“The boat,” I whispered.

Caroline looked at the dark water and shook her head.

“I can’t,” she said.

“You have to,” I said.

I grabbed her under the arms and helped her slide off the crate.

She gasped in pain as her foot touched the floorboards.

I dragged her toward the edge of the wooden platform.

Behind us, the wood of the front door began to splinter.

Marcus was kicking the panel near the latch.

I stepped into the cold, damp rowboat.

The metal hull rocked violently under my weight.

“Give me your hand,” I said, reaching up to Caroline.

She hesitated, looking back at the splintering door.

A bright beam of light cut through a crack in the wood.

“Clara!” Marcus roared, throwing himself against the door again.

Caroline grabbed my hand.

She slid awkwardly into the boat, landing heavily on the metal seat.

The boat tipped, water splashing over the gunwale.

I quickly untied the hemp rope from the iron ring.

There were no oars in the boat.

I grabbed a dusty wooden paddle lying on the floor.