The Writing Retreat(68)

“Poppy.” Wren cleared her throat. “Zoe, I mean. If we find her, then all of this is over. Right?”

“If she’s here, she’s in that room.” Keira plopped into the desk chair. “We searched the rest of the house, top to bottom.”

“Guys.” Taylor’s voice was low. “I know how much we want Zoe to be alive. Is this our way of tricking ourselves into believing it?”

“No.” Keira leaned forward. “This is our way of finding out the truth. If Zoe’s out there in the woods, that’s one thing. But if there’s a chance she’s alive, then we need to find out. After we radio the police, of course.”

“The room’s locked,” I reminded her.

“I might be able to pick it.” Keira jumped up. “Alex, come with? And bring your phone.”

“I want to check that keycode.” Taylor gestured at Wren. “Join me?”

“But the camera…” Wren squinted. “Won’t whoever put it there see us?”

“We don’t know who’s looking… if it’s Roza, someone else we’ve never seen, or no one at all. We don’t even know if it’s turned on.” Taylor glanced at Keira, our new de facto leader. “If someone is watching, they probably already saw Alex. Right, K?”

She nodded. “I think it’s worth it to try the keycode.”

I’d left it wide open but hidden behind some boxes.

It wasn’t until Keira and I were heading down the stairs that Taylor’s words hit, making my whole body tingle with fear.

Someone else we’ve never seen.

We already knew there was at least one secret, hidden room at Blackbriar. Who was to say there weren’t more? And who was to say they didn’t contain multiple people we weren’t aware of, spying on us like doctors watching their lab rats?



* * *



I forced myself to focus on the task at hand. Keira stopped in her room for bobby pins, and I tried to think up an excuse in case we ran into Yana. Thankfully, the halls were empty. At the door, Keira crouched down as I shone my phone light on the circular lock.

“Okay, let’s see if I can still do this.” Keira pulled out the bobby pins from her pocket.

“How did you learn?” I asked.

“Well…” She twisted one of the bobby pins, bending one end into a little hook. “I have a very curious niece who decided to lock herself in the bathroom at her second birthday party.” She slipped the wavy side into the lock. “YouTube really saved the day.”

“Wow.”

A minute later, she turned the doorknob and it magically opened.

“There!” she cried.

“Amazing.” I turned on the light.

The radio sat in the back corner on its own stand. It was the size of two stacked bricks, with tiny buttons and switches across the front.

“Okay.” Keira flipped some switches. Nothing happened.

“It looks like it’s dead. Shouldn’t it be lit up in some way?” I bent and found the cord, which was plugged into an outlet.

“Something should be happening.” She glanced up. “Hey, you should check the phone too. Maybe it’s actually working.”

I went to the white vintage rotary phone on the desk. I lifted the receiver and held it to my ear. There was nothing—less than nothing: a thick, silent deadness.

“Nope.” I turned back to Keira.

She’d stiffened, the grooves of her shoulder blades showing through her tight black sweater.

“What?” I trotted to her side.

She’d turned the radio over. The bottom had been pried open, the insides removed. Torn wires lined the gaping plastic shell.

The reality of the situation took a second to hit.

There was no radio. No phone. No connection to the outside world.

Keira looked at me, and the same thought hovered between us: we were completely on our own.



* * *



We ran into Taylor and Wren in the kitchen.

“We saw the keypad,” Taylor said. “Couldn’t get in without the code, of course. Wren had the idea that we should try to figure out what’s directly above it and see if there’s a way in from upstairs.”

“Did you radio the police?” Wren leaned tiredly against the kitchen island.

Keira glanced at me. “It’s dead. Someone opened it up and ripped out the wires.”

“What?” Taylor looked stricken as Wren gasped.

“So I think we can safely assume there’s no police coming to save us.” My intuition had been right. And it was clear we could no longer trust anything Roza said.

“What do we do?” Wren’s voice sounded strangled.

“Well.” Keira tapped her fingers against the marble countertop. “I’d say we should find Roza’s car keys and just leave. But it’s stayed cold the last few days; the snow hasn’t melted. And whether or not the snowblower is actually broken, Roza’s not going to let us find out.”

“What about the snowmobile?” Wren said.

The three of us stared at her.

“Chitra said there’s one in the garage.” Wren shrugged.

“With keys?” Keira asked.

“I don’t know.”