Run With Me (22 page)

Nothing. I can't see her. The
beeping closes in, each blip sounding so quickly after one another
than soon it's just one continuous note. The tracker is here, right
here in this spot. But Kitty isn't.

I quickly pace a few steps away
and the note breaks again into quick beeps. I step back and, once
again, a single droning sound is formed. It's here, definitely here.

My eyes search to the floor,
still layered with a swamp of morning fog. It's hard to make anything
out as I bend and search through the shroud, desperately hoping that
I don't feel a leg, an arm, any part of a body lying flat on the
floor.

A crack sounds above me and my
eyes turn up. I see a thin branch, half broken, suddenly snap off and
fall through the foliage and down to my feet.
The
trees! Did she hide up there?

Now I call out, my voice
breaking through the silent forest. “Kitty! Kitty!” I quickly
step away from the tree a few feet and scan the upper branches.
“Kitty, are you up there?!”

I wait, my breath held. Nothing.
Not a sound. I call again, moving around the tree at different angles
to get a better view of the top. Again, I hear nothing. I see
nothing. Then I see a flash of red, a fleck of dark liquid on a low
hanging branch. I move towards it and immediately know that it's
blood.

Now I shout louder, calling out
Kitty's name. My voice reverberates around the woods, echoing through
the mist. I turn in every direction, calling, then listening. Each
time, I hear nothing but the chirping of birds and the humming of
insects.

My foot steps on something
unnatural, something with a hard edge, up against a thick root
protruding from the soft earth. As I bend down the fog clears beneath
me and I see the small square tracking device I gave to Kitty, half
buried and concealed in the mud near the base of the tree. I lift it
from the ground and my heart sinks.

She's gone. Taken. Killed. Lost
in the woods. Escaped. I don't know which. I can only pray that it's
the latter.

Kitty

I can feel my eyelids beginning
to pull themselves together as I sit up against the trunk of the
tree. It's been quiet for about 30 minutes now, ever since that
beautiful bear came charging out of the darkness to chase away my
pursuer. It took a while for my pulse to return to normal. For the
adrenaline to stop pumping. Now all I feel is a strong sense of
drowsiness spreading through me, one I'm desperate to shake off.

Drowsiness is rarely dangerous,
but for me it's life threatening. If I fall asleep and drop off this
branch, it's most likely curtains for me. I shake my head hard, blink
quickly, and open my eyes as wide as I can to dry to suck up as much
light as possible. The darkness certainly isn't helping.

I begin to weigh up my options.
My pursuer has seemingly left the scene, and might even be dead or
seriously injured. Do I risk climbing down and returning to the
cabin? Now might be the best time to try to escape under the cover of
darkness.

But then, that man isn't the
only threat out there. As good as its timing was, that bear is just
as likely to try to kill me as him. If either one of them is still
down there, I'd be much safer up here.

After a short internal debate I
decide that it's best to stick it out up in the tree. All I need to
do is keep my eyes open and I should be OK. I shuffle my position and
once more feel the pinch of the tracker in my pocket. I reach in and
check that it's still working.

Colt. I wonder if he's seen the
signal, if he's coming right now. Is he even able to? Maybe he's too
busy doing what he returned to LA for to notice or even think about
me. Maybe he's....dead. I turn the thought from my head. No, he's not
dead. He's seen it, and he's coming. It's the only thing for me to
believe.

I find myself altering my
position regularly to keep from getting too comfortable. Not that
being comfortable is a particular problem I have to worry about on
this rugged branch. I reach to the side with my hands, feeling along
the edge of the branch to keep myself centered. Then I sit back, my
eyes open, and stare forward through the black forest, always holding
the tracker in my lap. It's red light, indicating that it's on and
working, is some comfort to me in the darkness.

I can't tell how much time
passes before I feel myself dropping off. My head bobs forward,
sinking into my neck, and my eyes fall shut. Almost immediately, I
snap my neck back up, hitting the back of my head against the tree
trunk, and open my eyes wide. Once more I shift my position and shake
my head to disturb my slumberous descent. For a few minutes it works,
until again my head is slacking forward and my eyes drawing shut. The
same routine occurs – my head bobbing, my body instinctively waking
me up – several times over.

I'm starting to lose myself in
the darkness, my mind overcome with tiredness. I sit and focus on the
red light in my lap, and soon everything else fades to black around
it. My breathing turns slow and shallow as I drift in and out of
consciousness. Each time I snap myself awake, knowing how dangerous
it is for me to fall asleep, but I can't help it now. My exhaustion
is making me immune to any thoughts of danger, telling me
it's OK,
my instinct will keep me perched on this branch.

I listen to the sounds of the
forest, which is eerily quiet at night. The odd flapping of wings as
a bird leaves the trees, of leaves shaking in the light breeze. I
hear the lightest of cracks below me as woodland creatures crawl
through the undergrowth. It's strange, but I'm sure I can hear the
movement of something bigger, something slightly further away down
the hill.

My eyes are shut again, and I
can't prize them open. Do I even want to now? I see a light behind my
lids, so faint, so pale. It's moving far down to my left, side to
side, side to side. I wobble slightly on my branch, my balance
momentarily upset. The sensation cracks my eyes open like a gunshot
as I hear a slight crackle of leaves on the floor beneath my tree.

Then I realize. My tracker –
the red light on my lap – is missing. It must have fallen off me,
down onto the ground below. Suddenly I feel awake again as I worry
that the signal's been lost. That maybe it's been damaged or shut off
as it fell. I drop my eyes to the floor and search for the red dot in
the darkness below. Nothing. There's nothing.

As I look down something strange
happens. The patch below, which is completely dark, suddenly grows in
a pale light. It lights up so briefly and then once more grows dark.
The light – it's coming from the left. I turn my gaze and peer
through the foliage, and that's when I see it. The light, same as
before, swinging from side to side as it moves up the hill,
accompanied by the light sound of movement through the wood.

A fear rampages through me and I
almost fall backwards off my branch. It's him. He's back again. The
bear didn't kill him, only scared him off and slowed him down. He
knew I was up here before, and he knows I'm up here now. I have no
choice now. I have to get out of here.

I make the decision so quick
that before I realize it my feet are already dangling off the side of
my branch and reaching for the closest foothold below. I feel that
familiar surge of adrenaline course back into my veins as I clamber
down the branches in the dark, using my touch and feel as much as my
limited sight. I almost slip and fall a couple of times but, if
anything, that speeds my descent. Soon I'm only 20 feet from the
ground, then 10, until I reach the bottom branch, still marked with
my blood. I drop to the floor and crouch as low as I can, just before
the flash of light crosses over me. I feel quickly for the tracker,
frantically dragging my hanging fingers around the base of the trunk.
There's nothing, nothing but leaves and twigs and fallen debris from
above. Not even the light is visible now, and I assume that it's been
broken during the fall.

Broken or not, there's no time
for me to keep searching. I rise up onto my knees and check back down
the hill to see the light still moving forward. That silhouette, the
one that hunts me, floats behind it like a phantom. I begin crawling
backwards away from the light, steadily rising to a crouch to speed
my retreat.

I move away from the tree
straight up the hill before veering to the right. As I turn I twist
my neck back and see the light moving upwards now into the trees. It
moves from one to the next as it approaches the tree I was in,
occasionally swooping back along the ground to scan the area. Each
time the light swoops in my direction, I fall flat on the dirt and
stop moving. Once the light has passed, I stand to a crouch once
again and continue to put as much distance as I can between us.

It's hard going in the dark. My
heart jumps every time I make the slightest noise, stepping on a twig
or a pile of dried and crunchy leaves. There are roots and other
obstacles littering the forest floor, stubbing at my toes and
scraping my shins as I scramble by. Each time I fear I may have
disturbed the silence of the forest enough for him to hear, I stop
and look in his direction. When the light fails to shine towards me I
breathe a sigh of relief and keep going.

Soon I've moved a couple of
hundred feet to the right away from my tree. I look back and can see
the man beneath it, examining the lowest hanging branch. He looks for
a moment at the patch where I hit my head, before suddenly shifting
his light up into the branches. Then I hear him shout out in the
darkness, his voice cruel and course: “I know you're out here girl.
You can't hide from me forever.”

Suddenly he's more frantic,
moving quickly around the base of the tree and shining his flashlight
up into it from various directions. Then he swings it to the next
tree, and the next, rushing through the forest at double the pace as
before. His calm seems to fade and I can sense a frustration getting
to him as he crashes around. I see him trip on a root and curse
loudly, his voice ringing through the trees. He stands and paces,
roaring through the wood and scanning a full 360 with his flashlight.

I drop to the ground and hold my
breath, waiting for the light to pass. It lingers in my direction for
a moment before moving once more up the hill. Then, suddenly, the
light goes out and the forest goes quiet again. I can no longer see
him. I can no longer hear him. Has he seen me? Is he covering his
attack now? Trying to creep up on me without me knowing?

I twist in each direction,
working out a plan. Where do I go? Deeper into the woods? Down the
hill? Up another tree? I start moving away, in the same direction as
before, still figuring out what to do.

Then I remember. The car –
Dale's car. It's still down there, parked near the cabin. If I could
get to it, I could escape, put miles between us. He won't have a way
of following me then, not on foot.

The decision snaps me into
action and I stand quickly, knowing that without the light my
movements will go unnoticed this far away from him. I begin moving
more quickly now, still veering slightly right but moving down the
hill instead of sideways across it. I watch the ground closely for
anything that might impede me or give away my position, carefully
stepping by bushes and over jutting tree roots.

The density of the woods begins
to thin as I see the edge of the treeline in the distance. The
clearing – it's the start of the clearing. I find myself rushing
more now, my feet dancing over the dirt. I reach the treeline and
stop, briefly, to look back. I see nothing. No light, no pursuer. My
eyes move towards the cabin ahead of me and the empty patch
surrounding it, checking for movement. Again, nothing.

Now I run, fast as I can,
straight towards the cabin. I reach the back and move round towards
the front door, which is splintered and broken from its hinges. I
pounce in and snatch my bag, snared on a piece of wood by the window,
before turning and running in the opposite direction.

I can see the car there now,
with the shadow of Dale still inside. His body sits slumped as
before, his head forward on the steering wheel. I rush forward,
reaching the door and pulling on the handle. I try not to look at
Dale as he appears in front of me, the back of his head still
dripping blood. Any queasiness I might usually feel at such a sight
it shrouded by my fear, by the drive inside me to escape. I pull at
his arm and feel his weight slide towards me. One more tug and his
momentum causes him to fall awkwardly into the mud.

I don't have time to rearrange
his position or make him look more noble. I have no time for anything
but my own self preservation now. I step behind the wheel and see
that the keys are still hanging in the ignition. I turn them,
quickly, and the engine rumbles to life. When the lights burst on I
see the clearing and cabin up ahead, half expecting a man to come
bursting from the woods. But there's nothing, no sign of him.

I put the car in reverse and
lurch backwards, my frayed nerves causing me to stall. I start the
car again, my heart beginning to go out of control, and reverse once
more. This time I manage to turn sufficiently to put the car in drive
and begin moving forward. I lock my foot down on the accelerator and
burst away down the track, the truck bouncing over indentations in
the road and skidding through patches of mud.