I can’t. Fight, Morgan. I open my mouth wide and tilt my chin back, so my airway expands. I pant, I pant rapidly, willing oxygen to find me as I seek it. It doesn’t. Silent tears drip from my chin as I fight to survive …
And then, as quickly as the pain knocked the air from my lungs, it’s gone.
I take one big breath, then another, then I splutter and cough until I don’t, and I’ve caught my breath.
Slowly, I roll my shoulders back. I’m taking all my weight on my knees. They burn, they burn fiercely, so I drop back down and crawl until I manage to stumble to my feet. I amble forward, then shuffle … I achieve a jog … and I run. I don’t dare look back. I don’t dare slow down. I move as fast as my legs can take me.
Bang!
A gunshot rings out.
He will find me.
I can’t fight him.
I’m running out of time.
“Let me go home. I’ve answered the puzzle, Falcon. It’s you!” I cry with despair, my abductor hot on my heels, his presence easy to sense even though I can’t hear his footsteps or feel him breathing down my neck.
“Morgan, oh Morgan. Where are you?” His eerie tone could freeze the healthiest of beating hearts, and upon hearing him, I scream, yet I don’t stop moving.
I don’t want to die.
Swerving to my right, then to my left gives me the sense I’m running in circles. I jump at the sight of a shadow, then dig my feet into the ground. I halt, turn and run back the way I came. Keep it together, Morgan. Do or die. Loud and forceful breaths part my lips.
“You know I love a good cat-and-mouse chase, Red.” The anger he once harboured is gone. He’s calm, much too calm, considering I’d smashed the back of my skull into his face so he’d release the strong grip he held me in, and I could throw myself off his damn quad bike.
A silhouette appears in the distance. I turn and run back the way I’d come.
“Oh, this is going to be so much fun for me, Red. Did you think you could hide and get away with it? Did you think you could win?”
I stifle my need to scream.
“What did you think of the fire show? I can’t believe you survived that fucker.” His awful and sadistic laugh booms, and I cringe before changing my direction to the opposite way from which his voice travels.
He’s close, too close, and his heckling only motivates me to move faster.
“I spy, with my little eye, a little mouse that’s about to die.” He taunts.
I jerk my head until I peer over my shoulder. I can’t see him, and as leaves whip my legs and arms, I turn my eyes forward and try to go faster. Hot spikes prick my neck and travel down my spine. I hiss through my teeth and throw my head back to fight the pain. A million ants march inside me, pinching my internal organs. I groan and stumble over my feet, but I don’t fall. I keep going.
Thump, thump, thump. A pounding throb bashes inside my skull and leaves behind a hellish ache. My feet tangle when I bring my hand to my brow, but I don’t let it knock me down. I keep running, until the bushland echoes with my deafening scream. My eyes are wide. My feet are cemented to the spot. My heart pounds to a techno beat.
He wears a black ski mask, long black pants, and a long-sleeved T-shirt. A rifle is hanging from his hand, and a large hunting knife is slipped through his belt, secured in a leather holster. I can’t freeze now.
He smiles, steps forward, then lunges his arms in my direction.
“No! No!” I yell. “Noooooo!” I shriek as I shift to my right and bolt between a row of thick tree trunks that catch the corner of my eye.
A small hill fills my vision. A familiar sound has my neck extended and my head bouncing from side to side. The noise grows closer and louder. I’ve been dreaming of running engines or a loud honking horn. I can hear both.
The highway.
I can’t see any road, but I desperately try to imagine what it will look like as I track with a faster pace toward the noise that is plainly traffic.
“Morgan, oh Morgan. Can you feel the rush? Isn’t this wonderful?” he heckles from behind me.
Hoooonk. Hoooonk.
Do I hear cars? Or is my mind playing tricks on me? Is this a part of the game? My body shakes with periodic tremors.
Don’t stop. Run. Don’t look back. It's the only option I have. If what I hear isn’t real, then I will die today. If it is, I might have a chance to survive.
“This is the best part, Red. Hunting you, and I’m sad this will be our last time. Aren’t you?”
I whip my head over my shoulder to gauge how close the wolf is. I screech as my legs jumble and I crash down. The sound of scattering birds from high above has me scurrying on my hands and knees, crawling like a dog, trying to find my feet.
I’m so tired. I don't want to run. I don’t get a choice.
Death is lurking behind me. Freedom could be in front of me. I roar as I pull myself up until I’m standing.
“Boo.”
I gasp when I see him standing right in front of me.
His lips spread into a broad smile. His blue eyes gaze into mine. “Give up, Red.”
“Please, just let me go.” My voice rattles. I know he has no intention of letting me escape. Every clue, every test, everything I’ve endured tells me this has all been part of a game intended to claim my life. It’s what he came here to do, and when I’m gone, he'll win. “Please, Falcon, I never meant to hurt you. Don't punish me for this. Why now? Why now?” I cry out, as the sound of cars becomes even more readily heard.
“It’s time to go to sleep, Red.”
“No,” I cry.
He reaches out his gloved hand in the way a parent would to a scared child.
I shake my head.
He laughs.
“Please, let me go,” I beg.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three loud gunshots ring out in the distance, and when Falcon turns, rotating his body to look behind him, he mutters, “Fucking hunters.”
I swing away from his hand and take off.
There’s a small clearing in front of a steep incline. Oh, God. I can’t make it up this. I moan before I see a glimpse of the freeway over its top. A red car passes by.
“Oh my God,” I whimper as my mind screams at me to climb the fucking incline. With every bit of strength and energy I can muster, I press forward. I run like my life depends on me doing so, because it does. My life comes down to this climb.
He whistles. I can hear it coming from behind me. It’s almost as clear as the cars whizzing by. I cry. I cry so hard my shoulders shake with the force. I slip. I lose my footing. I reach out my arms to help stop myself from falling, and I scrunch my hands into the dry earth to gain traction.
Morgan, you’re there. Climb, for the love of God … climb.
My fingers dig into the natural flora, gripping handfuls of dirt, scratching, pulling to regain a grip. My torso hunches and my toes curl as I push down hard with my legs. The road is so close the tyres passing by are sending the smell of rubber and asphalt up my nose.
I scream with every bit of air I can force behind the noise. “Help! Help me! Help!”
My bare feet keep sliding, and I clamber on, finding traction where I can.
“Here, mousey, mousey.” He lets me hear his footsteps. He wants me to know he’s here.
Please, no. Please.
“No … no … no.” My voice quakes with fear as my heart thumps wildly in my chest. “Let me go.” Tears fall as my panic builds to the highest level I’ve ever experienced. “Please.”
His fingers snatch my ankle, then he applies pressure. I scramble and kick to free myself, but it’s not working.
I scream a primal scream as I fight, terrified and desperate. “Let me go, Falcon.”
He snatches my other ankle. He tightens his grip around both. His fingers dig into what feels like my bones. I buck my body in response to the agony I’m experiencing, then reach down with my hands, trying to rip his fingers from my legs, but he holds on firmly.
I’m sobbing as he drags me like a rag doll back down the incline and away from the road, the road I’d worked so desperately to reach. His actions seem effortless. His breath isn’t even laboured. He’s much too strong for me. This game is over. It ends now. He wins.
“HELP! Somebody, help me,” I cry in a last attempt to summon a saviour.