“Sit, girl.” Once she’s settled, I turn to the most experienced of our team. “Can you wait here for the rest of the volunteers? I counted five ready to search. More might show up.”
“You got it, boss.” She tugs on my beard with a wink. “Wearing it longer?”
“Nah, my shaver broke.” Grinning, I grab my pack, clip on the drone, then turn to my hiking buddy. “Let’s go.”
As I step under the canopy, my smile fades, replaced by a deep, unsettling sense that we’re walking toward death.
Chapter 4
Briana
Monday Afternoon
I should feel guilty about leaving Andrea, but I’m done. It’s time to reevaluate everything—especially my so-called friends.
A drop of rain plunks on my nose as I pack. Smiling, I unroll my jacket’s hood, then tie it under my chin. Once I head out, the sky's weeping freely. Mud, moss, bark—my heart bursts at the rich scents and subtle sounds. Most of the birds have gone quiet, save for one lone chickadee-dee-dee-deeeee.
Finding my stride, I check for cell service. If I had bars, I’d call Herman. Doesn’t matter. After a year of therapy, I can emulate his AI speech like a pro.
Playing both parts might not count as mental health, but progress is progress.“Morning, Herman.”
Picturing a modern Freud-like guy, I jump into the other role.“Hello, Bree. How can I help you today?”
“Don't know if you heard—Brett cheated on me with Andrea while we were still together.”
“Surprised?”
“About the cheating? Not so much. With her? Yeah.”
“So her betrayal appears more significant than his. Why do you think so?”
“She was my BFF.” Thinking of her betrayal, I sigh. “Probably for the best. It’s not like Brett and I were going anywhere. We were simply biding our time until someone better came along.”
“Perhaps you stayed with him to justify your expectations.”
We argue back and forth until a twig cracks behind me.
Shit.As the hair on the back of my neck rises, Herman warns,“Always listen to your inner voice.”
Frozen in place, I mouth, “Don’t I always?”
Someone’s watching. And if I’m right, they’ve been keeping pace—far enough back to stay hidden.
Pistol in my pack, I grip the canister of bear spray clipped to my belt. While effective, it can’t block a bullet.
Eventually, I move on, hyper-aware of every branch snap or rustle in the leaves.
Even though the out-of-place noises still, my skin crawls. For the first time in my life, I wish I had a hiking companion—or a couple bars of 5G.
When twilight falls, despite the rain, I skip the fire. If someoneisout there, I’m not about to send up a flare announcing my location.
Perhaps I should’ve veered off the trail earlier. Walked a parallel path.
Remember your paranoid tendencies.
“Thanks, Herman.” The worst part of acting patient and shrink? I can’t shut him up.
Well, in case I’m right and he’s wrong, I pitch my tent beside a four-foot boulder, unzipping the back flap for a quick exit. Boots on, fully dressed. I lie on the ground, sliding my sleeping bag over me instead of crawling inside the cocoon.
