But he’d already grabbed her hand, pulling her along, and was fleeing again. “We have to stay ahead of them!” he said.
“Brian!”
Coco tried again, even as she ran alongside him. She was panting; Brian was in a lot better shape than she was. He let go of her hand; she tried to keep up. But he was faster than her. He got a step ahead. Then another. Then Coco did trip on the carpet, went sprawling, and got rug burn on her hands as she fell.
From the ground, Coco cried out, “Brian, Brian!”
No answer. He couldn’t have gotten that far ahead! Coco scrabbled to her feet, turned around—but there were no coyotes.
No one and nothing but her.
Complete silence in the hallway. She couldn’t see Brian at all. Coco began to hurry along the corridor, following Brian, calling his name.
But no one answered.
After a few steps, something caught her foot and she tripped again.
What had tripped her this time? Coco groped around on the floor. It was the Ouija board. “Brian?” she whispered. She gathered up the Ouija board. The planchette was still in her pocket.
There was still no sign of Brian. Nor of the coyotes. The hallway was empty.
Seth didn’t actually come up the stairs after us, Coco thought. But that doesn’t mean he’s not trying to stop us. Maybe he sent the coyotes. Or at least made us think there were coyotes. To scare us. To separate us.
“Brian!” she called again.
Silence. Coco was totally alone in the hallway. Eerie greenish lights burned every few feet. Between them were puddles of darkness.
Right next to her, a door rattled.
Coco jerked away. Not this time, she thought. I’m not getting distracted by spooky doors this time. She was about to hurry down the hall, looking for Brian, when a familiar voice spoke.
It came from behind the door.
“Coco!” it cried. “I’m in here! Let me out!”
Brian. It was definitely Brian’s voice. Coco halted, rigidly listening. The door rattled again. “It’s locked,” said Brian. “Coco, help me!”
How could Brian have gotten into the closet? She reached a trembling hand toward the door handle, just as, a few feet farther down the hall, another door rattled. “Hey!” cried Brian’s voice from the door ahead. “Hey, let me out! Ollie? Coco? Coco! Are you there?”
Now both doors were rattling together. Brian’s voice came from both of them. He sounded desperate. “Please! Please. It’s so dark. Coco. I don’t know what to do. Let me out! Let me out!” There was a crash, like someone had banged both fists on the door.
Now a third door was rattling, farther down. And a fourth.
Coco realized with horror that every door along that whole endless hall was rattling, and her friend’s voice was shouting from all of them, “Coco, let me out. Let me out!”
Coco stood there trembling, fighting the urge to clamp her hands over her ears. They couldn’t all be Brian! But they all sounded like Brian. Were any of them Brian? The courage that had kept her hands steady while she played chess with Seth had totally deserted her. Her mind ran in circles. Was Brian in any of these closets? Or none of the closets? How many closets were there?
Were there really undead coyotes?
She had a terrible suspicion, almost a certainty, that somewhere in the shadows, the smiling man was watching, laughing while he and Coco played this stupid game in the hallway, as Ollie’s time ran out and Brian disappeared forever into the depths of the lodge.
Calm down, Coco, she tried to tell herself. Think. Think. But she couldn’t think, not with Brian’s desperate voice echoing in her ears, shouting her name.
Move, she told herself. You have to move.
She went to the nearest rattling door.
“Brian?” Coco said. “How do I know it’s you?”