“He’s a skilled archer,” Noah growls. “He could hit us and kill us, but he’s not. He’s playing, he’s tormenting.”
“How can he see us?”
“Just move, Lara.”
Another arrow comes up through the small clearing, so close that I’m forced to leap backward. Doing this has me losing my balance. With a terrified scream, I fall. It seems like I’m moving in slow motion, arms flying, legs flailing. I hit a tree branch so hard, I can hear the loud crunch as it snaps beneath me. My screaming becomes agonizing cries as branch by branch, I fall closer to the ground.
To him.
Noah bellows my name, and my hands frantically try to grab onto anything they can. I manage to get hold of a branch on the bottom of the tree, leaving me hanging in the clearing, hands slipping as the weight of my body takes over. It’s too thick and I can’t get a good enough hold on it. Pain radiates through my body in so many places, I can’t pinpoint a single one.
“Well, well, now we’re playing for real.”
The voice sends shivers running through my body as I look down to see a man wearing a black mask with only two eyeholes showing, pointing an bow and arrow up at me. His voice seems familiar, but I don’t have time to think about where I’ve heard it. I can’t see anything else about him, but I don’t need to. I need to get the hell out of here, now.
Terror has taken me once more, and I’m frantically trying to hang on to the tree. I need to get back up. My legs flail desperately as I try to pull myself back up onto the branch.
He laughs.
“It’s not going to happen, Lara. I’m sorry.”
The spring of his wire as he shoots the other arrow is all I can hear in the few seconds it takes to reach me. The tiny device rips through my calf, as easy as a knife through butter. My scream echoes through the forest as I lose my grip and crash to the ground. I don’t feel the impact. The only thing I can feel is the agony in my leg, the red-hot, scorching pain that is threatening to take me into darkness.
Through blurred vision, through my screams and hysterical crying, I see him lean over me, that black mask right in my face. Who is he? Goddammit, who is he? “I’m going to give you a head start,” he says, evil eyes flashing with joy beneath the mask. “You have two minutes to run, Lara.”
What?
I stare at him, pain threatening to cause a blackout.
“Run,” he barks.
Run.
Run.
I force my body up, screaming in pain as I start to hobble away down the narrow path. This isn’t fast enough. I’ll die at this pace. I grit my teeth, suck in my tears, ignore the roaring pain in my calf, and do just what he asked: I run. In the distance I can hear Noah’s desperate bellows, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. The sound of the bike starting up behind me has me realizing that there is no way I’ll outrun this man.
Sick. He’s sick.
I run harder, trying to edge off the path, but it’s impossible without a giant machete to cut the underbrush. Dammit. I run until I can’t breathe, until my whole body is screaming in pain, until my mind threatens once more to shut down. The bike is closer. I can’t outrun him. I stop, doubling over with a cry. The arrow protruding from my calf makes my stomach turn.
Weapons.
I straighten and frantically reach into my jeans to pull out the spear that Noah gave me. It’s about a foot long with a sharp point on the end. I clutch it in my hands and stand behind a tree, panting as I wait. The bike comes to a stop; leaves crunch as he moves closer to me. “I know where you are, Lara. You’re making this way too easy for me. At least show a little fight.”
I swallow the vomit rising in my throat.
He gets close enough that I can hear his breathing. I hold my breath and wait as he moves around behind the tree. I clutch the spear. I only get one shot at this. One shot.
“Boo.”
He appears so quickly it takes me off guard. I react without thought, driving the spear into his hand that’s moving toward me. It slides through his palm easily, far too easily. All the blood drains from my face as I watch red trickle out of the wound. He smiles, and then laughs. Like the pain excites him.
“Is that the best you’ve got?”
I raise my knee without thought and hit him in the balls. My dad taught me that when I was a little girl, and it’s never come in handy until this very moment. He doubles over with a laugh and I take the chance to turn and run. I reach his bike and stop, heart pounding. I have no more weapons. I lost the rock somewhere on my fall. I glance down at the arrow in my leg.
I don’t think. I just reach down, take the head sticking out of my calf, and pull it all the way through. I’m already in so much pain, I don’t even have it in me to scream. His voice echoes out from behind me and I do the only thing I can. I stab the arrow into his tires over and over, as hard and as fast as I can. Warm blood runs down my leg, but I don’t stop. Then with the last bit of strength left in my body, I kick the bike over. I can hear him running toward me. I have seconds, if I’m lucky.
That’s enough.
I unscrew the gas tank and watch as the liquid starts pouring out. I don’t wait around; I turn and run down the path as quickly as I can. I don’t know how much longer I can stay conscious. The pain is too much. It’s getting too intense. Laughter fills the quiet space. “Well done, Lara, you’re wilder than I thought. You’ve cut my game short for a few hours. You’ll pay for that.”
I drop to my knees and crawl into the thick forest off the path, dragging my body through, gasping in pain as I try to get deeper, deep enough that his bike can’t find me. Trees block my way, branches tear into my skin, and finally I fall against a log, face pressing against the cold bark. I hear the distant rumble of his bike before finally blacking out.
TWELVE
“Wake up, fuck, Lara. Wake up.”
Noah?
I can’t move.
“Lara, come on. Open your eyes for me.”
I’m trying. I can’t.
“Lara?”
Noah.
“Come on, baby, please.”
I can hear you. I’m trying.
My body is stiff; I can’t move it let alone open my eyes. Noah’s voice is fading in and out, and I so desperately want to call out to him, to reach for him, but nothing wants to work. Panic sets in. Am I dead? Is that why I can’t move? Worse, am I injured to the point of no return? Is this me dying slowly?
I begin to pant.
“Lara? Hey. Open your eyes. You’re okay.”
I am?
“Come on, focus.”
Focus.
I steady out my breathing and focus. I decide to work on my fingers. A simple task, right? I breathe in and out, then curl my fingers. Noah says something frantically, but I’m too focused on the movement slowly coming back to me. I can feel my fingers! A few more pained breaths and my eyelids flutter open. I see nothing for a few seconds, but eventually Noah’s face comes into view.
He looks scared.
“Shit, thank God. You’re okay.”