I stood, cradling her tightly against me. We had to keep moving. I tucked her head underneath my wrap and took off again. Weeds and branches tore into my legs like barbed wire. No matter. I pushed forward. Rocks cut into my bare feet. I just wanted to rest, but I couldn’t stop. It was only a matter of time before she fussed again, and this time my thumb wouldn’t suffice. Her cries would lead them right to us. That couldn’t happen. I wouldn’t let it. I ran on, fighting through the exhaustion that came in waves throughout the night, making my head throb. Just when I thought I couldn’t take another step, the trees thinned, and a wider space opened in front of us. My footsteps quickened, and adrenaline surged again, giving me the final burst of energy I needed to push through the clearing and make it to the road.

And then I saw it—the neon lights stretching into the sky.

I sprinted across the road to the gas station. Shiloh jerked awake and began crying, but it didn’t matter anymore.

“You can scream now. Scream all you want,” I cried.

Two gas pumps stood empty, but the lights inside the store were on. I rushed to the door, springing back when it didn’t open. I pushed again.

Nothing.

It wouldn’t budge. I smacked the glass.

“No!”

Shiloh’s cries moved into terrified screams. I beat on the door, yelling wildly. All this way. I’d come all this way. Tears coursed down my cheeks. Snot dripped into my mouth. I crumpled into a pile in front of the store.

“Hey.” A male voice startled me, making me jump. I gripped Shiloh closer to my chest and scuttled back against the wall. The man peered down at me through thick glasses. He reeked of smoke. His name tag said Matt underneath the Amoco logo.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

I scrambled to my feet and flung myself at him. “Please, please, you have to help me!” I clawed at his shirt. “Call the police! Please, you have to! I’m Kate Bennett.”

ONE

ABBI

NOW

I nervously fingered the chain around my neck. The small locket held Mom’s picture, and I’d been wearing it since she had disappeared. We had finally buried her five years ago, but it was hard to have a funeral when you didn’t have a body. Dad had assured me it was okay and that families did it all the time, like there were other kids whose moms had gone shopping and had never come home. We had a beautiful memorial service instead of a formal funeral and had buried the important parts of her, like her violin and a video of her best performances, copies of letters she’d written to Dad, and pictures of the three of us together on vacations and other special occasions. Things like that. But now she’d come back to life. Nobody came back to life after they were dead. I still felt like I was at the end of a dream, waiting to wake up.