Fatal Burn (West Coast 2)
The train flew by, disappearing into the night. Her heart sank. Despair and desolation converged on her. This was so useless. So damned useless.
Don’t give up now. You can do this, you can!
She squared her shoulders. Setting her jaw, she climbed up the short embankment and started walking on the tracks. She could barely see them beneath her feet, but was able, by keeping her steps even, to walk without tripping. It might take a long time, but eventually the train tracks would lead to civilization.
She set out in the direction from which the train had come, the way she’d been heading, away from the cabin. Away from him.
But she had to hurry. She knew the Beast was out in the night somewhere, sensed that he was following her, closing in on her.
“Bastard,” she said in a whisper and just kept moving, telling herself that she was being a paranoid freak and to get over it, not give in to her fear. Move. That was it. Just keep going. She walked for what seemed like miles before noticing that the sky was beginning to lighten, a gray dawn slowly but surely stealing through the hills, birds beginning to chirp, the sun ri
sing behind her.
Which was good. And bad.
She’d be able to see, of course, and could walk faster if she could keep up her strength, but he’d be able to spot her more easily, too. With the sun as her guide, she’d know which direction she was traveling, not that it mattered much because she didn’t know where the nearest town was located.
Her mouth tasted like sand and all her muscles ached. She was sure she could kill for a Dr Pepper, or a slice of cheese pizza or one of her dad’s special tacos. When she got home, she’d raid the refrigerator big time. There wouldn’t be enough chicken nuggets and French fries and homemade tacos to satisfy her.
When she got home.
If she got home.
Don’t think that way.
He hasn’t caught you yet, has he?
And even if he was chasing her she felt a tiny bit of satisfaction tempering her fear. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of how ticked off he would be when he found her missing. She would have loved to have seen his face. Yeah, well, take that, you weird sack of crap, and piss it all over the damned fire.
She reached into her pocket and touched the picture of her mother—well, she thought it was her mother. How did the woman in the framed snapshot figure into this? How did Dani? Who knew? Probably no one, not even the fire-pisser. That psycho was so warped he probably didn’t know what his plans were.
Don’t kid yourself. He knows exactly what he’s got in mind and you’re a part of what’s going on.
Keep going.
Keep moving.
Her feet were sore and as the sun began to climb, she knew it would be another hot day. Even now, though it was early morning, she could feel the heat beginning to grow and any hope for fog to hide her, or clouds to offer some kind of respite, would be false. As her father always said, “It’s gonna be a scorcher.”
Her dad.
Where was he?
Why hadn’t he come for her?
She felt sorry for herself again and angrily brushed away her tears. She was tired and hungry and scared. She thought about the trips she used to take with her dad when they’d gone on four-day hikes into the mountains. Of course those hikes had been way different. They’d had food and water and sleeping bags and…
She rounded a corner and two deer, as startled as she was, bounded into the underbrush. Heart knocking, she told herself to cool it, quit jumping at shadows, when her gaze landed on the bridge.
She stopped short.
Her heart nearly quit beating. It was one of those narrow, wooden railroad bridges spanning a steep chasm between sheer cliffs. Below, over a hundred feet, she thought, was a dry creek bed weaving through the mountain floor and there was no other way down.
“Damn.”
Fear coiled over her heart.
Dread filled her.