“That’s true,” Marco says, looking in the rearview mirror. “You’re going to be just fine—if your boyfriend does what he’s told.”

Marco pulls out his knife. He leans toward me and pauses.

“Try anything,” he says, “and she dies first. Got it?”

I say nothing.

“I want to hear you say it,” Marco says.

“Got it,” I say.

Before we left, they cleaned the blood off my face, but there’s still a bruised gash on my forehead, and my lips are swollen and crusted red. They ransacked my hiking equipment, throwing together enough daypacks and water bottles for all of us. I was able to pick a few ibuprofen off the floor with my mouth and dry-swallow them. I have no idea if they’re doing any good. My ribs feel like they’ve been pounded with a meat tenderizer.

Marco cuts the tape from my hands and yanks it off—and my arm hair with it. Behind us, Jasper is doing the same with Claire. She gasps as he yanks the tape off her face.

“The rules are very simple,” Marco announces to the whole vehicle. “Logan, if you run off, we kill Claire. Claire, if you run off, we kill Logan. If either of you try to call for help or signal a hiker or ranger or anything like that, we kill both of you. And we kill whoever you try to signal.”

Marco fixes me with his steel-gray eyes. “Do you believe we’ll do it, old friend?”

“Yes,” I say. “I believe you.”

The parking lot is nearly empty, with only a little hustle and bustle from a few employees coming and going from the general store and working on the dock. It looks like the hoopla caused by the newspaper article has already passed.

The four of us pretend to be friends getting ready for a day hike. Claire is the worst at pretending. She’s shivering, holding her head down, and sniffling. She’s wearing no makeup and looks terrified, but she is still beautiful. Her blond hair is coming loose from being pulled back, and strands hang down around her face.

It’s true that an hour ago I was considering breaking up with her, thinking about how I might like Hannah more, but she doesn’t deserve to be going through this.

“It will save us about four miles if we take the water taxi,” I tell Marco.

Marco looks down at the lake and the trail running alongside it.

“How long without it?” Marco asks.

“About eleven miles.”

“Oneway?”