My God. I kept running, not believing what I was seeing. Where the hell was I?
The waterfall spilled into a ravine I couldn’t see, but I just shook my head and ran so hard my body screamed. Diving into the darkened woods, I raced through the brush. I wished I wasn’t wearing a white shirt.
I rounded trees, deciding to stay close to the edge of the forest where the land spilled off to the side. Good chance there was a river below that carried the water from the fall, and where there was water, there were towns.
Stumbling over rocks as branches whipped at my arms, I barely even bothered to look ahead as I pushed my glasses back up the bridge of my nose, the knife still in my hand as I struggled for air.
It was fucking cold. Where were we? It was only mid-October, there was a waterfall in their backyard, and trees that didn’t belong anywhere I’d ever lived.
Canada? There were hemlocks, spruces, white pines… These trees were partial to the northeastern part of North America.
I had been part of a design team right out of college that renovated an old house in St. John. The owner was adamant about re-introducing native flora to the property.
God, how did I get here?
Hollers went off behind me, hitting the air, and I whimpered. They were coming.
I dug in harder, sweat coating my back despite the cold as their howls got closer and closer, and I could almost feel their hands on me as I raced. I hit the ground, scurrying behind a bush to hide myself.
I couldn’t stop gasping for breath, m
y heart about to beat out of my chest. I wasn’t going to make it, outrunning them.
I’d hide until they gave up, and then I’d make a run for it.
Leaves rustled and footfalls pounded past. I didn’t see them through the bush, but I could hear them.
They ran, their steps fading away, and I stayed rooted in my spot.
“Em-ory!” they called, but their voices were nowhere near me.
I smiled.
“Emmmmmoryyyyyyy!” they sang.
And still, their voices sank farther and farther away.
Slowly, I slipped the knife into my pocket, got my feet under me, and rose enough to look over the edge of the bush, just to sneak a glance at their position.
I didn’t see anyone. Yes.
I’d hide here—or somewhere else if I had to—and make my escape when they were gone. The grounds were huge. They couldn’t cover every inch.
I was getting out of here—rain or shine.
I squatted back down to maintain my hiding place, but then I caught sight of Micah, racing right for me.
“Boo!” he shouted.
I screamed and lost my balance, flailing my arms and flying backward. I rolled down the small incline and grappled at the ground to stop myself, but I just kept slipping.
Shit!
I cried out, my legs falling over the edge of something, and I tumbled over the side of the cliff, a hand grabbing my wrist just in time.
I kicked and looked down, seeing the river far below as I swung my other hand up, grasping for whoever had me.
“Rory!” Micah shouted, sliding on his ass with me as he held on. “Taylor!”