He would have to come for him first. He also knew that, with the ground as wet as it was, he would leave tracks any idiot with a flashlight could follow. And Ben, while he might be crazy, certainly was no idiot. His best chance of survival, he decided, was to strike off into the woods, avoiding the muddy paths as much as possible. He had turned his back on the dining hall and was entering the woods when three shots rang out the night. They were muffled in the darkness, but he turned around in time to see the last of the muzzle flashes as it lit up the inside of the dining hall. “Sweet Mother of God,” he whispered, realizing Ben must have gone back into the dining hall and finished off both Mike and Tyler before coming after him. It made sense. They were isolated on the island with no way off unless someone found a boat or was desperate enough to swim the mile or so back to the mainland.
