Untraceable (36 page)

It’s Mo.

I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping the vision will disappear. It’s only when I hear my wail reverberate through the forest do I realize how loud I really screamed.

Mo snaps his head in my direction. We stare each other down for what seems like an eternity. In those few seconds, a series of expressions wash over his face.

A few other men point toward me. That’s when I notice I’m standing on both feet and out in the wide open. I couldn’t be more visible if I’d been wearing a red shirt that said
kill me
. In hearing the commotion, Chief Reed barrels out of the tent and glances in my direction. His eyes narrow, and his teeth gnash.

“Damn it, grab her!”

A small crowd sprints up the hill toward me. Even as they charge in my direction, I remain frozen in place a few seconds longer than I should, taking in Mo’s face. The last moment of the old “us.” I’ll never see him in the same way again. It takes everything I have to rip my eyes away.

A bullet zings through the woods, a small missile searching for a target. Missing my head by mere inches, it splinters a tree next to me, spraying shards of bark onto the deserted path. It’s as if someone snapped their fingers next to my head, I wake up from my brief daze and take off, hoping to hide in the shelter of the woods.

Branches slap me in the face as I tear through the trees. My backpack bumps against me with every swerve and hop. I skid to a halt at the fork in the path, not sure which trail to choose. Adrenaline bursts through my veins as another puff of dust explodes at my feet. Trees slap me in the face, stinging my cheeks, and the trail spits mud at my pants. I veer east and weave through the trees. As my feet beat hard down the broken path, my mind blocks out any thoughts.

I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

White dots spiral across my eyes as my body begs for air. I slip behind a tree to catch my breath. Behind me, deep voices echo, but only muffled words reach my ears. I can’t tell what they’re saying or from which direction they’re coming.

At the thought of being captured, fear coils around my chest like a boa constrictor. My head pounds with pain as my brain threatens to escape. My eyes dart across the monotonous woods, searching for a way out. The voices float all around me but I can’t see them so I still have some time before they close in.

I have to be smart about this. I need a plan or I have no chance.

Think. Think.

I listen for the slightest sound, search for the tiniest movement.

Nothing.

As a wildlife enforcement officer, Dad believed the woods would talk to me if I could be still enough to listen. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on the space around me.

Listening. Waiting. Afraid to breathe.

A light breeze slithers through the ghostly forest. The leaves rustle and the trees hiss as if whispering secrets to each other. The forest appears to exhale then hold its breath. Everything goes as quiet as a graveyard at midnight. Nothing scurries, burrows, or twitters. The trees stop swaying and freeze, as if they’re hiding too. And then I hear it: the distant snap of a random twig. The hair on my neck bristles.

They’re still after me.

In the silence, Dad’s voice reminds me what to do.
Our tracks are the earth’s reaction to us and give proof of you. If you don’t want to be found, erase any evidence that you exist.

Suddenly, a strange calmness pumps through me. I lick my finger to test the wind’s direction so I can stay upwind. Then I quickly pinpoint my coordinates and map out a different route to Luci. I can do this. I just need to be smart about it and quiet.

Once I’m ready, I tiptoe out of my hiding place and backtrack a few feet down the trail. Sticking to the side, I cover any evidence of my existence. As soon as I reach the cliff edge, I secure my backpack and rub the bottom of my boots off on a dry rock to clean them before scaling the mountainside. The knifelike edges rub the lacerations already on my hands, but I fight through the pain. To achieve smooth climbing, I only move one body part at a time. Foot, hand, body. At the top, I propel myself over the ledge.

For miles, I evade the men and inch toward Luci. Everything aches. My heart and body weigh down as if big blocks of ice have been tied to my shoes. Only one thing keeps me going.

If I want to find Dad, I have to get back to Carl. Alive.

I round a bend in the path and bend over to catch a quick breath.

Out of nowhere, something hard slams against the side of my head.

My vision blurs. I have no idea which way is up, but my body leans to one side. Suddenly, I’m trapped in an invisible hourglass, and someone’s flipped me upside down. Eventually, my face and body slam into the dirt. I glance up through the thick fog rolling across my brain and make out the shape of a man.

Chief Reed stands over me with a large gun in his hand.

“Hello, Grace. Can’t say I’m happy to see you here.”

When I attempt to push myself up, he stomps on my back with a boot, flattening my chest against the rocky dirt. Moaning, I roll onto my side. My whole body throbs as every muscle seems to punch the inside of my body. I touch an oozing gash on my forehead and wince at the sting.

I begin to pray.
God, please help me.

Fighting against the urge to pass out, I rise up on my hands. Chief Reed kicks me hard in the ribs. I crumble into a heap and spit. Red-speckled saliva sprinkles the dusty ground. A wave of agony travels through my limbs and hammers into my brain. I peer up through the overwhelming pain, billowing dirt, and bright sun.

His blurry shadow looms over me and yells something I can’t understand. I focus in on his face, but large, white dots of light keep the picture dull and fuzzy. As a last attempt, I try a defensive ground-kick by driving the bottom of my heel into his kneecap.

I miss.

He reaches down and decks me in the face, sending me spiraling into space. A disgusting growl gurgles in my throat. In that second, I suck up any pride and throw in another prayer, wondering if God gets mad if you ask for the same thing twice.

Dad’s face flashes in my mind, and a second wind kicks in. I fumble for Tommy’s knife still strapped to my leg. My fingers wrap around the cold, ivory handle and pull out the steel blade. Somehow, I scramble into a seated position and face my attacker.

At the very least, I’ll die fighting.

The shadows of the trees hide Chief Reed’s tan, angular face as a few strips of light highlight his cold eyes like a white mask. He sneers as he points a gun in my face. I fixate on the barrel and brace myself, half expecting to hear the shot that will end my life. Still clinging to the knife, I drop to my knees with my hands above my head in surrender. Chief Reed walks behind me and presses the cold steel against the back of my head. The feeling of death runs down my spine.

I glance up at the trees for guidance and spot a spiderweb hanging between two limbs. It catches a random sunray and shines. My body relaxes, thankful this is the last thing I’ll see before I die.

The click of the safety being released echoes in my ear. I squeeze my eyes shut, anticipating a big boom. A round of shots rings out, sending a slew of birds cackling off into the trees. I wait for the pain to set in. For my heart to slow. When nothing happens, I get frustrated. Why does death have to take so long?

Then I hear a thump behind me and glance over my shoulder to find Chief Reed sprawled out on the ground. A few holes decorate his back. It takes a second for me to realize our roles have been reversed.

I’m alive, and he’s dead.

I hear my name called. My eyes finally focus as Mo stomps over to me and grabs my elbow. “Get up!”

A sliver of gratitude and relief mingle with hate and confusion. I jerk my arm away. “Don’t you
dare
touch me!” My attempt to stand fails as a surge of pain rips through my torso sending me back down to the ground. Mo lowers his gun and tries to help me up.

I pull away and growl at him. “Leave me alone!”

Mo moves past me and checks the pulse of the guy he shot. He shakes his head and kicks a large rock, sending it running down the path. “Damn it!”

Obviously, Chief Reed’s dead. “What? You’re surprised? You
shot
him.” My voice squeaks. “What did you
think
would happen? He’d skip off into the wildflowers?” I’m shaking as I grab a tall stick and push up, using it to support my weight.

Mo squats and supports his elbows on his knees. He remains in that position for a few minutes. “I never wanted to kill anyone.” His voice is low and raw.

I glare at him. So much hate and confusion and darkness course through my veins. Waves of adrenaline dilute my fear. “Oh, really? Well, that’s what happens when you run around with
crazy killers
, Mo.” I limp away on my makeshift crutch, refusing to succumb to the ribbons of agony weaving through my insides. I squeeze back tears. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

“Come this way.” Mo jogs up and grips my arm.

I attempt to elbow him in the ribs. “Get away from me! I don’t have to do anything you say.”

“You do if you don’t want to
die
.” Mo tosses the gun strap over his shoulder and scoops me up in his arms. Against my will. I holler in pain as he explains in a very matter-of-fact voice. “Those men’ll be here soon, and I’m not leaving you.”

I pound on his chest with my fists. “Those men that YOU ARE WORKING FOR!” Winded, I stop fighting.

Mo flinches as if a gnat has irritated his skin. “The only person you’re hurting right now is you.”

I stare him in the eye. That’s the moment my guard comes crashing down. I can literally feel my heart shatter into a gazillion pieces.

His eyes soften as he walks with me in his arms. “I don’t want anyone to hurt you.”

Unable to fight anymore, I go limp and look away. “No, you just want to do all the damage yourself.”

Before he can answer, voices ride the breeze.

Mo hisses. “They’re coming.”

As Mo barrels through the forest holding me, the trees move by so fast they lose any definition. Is this really happening to me? Or am I just watching it happen to someone else? I rest my head on Mo’s shoulder and watch the world blur by. Everything hurts, yet somehow my body is numb. Soon, it feels as if I’ve left Mo’s arms and am floating up with him.

I hear Mo yell in my face. “Grace! Stay with me!”

The blazing ball of sun that hangs above the leaves summons me.

I focus in on its bright, radiant light.

The only beacon in my night, guiding me home.

Slits of light break through the darkness engulfing me, as if mini-blinds are opening. I’m surrounded by a dingy gray color and total silence. Am I dead? My brain muddles through some random scenes as I piece together events. The fuzzy world fades in and out. A peach with black fuzz moves into my frame of sight.

A hand touches my forehead.

A voice speaks to me. “Try to relax, blossom.”

Facial features slowly come into focus. I manage to whisper, “Mo?” Saying his name alerts my brain, and my memory comes flooding back. A streak of anger zips through my body. I ball up my fist and punch him square in the chin.

Mo stumbles back, stunned. “Bloody hell! What was that for?”

“That was for me.” I sit up and take stock of my situation. I’m in a cave somewhere with a total traitor. Mo’s face is scruffy, and his face filthy. I try to hit him again. This time, he grabs my wrists and holds them tightly in front of me.

The anger boiling inside me gives way to my broken heart. I feel like a broken china dish someone has tried to glue back together. Appearing fixed, whole, but with a hairline crack, a weakness, preventing me from being truly whole again.

I lower my head and whisper, “I hate you.”

Mo releases my hands and rubs his jaw. “That makes two of us.”