“No,” she whispered, snapping back into the present.
“No!” She shouted the word this time. She opened her eyes, dropped low, and got ready to run.
She was alone.
She crumpled to the ground, howling with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and joy. She screamed once, an overpowering something inside her necessary to release, and then burst into laughing tears. She wrapped her arms around her body, hugging herself, and quaking all over with an exhilarating and a thankful recognition of her own continued existence.
“Alive, alive,” she said, repeating the word several times.
Finally, she crawled over to the water again, trying to scoop the liquid in shaking cupped hands. She couldn’t stop trembling. Her nerves were overwrought, overexcited, and it took much longer than normal to get some more water to her mouth. She sobbed a few times, pinching her eyes shut again, opening them at once to stare up at the spot where the woman had stood. She was still alone, and she caught a sob and swallowed it painfully. She had to make herself stand up. It took several tries, her legs almost giving out each time, but she finally made it, swaying slightly before moving.
She was still light-headed and detached from her body, and her first steps away from the water were uncertain, clumsy. She made herself focus on her feet, putting one in front of the other, and her balance and equilibrium finally began to come back to her a few minutes later. She tried a shuffling jog forward, almost tripped, and dropped back into a fast walk. Running could wait. She had to find her way back to herself, first.
She refused to look back, refused to see if the woman was watching her, waiting for her to forget and then shoot. No, Fiona decided. It was better to believe that she had let her go, even if she had no reason to hope, even if believing in that didn’t make any sense. It was the only way to keep going.
She heard the road long before she allowed herself to recognize the sounds for what they were—cars and trucks. The highway was a significant east-west thoroughfare for weekend campers, but on a weekday, it was still busy enough for the sounds of vehicles to reach her, one on top of the other sometimes, long pauses between others. She tried to increase her speed again but only managed a loping trot. Any faster, and she started to lose her balance again, nearly tripping.
The ground had leveled off at some point, when, she couldn’t remember. It might have been before the pond or since; she had no memory of the change. All she knew was that level ground meant she was close—two miles or less.
Now they would shoot her. They knew where she was, and they had to recognize that they couldn’t let her go. If the woman was their leader, which Fiona had, like Roz, begun to believe, perhaps she had simply left to rally her troops. Any moment now and it would all be over.
Though perhaps, she thought, they’ll let me see the road. They’ll let me see it, for one last moment of hope, and then end this charade, once and for all.
Movement ahead of her—a flash of red metal—and she finally caught her final wind. It was a car, not fifty feet ahead, driving by beyond the barbed-wire fence that protected this forest. Fiona started running then, faster than she ever had, head lowered, body tilted forward, arms pumping at her sides and feet fairly flying over the ground in front of her. The fence slowed her for no more than a few seconds, as she quickly maneuvered to a nearby tree, jumping for the lowest branch, swinging her legs over, and dropping down on the other side.
She landed awkwardly, letting out a single moan of pain, then stumbled the remaining yards to the road. Something—a car, a truck—was coming toward her on the road, the light suddenly too bright to fully comprehend the shape. She waved her hands wildly once, twice, heard honking and the squealing of brakes, and then she was falling, falling, the world fading as she lost consciousness and sank to the ground.
Chapter Twenty-four
The light was too bright, and her head hurt. She closed her eyes against it and then squinted them open, her blurry vision clearing a few seconds later. Sarah was sitting nearby, reading a book, and she could see a nurse hustling by in the hallway.
“In the hospital,” she whispered.
Sarah sat forward, closing her book.
“Oh, thank goodness. I thought you’d sleep forever. The doctor said it wasn’t a coma, that once the medication wore off, you’d wake up, but man, you sure slept solid. I’ve been going back and forth between everyone’s rooms, but you’re always asleep. Did you wake up at all?”
Fiona shook her head. “No. I think this is the first time, or at least the first time I remember. How long was I out?” Her voice was scratchy, painful.
Sarah glanced at her watch. “Gosh—about fifty hours, give or take. They told me they picked you up Tuesday afternoon, and it’s Thursday evening, now.”
Fiona struggled to believe this. She could remember fainting on the road and waking up after the trucker that found her shook her awake. She’d had a hard time explaining things first to him and then to the police officers that had soon shown up. She remembered trying to sit up, being pushed back down by one or more of them, babbling her story and pointing into the woods. She’d been desperate for them to believe her, but she remembered that her hysteria made them doubt her, made them think she was raving. Finally, she convinced someone—one of the police officers?—to send a search party for Roz. She remembered thinking they’d believe Roz. After that, her memory was cloudier. She could recall an ambulance pulling up, then, vaguely, a flash of bright lights, faces bent over her, voices, but nothing more.
But here was Sarah, clean and healthy-looking, sitting here calmly by the side of her bed, none the worse for what had happened. Two days had passed, but what had happened?
“You want some water?” Sarah asked.
Fiona nodded, and Sarah handed her a tan water bottle with a thick, plastic straw. She took several long sips, her body thrumming with relief. How long would it be before water would seem like water again? Sarah took the bottle from her and put it back on the little wheeled table nearby. A single rose was sitting there in a little vase. From Roz, maybe?
Fiona cleared her throat. “Thanks. Earlier, you said you were going back and forth. To Roz, Jill, Carol?”
Sarah smiled. “All fine. All safe. Everyone’s here, still. All the guys are fine, too, and I think some of them checked out earlier today. I was just about to go back to Carol when you woke up.”
Fiona tried to sit up and flinched with pain.
“Here, let me raise the bed a little,” Sarah said. She pushed the little button, and Fiona’s head raised about a foot, the motion shooting pain through her back and legs. Sarah, seeing her face, stopped the bed’s movement.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. It’s my back. Hurts like hell.”
“Probably from lying down too much. Let me move your pillows a little bit.” She stood, adjusting them, then slapped her forehead. “Shit. I’m supposed to call someone in here if you wake up.”
“Can you wait a sec? I need to know some things.”
“You sure? They might be able to give you something for your back.”
She grabbed Sarah’s hand. “Tell me.”
Sarah’s eye’s widened, and she sat back down, patting Fiona’s hand. “Okay, yeah, I’m sorry. That’s right. You haven’t heard any of this yet.”
“Please tell me. I don’t know anything.”
“Well, they got to Roz first. One of the police officers said you made him promise to go search for her before you’d get in the ambulance. You were fighting everyone, tooth and nail.”
Fiona grinned. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. I mean, I get it. Don’t worry. I don’t blame you for not sending them our way first. She was closest, and it was a good idea. I guess when they first found you, you were raving. You told them about Jill, and me and Carol, and the crazy people in the woods. They thought you’d lost your mind. But something must have gotten through, because that officer did call in some backup and Search and Rescue, and they got to Roz
a few hours later. She backed up your story.”
Fiona, realizing she was still clutching Sarah’s hand, let go and leant back in her pillows.
“Thank God.”
“Once they found Roz, they realized they had a major situation on their hands. They had to get more backup, and they replaced most of the Search-and-Rescue people with police since they knew there were people with guns out there.”
“How long did it take them to pick up you and Carol?”
“The next morning—Wednesday, yesterday. I heard the helicopter swirling around overhead, and Carol and I managed to get over to the clearing to be picked up. I’ve never been so happy.”
“So everyone’s okay?”
Sarah patted her hand again. “Everyone’s fine. Banged up, dehydrated, scared, but fine.”
“Well, you look good.”
Sarah primped her hair a little. “Don’t I? I’m calling it a catastrophe cleanse.”
They grinned at each other, and Fiona was struck with an overwhelming surge of emotion. She started crying, soon sobbing, and Sarah rubbed her hand a little more.
“There, there, honey. You’re okay. You did good, Fiona. You saved all of us.”
Still crying, she was only vaguely aware of someone entering the room. Soon a nurse was standing nearby, checking the monitors on the machines next to her, and Fiona waved as Sarah left the room, unable to choke out a good-bye.
“Glad to see you awake,” the nurse said. “The doctor will be here soon.”
“What’s wrong with me?”
“Dehydration and exhaustion, mostly, a little malnutrition. You have some injuries, a couple of which are infected. Your hand, for one, and that cut on your face. Some other bumps and bruises that aren’t as severe. You’re getting a course of antibiotics.”
Fiona’s fingers went for her face, and she noticed, for the first time, the IV in the back of her right hand.
“My back hurts.”
“More of the same, I’m sure. We’ll see what the doctor says. She should be here any minute. You’re a real celebrity around here, you know.”
“I am?”
“Well, yes! You and your friends. You’re all that’s been on the news the last few days. You should see the press downstairs, just itching to get up here. It’s a real zoo getting in here.”
Fiona wanted to ask her more, but a young, gorgeous Indian woman walked in, smiling when she saw Fiona.
“Well, hello there, sleepyhead!”
“Hi.”
“I’m Doctor Lata, and you’ve met Ms. Williams, your nurse this evening.”
Fiona nodded. Dr. Lata examined the bandages on her face and hands, asking questions about each as she went.
“These are looking good. You’ll probably want to talk to our plastic surgeon about this bigger cut on your face, see if he can do something about the scarring. Everything else should shape up just fine. Besides the antibiotics, you’re getting some good nutrients in your IV here. I’ll order dinner up here soon so you can get something solid into you. We should have you out of here tomorrow or the next day, at the latest. I want to keep an eye on those infections a little longer, build up your strength. How does that sound?”
“Sounds good, but my back hurts really bad.”
“Probably stiff from lying here. I can give you some Tylenol, and you’ll likely feel better once you get up and move around a little.”
“Can I go see my friends?” Fiona assumed that, like her nurse, her doctor knew what had happened and was, perhaps, treating some of the others.
Dr. Lata seemed surprised, and she and the nurse shared a quick glance. Seeing her hesitate, Fiona kept talking.
“I think I’d feel better if I could see them. We…went through a lot together.”
“So I’ve heard,” Dr. Lata said, squinting at her. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re manipulating me.”
Fiona tried to make her expression as innocent as possible, and the doctor laughed. “I suppose it wouldn’t be out of the question, even tonight. We can get a wheelchair in here for you, but I want to see you try to go to the bathroom first. Ms. Williams, will you help her up? In the meantime, I’ll go check and see who’s up for a visit.”
The process was arduous, and Fiona was surprised by how weak she felt once she was on her feet. With every step, her legs tried to collapse beneath her, and her knees were literally knocking together under her flimsy gown. It took everything in her power not to simply collapse on the toilet once she’d made it there. Ms. Williams was kind enough to turn around, but it still took her a while to relieve herself, her bladder cramping with a stinging burn.
“We’ll get an aide in here to give you a sponge bath later tonight, and maybe tomorrow you can try a real shower,” the nurse said, helping her clean herself. It was incredibly embarrassing, and Fiona couldn’t help but try to relieve the awkwardness with a joke.
“Do I smell that bad?”
Ms. Williams laughed, bending down to help her upright again. The two of them hobbled out of the bathroom together, and then Fiona froze in place. Roz was waiting for her by the bed.
She was sitting in a wheelchair next to Dr. Lata, clean and dressed in actual clothing, not a hospital gown. Her hair had been nicely styled, and, except for the bandages around her lower leg, she appeared completely normal—rested and healthy. Those lines of fatigue around her eyes and mouth were gone, as if they’d never been there. She was, once again, the woman she’d met, standing by the horses and fully in charge.
“Hey, lady,” Roz said.
“Hey, yourself.”
“I thought this might make more sense,” Dr. Lata said, “bringing her to you, since you’re still a little under the weather. I’ll see about the others in a little while.”
“Let me help you back into bed,” Ms. Williams said.
This was, of course, easier said than done, and several minutes passed before she was sitting up in the bed, she and Roz alone again. Roz had wheeled as close as she could, and they clasped hands, staring at each other.
“Last time I was in here, you were sleeping like a baby,” Roz said.
“You watched me sleep?”
“All day today, most of yesterday.”
They sat there in silence, smiling at each other. Fiona was so happy she could feel tears rising in her eyes. Roz was here, the woman of her dreams, alive and well and waiting for her, of all people. It was hard to believe.
“You did it, Fiona. You saved me.”
“You saved me, too.”
Roz shook her head. “You did it all, Fiona.”
Fiona couldn’t respond right away, too happy simply looking at her.
“Why are you dressed like that?”
Roz glanced down at herself and then smiled. “Oh, yeah. I’m getting out of here. My ankle’s not too bad, really. The cuts are already scabbed over. Just bruised and banged up. I ate today and went to the bathroom on my own, which I guess is the sign they wait for. They gave me crutches for the next two weeks, but I have to use this chair while I’m here.”
“How will you get home?”
“Jon’s picking me up.”
“Oh, good. Do you live nearby? Where are we, anyway?”
Roz smiled. “Yeah. I live about a couple miles from here. We’re in Fort Collins.”
“Can’t believe I never asked you where you live.”
“We’ve been busy.”
Fiona waved her hands. “Hold up, hold up. I need details. What happened? Where were the guys that whole time?”
“In the camp where we found Jill. They were all there, just like we thought. Fred was there before the others, tied up and blindfolded the whole time.” She shivered. “They got him almost immediately, right after he left us that first night.”
“Jesus. What about the others? How did that happen?”
“Jon told me they came and took them from their tents in the middle of the night. Frog-marched them out of there with the horses.”
> “But how is that possible? Why didn’t we hear them? Did anyone call out?”
“Jon said they did. They were yelling at first, but then those people made them shut up. They punched Mark so hard he had to be carried out, and then they gagged everyone and tied their hands behind their backs.”
“So why didn’t we hear them? Or the horses? And they took their tents and gear!”
Roz shook her head. “I don’t know, and neither does he. Maybe Carol was right after all. Maybe they drugged us.”
Fiona was shaking her head. It was, they both knew, impossible. When could it have happened? And yet, as far as explanations went, it seemed to be the only one that fit.
“So what happened to them?”
“Who? The guys?”
“No. The people from the woods. Did they catch them all? Did they catch the woman?”
Roz seemed taken aback. “You mean you don’t know?”
“Don’t know what? I don’t know anything. I just woke up, remember?”
Roz rubbed at her mouth, absently, her eyes dark and worried. “I just thought someone would tell you…”
“Tell me what? What is it?”
Roz squeezed her hand again. “They got away, Fiona. All of them.”
Fiona’s heart gave a great lurch of terror, and her ears started ringing. She let go of Roz’s hand and leaned back into her pillows, suddenly dizzy.
“They got away?” She almost whispered this question.
“All of them. They left everything and everyone there in camp—all the guys, the horses. And they left their tents and guns. They just walked out of the woods. The sheriff’s department and the police tracked them to an unmarked road, one they probably made themselves, but didn’t find anything there—no cars, nothing. They disappeared.” Roz was quiet, waiting for her to comment, and when she didn’t, she continued. “Last I heard, they had some helicopters and search teams combing the woods, and they’re checking all their stuff for fingerprints, but we haven’t had any updates. They’re gone, Fiona.”
From the Woods Page 24
