The bushes rustled behind them, and Kira heard the stamp and snort of the horses. Samm raised his rifle, but Kira stopped him again.
They waited, holding their breath, praying for the soldiers to move on. An eternity later, they did.
“They’re moving south,” Samm whispered. “Don’t waste it—move.”
The group was practically running now, watching the ground in front of their feet because they couldn’t see any farther. The road plunged into forest, and soon the dark shape of a massive house rose out of the trees beside them.
“There,” said Kira. “A lot of these mansions have private docks.”
They swerved to the left, through the grounds and around the house to the harbor. The yard behind was a maze of exotic plants and flowers that must have once been a giant garden. They followed a winding, overgrown path to the edge of the sound, black water lapping softly against the shore, but there was no dock and no boat. The ground was soft and marshy, and they slogged north to the next mansion, their heavy shoes becoming even heavier with mud. The next house had a narrow wooden walkway that turned into a dock, and their feet clumped loudly as they ran out over the water to a large white boat.
“Hallelujah,” Kira whispered, but Samm shook his head.
“The water level’s dropped, or the shore’s been packed with sediment. It’s sitting up on mud.”
Kira looked again and saw that the boat was listing slightly to the side, pushed up out of the water and tilted over toward one edge. “What do we do?”
“The marsh goes on forever,” said Samm, looking north. “It’s this or nothing.”
“Then we push it out,” said Jayden. He stowed his rifle over his shoulder and jumped into the water with a splash. It reached almost to his waist. He put a hand on the boat and rocked it; it didn’t move easily, but it moved. “Everybody get in here.”
Kira glanced over her shoulder nervously before jumping into the sound, gasping in shock at the cold water. The others followed, bracing their shoulders against the hull and heaving in unison. It tilted but didn’t move; Kira slipped in the mud, barely catching herself before falling face-first in the icy water.
“Again,” said Samm, setting himself firmly against the side. Everyone got into position. “One, two, three, push.” They strained against the slick side of the boat, pushing with all their strength. It moved a few inches. “Again,” said Samm. “One, two, three, push.” They shoved against the boat with everything they had, moving it another few inches—farther this time, but not far enough. “Again,” said Samm. “One, two—”
A light clicked on, blinding them—a bright white beam from a flashlight on the dock, shining against the white boat and lighting up the entire group. They froze, blinking, too shocked to move. The holder of the flashlight said nothing, simply staring, twenty yards away.
Nobody moved.
The light clicked off.
“Clear!” the silhouette shouted. It was a girl’s voice.
“Was that the girl who went to Manhattan with you?” asked Marcus. “I think we owe her a cookie.”
“I think we owe her a whole damn bakery,” said Xochi. “If I wasn’t hip deep in mud, I would kiss her on the mouth.”
“Shut up,” said Jayden. “They heard us before, they’ll hear us again.” He braced himself against the boat one more time and mouthed,
The water got deeper as the harbor opened up, and soon the boat was floating freely, they pushed it even farther, toward water deep enough to take their added weight. Samm helped them into the boat, then climbed in himself. Marcus and Jayden found oars, and they pushed north toward open water.
“We’re safe,” Kira sighed. Xochi was already asleep.
“Safe from your people,” said Samm, looking north toward the mainland. “Now we have to face mine.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
“W
e’re going to land near Mamaroneck,” said Samm. He squinted at the sky, then back at the distant shore. “I think.”