by Bella Jewel
I turn my head, and he leans down so I can whisper back. “Do you think they’re connected?”
“I’m not entirely sure; I need to look at them closer. If I can get to one without him seeing, I might be able to disable some. Throw him off guard.”
“How do you mean?”
“It might give us a few hours extra to move away from him if he’s busy fixing them.”
“The big question here is, How are we going to end this? It’s two against one. Surely we have a chance to take him down.”
He nods. “Possibly, but today he came so close to being taken out by us. He’s not going to be that careless next time. He won’t allow us to get that close. I think he’s going to up the game.”
I swallow.
“You can’t hesitate, Lara. If you get close enough to him, kill him. I know that thought terrifies you, but you need to take the chance if it’s presented to you.”
My body tightens. I’ve tried to disable him so we could get away. I never considered trying to kill someone before.
“Okay,” I whisper. “If that’s what it takes.”
Noah gives me a soft look before continuing, “I want to try to follow him. I don’t know how we’re going to do that, but if we can find where he’s going back to, we might be able to finish this.”
“With those cameras, we’ll never be able to follow him.”
“That’s why they’re my next project. They have to be controlled somehow. I’m going to figure out how they work and I’m going to shut them down.”
No.
No.
Panic takes hold in full force as I study the cameras, watching them remove the trackers from their necks. No. They’re ruining my plan. They’re changing the rules.
I wipe the blood from my brow, because that stupid behemoth man tackled me. He nearly got me. He nearly ended my game before I even had the chance to play.
Going into the stream was smart. They’re smart.
Not smarter than me. I still have my cameras, I’ll find them, I’ll make them wish they never defied me.
If they’re planning on taking me out, they’re wrong. I’m going to hurt them so badly, they’ll wish they were never born. Then we’ll see who has the upper hand.
It’s time to kick the game into full force. No more messing around.
They’re going to wish they never met me by the time I’m done with them.
Oh wait, no they won’t, because they’ll be dead.
SIXTEEN
I fall asleep quickly. Noah’s arms remain around me all night, and it’s good to feel secure for a few hours. We’re woken by the sun shining through the branches of the trees. The forest is dead silent, as if everything has just stopped. Or maybe it’s just that we can’t hear the low hum of a motorbike. Does this mean he hasn’t been able to track us?
I can only hope so.
“Morning,” Noah whispers into my ear.
“Hey,” I whisper back. “He’s not here.”
“Can only hope that’s a good sign.”
“Are we getting down from these trees?”
He unwraps his arms from my waist and shakes his head. “As much as I know how nice that would be, we’re safer up here until we can figure something out. I’m going to drop down and check out one of those cameras, though. Wait here.”
With nothing else to do but wait, I let Noah move out from behind me. Like a thief in the night, he moves silently through the trees until I can’t see him anymore. Feeling slightly comforted by the fact that pulling out our chips seems to have worked, I lean back against the trunk and take a few deep breaths.
Minutes go by. Those minutes turn into an hour.
Noah isn’t back.
I can’t call out to him. I don’t even know if I should try to find him, but something inside, something right in my very core is telling me to go and look. I stand and leave my things in the tree, trying to take note of everything surrounding it so I’ll be able to find my way back. Then I silently move across branches, lowering myself until I can see the ground.
I can’t see or hear anything.
I let my eyes scan left and right, then go back up the tree and move along farther, dropping back down again. I do this three times until I finally hear something. It’s voices. Noah’s, and his. I move faster, gliding through the trees as quickly as I can to get closer to the sound. I reach it and move down through the trees until I can get a picture of the two men. Noah is standing, back against a tree, camera in his hand. The psycho is standing in front of him, gun pointed at his chest.
No.
I go to lunge out of the tree when Noah speaks, stopping me in my tracks.
“You want a real fight? You want a real hunt? Then don’t cheat. You claim to be a real hunter, a real killer, yet you’re not. You’re nothing without those cameras and those chips. You want to play a real game, then play it on even ground.”
“I could blow you to pieces right now,” the psycho snarls. “And you’d never see the light of day again.”
“We both know you’re not going to do that, because we both know you want the hunt. You want the game. You breathe for it. You want to make me suffer, to make her suffer.”
His body makes a strange shake, and he laughs, low. “I do. I want to hunt you like a pair of fucking rabbits and then skin you alive.”
“Then do it, but do it like a real hunter. You want a game”—Noah leans in close, big body strong and powerful—“make it a fair one, because right now you’re no hunter, no killer. You’re just a cheat. My mother could do a better job.”
Psycho stands there, gun pointed to Noah’s chest. Then he reaches up and pulls off his mask. I slap a hand over my mouth and gasp as I take him in. Noah barks out a familiar, “You!” But I’m too busy taking him in. The man from the Starbucks. The one who spoke to me that morning. Oh my God. He spoke to me. He acted completely normal. He looks like an average American boy next door. You could walk past him on the street without giving him a second glance except maybe to admire his good looks.
He even told me his name. What was it again? That’s right, Bryce.
But as I take him in, I realize that’s not the only time I’ve seen this man.
Flashes of memory run through my head of the night Nan died and … oh … oh my God. It was him. He was the one who called 911. He was there the moment I lost myself. He was there. All that time he was there. Watching. Waiting. Seeing the change in me. My knees wobble and I have to hang on extra tight to stop myself from falling down. Rachel, my nan, Starbucks … he’s been there, right in front of me all this time.
I can’t believe it. My body trembles with acknowledgment.
“What, nothing to say?” Noah continues, taunting him. “Too weak to play for real?”
Bryce doesn’t like that. Not at all. I hold my breath, terrified he’ll kill Noah for taunting him, but after a moment he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a device that looks like a small cell phone. He turns it to Noah, and I don’t know what’s on it, but he raises it up and throws it on the ground. Then he aims the gun and shoots it. I smother a scream with my hand. Heart pounding. Body on high alert. The tiny device explodes.
“Now I can’t see you. I can’t hear you. I can’t find you. That device was the control center for the cameras. Without it, they don’t work.” Bryce smiles, and it’s terrifying. “I’ll give you half a day. If I’m going to hunt, I’m going to do it to kill. You think I can’t find you without all those cameras, you’re wrong. I’ll find you, and when I do, I’m going to torture you bit by bit until you’re dragging your helpless, broken body along the ground, begging me to let you live. Only then will I end you.”
“That’ll never happen,” Noah snarls.
Bryce laughs. “Oh, but it will.”
Bryce steps back, aims the gun, and pulls the trigger.
SEVENTEEN
It takes me a second to realize that he’s hit Noah right in the leg. An agonized bellow leaves Noah’s throat as he tumbl
es backward. My hand darts up to my mouth to stop yet another scream. He doesn’t know I’m here. Be. Quiet. My body trembles as Bryce leans down to Noah and says, “Injury one. Let’s see how far you can get now. I’ll be back soon, and next time I won’t hold back.”
Bryce steps back and looks up into the trees. I don’t move. I just stay perched behind my branch, praying he can’t see me. “Better come and fix your boyfriend, Lara. Now that he’s injured, I wonder how well you’re going to be able to protect yourself. Oh and by the way, it’s lovely to see you again.”
He darts around the tree and I see him looking up at me. He grins. Fear clogs my throat.
A second later he turns and gets on his motorbike, disappearing into the forest.
No.
I wait a few minutes before scrabbling down the tree. Once I near the bottom, I lose my balance. Not wanting to fall on my injured leg, I opt to land on my side. The wind is knocked out of me and I spend a few seconds panting. I clutch my stomach, take a few deep breaths, and then roll and get up. I run toward Noah, who is clutching his leg, face pale, panting. God. No.
“Noah!” I cry, dropping to my knees beside him.
There’s so much blood. It’s soaking through his jeans, running down his hands. I need to stop it and I need to stop it now. I don’t think, I don’t even take the chance to freak out. I rip the bandage off my own poorly healing wound and wrap it tightly around his leg, trying to stop the blood. “I can’t clean it up until the blood is stopped.”
He doesn’t say anything. He’s so pale.
“Noah, hey, look at me.”
His eyes find mine, and the pain I see in them makes me want to wrap him up and get him the hell out of this place.
“Hey, you’re going to be fine. We’re going to stop the blood and clean this up.”
He says nothing. He’s in so much pain. I can see it. I can hear it in his labored breathing.
I wrap my hands around the bandage and hold firmly. Blood soaks my hands, but I don’t care. The thought of losing Noah far outweighs my fear of gruesome things. I’m not sure how long it’s supposed to take for blood to stop flowing, but this seems to be taking longer than I thought it would. I need more pressure. I release my hands, tear off the shredded remains of his shirt, and tie it tightly around his wound.
I pull the fabric as hard as I can to make it even tighter. It takes a few minutes, but this seems to help. I need to figure out how to clean this up, to try to prevent infection. God, what if the bullet is still in there?
His leg is covered in blood. I’m going to need to wash it before I can see anything. The good news is, where the thickest of the blood is, which is where I’m assuming the wound is, seems to have no fresh stuff. Which means we’ve stopped the bleeding.
“I’m going to rinse all of these in the stream. I need to clean you up.”
I stand and gather as many bandages as I can, running toward the stream. I’m thankful for the stream, because without it we’d probably be dead by now. I fall to my knees when I reach it, leg screaming at me to stop, and wash the clothes until the blood has run free and they’re as clean as I can get them. I don’t wring them out, just carry them back dripping. I need as much water as I can get.
I kneel before Noah when I return, and his beautiful, tortured eyes find mine. “Look at you go,” he croaks, his voice so pained it hurts me to hear it. “You’re handling this like a pro.”
I smile weakly. “I guess he underestimated me, huh?”
“Guess so.”
I stare down at his leg again. I take the first soaked item and start wiping. He doesn’t make a sound as I clean, but his hands are curled into tight fists beside his body and his jaw is so tight the muscle is bulging out the side. I keep working. I clean away as much blood as I can and then gently place a wet piece of my shirt against his wound. He hisses through his teeth and I look up, feeing awful. “Sorry.”
He doesn’t speak.
I don’t blame him.
I lift it off and study the wound. Thankfully a clean bullet hole.
“I need you to lift your leg. I have to see if the bullet went straight through.”
“It did,” he grinds out. “Felt it drop when you rolled up my jeans.”
God, I know how much that hurts. But it’s for the best.
“I don’t know if he’s hit bone, but it’s awfully close to your shin. I can’t tell, I can only hope it’s just muscle like mine. It’ll hurt like hell, but if I can do it, so can you.”
I smile pathetically at him. He nods, stiffly.
“I’m going to clean this up as best I can. Then I’m going to wash these again and dry some out. I’ll wrap it up. It’s the best I can do.”
“Make sure you put one back on your leg. It’s bleedin’ again.”
I glance down and sure enough, my leg is bleeding. I must have upset the wound running around like a crazy person. No matter. “I’ll sort it out,” I say, reaching for the damp cloth and continuing the cleaning.
Then I go and fetch some more water and squeeze it over his leg, washing the rest away. I do this until it’s as clean as I can get it. I lean down, gather our clothes, and once more rush back to the stream. I wash them all again. There is a heap less blood this time.
I hang them up when I reach Noah and hope they dry soon. I don’t know how long we’ve got until Bryce comes back, but we need to find somewhere to hide or we’ll get killed. Noah can’t run; there is no way he has it in him to fight right now. If we don’t get secure, we’re going to die, it’s that simple.
“We need to find somewhere to hide as soon as I’ve wrapped your leg.”
He looks up at me. “Not fucking hiding.”
“Noah…”
“That fucker wants a fight, he’ll get a fight.”
“Noah…”
“We’ve spent most of our time running and look where it’s gotten us.”
“But your leg is bad, Noah. You need to rest it for as long as you can or you’ll be of no use to either of us.”
“So you want me to fucking hide while he comes and hunts us down?”
“Yes, actually,” I say.
“Well, I’m not doin’ it.”
“Noah, Jesus!” I yell. “This is not a time to bring your pride into it.”
“Pride?” He laughs bitterly. “You think this is about pride?”
“Isn’t it?” I growl, crossing my arms.
“No, it’s about surviving, Lara.”
I shake my head, looking away.
“I’m down, Lara. He shot me down,” he says, voice low. “And if I’m not here to protect you…” His eyes take on a faraway look.
“Don’t talk like that,” I warn. “We’re going to get through this, but only if we keep fighting. Those clothes should dry out soon. Then we’ll go.”
“You need to put your pants back on.”
“No, they’re a good wrap for your leg. I’ll survive without them.”
“Lara…”
“I’m not having this argument, Noah. In the scheme of things, how important are clothes, really?”
His jaw tics.
I say nothing more about it.
“How did you know his name?” I say.
“He came into the station asking for a job a few months ago. God, I thought he was fuckin’ shady back then. Too perfect, you know? There was something phony about him, and the way he was staring at me felt … menacing somehow. I should have known.”
“He’s been here all along. He was the man who called nine-one-one the night Nan died, he went out with Rachel, and I remember him speaking to me in Starbucks one morning. He’s just been here all along, watching us without us even knowing.”
Noah looks angry, perhaps mostly that someone could have been so close to us all that time without us realizing.
“I should have known,” he growls.
“It isn’t as if he said anything threatening, Noah. Neither of us knew.”
I find a tree and sit down, leaning a
gainst it, trying to ignore the pain in my own leg. Last night we were so sure we had the upper hand. Now we just have to figure out a way to keep it.
We have to.
We will.
EIGHTEEN
When the clothes are dry, I secure Noah’s leg as best I can. Then I re-cover mine after gently washing it. It’s a little red and inflamed, but I pray that’s only because I just ran around in the forest and irritated it. I can’t deal with infection right now. I help Noah to his feet, and his body stiffens in pain after the first step.
“Come on,” I say as he takes another step. “There has to be somewhere we can find that’s hidden and secure.”
“Won’t matter. That fucker will know every hidey-hole in this place. Every spot that’s cleared, every track, everything is made by him. Even without those cameras, he knows we can’t get far off these created tracks, so he’ll find us eventually without looking too hard. He knows it. I know it.”
“Yes, he might, but he can’t look everywhere at once.”
“He’ll look in the ones closest to the area he shot me. He’s not stupid, Lara. He knows we can’t get far.”
But we can.
“I have an idea. It’s not the best for our legs, considering all the work I just did, but I think it’ll work.”
Noah glances at me, face tight.
“Trust me,” I say, taking his hand and carefully leading him to the stream.
“Get in,” I say, pointing to it. “I’m going to do something.”
“What?”
“I’m going to run along in the opposite direction and put a couple of things down, just subtle things. It might lead him off in the wrong direction and give us time.”
Noah’s face flashes with a look of indecision before he stiffly nods.
“I’ll be back soon. Sit by the stream and don’t move.”
I gather a couple of small scraps of material and a coconut. Then I turn and jog as best I can into the forest. I find where Noah was sitting and use some of the cloth to soak up the blood all over the ground. God, there was a lot of it. I stomp my feet in it, cringing, and then start walking in the opposite direction to the stream. I leave a few bloodied footprints, mark a few leaves on trees with blood, leave a strand or two of cloth fibers on sticks. I even break a few branches.
