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My legs are ready to give out. I think it’s the fear and adrenaline because I’ve run a lot farther than this before.
The masked man comes up beside me. I look over at him, my hair whipping my face, then I dart a look behind us.
It does no good. I can’t see anybody.
But maybe that’s good news. It means they aren’t close.
It occurs to me as I run beside the guy gazing at me wordlessly from behind the empty eyes of that mask, this could be part of it.
I immediately thought he was my savior because that’s the role he showed up playing and I was desperate for help. Hell, I was ready to play nice with that Aiden asshole. I wasn’t picky.
But while I’m running for my life, the guy running beside me just… doesn’t feel as afraid as I am.
I remember a story some guy at a bar near campus told me last year right before Halloween. He was talking about the secret societies on campus, and he told this twisted tale of a virgin sacrifice one of them made in the woods on Halloween night.
Wouldn’t it be a hell of a lot easier to get me into these woods without a fight if they tricked me into running out here myself?
The one guy said Aiden was stabbed, but I didn’t see that myself. Things were happening fast, so it’s totally possible I missed it, but I didn’t see any blood, either.
My imagination starts working overtime and I picture it. We stop up ahead to catch our breath. I’m afraid to stop for too long because they might catch up, but he assures me he thinks we lost them.
Only we didn’t, and as soon as I start to breathe normally again, the guys emerge from the darkness with their black hoods up. Aiden is holding the knife he was supposedly stabbed with. Then I turn to my supposed hero, and he takes off the mask. He’s number seven, and he grabs me before I can run away.
A chill runs down my spine.
If that happens, if I’m cornered again, is there any chance I can keep running and not get caught by one of them?
I don’t think so.
I’m spent already. I’d trade a few months of my life for a drink of water right now, but I’m determined to keep moving even if that’s the last thing my legs want to do.
Still jogging but not as fast as he was before, the guy beside me draws out his phone.
To alert them?
My paranoia tempts me to take off running faster, but I’m not even sure where to go. I’ve been running in the direction he told me to, but if he’s working with them, he’s just leading me wherever they want me to go.
“Do you know where we’re going?” I ask.
He points up ahead of us. “If we keep going that way, we’ll find the road. It’s not much farther.” He looks over at me. He sees I’m tired, but he lifts his chin. “Come on, we’re almost there.”
Almost where?
I don’t ask, though.
If he is part of it and he’s leading me out here for some sick sacrificial ritual, then I’m fucked, but for the sake of my own sanity, I try to believe he’s not tricking me.
It’s just…
If he’s not a part of this, how did he know I needed saving?
I want to ask, but I’m afraid of alerting him that I’m suspicious. If he thinks I trust him, then he won’t feel the need to keep as close an eye on me. If I let him know I’m not so sure about him and he is a bad guy, then I’m giving up the only advantage I have.
My words come out in fractured pieces since I’m out of breath from running so hard. “Did they shoot again? I didn’t… it didn’t seem like they did.”
He glances at me but doesn’t answer.
I don’t have the breath to spare talking, so I don’t ask anything else.
