If Shaw is watching me, I want him to think I passed this way by chance. And that I’ve only just thought of Cole’s sculpture up on the flat top of the park, almost completed.
I hesitate, shifting my weight back and forth on my feet. As if I know I should continue along my way, but I’m drawn by curiosity. Wanting to see the sculpture in the moonlight.
I take one step along the sidewalk, then turn abruptly, heading into the park instead. Striding with purpose.
The path is narrow, bordered on both sides by cypress and eucalyptus. As I turn the first bend, I’m sure I hear the grit of heavy footsteps following after me. I stop, standing still in the middle of the path. The sound stops, too. When I resume walking, I hear him following again.
My heart rate doubles.
This is what I wanted. I wanted him to follow. But now that I know he’s right behind me, I can hardly breathe. I want to get up to the sculpture as quickly as possible, because that’s where Cole will be waiting.
I hurry up the long, winding path to the flat top.
Twice I stop and look behind me. The second time, I catch the edge of a dark figure stepping back behind a tree, only a dozen yards behind me.
“Cole?” I call out, as if I think it might be him.
Only silence answers.
I can imagine Shaw standing behind that oak, grinning to himself, his white teeth gleaming in the dark like a Cheshire Cat.
He’s waiting. Watching me. Making sure we’re truly alone.
I continue up the path, adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Every creak of a branch, every rustle in the bushes makes me want to scream. It doesn’t matter if Shaw can see the tension in my body, if he can see my footsteps quickening. He knows I’m frightened and that’s just fine—it will only excite him.
He’ll think I came here stupidly, in the heat of the fight, only now realizing that someone might have followed.
The air feels thick and expectant, as if even the wind is holding its breath to see what will happen next.
I step out of the trees, finally arriving on the high, flat vista where Cole built his sculpture.
It towers over me, the glossy black walls of the labyrinth over twenty feet tall.
The entrance yawns like a dark mouth. I know the route through, because Cole showed me his diagram dozens of times. But I’m also aware how disorienting it will be inside, with no proper lights and several false paths designed to trick me.
I step out into the clearing, slowly approaching the entrance. My boots crunch over the dry, frosty grass, the sparkling train of my dress whispering behind me.
Something soft touches my cheek.
I look upward.
Puffy flakes of snow drift down from the thick bank of clouds.
I stare in astonishment: I’ve never seen snow in San Francisco in all my life. It feels surreal, as if this is only happening to me. As if I truly have stepped into another world.
I turn to look back the way I came, to the tangled tunnel of branches and the dark path beneath.
A figure steps into view. Tall, broad, dressed in a midnight-blue tuxedo. Fists clenched at his sides. Chin lowered like a bull as he stares at me.
We both stand fixed in place. Frozen like ice sculptures. Waiting for the other to move.
Shaw’s lips split apart in a grin.
He lowers his head and charges.
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He barrels toward me, arms pumping, legs churning, head down like a linebacker, crossing the space between us with horrifying speed.
I don’t have time to think or even to scream.
I turn and sprint into the labyrinth.
The black glass envelops me, cutting off the outside world. The walls appear sleek and featureless, but I know there’s hidden doorways in the glass, impossible to find unless you stand at just the right angle, or run your fingers down their length until you find the openings.
I don’t have to do this, because I already know the way.
I hurtle down the dark alleyway, taking a hard right, then a left. I head to the next intersection and run down the middle branch, hoping that I’m losing Shaw with all these turns.
Cole should already be inside the labyrinth, hiding up ahead.
My chest burns, my legs shaking beneath me. I underestimated how frightened I’d be, and how heavily it would affect me: my legs are rubber, my feet stone lumps inside of my boots.
I’m starting to worry that I misremembered the turns, and I should have gone right instead of left at this last turn. The reflective glass disorients me. Ghostly versions of myself chase along my left and right side, splitting off at dizzying angles every time I turn. These bits of motion in my peripheral make me jump and spin, thinking Shaw is right behind me. Now I’m not even certain if I’m going the right way. I might have turned all the way around.
If I followed the route, then I should meet Cole soon. He should be waiting in the center of the maze.
I run to the next intersection, expecting to see him. Expecting him to give me the nod that means, keep running, head to the exit, I’ll get Shaw as he passes.
I burst into the middle of the labyrinth, which is a perfect circle, with eight pathways leading off like the spokes of a wheel. A black glass obelisk marks the exact center point, jutting upward to the cloudy sky.
The snow thickens, whirling downward in a spiral.
I see the obelisk, I see the snow, but I don’t see Cole.
He isn’t here. I’m all alone.
Where the fuck is he?
I spin in a circle, searching for him.
We agreed that he’d be here.
We agreed that he’d give me the sign that it was safe to run through.
Cole would slip into the wall up ahead. I’d wait for Shaw, to make sure he followed. The moment I saw him, I’d sprint down the aisle. As Shaw chased after me, Cole would jump out and bury his knife in Shaw’s neck.
That was the plan.
Shaw will be here any second.
What do I do? What do I DO?