“Welcome to the damn freak show,” Eddie muttered as he climbed through a lake house window, soaked from the water and exhausted.

Reefer Rick’s was no longer safe. Patrick was dead. Chrissy was dead. And somehow Eddie was still running. He'd stolen a radio, hidden at Skull Rock, and finally ended up here—anywhere to stay ahead of the police and Jason Carver.

Hands tangled in his wet hair as he groaned and reached for the walkie.

“Dustin? Dustin, if you're there, for the love of God—”

Footsteps. Eddie froze.

“Ah, shit.”

The door creaked open.