As he lay prostrate in the darkness of the forest, Cole could no longer picture his father’s image. All he could feel was pain. He tried to scream again, but no sound came out. His throat was raw, though that was the least of his problems. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his leg.
***
Will didn’t know what to do. Unless he could find a way to get Cole out of the trap, they were stuck, just like the killer no doubt intended when he planted the traps. He bent down on one knee and inspected the damage. Cole flinched away from his touch.
“Relax,” he said soothingly. “I’m just looking. I’m not going to try anything yet.”
There was a snap in the woods behind them. Will looked up quickly. Was it merely the sound of the forest, or something more insidious?
His nerves were on edge. He glanced back at the area above Cole’s foot. The trap was designed for something far larger than a human, and it had done a lot of damage. The bone was probably broken. Will couldn’t tell. The limb was definitely mangled. Unlike Dave’s injury, this wound seemed far more serious. Even if he could free Cole, there was no guarantee they were going to make it far before the killer closed in on them.
“You’re handling this pretty well,” Will added, trying to keep his friend—and himself—calm. The statement also happened to be true. Cole was far calmer than seemed possible. Will couldn’t imagine his reaction if their circumstances were reversed. Cole wasn’t even wearing boots to begin with, which made matters even worse.
Maybe the injury isn’t as bad as it looks, Will thought. It was certainly possible, given the darkness.
A twig snapped again. This time, Will started to panic.
“I’ve got to get you out of here,” he said. Will gritted his teeth and tried prying the metal jaws apart. The trap didn’t even budge. He tried a second time. Again, no success. Will gazed back at the woods, half expecting the killer to come tearing through the brush, gun in hand. He didn’t know what to do. Will fidgeted around in his pocket and found the hunting knife he brought with him. He pulled it out, and the blade gleamed in the darkness.
Cole’s eyes widened. “What’s that for?” From the sound of his voice, he already knew the answer.
“I’m going to try to cut you out,” Will said. His tone was casual, as if speaking of a subject as mundane as the weather.
“No,” Cole said. He tried to move, but couldn’t. “There has to be another way.”
“There isn’t,” Will insisted. He was coming unglued from the stress. “Now hold still.” He grabbed the bloody leg and held it in place against Cole’s objections. Will steeled himself against the painful expression on his friend’s face. He held the knife inches from Cole’s leg. His hand was shaking badly. Will mustered his focus and slid the blade into flesh. Blood spurted everywhere, covering his clothes. Cole screamed louder than ever.
This isn’t going to work, Will realized.
He cleaned the blade and returned it to his pocket. Rising from his crouched position, he took a few steps back and tried to assess the situation with a clear head. What could he do? This was nothing he ever trained for. The killer was out there somewhere, and every second Will tarried the man might be coming closer. Will took another step back. Cole probably couldn’t even see him, considering his eyesight. His heart raced. If he couldn’t free Cole, maybe he should try to find a place to hide. It wasn’t right for both of them to die. If Cole lived, he would understand.
“Let’s both try it together,” Cole said. His voice sounded stronger than before, which was a good sign. “One more time.”
“Okay,” Will replied. “We’ll do it at the same time. On the count of three.”
He counted to three, and the two men pulled at the trap. To Will’s surprise, the rusted metal began to move. Inch by inch, the teeth pulled back from Cole’s skin. It was hard work, and Will almost lost his grip once or twice, but in the end Cole was able to slip his mangled leg out of the trap.
“Someone is looking out for you,” Will said. It was a rare instance of good fortune on a luckless night. He helped Cole to the creek, where he washed the leg in the water. Will winced when he saw the injury under the moonlight. It looked even worse than he thought.
“Thank you,” Cole said, clutching onto him with a tight grip.
“Don’t mention it,” Will said. He couldn’t bring himself to look Cole in the eyes, not after he’d been willing to leave him. He felt a pang of guilt. “This isn’t the trip I promised you guys.”
“I think my leg will be okay,” Cole said reassuringly. Will couldn’t believe it. How could Cole be so calm when he was clearly suffering? “I’m just glad you didn’t leave me.”
“What do you mean?”
“With me stuck there, I thought you might get cold feet.”
“The thought never crossed my mind,” he lied. Will went to work trying to cover Cole’s wound. After ripping his shirt, he made a makeshift bandage and wrapped it tightly against his friend’s skin. Blood seeped through the cloth almost instantly, but it was the best he could do with what was available. Will studied his friend. Now that he had saved Cole, he hoped he wouldn’t regret it. It was bad enough before when Cole was without his shoes or glasses. Now the man was not only blind, he was practically crippled.
They remained sitting at the edge of the creek for several minutes. Will was left unsure of the path forward. He’d staked his hopes on rescue.
“Where do you think the engine was coming from?” Cole asked. “Do you think it was really Fields?”
“If the police were coming, there would have been more of them.” He looked away. “Why didn’t he hear my shot?”
“Maybe he did hear it,” Cole said. “Maybe he’s out looking for us.”
Always the optimist, Will thought. Even blind and injured, Cole still searched for the bright side of things. For some reason it angered Will. Sometimes things really were too bleak. Sometimes there was no light to be found. Only Cole hadn’t seemed to get the message, even when reality went out of its way to deliver it.
“What about Zack?”
“He and the others are probably halfway to Whispering Reach by now. They’ll have heard the explosions. If they hurry, they can get the keys and reach the lodge before the killer finds them.”
Cole’s voice was firm. “They wouldn’t leave us.”
Will stared at the water with a blank expression.
“Wouldn’t they? We would, if we were in their position.”
“No, we wouldn’t.”
Will didn’t share Cole’s optimistic outlook, but he was sure of one thing. He was going to find a way to survive—no matter what. Nothing and no one would stand in the way of that. He grabbed the gun and rose to his feet.
“Come on,” he said, extending a hand. “We need to move along.”
Although Cole grunted a little when he was on his feet again, he bore the pain of his injury well. He hobbled along, occasionally leaning on Will for support.
“What’s that?” Cole asked. He gestured to an almost invisible path under the trees. Will’s mouth fell open.
“The trail,” he said, amazed his friend had spotted the path, considering his lack of vision. Will recognized their position instantly. It was Shatter Creek Trail. They were back where they started.
He ran ahead of his friend and peered through the trees. Whispering Reach loomed miles away, their tent hidden somewhere above.
Chapter Twelve
1:42 am
He arrived late, half-expecting Cole to have vanished. Instead, his friend was waiting patiently at a table near the back of the restaurant. From the moment he looked Cole in the eye, Zack realized his friend knew it was only at the last second he decided to come at all. As always, Cole never brought it up.
“Hi,” Zack said stiffly, acknowledging
the formality of greeting. The mechanical gesture was all he had to give. He’d been sleepwalking through his life for so long he’d lost the willingness to observe most social niceties. Zack caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror on the wall. He looked rough.
“Right back at you,” Cole said. “It’s good to see you. I’ve been trying to get in touch for a while.”
That was an understatement. Zack managed to avoid seeing his friends for weeks, but there were only so many times he could turn Cole down. Always persistent, Cole continued to make plans even after Zack missed each scheduled get together. Although Zack wished Cole would take the hint, a part of him admired his friend’s determination.
“Sorry,” he replied flatly. “I’ve been kind of busy.”
Cole nodded and met his eyes with a knowing look, and then his friend broke into a smile.
“Well, I’m starving. How about something to eat?” He studied the menu. “What looks good?”
Zack looked it over briefly. In his current mood, nothing looked particularly appetizing. “I don’t know.”
Cole raised an eyebrow. “Zack Allen, world-class baker, unsure of what he wants to eat? This is a first.”
Zack clenched his jaw. He felt his friend was judging him silently. That Cole of all people would do so only made him angrier.
“What do you want me to say?” he demanded, dropping the menu. Zack felt his fist clench. “I shouldn’t have come.” He started to rise, but found he couldn’t walk out on his friend. Something made him stay.
“I’m so sorry,” Cole said. His voice was genuine, moving even. Here he was trying to reach out, and Zack was slapping one of his only friends away. The right thing to do would have been to apologize. Instead, Zack grew angrier.
“Next you’ll be telling me that it wasn’t my fault,” he snapped. The bitter words sounded foreign, like they were coming from somewhere else. “You’ll say there was nothing I could do.”
Cole shook his head. “That’s not why I’m here.”
Zack’s voice broke. “Then why are you here?”
“What happened to Lily…nothing I can do can take that pain away. I’m always here if you want to talk about it, but that’s up to you.”
“Nothing happened to Lily. She killed herself.”
And it’s my fault, he thought silently.
At this, Cole was visibly shocked. “This isn’t you, Zack. You’ve let your pain fill you with hate. If you don’t find something else to fill that void, it’ll take you to a place you don’t want to be.”
“How do you know?” Zack snapped.
“Because I know what it’s like to lose someone.”
Zack remembered hearing stories about Cole’s father, the man who inspired him to become a lawyer. He hung his head and sat quietly.
“The pain is the only thing I have left of her.” The admission was self-deflating.
“It doesn’t have to be. Come with me to church on Sunday. Maybe you’ll see for yourself.”
Zack sighed. “Not this again.”
“God still has a plan for you, Zack.”
“You can’t tell me Lily’s death was part of a greater purpose.”
Cole looked down at the table. “I don’t claim to understand everything. There’s good and evil in the world. Lily’s death wasn’t God’s fault, the same way it wasn’t your fault.”
“Even if God was out there, why should I trust someone who stood by and let Lily die anyway?”
“Because He loved her enough to die for her, and you. God is the only thing big enough to fill the hole inside of you. Please, Zack. Come with me on Sunday.”
There was silence at the table. “I can’t,” Zack finally said. “I just can’t.”
“Well, the offer is always on the table if you change your mind. Now what do you say we order something?”
Zack felt relieved that Cole didn’t press the issue and had tactfully changed the subject. To his surprise, he actually enjoyed the meal. The two of them made small talk and discussed everyday events for almost an hour. Zack almost forgot about Lily during that time, though she never quite left his side. When the check came, he was suddenly aware of all the other people surrounding them. He felt cramped, smothered.
“Thanks for the invitation,” he said. “I had a good time.”
Cole’s face grew instantly serious. “Let’s do it again sometime.”
“I’m not sure,” Zack replied shakily.
“I’m not giving up on you. You’ve cut yourself off from the world, from your friends. There are people who care about you. I’ve heard Will is even trying to organize a camping trip aimed at getting you back into the real world.”
Zack perked up. “Really?” Although he felt reluctant to leave the comfortable safety of his routine, the possibility was intriguing. He left the restaurant with a lot to think about.
Beth touched his shoulder, and Zack felt himself pulled into the present.
“Those tracks are fresh.”
Zack turned around. There was clear unease on Beth’s face, and for good reason. There was no sign of Fields near the wrecked vehicle other than the footprints. Zack had no way of knowing if the footprints belonged to Fields or to the killer.
“They lead north,” he said, scanning the moist earth with his flashlight.
Beth grabbed his arm. “Maybe we should follow them.”
“What if we end up finding the wrong person at the other end of them?” he asked, tension in his voice. He switched the flashlight off.
“You heard the gunshots. Fields carries a gun. He could keep us safe.”
You mean he could do a better job of keeping you safe, Zack thought. Better than me. He didn’t blame her. She didn’t know him at all, and Fields was a park ranger. Still, he promised Ron he would keep Beth safe, and Zack planned to do so.
“We could be headed into the belly of the beast. Even if these footprints belong to Fields, there’s no way of telling if he’s still alive.”
“We can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
On that, he agreed with her. Zack slowly followed the footprints away from the water with Beth following close by. The tracks led away from a nearby trail.
“We’re close to Whispering Reach,” Zack whispered. The two peeked outside the forest through the brush. “About a half-mile, I’d say. Following these footprints shouldn’t lead us away from the trail. In case the others are coming, we should try and reach the cliff first.”
Seeing that he’d conceded the argument, Beth let him lead the way farther into the woods. Following the footprints gave them something to do, along with a sense of purpose.
A low rumble sounded overhead. Unlike the gunfire they’d heard previously, this noise was from nature. They were moving north, and the light should have been growing stronger as the pair approached Whispering Reach. Instead, the forest continued to darken. Zack watched the sky. Clouds were beginning to spread, as if to shield the heavens from the horror unfolding below. When he and the others first made camp, the sky was clear. From the look of things, a storm was on the way.
We need to reach the cliff quickly, he thought. Deadman’s Drop would be treacherous in the rain. He didn’t know how long they had until the storm hit, but he didn’t want to take any risks.
Beth outpaced him before coming to a sudden stop. She looked in both directions.
“Give me your flashlight,” she said. Zack tossed the flashlight to her. The problem was obvious. The farther they moved from the damp ground near the creek, the drier the land became. The muddy tracks left by the person who crawled out of the wreckage were gone.
Beth switched on the flashlight and searched for anything that would indicate the traveler’s path. There was nothing that might point out a direction they should go. Fields could have gone
anywhere. Zack was about to suggest continuing toward the cliff when he heard a sound behind him. Something was moving in the woods not far from where they were.
“Turn off the flashlight,” he said urgently.
The beam disappeared. He grabbed Beth’s hand and led her in the darkness.
The sound was getting louder. Someone else was following the footprints. Zack pulled Beth off the path. He could feel her trembling.
“Quiet,” he whispered. Zack wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they concealed themselves in the brush. “Stay calm.” Her breathing was loud and quick.
Not long after, the pair heard footsteps nearby. Leaves rustled in the wind, and faint thunder rumbled again.
Maybe it’s Fields, Zack thought. Maybe he doubled back and heard us. His gut told him otherwise. Dry grass crunched under a pair of black boots.
Slowly, the killer stepped into view. Zack saw Beth’s eyes grow wide. He clamped a hand over her mouth, unable to tear his eyes away from the figure. The man’s face remained masked by the bandana. There was a bow strapped to his back, though at the moment he wasn’t holding any weapon in his hands. As Zack watched the figure advance, something didn’t sit right with him. There was something different about the killer than when the man held a knife against his throat. Zack couldn’t put his finger on the difference, but it was there all the same.
The Hunter was wearing goggles of some kind. Zack and Beth were hidden just out of sight, concealed by the bushes below, but they couldn’t stay hidden forever. The murderer would find them if he searched long enough. Zack remembered the sour smell of the man’s breath against his face. Beth was closing her eyes now, shaking more than ever. He held her even tighter. Why wasn’t the killer moving on?
A few seconds later, the man removed his goggles. The murderer reached into his jacket, and Zack feared the worst. Rather than pull out a weapon, the man removed some kind of device. The figure switched the device on, and the glow of the screen illuminated the masked face. Zack craned his neck, trying to get a better look. What was the killer doing? The device was small, almost the size of a cell phone. Before Zack could learn anything further, the masked figure turned the device off and returned it to his jacket. When he pulled his hand free of his jacket again, it was clutching a pistol.
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