Maybe Polly is telling the truth about everything. Maybe the plows are on their way and I’ll get to the hospital tomorrow, and they will make this right. Modern medicine is an incredible thing. And I can still feel Tuna moving, so she must be fine. Tomorrow morning, I will go straight to the hospital. After all, Hank can’t keep me here forever. Can he? I lift my face to look up at Polly’s eyes, staring down at me. Her eyes are bright green, but in the dim overhead light, they look much darker. And a sudden terrible certainty goes through my head: I’m going to die here.
