Free Ten by Gretchen McNeil

downstairs.
    Without a word, T.J. and Meg sprinted down the flight of stairs and found Vivian standing in the entryway, staring fixedly at the wall. All the color had drained out of her face. “Look.”
    Meg slowly turned her head. On the crisp white wall next to the coat pegs was a huge slash mark in dripping red paint.

ELEVEN
    “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?”
    “Is this some sort of joke?”
    “Do you think Lori did it?”
    “Shitty joke.”
    Everyone spoke at once. Meg, however, heard every comment, clearly, distinctly. The world was moving in slow-motion around her. And though that world seemed to have descended into chaos, Meg felt oddly calm.
    She took a step closer to the red slash mark. It had clearly been done with a brush; she could see texture in the thick red paint as it had dripped down the wall. It reminded her of the countdown in the video the night before, the numbers slashed through with animated red lines. Except now, it really did look like …
    “Blood?” Nathan asked. “Do you think it’s blood?” He stood right behind Meg, peering over her shoulder at the mark on the wall as if he was using her as a shield. So macho.
    “Doubtful,” she said, fighting the urge to ask him if he had, in fact, been raised by monkeys.
    “How did it get there?” Kenny stood midway down the last flight of stairs, reluctant to get any closer to the mark on the wall.
    Meg didn’t blame him.
    T.J. stepped right up to it. “Looks like Rust-Oleum. Topside paint for boats.”
    Nathan was unconvinced. “Still looks like blood to me.”
    “Well, it’s not,” Vivian snapped. She turned to Gunner, who stood in the doorway of the study. “Did you call the police? What did they say? Are they sending a helicopter? How long? What are we supposed to do until then?”
    Girl was getting twitchy, and Meg wondered if Minnie was going to have to share her Klonopin.
    Gunner shook his head slowly. “Phones are out.”
    “What?” Vivian said. Her voice cracked. The girl was wound tighter than a two-dollar watch.
    “The phones,” Kumiko said slowly like she was speaking to a slightly stupid child, “are out.”
    “Idiots.” Vivian pushed past Gunner into the study. “I’m sure they’re not out. They can’t be out.”
    Meg rolled her eyes. Cue anxiety-driven meltdown in three … two …
    “Must be the storm,” T.J. said with total calmness.
    Kumiko ran a hand through her magenta-streaked hair. “Did anyone notice if they got a cell signal here?”
    “I tried last night,” Meg said. “No coverage.”
    “The closest tower’s in Roche Harbor,” T.J. said. “Too far.”
    Vivian shuffled out of the study, deflated. “The phone’s out.”
    Kumiko whirled on her. “Really? So the fact that we checked the receiver, checked the phone cord, checked the batteries, checked the receiver again … That wasn’t enough for you?”
    Vivian shrugged. “I like to confirm the facts myself.”
    “Awesome.” Kumiko walked right up to Vivian. “Then why don’t you confirm the fact of me kicking your ass.”
    “Hey, hey,” Gunner said, pulling Kumiko back.
    Vivian darted up the stairs. “Keep her away from me or I’ll press charges.”
    “Oh, yeah?” Kumiko said, straining against Gunner’s arm. “Kind of hard when we have no way to call the police .”
    The concept sunk in. Holy crap. What were they going to do? No phones, no cells, no internet … A memory stirred. Something she remembered seeing in the living room. A coiled yellow cord tucked into the footboard of a bookcase.
    “Internet!” she blurted out.
    “Huh?” T.J. said with a tilt of his head. “I didn’t see a computer.”
    Meg didn’t wait to explain. She sprinted up the stairs to the garret where her laptop lay stashed in her backpack. She kept her head down, eyes glued to the worn, wooden steps as she rounded the landing of the second floor and wound her way up the tower.
    “Minnie,” she called as she emerged into the garret. “I need