“Clock’s ticking,” Peter interrupted him. Chad hesitated, but then he decided that he needed to stop fucking around and actually get going. He turned around and started running down the road, feeling Peter’s gaze boring into the back of his head every step of the way.
The chase was on.
***
Chad ran for twenty minutes, following the dirt road as it cut through the dense trees, before taking a hard left and making his way into the forest. He knew that Peter would be able to track him—both by scent and by following his tracks—and he honestly didn’t have a clue how he was supposed to evade capture for over two hours, let alone three. Not without stumbling across a stream or body of water that he could use to obscure his tracks and force Peter to spend timefindinghis trail instead of following it.
Two hours was the real goal, Chad thought as he pushed himself to run faster. If he could reach the two-hour mark, any punishment Peter came up with would be of the fun variety. If he couldn’t, however, he knew that Peter wouldn’t hesitate to take him down with the taser like he’d promised.
Chad wondered if there was something wrong with him that he was enjoying the rush of adrenaline that made him feel. Someone bigger and stronger than himself was chasing him, and getting caught too soon wouldhurt.
He shouldn’t be having fun, but hewas. He was running fast, dodging low hanging branches and jumping over raised roots, and with every exhilarating breath he felt his grin stretch wider. He feltalive, and the more he ran the more excited he felt.
Checking his watch, Chad’s heart skipped a beat when he saw that it had been just over an hour since Peter had started the clock. His feet were heavy on the forest floor, and looking over his shoulder he could make out his own trail without a shred of difficulty.
If he could see his own footsteps, Peter wouldn’t even have to slow down to follow them.
Sweating, Chad hoped that he would come across a stream, river or body of water that he could use to throw Peter off his scent sooner rather than later. He pushed himself to run faster, wiping his face with the back of his hand, tasting salty sweat as he dragged his knuckles over his lips.
He was thirsty, and he was starting to feel the burn in his lungs from running at full speed for nearly an hour. The sound of his breathing was loud in his own ears, though Chad knew that he could keep going for at least another hour before he had to slow down.
Then he tripped.
The root that snagged his foot was hidden behind a shrubby little bush, a natural trap for unsuspecting runners, and Chad went tumbling to the ground with a shout of surprise. He flailed his arms, landing with a thump on his knees and elbows on the surprisingly hard forest floor, a familiar pain shooting up from his ankle.
“Fuck!” Chad grunted, recognizing a sprain when he felt one. The pain wasn’t bad enough to be a break—when he got to his feet he could still put weight on his foot—but running was going to be an issue. “Fuckity, fuck, fuck,fuck!” Chad growled, forcing himself to keep going. His ankle hurt, every step making him wince, but compared to some of the sprains he’d gotten playing football, it wasn’t too bad.
He certainly wasn’t going to call Peter and call off the game.
Moving forward at a much slower pace, Chad checked his watch and felt his pulse soar when he saw that he only had ten minutes before Peter would start hunting him. It felt like he’d just started running. He tried to hurry up, but he was limping and it was a lost cause.
His current speed would have to do.
Five minutes later Chad jerked to a halt. He thought he heard running water. The sound was up ahead, and after straining his ears to make sure he wasn’t just hearing things, he continued forward. A minute later he came across a foot-wide stream cutting through the forest.
He’d never seen anything so beautiful.
Chad stepped into the stream, cold water submerging his boots and soaking his socks, and hurried downstream as fast as his wounded ankle could carry him. Luckily the water was just a few inches deep, so the change in terrain didn’t slow him down too badly.
Chad stayed in the stream for about twenty minutes, making good speed despite his twisted ankle. The stream varied in depth from just a few inches to almost a foot, and Chad was soaked up to his knees. The cold water made his toes and feet feel numb, and he regretted wearing cotton socks inside his shoes.
At least he knew that Peter wouldn’t be able to track him this way, Chad thought to himself. Peter was good at tracking people by their scent, but Chad was pretty sure that getting into the water had taken care of that.
Or had it? Peter had an uncanny nose, and now that he thought about it he thought he could remember Peter telling him something about how he could follow people by the particles they released into the air.
The thought made Chad break out into a cold sweat. Peter had already set off after him, and if he didn’t even have to pay attention to Chad’s tracks—if he could just follow the air—that was terrifying.
Chad had an idea. He turned around, the momentary slowdown making him aware of just how out of breath he was, and started jogging back up the stream. It was harder work, the rushing water working against him, but he almost managed to maintain his previous speed. Checking his watch as he ran, his pulse skyrocketing with every passing minute, Chad moved closer and closer to the point where he had entered the stream. He was looking for a tree he’d seen back when he’d first entered the stream, with a thick branch jutting out over the water.
His plan was to get from the stream and onto the branch, and to then somehow move through the trees until he was far enough away that Peter wouldn’t be able to smell him. He didn’t know if it would work, but he didn’t have enough time now to come up with a better plan.
When he reached the tree, Chad slammed his fist down on his thigh and bit off a curse. The branch was much higher than he remembered—so high that he couldn’t even reach it when he stood on his toes.
Peter had been hunting him for an hour, and Chad knew that he didn’t have time to stand there feeling defeated. Removing his belt, he threw one end up over the thick branch, but the free end didn’t come down enough on the other side that Chad could reach it. Saying a quick prayer, he threw the belt up again, though this time he let go of his end. The belt landed on the branch perfectly, each end coming down far enough thatChadcould reach them if he jumped. Balancing on his uninjured leg,Chadlaunched himself into the air and grabbed a hold of each of the dangling ends of his belt, lifting his legs up and hooking them around the branch before pulling himself up to sit.
He’d done it. Grinning wide, Chad fastened his belt back around his waist and climbed toward the trunk of the tree. Then he moved up, hopefully far enough that Peter wouldn’t smell him. Looking around, he tried to figure out how best to get from the tree he was sitting in and into one of its neighbors. He ventured out onto a sturdy branch, the whole thing dipping dangerously, and looked at the tree next to him. There was a good three feet between him and the branch he wanted to move to.
It looked like he was going to have to play Tarzan.
***
