The Prey

You’re not in there.

Desperately, Mara continued to wade forward through the sticky mud. Her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage it hurt, and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. She heard the splash behind her. Adrenaline coursed through her limbs as she raced away from the sound. The water was deeper near the center, and Mara began to swim, using every ounce of energy to put space between herself and her pursuer.

The water grew shallower as she approached the far end of the bog, forcing Mara to stand again. She scrambled through the mud to dryer ground. The myriad scrapes and cuts she’d sustained during the course of the hunt stung and throbbed from the salty water, and Mara welcomed the cleansing rain that continued to pelt her skin. She didn’t dare stand there for too long, however, aware the hunter was just behind her.

Looking around, her sight made keen by desperation, Mara spied what appeared to be a rocky outcrop, the stone just peaking beneath a thicket of brush. Yes! She moved as quickly as she could through the wet, slippery leaves that blanketed the ground.

Pushing aside the brambles, she crouched and felt beneath the stone canopy. The leaves on the floor of the small cave-like opening were dry, the space larger than it had appeared from above. Was there enough room for her to wedge herself beneath it?

The sound of water splashing behind her made the decision for her. Mara rolled to her side and eased herself under the stone, biting back a curse as the rough stone scraped hard against her shoulder. Reaching upward, she pulled back the cover of tangled vines over the entrance.

Exhausted and shivering, she lay in a fetal ball, her ears pricked for any sound of the hunter. She heard another sound far off, the piercing cry of a whistle—Curtis’ whistle.

The hunt was over. She was supposed to come out. She was supposed to present herself. Mara recalled DJ’s disparaging words to Raeanne about climbing out of her “hidey hole.” Though she knew she’d pay a terrible price for her disobedience, Mara stayed right where she was. She was safe, she was out of the rain and, at least for now, she was free.

Then a pair of feet shod in muddy running shoes appeared at the entrance of the cave. Mara stared in mute, terrified horror. When a face appeared between the brambles, Mara tried to stifle the pure animal wail of despair. She failed.

Chapter 11

Wes drew back, startled by the woman’s heartrending cry. Getting hold of himself, he leaned forward and peered anxiously through a tangle of vines and brush into the small opening beneath. “Hey,” he said, striving to keep his voice calm and soothing. The girl had twisted away with a terrified cry when she’d seen him, and now was drawn in on herself like a cornered animal. “You okay in there?”

His initial plan of letting the other guys do the hunting had fallen by the wayside when he’d been informed via walkie-talkie that he was the only one left in the forest, and there was one girl still out there waiting for him to find her. DJ’s ominous hint at dinner of a promised beating for any girl who didn’t allow herself to be caught left Wes no choice but to seek her out, even if it meant slogging through the mud to get her.

He reached for the walkie-talkie to let the others know the hunt was over, but his hand met with empty space. Glancing down at his belt, he realized the walkie-talkie must have fallen off when he was in the bog. He shrugged. Probably just as well. If things went according to plan, DJ and his father wouldn’t have a chance to touch this girl, or anyone else, for a long time.

The girl didn’t respond. Wes removed the pack from his back and opened the flap. Reaching inside, he yanked out a hand towel. “Hey,” he tried again. “Take this towel to wipe away some of that mud. It isn’t much, but it’s better than nothing.” He held the towel just inside the entrance to the tiny cave. The girl didn’t turn or respond.

A sport whistle trilled somewhere in the distance. The rain had stopped finally, and the sun was peering weakly from behind scattering clouds. “Please, listen to me,” he tried again. “You need to come out of there. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. I want to help you.”

She didn’t move.

Impulsively, Wes reached into the small space and touched her shoulder. Her skin was cold. She flinched and whimpered. Wes drew back his hand, his heart aching for the obviously terrified young woman. He turned his backpack upside down and dumped the contents. At the bottom of the pack was a small, rolled-up blanket. Wes unrolled it and, reaching once more beneath the outcropping, he draped it as best he could over what he could reach of her shivering form.