The Bug Out

by Nick Randall

  The man looked at me with hollow eyes, hollow but piercing.

  His hair was close-cropped and peppered with a silver gray that reflected the light.

  His face was a mask of stone, etched with fine lines, weathered with life experience.

  “You’re useful, though. Tony says your other lady friend told Joseph about the cabin. You’re going to lead us there. You are going to lead us there, or we are going to find your friend Holly, and we will cut her up piece by piece in front of you. I’m very good at what I do, Matthew. I am more than willing to show you.”

  I believed him, but I only new an approximation of where the cabin was. I had hiked the Blue Ridge and parts of the Appalachian Trail near Vogel, but the cabin was well-secluded. And even if I could pinpoint the location, there was no way in hell I would tell him.

  So, I thought, I’d lead him around the base of the mountain and, then, out into the Chattahoochee Wilderness. You could get lost along the Appalachian Trail there and up into the Blue Ridge Mountains.

  “I have your word you won’t hurt her if I do this?” I asked, feigning trust.

  “You and I are adults, Matthew,” he replied. “Don’t try to humor me. I will give you the option when we find the cabin. You can die in her place or she dies. Retribution must be paid.”

  “I’ll lead you there, and then, you can take me instead. I’ll exchange my life for hers.”

  That part I meant.

  “I’m Steve, by the way.” he added. “I think I owe you the courtesy of naming your executioner.”

  Chapter 11 (Holly)

  I woke to the feeling of tiny legs creeping across my face.

  The sky was a dark grey.

  Morning was coming and with it, light. I jumped up, wiping dirt and bugs from my face and body, my hand grabbing at the gun at my thigh.

  Still there. I sat back down on the log, facing the bottom of the hill I’d climbed. I reached into my pack and grabbed the last of my MRE’s.

  While we were going from house to house in the city, we had decided to save the MREs and gorged on the food we’d found in the cupboards instead.

  I polished it off quickly, drank from my water bottle, and headed out. I was to the west of the trail.

  All I had to do was go east until I hit the Blood Mountain trail. I gauged that I’d hiked about three hours up before falling asleep last night.

  I couldn’t think about Matthew or Liza. I had to keep going. I had made a promise, and I intended to keep it.

  I made my way east, picking through the thick underbrush and ivy, stepping through spiderwebs, and fighting with branches and brambles until I hit the trail an hour later.

  Blood Mountain trail . . . Grandpa Norman and I had hiked this up and down, plotting the course to the cabin from every angle possible.

  I knew it like I knew the cracks and crevices of my childhood home. I stuck to the trail. The sun didn’t show, though.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  I pulled my poncho from my pack. The clouds rolled and fought with each other furiously before relinquishing the rain.

  It poured in sheets along the way, and I smiled. I was thankful for the rain.

  I could hike this trail in my sleep, but anyone following me would be lost. I found the turn off and headed further up the mountain, breaking away from the trail and climbing up and up and up in the rain.

  The dirt slipping beneath my feet. I clawed forward, feet and hands digging into the dirt and finding purchase in the rocky ground.

  For hours, I fought the rain and wind, but it was what I needed, to lose myself in the struggle against something as simple as the elements.

  This struggle made sense. This struggle wasn’t personal. It was just nature. It wasn’t evil or cruel. It was a part of ordinary life. Rain. Storms. The mountain.

  The clouds finally dissipated, and I could see the sun tentatively peek through the treetops.

  I finished the climb, stepping out onto a quiet flat path. The pleasant smell of freshness after the rain flooding my mind with memories of my childhood.

  The cabin was half a mile down the path.

  I stepped forward, finally home.

  But my contentment immediately turned to paralyzing fear as I felt arms from behind wrapping around me and dragging me back into the woods.

  TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK II…