“I’m not asking you, Roz, I’m telling you. You need some sleep. One hour is not going to make any difference. We’ll still be knocking around in the dark whether we leave now or then.”
Roz sighed and then nodded, her eyes downcast. She clearly didn’t like admitting her own weakness. The two of them wrestled the hammock and blanket out of the pack again, and it took some time to arrange themselves comfortably. Eventually, Roz simply lay down, curled up with her knees almost touching her stomach, her head on Fiona’s lap.
“We should turn off the light. To save the batteries,” Roz said.
Fiona snapped it off, plunging them into impenetrable gloom. Roz fell asleep almost at once, the tension leaving her body and her breath slowing into an even, deep, peaceful rhythm. Fiona was afraid she might be tempted to fall asleep herself, so she moved her back slightly, pushing into an uncomfortable knot on the fallen tree behind her. Once or twice, her head started to nod, and she pushed back into it, hard, to wake herself, or lightly slapped the side of her face, the sting of the cut rocketing her awake once more.
Strange noises from the woods came to her at times. The occasional whir of what was likely a bat or woken squirrel was often followed by the squeak of something caught in a predator’s claws. Far off, she could hear the tumbling water of the river, but closer, she heard movement once or twice off somewhere to her right in the woods. Even in her sleep-deprived stupor, she knew instinctively that it was an animal, but that realization didn’t stop the terror that flashed through her both times as it caught her ears.
It was tiring staring into darkness, and she occasionally shut her eyes, pinching them closed to make the sensation uncomfortable rather than sleep-inducing. This didn’t work well, so she was forced, for the most part, simply to stare blindly into the nothing around her.
The time passed very slowly. She tried counting at first but was distracted time and again by the noises in the woods or by Roz’s slight movements, stilling herself in both cases, clenched with anxiety and worry.
At one point during her endless wait, she realized she was unconsciously running her fingers through Roz’s hair. She stopped for a second only to recognize that it obviously hadn’t woken her for however long she’d been doing it. Roz’s hair was thick, and Fiona’s fingers worked out some of the knots from their god-awful day. She smiled at herself in the dark as she continued. A couple of days ago, if someone had told her she’d be sitting in the dark with Roz, playing with her hair, she’d have told them they were crazy. Now, in their current situation, it seemed almost natural, normal. It was perhaps four hours since she’d been shot, less than twelve since they’d left the others back in the woods, and the experience had brought them together. She felt a strong, possessive tenderness welling inside her. What that meant in the long run, whether this would go anywhere once they were safe again, was impossible to say. In fact, safety was less than a pipe dream at this point, but she spent the rest of the hour imagining the two of them together, doing normal things together, somewhere clean and safe.
Finally, when she could no longer fool herself into thinking that less than an hour had passed, she gently shook Roz’s shoulder. Roz sat up at once, clearly startled, and Fiona grabbed her shoulder.
“Shhhh. It’s okay. It’s been about an hour now.”
“Mmmm,” She could vaguely see Roz rubbing at her face.
Without speaking, the two of them started packing up again, both taking small sips of water and sharing a section of the bittersweet food bar.
“Okay,” Fiona finally said. “What’s the plan?”
“First, we need to find the trail, or at least try.”
“Isn’t that too obvious? Won’t they know we’ll follow it back?”
“Probably, but it’s still the fastest route to the road. I think it’s worth the risk. Even in the dark, I’m pretty sure I can follow it once we’re on it.”
“And if we don’t find it?”
Roz sighed. “Then we follow the water. It would be faster if we could walk directly in the middle of the river, but we can’t this time of year. Instead, we’ll have to fight through all the vegetation and rocks along its banks. That will be much slower. That’s why I want to try the trail first, but we’ll have to walk back toward the scramble to make that happen. I don’t think we’re too far off—maybe half a mile, but it won’t be easy to pick it up.”
When Fiona didn’t respond, she felt Roz’s hand on her knee. “I’m sorry, Fiona. I know you’re scared. I’m scared, too. I wish there was another way.”
“S’okay. I understand. I guess there’s no point putting this off anymore.”
Roz turned the headlamp on long enough for them to walk back to the edge of the woods. She was still using the red lowlight, but after the complete darkness they’d been sitting it, even that seemed bright.
Despite the lack of sleep, the rest had done Fiona some good. Her senses felt sharper, and though she was almost groaning with fatigue and from her various pains, she had regained most of her coordination. Now, without a backpack, she felt strangely light, almost buoyant. Roz was moving with her usual grace, making hardly any sound as they traversed the thick undergrowth. They hit the edge of the woods suddenly, and Fiona was surprised to recognize that it was incredibly bright out here. The moon had risen much farther than before, and when Roz turned off their headlamp, it was still light enough to see.
“Keep close to the trees,” Roz said. “We’re going to walk along the edge of them until I see the trail. If you hear anything, get down and wait for my signal. We might have to get back in the woods if they spot us.”
Because of the greater light, it was difficult to walk close enough to the tree line to stay relatively hidden. Walking even a couple of feet away, both were completely exposed to anyone watching. Roz led them a few feet into the woods to try to keep them under cover, but the route was such slow going they abandoned the idea almost at once. Once back in the clearing, Roz sped up a little, and Fiona had to hustle to keep up. For the last leg, they were both visible and none too quiet. Fiona clenched with anxiety, fearing the shot that was sure to come.
“Here it is,” Roz finally said, stopping in front of her.
Fiona peered into the woods, finally spotting the telltale signs of the trail. The woods here parted somewhat naturally, and the earth was turned up a little. It made the path clear, obvious.
“How much farther is it to the road?” Fiona asked.
“A little less than twenty miles—eighteen, I think. It’ll be harder in the dark, but we’ll be going downhill most of the way. I think we can make it by morning.”
Fiona’s stomach gave a lurch of excitement. Even in her current state of exhaustion, eighteen miles sounded doable. Eighteen miles, and this would all be over. Some of this realization must have shown in her face, as Roz smiled broadly before giving her a quick hug.
“We can do this, Fiona.”
“I know we can.”
They started down the trail, each step moving them closer to something Fiona had almost given up on. Roz had to risk the headlamp more often than either of them was comfortable with, but just for a quick flash of light to get her bearings. In the light, even Fiona could see the trail. Had this whole experience somehow made her better at reading the signs? Two days ago, she’d felt like she was wandering, lost, except for her companions leading the way. Now, she believed that she could have done this on her own.
Roz suddenly stopped in front of her, and Fiona almost ran into her back. She caught herself inches shy of the backpack and waited, wondering why Roz didn’t turn on the light.
“What—”
“Shhh!” Roz hissed.
Fiona heard it then. The sound that had haunted them for days now, the sound that represented everything that had gone wrong from the very beginning.
Somewhere from the woods came the sound of chopping wood.
Chapter Fifteen
“Get down,” Roz said, dragging Fiona with her. They
crouched there on the trail, still hearing that awful sound somewhere to the left of the trail. Fiona’s heart was racing, and it was all she could do not to take in great mouthfuls of air. She felt like she’d been running.
“Sounds close,” Roz whispered.
Fiona nodded stupidly in the dark before remembering and mumbling agreement.
Neither of them moved, still listening, and the shiver that ran through her had nothing to do with the chilly night air. Once again, she could sense a precise exactness to the sound, as if it were set to a metronome. Knowing now that this was a sound powered by hand made the effect even creepier. The fact that an actual person was doing this, not a machine, was uncanny and deeply unsettling.
“It’s still pretty steady,” Roz finally said, her voice very low. “I think we can keep going. Hopefully they don’t have anyone watching for us on the trail.”
Roz moved as if to stand up, and Fiona clutched at her, suddenly desperate.
“We can’t risk it! What if someone’s standing somewhere in the dark, waiting for us? We’ll never see them until it’s too late.”
Roz grabbed her healthy shoulder, squeezing it. “Please try to stay calm, Fiona. We have no choice here.”
“Let’s go back, find the river, and go that way. I don’t care if it’s slower. We can’t, we can’t…” She was unable to talk, her chest tight, closing off her throat. She gulped at the air, fumbling at the button at her neck, her clothes suddenly too snug.
Roz hugged her then, despite their awkward position near the ground. Fiona fought her, thrashing away, but Roz held on firmly, making soothing sounds. Finally, Fiona’s shoulder protested, snapping her back to something like normalcy, and she relaxed into the embrace. The two of them dropped onto their butts next to each other, still in one another’s arms. Tears were streaming down Fiona’s face, and she wiped them away with her good arm, suddenly ashamed of herself.
“I’m sorry. I lost it there for a second.”
“It’s okay,” Roz mumbled. “I’m about half a step from losing it myself.”
They sat there in the pitch-black, listening to that awful, telling sound. Fiona felt calmer than before, but her stomach was still twisting with anxiety and fright. She wanted, more than anything, to run away, even if it meant wandering these woods for the rest of her life. She’d do almost anything to never hear that sound again.
“You’re right,” Roz said, almost talking. “We have to go another way. They could have sentries posted on the trail, and we’d never know. Let’s go over to the river and follow that back. It’ll take longer, but it’ll be safer.”
Fiona was nearly overwhelmed with gratitude, and she had to fight back a little sob of relief. She let Roz help her to her feet, not replying, and soon they were walking back the way they’d come, back toward the clearing by the rock scramble, away from home. Still, even though they were losing ground again, this was obviously the right choice. All they had to do was find the river again, and they’d be on their way once more.
They hadn’t walked more than a hundred feet when they both heard it—a shriek, somewhere in the woods. The sound was harrowing, terrifying, and repeated seconds later. For a moment, Fiona almost convinced herself that it was an animal—an owl, perhaps, or another night bird—but on the third scream in the woods, she realized she was fooling herself. A person, a woman, was making that sound.
“Jesus Christ,” Roz breathed, clearly realizing the same thing. They had clutched each other’s hand in the dark, and Fiona’s fingers protested in Roz’s claw-like grip.
Both froze, waiting for the screaming to start again. When nothing happened for several long seconds, and the screaming seemed to have stopped, a tiny bit of hope rose in Fiona’s chest. Maybe it was over.
Almost as if she’d summoned it, the shrieking scream began again, louder, far more broken than before, as if someone was struggling for air. The two of them dropped low, listening to that awful, agonized horror.
“We have to run now, Fiona,” Roz finally said. “We have to run like our lives and that woman’s life depend on it. If we don’t get help soon…”
Fiona didn’t press her to finish her thought. They were both thinking the same thing. Whoever was screaming out there in the woods was about to die. Strangely, the idea of escape, of running away, however ridiculous, sent of wave of certainty flashing through her. Tempting as it might be to take their chances and run, Fiona knew what she had to do. In fact, recognizing this now, she realized she’d always known it would come to this. The certainty calmed her racing heart, and her dull, sleep-deprived senses suddenly revived and came awake. The dark, so threatening seconds ago, seemed to retreat, and the sounds she heard likewise crystalized. Her hand, still clutched in Roz’s, relaxed, slipping from her grip, and she warmed from the inside. She knew, without question, what they needed to do.
“No, Roz,” she finally said, speaking normally.
“What?”
Though it was almost entirely dark, it was as if she had a sixth sense. She found Roz’s lips and kissed her, pulling lightly at the back of her head. She pulled away, bussing Roz’s lips once, twice, and leaned her forehead against the other woman’s.
“We have to help her,” she finally said.
Roz let out a puff of disbelief, and Fiona kissed her again, putting more feeling into it. Roz returned it with something like desperation, but she broke away this time, pulling Fiona into a hug. The two of them held on to each other as if in preparation, which was precisely what it was.
“If we…if we don’t get out of this…” Roz said.
“Shhhh,” Fiona put a finger on her lips. “We will. We have to believe we will, or there’s no chance and no point in trying.”
“Okay, but I want you to know that I…like you. I really like you.”
“I know. I do, too. And I promise you this will work out.”
Roz let out a single, bitter laugh. “How can you promise that?”
“I can. I have to believe it. We’ll be back in town, sipping a beer—”
“A scotch,” Roz said.
Fiona smiled. “Fine. You’ll have a scotch, I’ll have beer, and we’ll both have some real food, and everything will be okay.”
“Sounds like a fairy tale.”
It did to Fiona, now, too, but that didn’t matter anymore. Whoever was in the woods needed them now—not later today, not tomorrow, not the day after—she needed their help now. The screaming had stopped, but whoever it had been was still out there somewhere, and they had to do something about it.
Without saying another word, the two of them clambered to their feet again and started heading back the way they’d come, back where they knew they’d find the people from the woods.
They hit a point on the trail where, when they went a little farther, the sound of the metronomic chopping seemed to drop behind them. The sound was somewhere off to the left, somewhere in the woods. Fiona waited, trying to anticipate their next move. Once they left the trail, they were in this. Already, some of her certainty from a few minutes ago began to seem more than a little foolish. The trail forward, back toward home and safety, beckoned.
She shook her head to dismiss this tug, but it was still too dark to see anything. If she squinted, she could detect a brightening somewhere out there toward the sounds. She and Roz might be here in the dark, but the people from the woods needed light to do whatever they were doing.
“What’s the next step?” Roz asked.
The question took Fiona aback. Somehow, despite having essentially decided they were going on a rescue mission, she’d assumed Roz would take the lead once they began. She had to scramble for a quick response.
“We’ll be at a disadvantage since we can’t risk a light.”
“So we’re just going to fumble our way over to them in the dark.” Again, this was a statement.
“That’s all we can do.” She sounded helpless, unsure of herself. She was blowing this.
Roz let out a long sigh,
then was quiet again. As they stood there, the crystalline clarity Fiona had felt earlier retreated even further. This was hopeless, stupid. Better to get the police and come at them from all sides. This idea gave her pause, and her thoughts scrambled toward a plan forming in the depths of her mind.
“We should try to go around them,” she said, suddenly certain.
“What? Why?”
She turned toward Roz, trying to put her thoughts into words. “Look, I’ve thought from the beginning that they’ve been one step ahead of us. Those carvings were at the first campsite. Then the cravings and traps were at the second. Then they just happened to be near the trail when the two of us walked by. They anticipated where we’d be and when.”
“Okay. So what does that mean?”
“What if they’ve been, sort of, leading us this whole time? Think about earlier when the two of us heard them in the woods and went to investigate. There they were, hacking a tree, just close enough to the trail for us to hear and find them. Don’t you think that’s awfully convenient?”
“I’m still not following you.”
“Maybe they wanted us to go over there. Maybe they knew someone—maybe not the two of us, but someone—would have to leave camp and head that way, back toward home. With all those traps, someone was going to get hurt, someone would have to go back for help, and heading home was still closer than anywhere else.”
“So you think they were kind of…herding us?”
“Exactly.”
Roz seemed to mull that possibility over during a long, quiet pause. “Okay, but there’s a problem. How would they know when we left camp and the others? How would they know when we’d find them there in the woods? We ended up staying overnight and most of the day yesterday, remember?”
“I think someone has been watching us.”
Roz chuckled. “That seems like a stretch.”
“Really? A group of masked maniacs is in the woods, and you think a watchman is a stretch?”
Again, Roz had no immediate response. Finally, she sighed. “Okay, I guess you could be right, though there’s no way to know. Assuming you are right, what difference does any of this make? They could be watching us right now.”
From the Woods Page 16
