Ends of the Earth

“Why didn’t your dumb daddy pack more food?”

Maggie bit back a smart aleck answer and meekly replied, “We were only hiking for the day. You already have a lot, don’t you?” She was surprised to see how much he’d squeezed into his pack.

“Never too much food,” he muttered as he turned the knapsack upside-down. The only things left were a whistle, first aid kit, and her dad’s pencils and sketchbook, which the man pawed at with a sneer, opening it and tearing at pages.

“Carries this crap around but not more food.” He spat on the ground. “Namby-pamby waste of time.”

“It’s not crap! You’re stupid! My dad’s a great artist.” Maggie sucked in a breath as the man jerked his head up.

“What’d you say to me?”

Inching away, she shook her head, lowering her gaze as she mumbled, “Nothing.”

“Great artist,” he muttered, tearing at the pages and scattering them over the dirt.

Maggie blinked rapidly, eyes burning as she tried so hard not to cry. She wanted to pick up all the pages and fold them safely into her pockets, but didn’t move a muscle.

Now the man muttered to himself as if she wasn’t there. “Won’t be watching the river. Won’t know I’ve got a boat.”

Her throat hurt, but she had to ask, “Then you’ll let me go soon, right?” She knew it might make him mad, but needed to hear him say it.

The man gazed at her steadily and smiled with his crooked teeth. “Course I will. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

Liar.

The fear that had been her constant companion since he’d torn her away from her daddy made it hard for Maggie to breathe. Her heart pounded over the rush of water. He was lying. He was never going to let her go.

She needed to get away. But she couldn’t run faster than him. She might be able to hide, but what if he found her?

It would be really bad.

The man opened the lid of a wooden crate sitting under the lean-to. He pulled out a weird rubber thing with a hose and started pumping air into the raft with his foot. As he worked, Maggie noticed the bright orange strap now hanging out of the box.

A life jacket.

Slowly, she walked over to the box and looked inside. There it was—an old, dirty life jacket that probably hadn’t been worn in years. It was too big for her, but it was better than nothing.

Maggie tried to think. Okay, running wouldn’t work—the bad man would catch her. If she rafted down the river with him, he was probably going to kill her when he decided he didn’t need her anymore. Or maybe he’d just kill her now if she made him too mad.

Reaching into the bin, Maggie pulled out the life jacket, her heart beating so hard she was sure he could hear it. She put it on over her poncho and tightened the buckle as far as it would go with trembling hands. She was pretty sure it would stay on.

“What’re you up to?”

She turned to face the man, who was still pumping away with his foot. “I’m afraid of the water.”

He only grunted. She slowly walked sideways toward the water’s edge, only moving a bit at a time so he didn’t notice. The bank was about ten feet above the whirling river, and it looked so far. The water was going so fast, and she knew it would be freezing cold.

She took one last look over her shoulder. A knife hung on the bad man’s belt, and as he pumped, he fiddled with it. Maggie thought of how the metal of the gun had felt pressing into her head.

Turning back to the water, she closed her eyes and thought of Declan Michaelson’s birthday party the summer before. She’d been too afraid to jump off the diving tower at the pool, so her dad had climbed up with her.

“You can do it, Mags. We’ll do it together. One, two, three!”

He’d held her hand, and they’d flown through the air before hitting the water with a big splash. It was so fun, and she’d wanted to do it again and again. Daddy had jumped with her every time.

Standing on the very edge of the riverbank, Maggie counted in her head and imagined he was with her, his big hand tight around hers, keeping her safe like always.

One, two, three!

CHAPTER EIGHT

The rumble of white water thrummed through the forest, a powerful heartbeat.

Ben couldn’t imagine why Brown would have ventured that way, but perhaps he hadn’t known the fast-flowing water was there. He’d have to go south as the river cut off his route to the west, but he could still stay hidden for days. Weeks. Months.

As they neared the throbbing river, a growl vibrated through the air. Ben stopped in his tracks, grabbing Jason’s arm. Jason stared at him, waiting.