Run (The Hunted) (4 page)

What about the hunter? Reid can only assume he is some kind of serial killer because his mind can’t process much past the expected. Either that or a rich guy with a taste for gutting people. Reid is pretty sure money can buy even that if the right amount is involved. The right people. Again his thoughts turn to Lucy’s new boss. The more he thinks about it, the more Reid is sure the asshole sold them out.

Still, his anger stays away, only a dull and deliberate regret filling the space between panic and terror. But he is able to at least plot revenge and that helps him pass the time. It distracts him too, so he forces himself to drop that line of thinking. He can’t afford to let his mind wander.

Instead, he dives into the list of practical things he needs to survive, the tools his father taught him were important if he was ever lost in the woods. Mind you, he is certain Dad never foresaw anything like the situation Reid finds himself in. His father used to tease about that side of him, how he always wanted a plan no matter what he walked into. But Dad always said it with a sense of pride so Reid knew he was doing right.

Too bad Mom and Dad weren’t more like their son. Then their deaths wouldn’t have left him in foster care and his fragile sister unable to get her life together without going to work for some sick freak who sold them into a death sentence.

That’s better. The glimmer of anger is his at last. There is more energy in it than the fear, but just as much focus.

He pauses by a crumbling spruce tree. The top half leans at a crazy angle, boughs hanging to the ground, its weight bending the trunks of those it presses on. It forms a thick barrier that completely blocks the path. Reid approaches with caution, mind screaming at him not to go anywhere near it, to turn around and run the other way. His heart rate climbs dramatically until he eases close enough to see the trunk has snapped by nature, not designed as a trap by the hunter. The tree is old and fell on its own, but its presence still forces him to leave the trail and go around.

Reid struggles through the underbrush and considers his course. He has already discarded the idea of traveling straight through the forest. It’s just too dark and there are too many unknowns. The ground is uneven here, full of emerging tree roots and bulging rocks hidden in the undergrowth, just waiting for him to trip and fall over them. And for all he knows there are worse things he’s not seeing, gaps and chasms and deep holes his mind conjures to torment him. He could end up hurt or unconscious from a fall into such a place, a broken ankle or cracked skull spelling the end of him. In that case, the hunter wouldn’t need to kill him. Mother Nature would do her own job of it.

Still, when he sets foot back on the path, he wonders how long he can risk staying out in the open like this. He is sure the trail is there for a reason, like a rabbit trap line, set along their own run. It may be the logical road to take, but that sword cuts both ways. How simple is it for the hunter to use these paths, the ideal tracking ground?

He doesn’t want to make things too easy for the man, but Reid is tired and has other priorities before he can consider breaking away from the trail.

First things first. Water, shelter, food. Reid spent enough time in the woods camping with Dad to know what he needs to do to survive. He has as yet to stumble over a water source, or even somewhere that seems safe to hide long enough to rest. Part of him is praying for morning and light, that same part whispering he’ll be safe when the sun comes up, that the hunter won’t chase him in the daytime. Reid has no idea if he’s right, but clings to the shred of hope and hangs onto it like it’s the only thing he has.

Which, really, it is.

He is so focused and feeling in control that when a branch behind him breaks with an echoing snap he is shocked to find himself running full out down the path, panting all over again, his terror making his feet move before his mind can register what happened. And try as he might, Reid is unable to stop himself. In fact, he allows the fear to control him, giving over to it completely. He hurtles down the rutted trail at horrible speed, feet pounding loudly over the packed dirt, arms pumping at his sides, wind whistling from his lips, his animal instincts driving him forward without thought or consideration.

It feels good to give in, to release his control and let go, but the more he does, the worse his fear gets. Speed and headlong flight increases his terror exponentially until his heart is ready to explode. It’s as though the hunter breathes on his neck, driving his feet faster and faster until Reid’s breaths are sobs of terror and gasps for air all at once.

All the while, hovering before his eyes, his memory forcing him to look, is the vacant face of the dead boy in the tree. It is an inescapable image locked into his fear, mocking him for his flight, laughing at him, welcoming him to the family of the dead.

His foot catches and the ground rushes up to meet him. This time when Reid falls he stays where he is, knees aching from the impact with the ground, face on fire where his cheek slapped the harsh surface of the trail. He coughs out into the dust and debris floating around him and simply lays there, sprawled with arms and legs outstretched, waiting for what is to come, unable to run another step.

His eyes settle on a low, dense pile of underbrush. His self-preservation urges him to roll over once, twice and into the mass, wriggling himself inside, ignoring the pokes and prods and jabs of the plants and shrubs as they tug at his skin and clothing. The scent of disturbed earth and crushed greenery is a dead giveaway, he is sure. Reid allows one last choking sob and stills, unable to do anything about it, and even closes his eyes for a moment.

Whatever is to come, he has run as far as he can, as fast as he can. If death is right behind him, he has done his best. His eyes droop, close over and he loses himself to the darkness.

***

Reid starts awake, amazed he was able to fall asleep at all, considering. One look at the moon, low and swollen on the horizon, tells him he did, and for at least an hour. He isn’t sure what woke him, but decides it’s time to move. Whether he needs more rest or not, staying in one place too long just doesn’t seem safe. As he shifts and shimmies his way to the edge of the shrubs, he freezes, terror in his throat, right at the back of his mouth, choking him. Was that a sound? An owl offers a sleepy ‘whoo’. He holds his breath, listening with all his might, with every cell and sense. A branch cracks, settles. A soft wind rustles the leaves of the trees, rubbing the spruce needles together, creating a soft patter as dried bits fall to the forest floor around him, raining him with debris. He swats at the pieces that land in his hair, fear driving him to it.

He holds himself steady, waits a little longer, still listening, heart falling back to normal speed. Ried knows he can’t afford to panic again. Another fall like the one that sent him here and he could sprain an ankle or break something and then he would be lost for sure. Bad enough he is afraid of the forest. The relative smoothness of the trail shouldn’t be so hard. But he is tired and impulsive and that makes it easy to lose control. Above all else he has to get his control back. If only because he needs his body whole and in good health if he is going to survive.

Why he expects to survive or even considers it an option he doesn’t know, but it refuses to leave him, that idea, and he doesn’t have the heart to chase it away.

Reid is startled and crippled when his stomach cramps with hunger, a fist of pain and nausea driving through his gut all the way to his spine. He clutches at his waist, arms hugging his abdomen, unable to do anything about it. All of a sudden it feels like he hasn’t eaten for days, as though his body has turned against him and is literally cannibalizing itself. He wonders how long he was in the custody of the men who left him here. Only the passage of time would explain the emptiness inside him.

A long and wrenching howl echoes in the distance. Reid is familiar with many animals, thanks to his time with his father camping. He’s heard the cries of wolves and coyotes, the uncanny human screams of foxes, the grunting snuffles of passing bears. Never before has he heard anything like the alien shriek carrying over the trees and through them, reaching for him, clutching at his heart and soul. It freezes him in place, blanking his mind, emptying him of thought and all feeling but pure and crippling terror.

He would have laid there and waited for whatever it was to come and get him. But his attention is broken. He jerks around to see a girl dart from her place across the path from him and tear off down the trail in the same direction he has been running.

Away from that sound.

Reid hesitates no longer. His fear releases him so he can start running again. A sudden need to be with another human being drives him forward and on her trail, determined to get what answers he can.

***

Chapter Five

Reid’s instincts know there is only one reason the girl would be running and understands she’s just made herself a target. But she is close, so close, and the chance to talk to someone else, to compare notes and maybe get some answers, is just too powerful for him to ignore.

He catches her easily, his longer legs chasing her down. She spots him, her features just visible in the last of the moonlight. She looks as terrified as he feels, her eyes huge and glistening, mouth hanging open as she pants for breath. She looks about his age but older somehow, almost ancient. Reid reaches for her to make her stop. It’s uncanny how she dodges him, forcing her way deeper into the trees.

He is so shocked he almost stops in his tracks. Obviously she’s been running for a while, has learned something from her ordeal. She is wily and he wonders how long it took her to get to this animal place of pure survival. He takes notes without meaning to, pays attention to how she moves, hoping her tactics will keep him alive, too.

The underbrush is sparse here, the trees themselves thinning and leaving gaps easier to run through. The ground is rockier as well, more moss and stone than dirt and far more treacherous than he would like. Reid remembers his last fall and wonders if the pursuit is worth it. But his need won’t let him stop, committing him to the chase. He paces her, wanting to call out but too worried the sound of his voice will carry, though he knows their retreat is making almost as much noise as any words would.

There is no way he is letting her escape. He has a sudden thought and can’t seem to let it go. As he rolls it around in his mind, he knows he is right. They are weaker on their own, easy pickings. If he had someone to watch his back he could rest, and give his partner a turn. They could make plans, work out their strategy together. Just being with someone else could make such a difference. And why stop at two? There is strength in numbers, just like in school when bullies come calling. Loners get trashed while groups are safe.

They need to stick together and do what they can to find more like them.

Besides, he has to talk to her, to hear another voice. Before he can even make a move toward her again she swerves, stumbles and catches herself, spinning and going the other way just as his fingers brush over the coarse fabric of her sweater. She reminds him of a fleeing rabbit, all reaction and instinct. He doesn’t want to have to hunt her down, the very thought disgusts him, but she’s not giving him a choice. He worries expending so much energy chasing her will tire him out for when the real running starts again. He knows that could happen at any time, especially if her reason for bolting is what he thinks it is. He briefly considers dropping the whole idea and continuing on himself, but can’t shake the feeling that he needs her and she needs him.

Reid swears very softly and turns after her.

For a moment he loses her in the forest and quickly comes to a halt. He tries to hold his breath despite his straining lungs, his ears serving him better than his eyes in the dark. Just as he is forced to take a breath, he catches the rustle of leaves and a soft sigh of air. Reid spins toward the sound and sees a hint of movement while the pungent smell of body odor laced with musty dirt reaches his nose, so strong he can taste it in the back of his throat. His mind flickers to the memory of the hunter sniffing the air and Reid understands.

No wonder the man was using his nose. The scent is unmistakable. It oozes human suffering and despair.

Reid is about to go to her when he sees the leaves shudder. He knows it’s her, that she caused the movement, but still he panics, that response too natural now to avoid. He creeps up behind her, not wanting to scare her, but not knowing how else to get to her without her running off again.

Reid needn’t have worried. She glares at him, baring her teeth, her cheeks wet, and tries to shoo him off, flapping her hands at him, but no longer trying to get away. Her sweater bags off of her narrow shoulders, face filthy, tangled hair a halo of leaves around her head. Deep lines etch her cheeks, filled with dirt. Her eyes are sunken far into their orbits and they glare at him like he is the hunter himself.

He was wrong about her age. Reid thought she was sixteen or so. But up close he gets a better look and his whole being lurches in sympathy.

He’s sure she’s no more than twelve years old.

Reid tucks in beside her and presses his mouth to her ear, flinching from the stink of her skin, his voice barely a breath, just loud enough so she can hear.

“We can help each other.”

She jerks back from him and tries to wiggle around, but he holds her easily with one hand. She relaxes for a heartbeat, looking up into his eyes. The moisture on her face isn’t sweat like he thought it was. She’s sobbing silently and all her humanity is leaking out with her tears.

“Let me go.” She huddles there in his power, soul empty of all but her fright and the knowledge she is about to die. He can see there is little left of the girl he knows she had to be once, before the horror took over. It makes him want to scream. And worry it could happen to him. Will happen. He refuses to believe it is inevitable.