“Sarah,” he called in a low whisper. “I think I saw something.”
He didn’t wait for her to respond. With his eyes riveted to the spot where he’d seen the motion, he quickly climbed back down the ladder and started inching toward the oak. In all the times they’d been to their tree house, not once had there been so much as a mosquito nearby, much less another person. Based on their circumstances, he ruled out the chance that someone had found them by accident after all. With a sinking feeling, he decided to investigate.
Sarah was too smart to ask questions. A glance behind him showed that she was almost to the bottom of the ladder, following his lead.
Slowly, Michael crept closer, thankful for the wet leaves padding his steps. As he neared the tree, though, his confidence waned. He was sure someone would jump out at any second, guns blazing, or worse, and if he and Sarah couldn’t even come here safely, he didn’t know how they had any chance of finding Bryson or doing anything else. A heavy feeling of doom weighed on him.
When Michael was only a few feet away, he stopped and planted his feet, bending his knees, ready to react if he had to protect himself.
“Who’s back there?” he shouted, hoping to surprise the intruder into making a sound.
“Turn around and go back,” a woman answered. “I won’t harm you if you do.” The voice sounded familiar. Just barely.
“Who are you?” he asked.
The stranger didn’t answer.
A long, long moment passed in silence. Michael didn’t know what to do, what to say. Sarah crept up behind him and gently touched his shoulder.
“Just talk to us,” Sarah called out. “How did you find this place?”
“Last warning,” the voice replied. This time she did something funny to her voice, muffling it somehow. “Don’t come one step closer.”
Michael turned and looked at Sarah. Her face shone eerily in the perpetual pale light of the forest. Mist rose behind her like an ominous sign of death. She leaned in and whispered so softly in his ear that he barely made out the words.
“You go around the left. I’ll do the right.”
Michael shook his head. Hadn’t they learned their lesson by now?
But Sarah was already stepping around, positioning herself to charge. Left, Michael reminded himself as he reached out and took Sarah’s hand. After a solid squeeze, he let go and crouched down, blood pumping.
“Now!” Sarah yelled.
Michael ran for the tree with a burst of adrenaline. He’d only taken two steps when a blinding white light flashed and an invisible force knocked him backward, slamming him into a tree, where he collapsed to the ground.
Spots of color swam before his eyes. Grunting, he forced himself to his feet. His chance of spotting the stranger was slipping away. His back ached, his head spun, a spell of dizziness enveloped him in a rush behind his ears. Shielding his eyes, he stumbled forward.
Gradually his vision cleared, though the forest tilted and swayed beneath his feet. He made it to the oak tree where the stranger had been hiding, ran his hand along its rough bark as he rounded the trunk, straining to see anything in the forest beyond. He caught a glimpse of a woman running in the distance, long hair trailing behind her as she dodged from tree to tree.
Michael turned away—there was no chance of catching her. She’d gotten too far already. The pain in his back lit up, lancing down his legs. Stumbling, he searched until he found Sarah lying on the ground. Not moving. There was blood on her head, but her chest was moving up and down. Just enough. They’d never found out what happened if she died in the outskirts—she’d probably be fine, but he didn’t want her to leave him, not even for a minute.
Michael collapsed to his knees. He wanted to scream in frustration, but he pressed it down.
That woman. Her voice. Her hair. Something about her.
He knew her. From somewhere, he knew her.
Sarah came to a few minutes later.
She groaned and shifted, then groaned some more. Michael was sitting on the ground right next to her, his back against a tree. He hadn’t known what to do other than wait it out. He figured she’d either die and disappear, and he’d follow her back to their Coffins, or she’d wake up eventually.
Finally, she propped herself up next to Michael. She rubbed her head and let out one last achy moan.
“You okay?” Michael asked.
“I’m sure there’ll be a big honkin’ bruise when we go back to the Wake, but I’ll be fine.” She shifted to look at him, still tenderly touching her sore spot. “So … what happened? You’ve got it all figured out, right?”