others thought was best and doing the opposite, just to spite my mother.
I joined the track team because my PE teacher said I should.
I was good enough, but I never ran for myself.
I chose the University of Minnesota over a closer school mostly to prove I could leave, even if that meant letting go of everything familiar.
My life had been shaped by the expectations of others, either trying to meet them or push away from them.
But now, after everything that had happened to us in Black Water, something had shifted. I couldn’t go back. Not because it would disappoint my mother, but because I no longer needed her approval to make this choice.
"I’m staying." Everyone’s eyes shifted to me. "I’ll go into the woods and find that place."
June looked at her brother. "I want to stay too. Even if you’re leaving."
Mitch uncrossed his arms, and in that instant, I thought he might push back. But then he stood a little straighter.
"Alright," he said. "That’s settled, then."
The plan was to find a safe place to stay for a few days before the full moon and try to locate that strange spot in the woods.
But first, we needed to retrieve our belongings from the hotel.
I was better off than everyone else, with a few things stashed in the back of my car: some clothes in a box and Lucas’s gym bag, untouched since I left Minneapolis.
Still, all my essentials were in the Ikea bag back at the resort.
Mitchell and June took my car to pick up everything. He hesitated, debating whether to leave her with me and take Nick instead, but in the end, watching over his sister himself won out.
"We oughta get a rental," Mitchell said. "They’ve already marked the Dodge, so a different ride might help us keep under the radar."
"Get full coverage, too," I added. "Might need it."
We were stuck in the grimy room for hours, waiting for the siblings to return.
The place was cramped and drab. Stained walls, faded curtains, and a queen-sized bed taking up most of the space.
A small coffee table and a sofa sat awkwardly in front of it.
The air felt stale, and the only sound was the hum of the old refrigerator in the corner.
"You want one?" Nick offered me a ginger beer from the fridge as I paced the short length of the room. I hadn’t even noticed him grabbing them at the gas station. I took the bottle automatically and tried to twist the cap off with the hem of my shirt, but it wouldn’t budge.
I set it on the coffee table and continued my lengths.
"Quite a day, huh?" Nick lolled on the sofa, mouth hitched in a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
"That’s one way to put it."
"How are you feeling?" He watched me tentatively as he opened my bottle with his keys. The lid fell onto the stained carpet with a sad ping.
I held out my hand, still trembling. "I’m fine."
"Really?" he challenged. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. From this angle, the dull overheads flooded his cheekbones in shadows. "You keep pacing."
"Really," I repeated. "It’s just my first car chase, you know."
Nick laughed, but there was no amusement in it. "Being so close to death makes you feel alive, huh?"
I took a sip of the ginger beer.
"I thought stuff like this only happened in movies." I rubbed my forehead, still pacing.
"Okay, enough," he said, rising from the couch. In a few strides, he was in front of me. Too close for friendly. His nearness stole the breath from my lungs. I looked up, and for a second, the room narrowed to just us.
"I just can’t think about anything else."
"Me neither," he said, voice low. "But I don’t think we’re thinking about the same thing."
His hand found the side of my neck, gently pulling me closer.
His kiss caught me off guard, but the feeling of his lips on mine made me instantly forget the chaos.
He pulled back slightly, giving me space to process what was happening.
I shifted awkwardly, fisting his shirt. How did that just happen?
Nick’s dark brown eyes held a quiet intensity, exploring the contours of my face with a soft, unhurried curiosity. I stood there, still holding onto him, my fingers gently unfastening his buttons.
He kissed me again, deeper and more insistent.
The adrenaline still coursing through my veins, I let go of my reservations, ignoring the nagging thoughts of consequences and implications, and Lucas.
All that mattered was that Nick was holding me tight, already pulling my shirt off, his touch a slow burn that ignited as his hands made contact with my bare skin.
That quiet pull I’d been trying to ignore.
I finally recognized it for what it was. I wanted him.
And for once, I didn’t care what happened next.