Chapter 35
“Isobel, hey!” Katarina calls out when I walk into the dining hall. I’m in enough of a daze that I barely hear her, but I take the open chair next to her and sit down.
“It’s nice with some rain, isn’t it?” she adds. “I really liked the sound of the wind last night, it was like having a white noise machine in the room.”
The sound is quieter in here, muffled by the sturdier build of the dining hall; but I can still hear it, like the muted sound of someone tapping on the door, begging to get in. It’s colder in here than before, too, enough to make my skin break out in goose pimples. A shiver runs through me.
“Delighted you’ve decided to stay.”
“You’re a very special person, Isobel.”
“We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
What have I gotten myself into? I should have seen it earlier. Should have listened to Sandra and Armin, as they both told me, each in their own way, that I should leave.
It all added up slowly enough that I could talk myself into thinking I still had the situation under control. Up until the point when it became all too clear that I was never in control, that I have, the whole time, been the proverbial frog in the proverbial pot.
Worse, actually. The famous saying is a lie; a frog would have gotten out long before I tried to.
Now the water is boiling all around me, and I’m scratching frantically at the walls, trying and failing to climb out.
But there is a way. There has to be a way.
“Isobel, are you okay?” Leyla is looking at me from across the table. Her hair has frizzed up in the humidity. It makes her look younger, less hardened by life.
For a moment, the words linger on my lips. Wild ideas flit through my head.
Maybe, if we all went to Martina, she’d let us go. Maybe if we staged some kind of revolt. Surely she couldn’t hold us all back, if we decided we wanted to leave, if we demanded it.
But as I look into Leyla’s eyes, I remember the scene from yesterday; I remember Martina embracing her, and Leyla crying in her arms.
She’s already gotten to them, broken down their defenses. Why would I think they would take my side?
Sandra is the only person I can rely on. Sick or not, I have to get to her.
She’s surely got the key, or combination to the gate. We can take her car. I don’t care about the rental anymore. All I care about is getting out.
“I’m fine.” I pull the corners of my mouth up manually, as though piloting a marionette. “Just tired. I had a hard time sleeping through the storm.”
The doors open, and I twitch, stiffen in my seat when I see Clara walking in. Her hair is in a high ponytail, her face dotted with rain, all fresh and lovely.
I can barely see the cut on her lip anymore. But I remember her face from last night vividly.
The blood caught between her teeth. The threat, delivered in a low growl.
“Good morning, gang,” Clara greets us, sitting down next to Leyla. She doesn’t look directly at me.
Instead, she takes stock of the surprisingly empty table, with nothing on it but a couple of yogurts and four untoasted slices of bread stacked on a plate, and asks:
“What happened to the breakfast?”
The doors to the kitchen opens up, and Anna comes walking out with a pot of tea.
“Hey, Clara. Isobel.” She puts the pot down in the middle of the table. I catch a whiff of lavender and raspberry, and my stomach turns.
Anna looks at me and asks:
“Are you feeling better today, honey? Did you sleep okay?”
It takes me a moment to remember what she’s talking about.
“Much better. The cramps are almost gone.”
Clara holds up a finger to get Anna’s attention.
“Sorry, but what happened to the breakfast? Is the kitchen out of those overnight oats? It’s been really good for balancing my hormones.”
“It’s the rain.” Anna takes a seat next to Katarina, shaking her head. Her hair is damp, I notice now, the icy blond somewhat muted.
“The kitchen staff doesn’t stay on location. They called this morning. Apparently, the road isn’t safe. Something about a flood warning. So we’re on our own in the kitchen today.” She grimaces. “We’ll do our best, but I’m afraid it won’t be up to the usual standard. Sorry.”
“A flood warning?” I repeat.
Anna nods, and, reaching out, she grabs one of the tired-looking pieces of bread and takes a big bite out of it.
“The head chef sounded really upset about it on the phone.” Her words turn muddled by the chewing. “I told him not to worry. We’ve got enough food out here to last us for weeks.”
Fuck.
Sandra’s car isn’t sturdy enough to drive through flooded streets. My rental might be, but the keys are somewhere in the main building.
Panic has started bubbling in my stomach, low and sharp, a tart taste filling my mouth. My head is spinning.
There is no way out of here.
Maybe there is no flood warning at all. Maybe Martina made it up to keep me here. Maybe I’ve been sitting in a rattrap this whole time, thinking I’m a cat, while the doors shut all around me and the glue started working its quiet deadly magic.
No. I have to calm down. I can’t let myself get paranoid, not now. Fear will not serve me, only make me feel small and helpless; and if I stop believing I can get out, I will already be lost.
I can sneak into Martina’s office. I did it last night, and I can do it again. I’ll find the keys to the rental, and get Sandra, and we’ll get out of here. We might not even have to drive through the flood. We just have to get far away enough that we can call for help.
“I’ve never heard of a flood warning in this part of the country,” Leyla comments. “I’d have thought the elevation would make it unlikely,” she adds.
Anna shrugs. “Climate change, I guess,” she says.
“Are we at risk?” Katarina’s voice is tinged with worry. “With the pond, and everything.”
“I don’t think so.” Anna smiles, teeth glinting white in the gray light. “The warning concerned the area down the road, not up here. You’re all perfectly safe.”
“Yeah, guys.” Clara raises her voice. “It’ll be really cozy. Like camp. We can stay up and tell ghost stories tonight.”
I catch her eyes as she says:
“As long as we all do as we’re told, I’m sure we’re going to be just fine.”