The bastard had tasered me, then tossed me into the trunk of his car.

Son of a bitch. He must’ve faked the whole poisoning episode. Gotten himself a free pass out of the unit, into the main hospital, where he’d disappeared, then circled back around to … torch the hospital? Attack the ward?

Evan. Oh God. What had happened to Evan?

I struggled desperately, rolling helplessly from side to side in the darkness of the trunk. I encountered something that felt like a metal tool chest, then a soft duffel bag. But no Evan.

Maybe he was okay. Karen had been behind me. She would’ve found him, carried him to safety.

The thought comforted me. I rested, wiggling my fingers and toes as I heard the hum of the pavement below, and felt the weight of the trunk door above. I wanted to throw up. Instead, I forced myself to take a deep breath, then marshaled my resources, and determined the best plan of attack.

I wasn’t scared. Maybe I should’ve been. But mostly, I was very pissed off.

I’d hidden once in my life. I’d handed over my safety to another and I’d buried myself under the covers. And we all knew how well that had worked out.

This time, I vowed, I was gonna put up one helluva fight.

The car slowed. I felt the momentum grind to a halt. Seconds later, the engine cut out; we’d reached our destination. My head pounded harder. The exhaust fumes had made me nauseous, while my right shoulder had locked up painfully. Despite my best efforts, I’d lost all feeling in my fingers and toes at least five miles ago.

I tensed, bracing myself for God knows what. Andrew would come around the car. Pop open the trunk. And I’d … leap out at him? Scream bloody murder? I was bound and gagged. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t scream. Didn’t have a cell phone. Didn’t have a weapon. I was doomed.

A car door opened. Slammed shut. Another door opened, maybe a passenger door. Andrew was getting something out.

My body screamed with tension. I squeezed my eyes shut, though I was already lost in the dark.

Footsteps, growing closer. I had to do something. Think.

There was nothing I could do. I was trapped, helpless.

I didn’t feel brave anymore. I pictured my sister, gunned down in the hall. I remembered my brother and his desperate race for the stairs. And I wanted to cry for them. I wanted to cry for all of us, because after tonight, I was pretty sure there would be no survivors.

The footsteps faded away. Long seconds ticked by without anything happening. My body relaxed, degree by degree. Think, think, think.