Jackson opens the door for Elliot. We both help him lean into the back seat. I climb in beside Elliot and buckle him and myself in. Jumping into the driver’s seat, Jackson strums his hands on the wheel. He’s about to turn the key in the ignition when he looks in the rear view mirror and curses.

Behind us, the massive iron gate is closed. I share a worried look with Jackson.

“Lock the doors,” he says.

“Where’re you going?” Elliot asks, but Jackson’s already slamming the driver’s side door shut. He takes off for the gate. I press down on the manual locks. Elliot does the same. The three of us sit in silence. Rain pelts down on the hood.

Jackson sprints through the mud, arms pumping and legs churning. He scrambles to the gate and tries to push it open. Clank-Clank-Clank.

Jackson shoves the gate. He steps back, surveying the metal. Fear engulfs me. Whoever stitched Beth’s lips shut could still be here. Jackson’s not safe. No one is. I think about Mrs. Green. Where the hell did she go? Does that monster have her? Maybe it’s Manuel. Maybe he did it. Unless it’s someone else entirely.

Elliot tries to swivel around. “Did he get it?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Not yet.”

Jackson sprints back in our direction. “Here he comes,” I say, unlocking the driver’s door. Jackson climbs into the car, soaked to the bone.

“We’re stuck here? Aren’t we?” I say.

“No.” Jackson says. He shivers, his teeth chattering.

“The gate’s locked,” I reply.

“I’m handling it.” Jackson jams the key into the ignition. “Please work,” he says under his breath. “Please work.” He cranks the key. The starter catches and the engine turns over. The car rumbles to life. “First try! Yes! Thank you. Let’s do this.”

“Do what?” Elliot says. My brother gives me a steely gaze in the rear view mirror. Jackson drops the car into drive and mashes the pedal.

“Wait.” My stomach lurches. “You’re not going to…” The tires kick up mud, the wheels catching and groaning. The old truck fishtails down the driveway.

He’s going to ram it, I think. He’s going to ram the gate. We race toward freedom. The speedometer climbing.

25…30…

“We’ll get through,” Jackson says.

“What if we don’t?” I say.

“We’ll get through!” Jackson barrels straight for the exit.

35…40…

“Oh, Jesus,” Elliot says.

45…50…

Jackson grips the wheel, eyes filled with determination. Faster. Faster.

55…60…

The gate’s coming up quick now. We’re almost there. We’re almost there. Jackson gives a little whoop. “Let’s do this,” he says. “Let’s. Do. This.”

His foot crushes the gas.

Elliot holds my hand tightly. I smile, scared out of my mind. The car headlights illuminate metal. I brace for impact.

And that’s when Claire steps into view.