“Ripley, STOP!”
It was my pleading that finally snapped him from his trance. I saw his eyes change. Reluctantly he stood up, blood dripping from the tips of his fingers.
“Let’s go!”
We ran. Out the back door and around the house, skirting the beach, sticking to the cover of the trees. The jungle swallowed us for a while, until the buzzing of the drone returned. As it grew louder and more pronounced, we paused beneath a giant red mangrove, holding our breath until it skimmed by.
“Do you think that drone has infrared cameras?” Ripley asked, not even out of breath.
The look I shot him was absurd. “How the hell should I know?”
“Fine. Keep up with me, then.”
He bolted away and set the pace, sprinting so far ahead of me down the beach my feet felt like they were flying. Somehow, my legs kept up. My muscles didn’t cramp. I stayed with him for over a mile, until finally, mercifully, he pointed to a small shack at the end of a short, decrepit dock.
The door was locked, but not by much, and not for long. A toddler could’ve shouldered it open.
“Inside, quick.”
My heart was still beating out of my chest as the door closed behind us.
