The Shuddering

defense. Jane looked into her own eyes, water sliding down her cheeks, her bangs wet, slashing across her forehead like war paint. Her fingers tensed against the edge of the sink. Whatever was out there wasn’t going to win. She wouldn’t let them. She didn’t care how big they were, how vicious—Ryan and Sawyer were her family, and nobody fucked with Jane’s family.
    Shoving herself away from the counter, she stepped out of the bathroom and launched herself up the stairs, taking them two by two. In the master bedroom, she grabbed her purse and dugthrough it, sliding the pepper spray into the back pocket of her jeans, then moved across the room to the large armoire against the far wall. The snow was dazzling in the enormous window that overlooked the mountains, and her heart twisted inside her chest when she stared out onto the white landscape. April hadn’t been that bad. Jane had been quick to judge her, blinded by her own resentment, as though April had stolen something from her, when that hadn’t been the case at all. Jane wished she had tried harder to make her feel more comfortable within the group. She wished she had prodded her for conversation, had asked her about her likes and dislikes, had tried to be her friend. But now April was out there somewhere, potentially huddled beneath a pine, hoping to God that someone would come for her. Jane couldn’t help but feel that was partly her fault. Her eyes filled with tears at the thought before she squared her shoulders, glaring at her own reflection in the window.
    “Stop it,” she hissed. “Get it together.” Ryan and Sawyer needed her. There were only three of them left, and all three of them had to get out of there alive. She looked away from the trees, pulled the heavy doors of the armoire open. The scent of cedar wafted out of its interior, enveloping her in a smell that would always remind her of this cabin, of the forest, of winters and fire and the open air. There was a quilt folded in quarters at the bottom of the cabinet, a few matching pillows piled on top. Jane dropped to her knees and shoved both hands beneath the blanket, feeling around until her finger found the small hole at the base of the wardrobe. It was funny how parents thought they could keep hiding places a secret, especially from a pair of rambunctious twins. She hooked her finger along the edge of that hole and pulled. A small door whispered upward. Shoving her free hand into the hidden compartment, she felt her fingers kiss the cold surface of metal. Closing her eyes, she wrapped herhand around the barrel of her father’s gun, drawing the pistol out of the dark. It was heavy in her hand, ominous despite its stillness. Carefully placing it beside her on the carpet, she stuck her hand back inside the compartment, feeling around for the box of shells she knew was there. But her heart tripped over itself when she grabbed the paper box by its top; it felt lighter than she had expected. The soft jingle of metal against metal had her tearing it open, horrified as a grand total of four hollow points rolled against a brown cardboard backdrop.
    She gathered the box and the gun together and dashed out of the room, concentrating on the stairs, worried that the gun would leap out of her hands and shoot up the place. She found the boys in the living room, Sawyer staring out the window with his arms wrapped around himself, more than likely contemplating running out into the snow. Ryan sat on top of the coffee table, surrounded by a menagerie of kitchen knives like some part-time ninja. He looked confused, as if unsure what their exact purpose was. Jane stepped over to her brother, presenting the gun and the box of shells the way someone would present a king an extravagant gift.
    Ryan blinked, then looked up at his sister. “Where did you get this?”
    “Dad’s bedroom,” she told him. “The old armoire.”
    “Jesus,” he said, taking the gun from her. “I forgot this was there.” He slid the clip out of the handle, Jane’s heart stuttering when she saw it. The clip was empty. They had four rounds. That was it.
    “I can’t just sit here and wait,” Sawyer announced, turning away from the window with determination. “I’m going to find her.”
    Ryan’s expression wavered between boldness and fear. “It’s insane,” he said.
    “We have a gun,” Sawyer reminded him.
    “And what if it isn’t effective?”
    “And what if it is?” Sawyer asked. “What if April is out