You Only Die Twice

Chapter EIGHTEEN





Cheryl Dunning knew that at some point, she needed to stop moving and remain in one place. That was the first thing her father and grandfather told her she should do should she ever become lost in the woods. She should create some kind of shelter for herself, just as they’d shown her how to do, and not move until she was found.

If I’m found.

She no longer was running. Instead, she was walking softly and listening. She saw the direction in which the madman ran―far off to her right. The bull moose had frightened him enough that she watched him dart blindly through the woods, which allowed her to slink low and keep to the left, along the wetlands, which is where she wanted to be because at some point, she knew it was here that she’d find some sort of water source. Not the pools of ground water that were around her―drinking from them would probably kill her. She was hoping to find a brook or a stream. Something that was coming from a fresh source and, more importantly, that was moving.

But even if she found that, she’d be taking a risk if she drank from it. As thirsty as she was―the alcohol she consumed last night didn’t exactly hydrate her―and as disgusting as her mouth tasted because of the blood she’d been unable to rinse out, whatever flowing water source she came upon would still have its share of bacteria, which could cripple her.

Still, she remembered her father’s words. If she had a choice between dehydration and illness, she should drink and pray for the best.

She stopped for a moment, pressed her back against a thick pine, and reached inside her pocket for the phone he left her with. She turned it on, saw that no other texts had been left, and then she tried to see if she could get a connection, but she couldn’t. Everything outgoing had been dismantled and since she was no techie, she knew that whatever he’d done to the phone, she’d never be able to fix.

She put the phone back in her pocket―and her heart stopped when her fingertips touched something cool at the very bottom of it. She knew at once what it was, and the thrill she felt was undeniable. She forgot she had it on her because she rarely smoked, though she did last night because Patty was with her and that’s what they did when they went out. She’d been so distracted by everything that was happening to her, she hadn’t even felt it in her pants. She pulled out the red Bic lighter and gave it a flick. It took three tries for it to light, but when it did, it was perhaps the most beautiful sight she’d seen all day.

Besides the moose.

Hunters hunted in these woods. The less responsible ones would leave debris behind, like tin cans used for coffee or food. If she could find an old can, she would be able to create a small fire and boil water in it. That would kill off any bacteria and she would be fine. She wasn’t so much worried about food, at least not right now, but water and shelter were critical for her survival.

She needed to make plans. First, she had to find a water source. Second, she had to make an inconspicuous shelter that was near it. Third, she needed to find something, anything, that could be used to boil water.

Finally, what was most daunting is that somehow she had to do all of this without him hearing her, and she wasn’t sure that was possible, since building the shelter alone would involve the breaking of branches. Worse, when she created a fire, the smell of the smoke would give him an idea of where she was. At night, if she started even the smallest of fires to generate heat, he’d see the glow. So, at the very least, she couldn’t have a fire at night. The smoke would drift in the breeze, which might actually confuse him if the breeze came from different directions, but the glow was a mainstay. He’d see it. He’d find her.

She thought about that for a moment, and her mind went to a darker place. If she was prepared for him, was it so awful if he found her? If she could draw him to her, what were the possibilities if she did?

She looked around her, from the forest floor to the few dead pines scattered amid the living trees. She studied their branches, which, if broken, could be used as a weapon.

But he has a gun.

So he did. But at night, in the ever-changing shadows cast by a fire, he might not see her until it was too late.

It was a risk, a big one because setting a fire would absolutely draw him to her, but what else did she have?

And then, in a rush, it came to her.

She thought it through. She smiled in spite of her broken lips and the knowledge that the odds were against her. She knew she likely wouldn’t come out of this alive. But it was something. And it could work.

For the first time since she woke this morning, beaten to a pulp on some random forest floor by a maniac she didn’t know, she felt a spark of hope and knew exactly what she had to do.