Page 6

The light moved closer.

“Split up. We’ll meet back here in fifteen minutes.”

The first man swore. Then one of them slid down the bank. Stones scattered into the stream. I watched his torchlight bounce across the water. Closer. Closer.

I reached blindly into the mud beside me and found a rock. It was small. Barely large enough to fill my palm, but I gripped it anyway.

If he found me, I would strike his throat. His temple. I would keep striking until he stopped moving or until he killed me. Anything was better than the fate awaiting me.

The torch beam touched the roots inches above my head.

I raised the rock. My arm shook. The man stopped. Water moved around his boots. He turned his head, listening.

From somewhere farther downstream came a sharp crack. A branch breaking. He swung the torch towards it.

“What was that?”

The second man called from above.

“It could be her.”

He hurried past my hiding place.

I saw the side of his face as he moved past the stream. He was the one who had shot my father.

My fingers tightened around the rock until the jagged edge cut into my palm.

I could rise behind him. I could strike him. The hatred inside me was hot enough to make the decision feel possible. Then the other man slid into the ravine.

They had two guns and I had one damaged arm. I wouldn’t stand a chance, so I stayed beneath the roots.

Revenge would not bring my father back. It would only bury me beside him.

The men moved downstream until their lights faded.

I released the rock. My hand had cramped around it.

I waited until I could no longer hear them, then crawled from beneath the bank and went upstream.

My wet clothes made every movement harder. The coat dragged against my shoulders. Water seeped through my clothes, touching my skin. Each step sent pain through my knee.

I didn’t know how long I walked. It could’ve been minutes. Or it could’ve been hours. The forest had no beginning and no end. It shifted around me, every tree identical to the last. The darkness pressed against my eyes until shapes began to move where nothing stood.

I heard footsteps behind me even when there were none. I heard my father calling my name. Once, I turned so quickly that I fell. But no one was there.

It was only the trees and the rain beginning to tap against the leaves.

I pushed myself upright.

My hands were numb. My lips had lost feeling. Blood and water ran down my arms beneath my sleeves.

Then, far behind me, an engine started. They had returned to the road, but they wouldn’t leave. Not when I had seen my father die and could identify his killers.

They would drive ahead and search every road, every house, every place I might go for help. Yet I had no telephone, no money, and no idea where I was.

My father’s warnings returned one by one.

Do not trust the police. Don't go home. Don't call anyone we know.