Trish had stepped back on instinct and now lost her balance, falling butt-first and crashing through the rotted bottom step. Above her, Kletter collapsed to her knees with a terrible double thump, then fell forward, the smack of her face against the wood one of the worse sounds Jackie had ever heard. She lay still and no one stirred for a horrible moment that stretched beyond any sense of rational time. Then everyone was moving at once.

Lacey grabbed Trish under the arms and helped her get back up. She’d barely gained her feet before shooting back up the porch again, jumping over Kletter’s body like it was nothing more than a stray log. Sadina. Thoughts of her could be the only thing in Trish’s world in that moment. Jackie was too stunned to process it all at first, but then recovered herself. Isaac and Sadina both had gone in there and now Kletter was dead.

“Trish!” she yelled, already in motion. “Trish get out of there!”

But it was too late. Lacey had already gone after her, then Ms. Cowan, shrieking with despair, then several others. Jackie followed them, avoiding a direct look at Kletter’s grisly remains as she sidestepped the body. When she crossed the threshold and entered the dark gloom of the interior, it took a second for her eyes to adjust. But before she could see that the room was empty—no people, no furniture, nothing—she heard the cries of Trish shouting Sadina’s name.

Over and over, Sadina, Sadina, Sadina, growing louder and softer as Trish ran through every inch of the house, coming and going, finally leaving out a back door, searching the swath of dusty hardpan and weeds in the small yard. Ms. Cowan trailed her, fraught but silent.

“Sadina!” Trish screamed. “Sadina!”

Dominic shouted Isaac’s name through cupped hands. Miyoko and Carson were peeking over the run-down fences, searching for signs.

Jackie’s mind had slowly been growing numb, unable to comprehend the horror that had descended upon them. She seemed unable to move.

“What’s going on?” she whispered, knowing it was too soft to be heard over the commotion. Old Man Frypan stepped up to her, gently placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it as if he’d been her grandpa all along. She expected him to say something, but he didn’t. There was no need for words.

Bad people had come. Bad people had killed Kletter. Bad people had taken their friends.

Sadina and Isaac were gone.

And the only person who knew how to sail The Maze Cutter back home—back home—was dead.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Story by Oil Lamp

He didn’t understand.

He . . .

He didn’t understand.