Chapter Twenty-Four Goldie
Chapter Twenty-Four
Goldie
“Remind me why this was a good idea?” I say, staring out the window from the passenger seat.
We’ve been driving for about an hour, and I’ve watched burnt orange and red leaves streak by, with the occasional burst of yellow peeking out among the tableau.
Evie’s eyes stay on the windy road as she drives, the sound of her tires whipping over the wet asphalt. I slowly shift my head to look at my sister, immediately hating the solemness in her expression.
“Never mind, don’t remind me. There’s no joke that can make it funny.”
A smile begins to bloom on her face before she glances at me. “You know what will be funny? Watching you look for a guy in a hockey mask tonight at our welcome bonfire.”
My face scrunches up as droplets of rain begin to softly hit the window.
“Eww . . . who’s the guy putting this on? It’s so creepy. Maybe we should be more scared of him than my ex.”
Evie’s mouth pops open as the swishing of her windshield wipers starts up.
“Look at you, turning trauma lemons into funny lemonade. Your life is making you a full-fledged comedian.” I roll my eyes and cross my arms, but she shrugs. “I say lean in. This can be a new era for you.”
“Shut up,” I chuckle. I can’t help it. It took her a minute, but she found the funny.
Honestly, I’m glad she did. It’s a nice reprieve from what I’ve been feeling. Still, I have no doubt I’ll go right back to being numb again in no time. I reach out to adjust the heater because the car’s gotten colder.
I change the subject. “Okay, so there’s a bonfire . . . What else is happening?”
“Well, from what I’ve been told, because everything’s really hush-hush . . . First, we’re driving to a special location for pickup . . .”
“Pickup?” I interrupt, sitting up straighter. “Why is this starting to feel like an actual horror movie?”
She nods, but the smile on her face is disconcerting, to say the least.
“No . . . like, this guy, the one who hired us, really wants everything to feel immersive. He describes himself as an ‘experience purist.’”
“What? What the hell is that . . .”
“I don’t know. Rich people are weird. He wants everything to feel as real as possible, so that means we need to feel it too. Get this, we’re taking a school bus up to the camp, just like the first part of the team did who left Monday.”
I blink a hundred miles an hour as she continues. Somewhere between finding out we’re turning in our phones for privacy and that we’re sleeping in cabins, I break.
“Oh my god. Why didn’t you tell me any of this before? Please say ‘Psych!’ right now.”
She winces as she holds the wheel tighter. “I didn’t really think about it. I found out months ago, and I mean, there were other pressing matters . . .”
I let out a breath. Fuck. My brows raise as another empty chuckle pops out. “Well, I guess you’re right about one thing . . . I am, in fact, not thinking about my real life. So I suppose a win’s a win.”
She laughs quietly. “See, funnier by the minute.”
I turn my face back to the window, my own reflection staring back at me for a second. “Yeah, maybe after this weekend, I’ll be able to take my one-woman show on the road.”
The soft sounds of music begin to play as raindrops dance along the window in slashes, gathering and rolling over each other. And because I can’t stop myself, I reach into my pocket, pull out my phone, and look at the messages. There’s nothing.
I’ve checked his name more times than I can count since Monday.
A part of me keeps telling myself to be grateful he’s disappeared because I shouldn’t have any contact with someone who might be dangerous and is definitely a liar.
But another part of me—a voice that’s just a little bit louder—wants to see Noah.
Because I hate that I didn’t let him explain.
I’ll never really know why he lied, or how deep it all runs.
Then again, that’s really the sickest part—the desire for an explanation isn’t really me wanting closure.
It’s my heart wishing I could forgive him and run right back into his arms.
God, it would only take the flimsiest of excuses, and that makes me hate myself.
I close my eyes, trying to block out my thoughts and listen to the music. But between the setting sun and the driving rain, my body grows heavy, and my eyes refuse to open as I fall asleep.
“Goldie . . .” my sister whispers, and I feel the car slowing.
She rubs my arm, and I take a deep breath, denying my eyes the instinct to flutter open. Shit, I must’ve fallen asleep.
I yawn and say, “Are we there yet?” but I’m met with her gasping and the sound of brakes screeching as my body’s thrown forward.
Holy shit.
Darkness and brake lights fill my vision as my hands smack the dash because I’ve instantly woken up to see logs—huge fucking tree logs—coming straight out of a truck in front of us and at our window.
I scream a bloodcurdling amount of fear as my eyes squeeze closed, and I brace for death with one hand on Evie, the other in front of me.
My heart’s in my throat, my pulse is going faster than it’s ever gone, and the veins in my neck are about to explode, but nothing happens.
No shattering glass, or impact. And definitely no logs.
My lungs are still trying to commit to the screaming, except it’s died out into something reminiscent of a Chewbacca impersonation because I’ve run out of breath.
I open one eye and see the logs hanging in the air just in front of our window. My face whips to Evie’s, then back to the window.
My mind races to catch up as all the outside sounds begin to filter in, now louder than the sound of my heart.
But my mouth’s still hanging open and my eyes are still bugging out as I stare at the logs being retracted into the bed of the truck .
. . pulled by a chain . . . connected to some kind of motor.
Oh my god.
“Evie!” I shriek as soon as I refill my lungs.
She’s laughing, her hands in a defensive position in front of her. Not for the logs but for me . . . Because she knows I’m about to kill her. I look around and see a bunch of her FX nerds watching and laughing, too, along with the dreaded bus she mentioned before.
We’re in a damn parking lot. She faked it. The diabolical witch faked it.
My heart’s pounding out of my chest as I turn back to her and smack her arms in a flurry. “I hate you. I thought we were dying!”
A slew of curses falls from my lips as my car door is opened and I recognize her boss, Scott.
“I’m sorry . . .” Evie laughs, pointing at him. “He made me. We needed a test dummy, and well . . .”
I smack her arms again before I lay back in my seat and press a hand to my chest, ensuring my heart’s still thrumming. My hair falls in my face, but I don’t care.
“My life flashed before my eyes, Scott.” I narrow them as I watch a bunch of guys she works with jump onto the fake death logs to secure the lines.
“You two are the worst people on earth . . .” I whip my head to hers.
“That movie is awful. Awful. I remember when we were kids and you made me watch it, and it literally made me scared of everything.”
She’s laughing too hard for me to ever forgive her, but it also makes me smile. Oh, I hate her.
I point a shaky finger at her. “If you do that to me again, this weekend will be your Final Destination. You got me?”
She makes an X over her heart.
“Cross my heart and hope you die. I mean, to die . . .” She laughs. “You know what I mean. I promise, no more scares . . .”
I don’t miss the “from me” she whispers while looking away. I look up at Scott’s smiling face, raising my brows, but he shrugs. Not at all apologetic for what he’s about to say.
“We’re all really excited you’re here, Goldie. You’re the kind of market research that makes us geek out.”
I lift a leg from the car and drop my foot down outside with a thud. “Well, Scott, I hope you got paid royally because I’m sending you my therapy bill.”
He laughs, then gives the top of the car a tap before walking away and leaving me to truly regret this damn plan.
“Hey, Golds,” my sister says as she opens her car door. “Just send it to me, I’ll expense it.”
Fuck my life. There’s kicking a dog while it’s down and then there’s this—running it over.
“You know,” I tease as I grab my bag from the car, “we could just call it even and you hand over your credit card. Because I’m sure all the way up here in the mountains, I could find a decent spa to grieve and wellness at.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “I’m sure you could, but then I’d worry the whole time . . .”
I frown as I look at her before she closes the distance and puts her arm over my shoulder. “Look at it this way, we never got to go to summer camp as kids. Now’s our chance.”
With a groan, I follow beside her as we walk toward the big yellow bus. There’s a man standing outside the doors built like a house wearing a Thrills-n-Kills T-shirt. He holds out a black case, almost the size of a carry-on. It has about a dozen phones inside.
“Aww, you shouldn’t have,” Evie says sarcastically, smiling up at the Thor replica. “Do I just pick the one that goes with my eyes?”
He laughs and his cheeks turn red. Jesus, leave it to my sister to turn someone three times her size into a puddle.
He clears his throat. “The host requires top secret level discretion. It was in your contract.”
She sticks out her bottom lip as she pulls her phone from her pocket. But I shake my head. “I didn’t sign . . .”
“Yes, you did,” she blurts out, whipping her head to mine and glaring at me. “Everyone in the office did. Remember?”
It doesn’t take a genius to pick up what she’s putting down—I’ve been snuck into this weekend of hell. So I nod and roll my eyes. “Oh yeah, my mistake. Sorry.”
He shrugs, putting my theory to bed, clearly not having picked up anything, including the clue.
“Just turn them off and put them in,” he says, holding the case closer to us. “We’ll meet you back here once you return . . . if you return.”