The Last Time I Lied(106)

Vivian twirls a lock of hair around her finger, giving it some thought. “Maybe. There would have been a lot of drama. Lots of driving each other crazy. But there would have been good times, too. You being a bridesmaid at my wedding. Drinking with me after my inevitable divorce.”

She smiles at me. Her kind smile. The one from the Vivian I thought of as a potential big sister. I miss that Vivian. I mourn her.

“Viv, what happened to you guys that night? Was it Theo?”

“I can’t believe you haven’t figured it out yet. I left you so many clues, Em.”

“Why can’t you just tell me?”

“Because this is something you have to figure out on your own,” Vivian says. “Your problem is that you’re blinded by the past. Everything you need to know is right there in front of you. All you need to do is look.”

She points to the other side of the cavern, where a snake of light crawls along the rock wall. Several more surround it, undulating like waves, making the dome of the cavern feel like a disco.

Then it hits me. I can see.

The darkness is gone, replaced by a warm light radiating through the entire cave. It comes, quite improbably, from the pool in the middle of the cavern. The light is a rich gold tinged with pink that makes the water glow like a hotel swimming pool. I check my phone, seeing that it’s now six. Sunrise.

The presence of light means one thing—there’s another way out of the cave.

“Vivian, I think I can get out!”

She’s no longer there. Not that she ever truly was. But this time there’s no lingering presence, no sense she could return at any moment.

Vivian might be gone for good.

I stand and limp to the water’s edge. The light seems brightest to my right. Its undiluted glow suggests a straight path from the cave to the outside world. Most likely an underwater tunnel connecting cave to lake.

I slide back into the pool and face the light. Through the water, I see a glowing circle roughly the same size as the tunnel I entered through. If it stays that same width across its entire length, I might be able to swim my way out of the cavern.

I do a few laps around the pool, loosening up while testing out my injured ankle. It hurts, of course. It’s also swollen, which limits movement. I need to fight through both. I have no choice.

Properly warmed up, I line my body up with the tunnel entrance. I start shivering again, this time more from nerves than the chill of the water. I’m scared as hell and long for another way out of here. There isn’t one. The only way out is through.

I take a deep breath. I slip under the water. I stare at that gold-and-pink light and start to swim toward it.





41


Swim.

That’s all I need to do.

Swim and try not to think about how much my ankle hurts.

Or that the tunnel may slowly be closing in on me.

Or that I’m not even a quarter of the way through it yet.

I need to do nothing else but swim. As hard and as fast as I can. Straight toward the light like the little girl in that movie that gave me nightmares when I was nine.

Swim.

Don’t think about that movie and its creepy clown and fizzing TV or how the silt from the lake water clouds my vision and stings my eyes.

Just swim.

Don’t think about how the tunnel really is getting smaller or how my shoulders skim the walls, scraping away mossy blooms of algae that make it even harder to see.

Just fucking swim.

Don’t think about the algae or the shrinking tunnel or how each flick of my right foot sends pain screaming through my ankle or how the pressure is building in my chest like a balloon that’s about to pop.

I swim straight into the light, blinded by it, the glare forcing my eyes shut. My lungs scream. My ankle screams. I’m on the verge of screaming myself. But then the tunnel falls away, slipping from my shoulders like an unzipped dress. My eyes open to the sight of water everywhere. No cave. No walls. Just blessed open lake glowing yellow in the ever-brightening dawn.

I shoot to the surface and gasp, gulping down precious air until the ache in my lungs subsides. My ankle still hurts. As do my exhausted, limp-rag arms. Yet I have enough strength to stay afloat and keep my head above water. I might even be able to swim back to camp after some rest.

Hopefully it won’t come to that. Hopefully people are looking for me.

Sure enough, I hear the hum of a motorboat in the distance. I rotate in the water until I can see it—a white skiff, one of two normally moored to Camp Nightingale’s dock. Chet sits by the outboard motor, steering the boat across the lake.

I swing an arm out of the water, waving to him. With what little air I have in my lungs, I scream his name.

“Chet!”

He spots me, his face bright with surprise to see me floundering in the lake. He cuts the motor, grabs a wooden oar, and paddles my way.

“Emma? My God, we’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

I resume swimming. He keeps paddling. Together we finally meet, and I latch on to the side of the boat. With Chet’s help, I climb aboard and collapse inside, panting, too tired to move.

“Did you find the girls?” I ask, panting out the words, still catching my breath.

“Early this morning. They’re dehydrated, hungry, and in shock, but they’ll be fine. Last I heard, Theo was going to take them to the hospital.”