No Exit by Taylor Adams 2

on its shocks, try everything. She had no other options. If she
stayed here at Wanapani, Ashley and Lars would murder her.
She circled the building, wading through snowdrifts, and
the night air stung her throat. She passed the crowd of halfburied
Nightmare Children to her left. Chewed bronze forms
in the darkness, pit-bull-mauling victims frozen in playtime.
That bare flagpole, wobbling under another gust of razor wind.
Ahead, the parking lot. The cars. Their van.
Just another fifty feet—
The visitor center’s front door squeaked open behind her.
A rectangle of projected light, and she cast a staggering
shadow on the snow. A pair of crunchy footsteps followed her.
The door shut and her shadow vanished.
“No.” Ashley’s voice, firm, like he was scolding a dog:
“Don’t shoot her.”
She slipped, slashing a knee on jagged ice. Kept running.
The pursuing footsteps flanked her now, one moving right, one
cutting left. Like wolves encircling their prey. She recognized
them by their breathing — the congested pant of Lars on the
left, the controlled huffs of Ashley on the right. She kept
running and focused on the Astro. Keys jangling in her hand.
“Lars! Don’t shoot her.”
“She’s trying to steal the van—”
“You want a yellow card?”
She slipped again, catching herself. Her purse bounced off
her knee. Just ten paces from the kidnappers’ vehicle now. She
could see the cartoon fox on the side, racing closer, still
holding that orange nail gun—
“She won’t get anywhere. The snow’s too deep—”
“What if she does?”
“She won’t.”
“What if she does, Ashley?”