Page 71 of The Revenge
Behind me, the dirt road will lead to the exit, but the road is straight with the river on one side, and not much to hide behind on the other. In front of me, there are shipping containers, vehicles like diggers and cranes, and the start of the buildings they’re being used for.
Without wasting another moment, I run as fast as I can.
The puddles are deeper than I expected, but even though I’m aware of the icy water as it splashes all over me and fills the bottoms of my shoes, I don’t allow myself to try to take too much of a detour around them and just stick to running in as straight a line as I can.
Just as I reach the first shipping container, a bang echoes around the area—too loud to be a bullet.
“You’re going to pay for that, you fucking bitch,” Preston bellows.
I ignore him.
Preston isn’t stupid. He’s going to figure out which way I ran in less time than it took me to make the decision, which means I can’t stay where I am.
With my hand still pressed against the cut on my leg, I do my best to ignore how much it hurts to move but keep going, heading deeper into the construction site.
Running around a corner, I find an open doorway. That’s probably the first place he’d go, so I run straight past it, squeezing through a narrow gap between a wall and a parked vehicle. Then I duck down behind it.
Finally, while trying to catch my breath, I pull up the skirt. The cut on my leg is long, but there’s not actually that much blood. The pain makes it feel much worse than it is, but I do get a moment of short-lived relief.
“Oh, Victoria? Where are you?” Preston calls in a sing-song voice, like we’re playing a game of hide and seek.
I duck lower, trying to keep as quiet as I can, sending a silent prayer that he goes into the building.
“Do you really think you can get away?” he calls. “We’re miles away from anywhere, and I’ve already got backup coming. But then again, I heard you like to be chased. Maybe…”
Whatever he says after that, I don’t hear. Gingerly, I peek out around the vehicle.
Preston is nowhere in sight.
Taking a deep breath, I grab a handful of my skirt in each hand, and then I start running again, trying to keep my steps as light as I can. Deeper into the shadows, I keep close to anything I can duck behind, if I need to.
My haphazard path eventually leads me to the property line and a metal chain-link fence that has to be at least eight feet tall. There might be enough of the construction to hide me as I attempt to climb over it, but there are spirals of barbed wire at the top.
To my right, there’s a dock jutting out into the water. Part way down, there are a couple of barrels that I could hide behind, but they don’t offer much shelter. The closer to the open water I get, the more wind there is. It might not be raining, or even snowing, but I’m soaked—the lower half of me, from the puddles, and the top is covered in a sheen of sweat.
I drop down behind a large pile of metal construction beams. Moving kept me warm, but the moment I stop, the wind attacks every inch of my exposed skin. My guess is that I’ve only covered the length of a football field, even though it feels like much more.
Now what?
My watch shows the time as still before midnight. If I’m lucky, there will be construction workers here tomorrow, but tomorrow is Sunday. I think construction workers work weekends, but that doesn’t guarantee anything.
I’m cold and exhausted, and the longer I stay still, the more I discover how much of me hurts.
But if I have to spend all night trying to evade Preston, I will.
Only, he said he’d called for backup.
How much of a chance do I stand against two people? More than two?
Maybe I can circle back to where the van was before they arrive, and take my chances across the grass? If I see any lights, I could just drop to the ground, and with any luck, they’ll think I’m trash or something.
It’s far from a perfect plan, but right now, I’m literally backed into a corner.
And then, from somewhere in the distance, I hear the rumble of an engine.
My heartrate speeds up, and it’s not from the exercise.
“Now’s not the time to panic,” I tell myself as sternly as I can.
