“Run!” Matteo yelled, turning to face the other flashlights that were now converging on our position.

I turned and scrambled down the muddy slope of the ravine.

The dirt gave way under my feet, and I slid down the wet incline, clutching the iron key in my hand.

Above me, more gunshots rang out, the yellow flashes lighting up the dark pine trees.

I hit the bottom of the ravine, my hands scraped and bleeding.

I did not look back.

I ran toward the distant lights of the village, the cold rain blinding me.

The sound of footsteps splashing through the mud followed me from the ridge.

I reached the edge of the paved road at the entrance of the village.

The streets were empty and silent, the stone houses dark.

At the end of the main street, the square stone tower of the church stood against the gray sky.

I ran toward it, my breath coming in painful gasps.

The heavy wooden doors of the church were closed.

I grabbed the iron handle and pulled, but it didn’t budge.