“Phoebe!” I call out, keeping my voice as quiet as possible.
She skids and turns to me, breathing heavily. I can’t see much of her features,
but I imagine her face matches mine. Panicked, and eyes dilated with fear.
“Cover your tracks. You’re leading them right to you,” I tell her in a whisper-shout, and then I take off in the opposite direction. I don’t know if she’ll listen, although I do know that it might be too late. She’s led them this far, and to ensure my own survival, I need to get the hell away from her.
The branch dragging behind me is loud, so I force myself to slow, counting my thirty steps and keeping an eye out for any wires. I’m nearly gasping for breath, willing my heart rate to calm. I should’ve put enough distance between the two of us by now.
So, when I turn to see Phoebe running after me, I fucking spazz.
“What are you doing?!” I exclaim, attempting to keep my voice down, only
causing it to break from the pitch.
“Please, let me stay with you,” she pleads, no branch in her hands to cover her tracks. She didn’t even bother to try.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, no! You’re going to get me killed,” I snap,
chest pumping as my eyes pinball, searching for any movement in the darkness.
I'm almost positive our ten-minute head start has passed. They have night vision
goggles—we don’t. Which means they could be anywhere.
Her pale hand clutches my arm and pulls me close, her nails digging in. Now
that I can see her clearly, she looks crazed.
“Please, I can’t let them do that to me again. Let me come with you, please!”
I try to wrangle my hand from her, but her grip tightens, and she refuses to let
go.
“I’m not letting you go! I’m coming with you.”
Shit. This is what I fucking get for not being like Sydney and gladly watching others fail.
"Okay, fuck. You can come, just let me go," I hiss, finally freeing my arm from her desperate clutches. Making a split-second decision, I run back the way we came about twenty feet, swivel my branch to my front and start brushing away her tracks, walking backwards until I reach her once more.
"Stay in front of me, and run as fast as you can," I demand. "And don't do anything to get us killed. Not more than you already have."
She winces from my harsh words, but I feel no remorse. I'm pissed off that my kindness has most likely just earned me an arrow in the back, and even more angry that I can't find it in me to knock her ass out and leave her behind.
It would benefit me, however, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. It's the
whole reason I called out to her in the first place. She's young, desperate, and
terrified and I'm putting on a good show of looking like I know what I'm doing.
Of course, she's going to latch onto me.
Thankfully, Phoebe listens this time, keeping in front of me as we sprint. My
branch is behind me again, clearing our tracks. Sweat coats nearly every inch of
my skin, trickling down my forehead and spine, irritating the stitches in my skin.
Clouds puff from my mouth, and I have an insane moment of panic when I wonder if my bad breath will leave a scent trail.
Several times we get turned around, and I swear we’ve passed the same
fucking tree three times now. I’m growing frustrated and tired, so I skid to a stop
and urge Phoebe to find a large tree to hide behind. I find one several feet southwest of her that provides a clear view of the space between both trees.
I'm heaving, desperate for oxygen, and on the verge of puking. I need to catch
my breath, and I'm growing paranoid that even if they can't see our footprints, they'll be able to hear us.
"Stay quiet," I whisper, even though I'm struggling to accomplish that myself.
My body doesn't care about keeping silent. All it’s only focused on is greedily sucking in precious air, no matter the cost.
I split my focus on catching my breath and listening for any footsteps. An owl
hoots and a cold yet soft breeze flows through the forest. Such a stark contrast to
the dark and dangerous situation. It feels like there should be Michael Myers music playing in the background.
A rustle from a nearby brush nearly sends my heart flying out of my throat,
but then a bunny emerges and sprints off. Just as I wrangle the muscle back down where it belongs, a voice calls out.
"Fiiirecraacker."
Fuck. I don't know if it was a good guess, or if my branch failed to conceal both sets of footprints, but Phoebe's pursuer caught up to us. Round eyes clash with mine, and I know that my irises are dilated with fear just as much as hers
are.
"What do we do?" she mouths silently, and I shake my head, at a loss. I don't know what we fucking do. I’ve no idea where he is exactly, but if even an elbow pops out from behind a tree, he’ll be able to spot it immediately.
Does it count if I'm hit with someone else's arrow? I'm sure I'll still be punished, even if I wasn't the intended target.
"Fiiiiirecrackeeer," Ben calls out again. I risk a glance around the tree trunk and see a shadow move about twenty feet behind us.
Fuck. Way too close.
If we stay silent, we might get lucky, and he'll wander off in another direction.
He might think we’ve gone down a different trail and allow us to put distance between one another. But right now, the slightest sound, and he could hone in on us. It's not safe for either of us to even breathe.
Not that I can fucking breathe anyway.
Phoebe covers her nose and mouth with her hand, squeezing her eyes shut, tears crowding past her lashes and glinting in the moonlight. If she's not already, she's going to start having a panic attack. And in my experience, those are rarely
silent.
I put my shaking finger to my lips, a tear of my own breaking free. My vision
blurs as I face the very real possibility that I might get hit with an arrow, and then later be brutally raped for it. Again.
But she can't hold on, and a small whimper slips past her hand. My heart stalls, and almost in slow motion, I hear several footsteps taken in our direction.
“Was that you, firecracker?” he says in a hushed tone as if he’s whispering right into our ears.