I started over. One twig at a time, I uprighted the tepee. This time, I fared better. It wasn't perfect, but I hoped it was enough. Striking a match between the flaps of the matchbook, I watched a small trail of smoke drift upward. Again and again I struck the match, until it was wasted. I drew a new match, and tried again. And again. My hands shook uncontrollably. If one of the matches didn't light soon, I was afraid I'd lose my ability to squeeze the match between the flaps, creating the necessary friction. Already my left hand was too stiff to manipulate.
"Damn,” I said wearily.
And then I had the idea of striking the match against a rock. I didn't know why it hadn't occurred to me sooner, except that I could feel my good judgment fading rapidly, my fingers not the only part of me too numb to work. Thankfully the bridge overhead had kept the rock dry. Sluggishly, my brain struggled to process each command.
Rock. Match. Strike. Hurry.
It was with something of a shock that I watched the match sizzle to life. I stared at the dancing flame, eyes watering with tears of amazement. With extreme care, I set the flame against the tinder. Slowly it began to smoke, then burn. After a few seconds, the fire grew to eat the kindling. When the logs also began to ignite, I pressed my hands to my face with a sob of relief.
A fire.
I was not going to freeze to death.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Huddling close to the fire, I rubbed feeling back into my fingers. It was tempting to think I could rest now, but I knew the clock was ticking. I could not sit here through the night-I had to get Jude out. I'd made it over one hurdle, but I was not done.
I shuddered as I thought about what was happening within the walls of Idlewilde. Calvin wouldn't stop until he had the map. He would know how to hurt Jude, how to wear him down. If I waited much longer, I feared it would be too late.
And then my plan came to me. I straightened in surprise. Jude had found a way inside Idlewilde without using the front or back doors. Whatever access point he'd used, I had to find it.
Savoring the heat one final moment, I braced myself for the impending cold, then scrabbled out of the ditch. Running along the perimeter of the cabin, I made my way from window to window, trying to pry open the glass. One of them had to be unlocked. It was the only way Jude could have gotten in. And then, as I rounded the side of the cabin, I saw Jude's access point. A basement window had been broken.
I lowered myself into the window well. The tools he'd used lay at my feet: a large stone and a piece of firewood. Jude had used the stone to break the glass, and the wood to knock free any shards gaping like teeth from the frame.
I drew up a mental blueprint of Idlewilde. The bedroom at the top of the stairs was on the opposite side of the cabin. Jude must have scouted the cabin for some time, determined Calvin's and my positions, and forced his way inside as far from us as possible, to minimize the chance that we would hear the glass shatter.
It had been a wise plan. It also meant that I had to cross nearly every room in the cabin to reach Jude, without first being discovered by Calvin.
I darted through the chilly darkness of the basement. At the top of the basement stairs, I eased the door open, peering into the kitchen. The lights were off, and I scurried through the kitchen and into the dining room, hiding at the edge of a wall as I surveyed the living room. I could see Korbie on the sofa. She was still unconscious, but Calvin had covered her in blankets. Of all of us, Korbie was the safest. Despite what Calvin had done to her, I didn't think he could ever bring himself to kill his sister. Which meant I would get Jude out, go for help, and then come back for her.
My coat and boots were near the front door, and I grabbed them before climbing the stairs to the second floor, my footsteps making soft creaks that seemed deafening to my ears. At the door at the top of the stairs, I listened. Nothing. I opened the door.
The stench of blood and sweat hung in the air. The candle flickered on the nightstand, casting dim light on the motionless figure on top of the mattress. Jude's arms and legs, though tied, were relaxed, and his head lolled to one side, cradled on his good shoulder. For one terrifying moment, I thought he was dead. But as I stepped closer, his chest rose shallowly. He was asleep. Or passed out. Given the amount of blood on the sheets, I guessed it was the latter.
I hurried to the bedside, drawing back the sheet. The window had been shut, but a cold draft clung to the air. I didn't want to send him into another shivering spell, but I had to stir him awake. At the removal of the sheet, however, I felt a sickening wrench. The cause of the blood-dampened sheets came into full view.
The gory picture was enough to make my insides revolt. I threw my hand over my mouth, stifling the urge to be sick. Red, painful-looking welts and blisters dotted Jude's chest. But the marks on his body did not compare to the swollen lumps around his eyes, or the raw, split skin at his cheekbones. A bag of bruised skin puffed up like a small purple balloon around the now crooked bone at the bridge of his nose. His breathing came in soft, wheezing spurts, further proof that his nose was broken. Only his mouth had been left untouched, but of course Calvin wouldn't want to damage it, I thought bitterly. He needed Jude to talk. He needed the map.
"Britt?"
At the sound of Jude's feeble voice, I clasped his hand tightly. "Yes, it's me. You're going to be okay. I'm here now. Everything is going to be okay,” I finished determinedly. No need to alert him to his condition by a horrified wavering of my voice.
"Where's Calvin?"
"I don't know. He could come back at any moment, so we need to hurry."
"Thank God you're safe,” he murmured. "He let you back inside?"
"No. He would have let me die." My voice sounded thin. "I came in through the basement window."
"Tough, determined Britt,” he sighed wearily. "Knew you'd find a way."
I'm not tough, I wanted to tell him. I'm scared and afraid we're both going to die. But Jude needed me strong right now. I would be strong for him. "How bad off are you? Do you need a tourniquet?" There was a shocking amount of blood still seeping from the bandage around his shoulder. I had learned how to apply a tourniquet at camp, but I wasn't sure I remembered how to do it correctly. Jude would have to instruct me.
"No,” he said hoarsely. "It was a graze. Just like he wanted." I stared at him.
"He has good aim,” I said at last.
"Most killers do."
I couldn't bring myself to laugh at his joke. "There's another cabin a mile away. With any luck, someone's home. If not, we can break in and use the phone to call the police." I was proud of the confidence I'd managed to force into my voice, but a worry clouded my brain. Jude was in no condition to walk. Especially in bitterly cold temperatures.