From the Woods

by Charlotte Greene

  “All right. Then what? Won’t they see me right away?”

  “Not if you do exactly as I tell you. There’s a way to delay a start with a fire—two, maybe three minutes, if you light it the right way with some of the hand sanitizer and few leaves. It can act like a sort of fuse. That would give you enough time to run over to the trail.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then we have to figure out somewhere to meet up. First, head toward the rock scramble. They’ll expect you to go the other way, back toward home. One or two might investigate the other direction, but if you’re fast enough, you can hide before they see you.”

  “Okay. Then what?”

  “I’ve got a question first. Do you think you could find that spot we stopped, after the scramble? The one where I took a nap?”

  Fiona wanted to agree, but she couldn’t. “No. I mean, maybe approximately, but not for certain.”

  “That’s okay. You can hide inside the tree line somewhere to the left of the trail—maybe five minutes jogging, not running. Hide there a few feet inside the trees so you can still see out. Wait until you see me, and we’ll hide together until morning. Then we’ll follow the river back to the road.”

  “But won’t they figure it out right away? I mean that one of us set the fire? Won’t that make them suspicious?”

  “Why does that matter?”

  “If they know we set the fire, then they’ll probably figure out why we set it. They’ll start searching for you and whoever you’re with. You won’t be able to escape quickly enough if she’s hurt.”

  “You have any other ideas?”

  Roz didn’t ask in an aggressive way, which meant that she probably agreed with her, but Fiona was still fumbling for words. All she knew was that Roz would need help. Even if she could physically carry this woman, in no way would she be able to go very far like that.

  “We’ll have to hide somewhere closer than that,” she finally said. “Maybe back the way we came here—close to the scramble on this side of the trail. I’ll set the fire, and instead of running toward the trail, I’ll circle back and come here—right here. You get the woman out of the tent and bring her here, and the two of us will take her back the way we came and find somewhere to hide somewhere in the woods until morning.”

  Roz was rubbing her mouth again, and Fiona let her. It wasn’t a great plan—all of this was ridiculous, but that didn’t mean they shouldn’t try. Already, too much time had passed since they’d first heard the screams. Too much time had passed since the second time. All of this needed to happen before it started getting light out, and Fiona knew that eventually she would hit a level of exhaustion where she wouldn’t be able to think clearly, not to mention hike another twenty miles. They had to act now or give up this whole thing.

  “Okay, okay,” Roz said, clearly reluctant. “Let me tell you how to light the fire.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  When she saw smoke, she started running. She’d done exactly as Roz had told her to do, following the careful steps she’d described despite feeling like her tired mind was filling up with cotton wool. Using their poop trowel, she’d dug a quick, shallow circle around a dryish patch of earth, moving as much of the ground debris nearby as far away as she could. She soaked three leaves in hand sanitizer and put them under a pile of sticks and small branches stacked in a kind of cabin-shape so that it should collapse into itself instead of lighting the whole forest aflame. Then, using most of the rest of the hand sanitizer, she’d made a long line away from the wood and the leaves and partially around the circle. Finally, she put one last drop of it on a dry leaf before setting it on fire, one end touching the line of liquid. She couldn’t stay and watch to make sure it would catch. It would either work this time or not at all.

  Roz was going to wait until she heard them see the fire before she started slicing up the back of the tent. A lot of things could go wrong here. The fire might not start correctly, for instance, or someone might stay in the tent with the woman they were trying to rescue. Still, this was their best option.

  Unless Roz was incredibly fast, it was possible that she might make it back to the tent fast enough to help Roz carry the woman—she wasn’t far away. She’d set the fire a couple hundred yards away from the camp in the direction they were watching—toward the trail. It had to be far enough that they couldn’t see her there in the woods, digging the pit and lighting the fire, but close enough that they would see it when the flames started. Now, after hours in the dark, and the fully risen moon helping her find her way, she sailed through the trees at an almost normal jogging pace, circling wide and out and toward the place they’d agreed to meet. She wasn’t being particularly quiet at this point, as she was out of hearing range, but she also found that the last couple of hours had given her enough practice to find her next footfall easily and quietly, and she moved in a kind of hopping near-grace.

  When she was close to their rendezvous, it took her a couple of minutes to find it. She had to approximate based on the location of the tents, and it wasn’t as easy to locate as she’d expected. Finally, the edge of a tree caught her eye, sending a wave of relieved recognition washing through her. She slowed her steps, inching forward, hoping now that she’d find Roz already there with their damsel in distress.

  Instead, their little spot was empty, so she took the opportunity to catch her breath. The run had strangely done her some good. She felt revitalized, almost fresh, her nervous anxiety now more akin to excitement. It felt good to be doing something, finally, after all these endless days of terror. It felt good to strike back.

  She peered around the edge of the tree into the dark, in the direction of the camp, trying to see something, anything, but it was dark and far enough that she could make out nothing but the silhouettes of the tents. Whether something was happening in camp, or if Roz was already cutting up the canvas backing, she had no way of knowing without investigating. The plan, however, had been for her to wait right here, and she was afraid that if she did anything different, she’d end up either screwing everything up or, at the very least, startling Roz when she started heading her way. She decided to wait five minutes, or as near as she could by counting, before doing anything.

  Roz had left the little backpack here, and she took a careful, long sip of water. If all went well, three of them would have to share what was likely less than a liter of water, with almost twenty miles between them and the next clean source.

  Shouts came from the camp, and instinctively she ducked down, hunching her shoulders regardless of the pain. This was a different sound than the screaming they’d heard earlier. For one, she could tell that the voices were men’s. The words were indistinct, but she could tell that much, at least. Something was happening.

  Careful lest she give herself away, she slowly crept to the edge of the large tree again, peering toward the camp. She could see the sweeping light of several flashlights arcing through the camp—the light strange and eerie after all these hours without anything artificial. One of the lights suddenly flashed between the tents, and she saw movement between two of them. She ducked back, heart hammering, eyes pinched closed in terror. She sat there, huddled up and waiting, certain she would be discovered. A long minute passed.

  Finally calming down, she opened her eyes, recognizing that some part of her had been listening for footsteps and had heard nothing. She crept back to look past the tree again. The flashlights had moved away, with an occasional arc of light flickering through the wood on the far side of the camp.

  Every fiber of her soul wanted to go, now, while it was relatively safe, and try to help Roz escape. She and Roz had made a tactical error. They should have come up with a sign to each other—a call, or maybe a whistle, to let the other know she was on her way. Fiona was afraid that if she did go to help, Roz, or possibly the woman she was helping, would be startled enough to make a sound, to call out or worse. Their only advantage was silence and surprise.

  Then, almost as if watching had made i
t happen, Fiona once again saw movement in the woods, and she was certain it was headed her way. She could hear this person or people now, a stumbling, shuffling drag through the brush, and she caught more details as she stared in that direction. Hunched over slightly and moving slowly, the figure was almost crawling. She debated for a second or two longer before moving around the edge of the tree toward what she hoped she was seeing.

  Finally, a flash of moonlight revealed the figures fully. Roz was dragging someone along on her side, one of this person’s arm thrown over her shoulders, Roz’s arm around their torso, shuffling forward almost like she was in a three-legged race. Fiona’s movement and sound made Roz pause for a second before she motioned her closer for help. Fiona sprang forward, grabbing almost blindly for the person’s other arm, realizing as she did that she’d suspected all along who they would find in that tent. Some part of her, maybe, had recognized that voice from the beginning.

  It was Jill.

  She was unconscious and hung between them in a limp bundle of limbs and appendages, her head lolling with each shuffling step. She and Roz leaned down and grabbed one of her legs, wrenching her up and off the ground to move her more quickly. They paused to rest in their spot by the backpack, setting her down and propping her against the biggest tree. Fiona was frantic. While the moon was brighter here than in the thicker woods, she couldn’t see any obvious signs of trauma. She moved her hands over her friend, feeling for wet blood or broken skin. Her clothes were damp, though that was likely from sweat. She was also underdressed for the cold night air, wearing what she’d last seen her in—shorts and a light T-shirt. Someone had removed her socks and boots, and when she touched Jill’s bare feet, she moaned and twitched a little until Fiona moved them away. She stilled at once, limp once more.

  “I can’t tell what’s wrong with her,” Fiona whispered. “Whatever they were doing to her to make her scream like that, it wasn’t with a knife, at least. I don’t feel any open wounds. Maybe if she wakes up, she’ll be able to walk on her own. It’s going to be a problem without boots, though.”

  “I saw them back there in the tent but couldn’t grab them and her at the same time. If I’d thought about it more clearly, I could have laced them together and carried them around my neck, but I was too scared someone would come back. Do you think I should go grab them now?”

  The thought was too much to take. “We have to get out of here,” Fiona said. “We need to make some distance. If we wait here, they’ll catch us the second they think to look this way.”

  “She’s not going to make it very far like this. Even if she’s okay now, she’ll end up really hurt without shoes.”

  This made sense, but Fiona could feel time slipping away as the seconds and minutes ticked by. Any time now, someone would come back to camp to investigate. Even now, she was certain they hadn’t abandoned it. They’d probably sent two or three people to check out the fire while the rest hung back, waiting. Once the others returned, everyone in that camp would likely start checking things out. Once they saw that Jill was gone, they’d start a real search.

  “I’m going back,” Roz said, standing up.

  “No! We have to—”

  “Not a debate.”

  Roz moved away, and Fiona tried to grab her leg to stop her, but she was already gone. She wanted to watch her progress, but Jill moaned again, louder this time, and Fiona was forced to focus on her, rubbing one of her hands and shushing her as quietly as possible. Suddenly, as if a light had been turned on, Jill sat bolt upright, calling out, and Fiona moved forward, grabbing her from behind and slapping a hand over her mouth. She struggled with her as she thrashed. Fiona started whispering in her ear then, trying to make her hear sense, but Jill was panicking, fighting with every ounce of her strength. Her head made contact with the tree behind her and she saw stars, but she didn’t lose her grip. Soon the two of them were rolling around, Jill attempting to buck her off.

  “Stop it, Jill,” Fiona finally said, nearly shouting despite the danger. “It’s me. It’s Fiona. You’re okay now.”

  The fighting tension drained out of her at once, and she went limp again in Fiona’s arms. Fiona removed her hand and rolled away. The two of them stayed there on the ground, shoulder to shoulder, panting. Then she heard Jill sob.

  “Oh, honey,” Fiona said, rolling toward her and reaching out blindly toward her in the pitch-dark.

  Jill found her, pulling her into a painful hug.

  “You came for me. I can’t believe it.”

  “Shhhh,” Fiona said. “It’s okay now. You’ll be okay.”

  “I can’t believe you came,” Jill said.

  Her tears were hot against Fiona’s neck, and she squeezed her back, her own eyes filling up. Their earlier argument flashed through her mind, and she was overwhelmed with shame. Had Jill died out here, she would never have forgiven herself.

  “Of course I did,” Fiona whispered. “I love you, you jerk.”

  Jill didn’t reply, still sobbing, and Fiona’s stomach gave a great lurch of terror. She wanted to ask what had happened, how Jill came to be here, how she’d been captured, what they’d done to her, what she’d seen inside the camp, but it wasn’t the time for questions. Jill needed to cry it out, and time was slipping away.

  Fiona became aware of a sound moving toward them. A shadow flashed across her face, and she peered up at Roz, who was staring down at them. The moonlight made her quizzical expression obvious, even from down here, and Fiona had to fight a wild urge to laugh out loud.

  Jill let go, and she and Fiona sat up. Roz crouched down next to them, handing Jill her boots.

  “I couldn’t find your socks,” she whispered, “but there’s an extra pair in the pack. Can you walk?”

  “Yes,” Jill mumbled. She was still tear-choked, her voice thick.

  “Good. We need to hurry. I think the ones that left are coming back to camp. I could hear their voices more clearly this time, and I think one of the people they left behind in camp was checking out the tents. I could hear someone in the one nearby, one or two over from where you were.”

  While she was talking, Fiona dug around in the pack for the socks and handed them to Jill. Then, seeing her struggle, she helped her undo the roll and held the extra as she donned the first. Jill was moving slowly, fumbling in the dark, and Fiona could barely stop herself from taking over. Their tiny window of time was slipping away. Already, perhaps ten or fifteen minutes had passed since she started the fire. Assuming that the people in camp had seen it, investigated it, and checked out the trail, that left Fiona and her friends another five minutes at the outside to escape. All it would take was one flashlight pointed their way, and they’d be caught.

  Finally, after what felt like an age, Jill had her second boot laced. She and Roz helped her to her feet and then waited as Jill found her equilibrium. She swayed slightly, and Fiona surged forward to steady her. Jill stilled, a hand to her forehead, and then shook her head briskly a few times as if clearing it.

  “Let’s go,” Jill said.

  “You sure?” Fiona asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Tell us if you need to stop,” Roz said.

  Roz slipped the backpack on her shoulders and started moving, leading the way with Fiona at the rear. They’d taken these positions instinctively, Fiona knowing that someone needed to watch Jill in case she started to lag or stumble. Neither she nor Roz had any idea what she’d gone through, but the memory of those screams was enough to suggest that it had been traumatic and painful. Fiona would never have hoped she would still be able to walk. She’d assumed they’d be dragging whomever they found through these woods, which would probably have gotten them caught. Their earlier plan seemed foolhardy, at best.

  Now, they reached the edge of the woods by the rock scramble easily. The moon was beginning to set now, but it still gave off a good deal of light.

  “That’s good,” Roz said. “Now we know what time it is.”

  “How?” Fiona asked.r />
  “Moonset. It’s about two thirty or three this time of year, so it must be just before that.”

  This was hard to believe. After all their activity tonight, Fiona would have thought it was much later—almost dawn.

  “Why is that a good thing?” Fiona asked.

  “Well, besides knowing the approximate time, we’ll also have better conditions to hide. It’ll be completely dark in probably half an hour or less. We’ll have maybe two, three hours before it starts to get light again.”

  Jill spoke for the first time since they left their hiding spot. “Where are we going to hide?”

  “In the woods, over by the river. We can’t take the trail, and the water’s the only other way to find our way back. Plus, we’re going to need something to drink. We’re almost out.”

  “We’re going to drink it right from the river?” Fiona asked.

  It was bright enough to see Roz shrug. “Better than falling down from dehydration. It’s a chance we’ll have to take. You can treat giardia.”

  Fiona didn’t mention the fact that the people from the woods would likely anticipate this plan very quickly. After all, if she, Roz, and Jill didn’t take the trail, that was the next logical choice. She didn’t need to mention it, though, as all three of them were probably thinking the same thing. Even if it was almost as dangerous as the trail itself, they had no other choice.

  If Jill was curious why they didn’t have a filter, she didn’t say. In fact, exposed here in the light, her body language told an entire story. She looked deflated, defeated, somehow smaller than before. Now Fiona could see that one of her eyes was dark around the edges, and her lip was swollen. Other than that, however, the main issue she seemed to be having was struggling against the cold. She was shivering, hard.

  Roz removed the fleece jacket and handed it to her. Jill lifted her chin slightly in thanks but said nothing. This wrung-out wreck was nothing like the usual Jill. Fiona had to hope that whatever had happened to her wouldn’t be permanent.