by Fox, Logan
Freshly painted.
My skin begins to crawl.
There’s a note beneath it.
Fucking hell—I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
Chapter Forty-Four
Hunter
Disobeying me again. Clover doesn’t take the note, and although she’s heading in roughly the right direction, her rebellious attitude is near palpable.
What in the name of damnation is so difficult for you to understand, girl? There’s only one way out of this maze, and that’s the way I’m showing you.
I suppose I can’t fault her too greatly. In fact, I almost feel a sense of simpatico. Eight years ago, that was me—taunting authority, rebelling against anything that even hinted at rules.
But rules are there to protect us, Clover. To sustain us. A lawless society is the worst kind of nightmare.
I can’t cure you if you won’t let me guide you. I know it’s a difficult lesson to learn, but learn it you must.
You will.
I trail her for a few more minutes, and then up my pace so I’m ahead of her.
Last chance, Clover. Best you take it.
Chapter Forty-Five
Clover
The sun is definitely not as strong as it was yesterday. Under the forest’s thick canopy, it feels like a winter’s day. I hug myself as I walk, trying to stop shivering. Trying to stop wondering where the hell I’m going.
I should turn back to the river. After all, it eventually reaches Mallhaven—I remember driving over the bridge to reach the Institute for my graduation ceremony. Admittedly, I don’t remember the first trip here—I think I was still high as fuck.
Bad thoughts.
Bad, bad thoughts.
I wish the sun would come out again. I can’t stand how fuzzy the shadows are. It’s like they’re leeching into the day from whatever dimension spawns them. As if the barrier between night and day is failing.
I was exhausted last night, and the fire repelled the dark. If it hadn’t been for that…
My next shiver turns in a shudder. I pause to get my bearings—ha!—and I hear a noise.
I whirl around, but there’s nothing to see except those undefined shadows everywhere.
Hunter.
I grit my teeth, tempted as shit to yell out his name so he knows. But instead I shrug those invisible spiders from my shoulders and forge ahead.
Ahead? I could be going in circles for all I know. I mean, it’s not as if I have a sense of—
I come to a dead stop.
Red arrow.
Holy shit, there’s even gunk on it now. Bits of pulpy, flesh like globs. I swallow down pre-emptive bile and squeeze my eyes shut.
Another note. This one is stained with a fingerprint.
Evidence.
If I keep it, and if I make it out alive, I could have Dr. Hill’s ass locked up.
No, fuck that—they’ll send him straight to the electric chair. If they still do that.
Actually, I think I’ll just kill him myself. Vigilante style.
I hear myself laughing and clamp a hand over my mouth to still the noise. He’s following me, so I know he—
Thoughts collide in my brain like a bad traffic accident.
I hurry up to the arrow, to the note. This close, I can see just how wet it still is. In fact, there’s a chunk of—Jesus fucking Christ, skin?—sliding down the bark.
How could he be behind me if he had to be in front of me to make this arrow?
I spin around, hunting the shadows.
There are two of them.
Oh fucking God, there’re two of them.
Chapter Forty-Six
Hunter
You know how this works, Clover. I leave a note, you read the note, you obey the note. I realize I’m gritting my teeth and have to force myself to stop. This woman is working on every one of my nerves.
She’s busy looking around as if she’s trying to find me again, but she’s not even looking in the right direction this time. See? Adrenalin only lasts so long—she’s no longer super human.
The light around us fades, and I hazard a quick glance up through the canopy. The temperature’s dropping, and it’s not even mid morning yet.
This is why I wanted to avoid delays, Ms. Vos. Don’t you get it? You don’t want to be out here in a few hours time. I would go on at length about low pressure systems, but I doubt you’d care.
Follow the goddamn arrow!
As if she feels that psychic pressure from my thought, she turns back to the tree and rips the note from its nail.
God, you’d think she was scared of contracting a disease, how she treats everything around her.
She shivers visibly and folds open the note. Reads it.
Her hand drops to her side, and the paper falls from her fingers.
And, finally, she sees it.
I’ve already made a mental note to leave something more visible—perhaps a bottle I’ve painted with that same neon-yellow paint. I’d thought she’d pointedly ignored the previous water bottle, but perhaps she hadn’t noticed it at all.
She crouches, picks up the bottle, and gives it a shake.
There’s a noise somewhere behind her, something moving through the trees. I turn the same instant she does and glimpse what’s very possibly the flank of an inquisitive deer.
Clover lets out a throttled yell, steps back, and walks straight into the tree where I painted the arrow. She yelps, spinning around and swiping furiously at the arm of her hoody where blood now stains the fabric. Another strangled sound, and she drops to her knees.
She never struck me as an emotional creature. Of course, during her rehabilitation program, she went through the entire spectrum of human emotions. But that was to be expected. This?
Why is she so terrified? Does she have a phobia I wasn’t aware of? I’d have spotted agoraphobia a long time ago, possibly during the first week of the program.
No.
This is something else.
If it’s a phobia, then it’s very specific one.
That, or…
Has she already accessed her trigger?
I reel at the thought. Bark scrapes my fingertips and realize I’ve caught hold of the closest tree.
How is that even possible? If she’s locked down those parts of her mind containing her triggers, could such a short time in a harsh environment be enough to force her to look inside that locked chest?
Is she crying?
No, she’s shivering.
Why? Her clothes should be dry. Has she contracted something? But how?
I press my eyes closed, and massage them with my fingers. I must focus on the here and now. I can’t expend my entire mental energy on trying to calculate every single variable right now. That I will do later.
Right now, I must observe, and guide.
If she’ll even let me.
If she won’t, then what’s coming is going to be a terrifyingly unpleasant experience.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Clover
I thought I could stand up to him. I thought I could outsmart him. But every time I’ve disobeyed him, I’ve only fucked myself up the ass with a prickly pear.
Two of them?
I don’t stand a chance.
Now I understand how he always knew where I was. I thought he might have put a tracker or something on me, but it looks like he has a crony to help him out with things like gutting rabbits and painting bloody arrows everywhere.
Hunter and Friend: 1
Clover: 0
I tear the note from the tree, grimacing when my hand touches the blood on that white paper.
Drink me.
I stare at that command for the longest time.
I don’t understand. It seems so familiar, but it makes no fucking sense.
Drink me.
What? Where? I can’t—
I turn a little, and a stray beam of light flashes from something that’s not forest.
A water bottle, propped at the base of the
tree.
If it was a snake, it would have bitten me.
I pick up the bottle and give it a shake. Inside, brackish water swirls. My mouth salivates, and I realize my body is one fucked up piece of equipment for me to—
A twig cracks.
Fuck! I let out a squeal and slam into the tree.
Double fuck! There’s blood on my sleeve. It went straight through—I can feel its dampness on my arm.
Off, get off!
Eyes.
I can feel eyes on me.
Two sets from different directions.
They’re both here, aren’t they? Surrounding me. Watching me.
The forest spins as I fall to my knees. Something’s wrong. My head’s stuffed with cotton wool. The dim shadows are stretching, reaching for me. The dark is so eager to consume me I can smell its rotting breath.
Drink me.
Oh, of course.
One pill makes you larger, one pill makes you small.
But the one that momma gives you, don’t do anything at all.
I screw open the water bottle, swallow hard, and put it to my lips.
I gag as soon as the liquid touches my tongue. Water splashes over my face as I splutter. I lean forward, convinced I’m going to puke out my stomach, but then my mouth goes dry.
What did I do to deserve this?
I force the rest of that foul drink down my throat, clamp a hand over my mouth, and retch. Luckily, nothing more than a little saliva escapes my lips.
I won’t upset Hunter anymore.
I don’t want the next arrow to be painted with my blood.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Hunter
Good girl.
I watch from the shadows as Clover gets to her feet and starts heading in the direction of the arrow. In a few minutes, she’ll be back on course.
A day late, but on course.
I trail her. After all, she’s making so much noise anything in a one-mile radius knows she’s here.
I, on the other hand, can move as silently as that deer.
In fact, I don’t think I’ve made a single sound to rouse her suspicions.
The sun fades, and this time, it doesn’t reappear.
I grit my teeth as I glance up through the canopy.
It’s coming.
Faster, Clover.
Faster!
Chapter Forty-Nine
Clover
I’m trying not to lose my shit. I have no idea what I drank, but its foul taste refuses to leave my mouth. I’ve spit more times than I can count, but my mouth just waters and brings the taste back from the bowels of my stomach.
The sun’s gone for good, and even with the cloak wrapped around me, I’m a shivering mess.
What the fuck did I drink?
I’m starting to wonder if I did the right thing. I mean, is poison a better way to die than hypothermia or starvation? Don’t forget the bear.
Was that what this was all about? Hunter came up with some kind of poison, and he wants to see how long it takes me to succumb?
Dude…cyanide. I mean, we’ve been using it for ages. Why waste your time on something new? Go and cure cancer, you fucking freak.
I blink hard and pause. Christ, it’s getting dark in here. I’ve known overcast days, but this is something else. It’s like the leaves are drinking in every ounce of sunlight that’s still bouncing around out here.
Drink me.
Which I did.
There’s a reason I stopped blindly following orders.
Bad, bad thought.
The ground is spongy. The air damp and cool. I’m warming up, as if I’m jogging—
Wait. I am jogging.
When did that happen? My bare feet thump down at every step, my breasts bounce, my jaw tightens.
I’m not running from something anymore, I’m running toward something.
But what? What does my body know that my brain is so fucking clueless about?
He’s following me again. I’m not sure if they both are, but I know one is.
Is it Hunter, or his friend? The only reason it would be Hunter is if he’s up to no good, somewhere up ahead.
Another message?
Another command?
Unlock the door, Clover.
“No!” The word is a rough shout, and I lose rhythm in surprise.
I stop, put out a hand, and lean against a tree as I catch my breath. The world settles, but not entirely. I’ve never been on a boat but, somehow, I imagine this is how it must feel as the world dips and flows around me.
Heart attack?
Stroke?
Or is the poison finally beginning to work its death-dealing magic?
Up ahead, an arrow.
It’s yellow, precise, dry—that much I can see from here.
The skin on my legs shiver as I break into a cold sweat. Holy fucking mackerel, I’m unfit. I hike up the long sleeves of my hoody, adjust the cloak as a rough scarf—something tells me I might need it again, so I’ll be fucked before I leave it behind somewhere—and I start forward again.
I touch the arrow, just to make sure.
Bone dry.
Let me in, Clover.
“No.” Not a shout, but still a vehement protest. What the fuck’s wrong with my mouth? Stay shut, motherfucker. I need to concentrate over here.
The dark.
It’s closer now.
I can feel it breathing down my neck.
I spin around, but there’s nothing behind me. Just a breeze, Clover. A cool breeze against your sweaty neck. Felt like a breath.
Get a fucking grip.
Bitterness washes my mouth. God, I thought I’d gotten rid of that—
I crash to my knees and retch long and hard. There’s barely anything to puke up, but I keep going for an eternity.
The purging finally stops. There’s soft moss on my cheek. I’ve fallen over.
It takes more strength than I ever thought I’d need to get up, but up I fucking get.
My mind is suddenly, terrifying clear.
Follow me.
Obey me.
Unlock the door, Clover.
* * *
As I follow the arrows, darkness slowly engulfs the forest. Every sound is amplified as if the world is dissolving around me and there’s nothing left to muffle my progress through this alien place.
My fingertips tingle. I look to the right. My hand reaches out for the closest tree. I grab at the rough bark and haul myself forward.
Christ, the ground is flat, but it feels like I’m trying to summit Everest. My legs are heavy, awkward, stubborn. I weigh a ton, and my breath heaves as I haul my fat slug of a body forward.
My hand grabs another tree, and something sinister slides away from my grasping fingers.
I stumble away, hand pressed to my chest where my heart’s thud-thud-thudding away like a bass drum.
A snake appears between the shadowy bark like an optical illusion. I scream and gasp, somehow at the same time, and back into a tree.
If it was a snake—
It is a snake, and it almost bit me.
I bolt away into the trees and, seconds later, I realize I’ve gone off the trail.
Not good.
I swing around, but too far, and tumble over when my balance fucks off. Now I have no way of knowing which way I was going, which way—
A snake slithers over my leg. It’s gone before I have a chance to scream, leaving behind a ghostly caress that makes my hair stand on end.
A second later, I’m plunging through the slowly darkening forest.
Branches reach for me. Leaves slap my face. Roots grab my feet at every chance, and I end up on my knees, howling in pain.
Something lands on my head.
A snake.
It slithers down the nape of my neck and into my hoody. I yell, stick my hands under the thick fabric, and try to haul it out.
It’s already gone.
I can’t. I just can’t do this anymore.
I
run.
I run until I see a blood-red arrow slashed into a tree, and then I turn and follow it. Another. Another.
My path becomes less tangled. The way ahead, clear.
Arrow after arrow, angry, dripping triangles stab out my direction.
Hot air dries my lungs. I’m sweating and ice cold at the same time.
Still, the dark comes. It’s nipping at my heels. I plunge through shallow pools of it, whimpering when fingers brush the bare soles of my—
Don’t you dare disobey me, Love.
“Please,” I mewl, tears blurring my vision.
She left me in charge, Love.
You will obey me.
Obey me.
Something bobs up ahead through the close-knit trunks of pine trees and tangling bushes.
Yellow.
An arrow?
No…it’s glowing.
Light.
Light!
There’s someone out here. Someone who can help me, who can—
My foot strikes something soft that splits open under my heel. I slip, pitch backward, land so hard on my ass that I don’t have air to scream with.
The dark—the snakes—slither over my hands, my ankles.
I haul in a breath and scream, shoving myself up from the mulch forest floor. A snake encircles my arm, and I shake it furiously as I surge forward.
Please, help.
Help me.
Something lands on my face. I wipe it away before I can register what it is. Then another. Another.
Fat drops of rain.
Cold. Wet.
Not striking me directly, but filtering through the canopy above.
I can’t believe how dark it is. The shadows are melding together. Midnight can’t be far off, and the things birthed into the world at the stroke of twelve.
Unlock the door, Love.
The path turns muddy under foot. I have to slow down, but if I do, then the dark will surely catch me, snatch me, scratch me.
Like those nails. Those dirty nails.
