I circled around the van to get the spare gas can I kept strapped on the back rack to use for the generator.
But it wasn’t there. The can was missing.
Now what?
I felt panic building.
Trapped. I was trapped.
The monster had done this. I was sure I could feel her watching from the trees, laughing.
Slow down. Think, I told myself, taking a deep breath.
There must be gas at the campground for the four-wheelers and mowers they used. I would head to the office to find Steve, explain the situation, and get enough gas in the van to make it to the nearest gas station and then off this godforsaken “island.”
It took me five minutes to jog to the office. As I passed the other campsites, I did my best to look like I was just getting my exercise, not fleeing. The shades to the office were drawn, but I could hear someone moving around inside. I tried the door. Locked. I knocked and heard it click open.
“Hey, my van’s out of gas and I—”
Skink was standing in front of the desk.
On top of it sat the monster book, the creepy little Lauren doll, and my gun.
Vi
July 27, 1978
IRIS WAS CHANGING.
She’d grown quieter in the last few days. Not totally mute like she was when she first arrived, but definitely more withdrawn.
Her hair hung in greasy strands from under the filthy orange hat.
She’d started wearing her clothes inside out and backward, as she had when she’d first come.
The night before, Vi had woken up at two a.m. to find Iris standing over her, her black sweatshirt on backward, the hood pulled up over her face. Iris just stood there, arms limp, unmoving.
She looked like she was inside a cocoon, and Vi decided that was exactly right: Iris was undergoing some sort of metamorphosis, and when she emerged, who knew what she might be.
“You okay, Iris?” Vi had asked.
But Iris hadn’t answered. She’d just shuffled back to her own bed on the floor, curled up on top of the covers, and gone back to sleep.
Vi was running out of time.
Tick tock, tick tock.
The gods hummed worriedly in her ears, Hurry, hurry, hurry. Do something. Gran’s going to take her away. She’s going to take her away and you’ll never see her again.
There was another worry—one that felt even worse. Now that Iris knew the truth, Vi worried that she’d do something terrible; maybe even hurt herself. Or hurt both of them.
She’d burned her family alive.
Vi couldn’t stop thinking about it—it was where her imagination went when she let herself wonder what Iris might be capable of.
* * *
“REGRESSION,” GRAN SAID to Vi. They were in Gran’s office. “It’s common when a patient is making too much progress too quickly. Backsliding into old ways and patterns can feel like the safe thing to do. But what I’m wondering is, did something in particular trigger this?”
“I don’t know,” Vi said.
Gran gave her a long look. “You didn’t notice anything? She didn’t say anything to you?”
Vi shook her head. “She barely talks to me lately.”
Gran nodded, but her frown was heavy.
She was going to take Iris away. It was only a matter of time.
* * *
GRAN WAS AT the Inn and Vi stood in the kitchen with Eric making lunch when the big beige phone on the kitchen wall rang. It sounded like an alarm bell.