We both go frozen like prey animals, only our eyes moving to meet each other’s gazes. Beck pulls out her pocketknife. I settle my finger on the release button for the pepper spray.
It’s just an animal. We can scare it off.
Get big, yell, stand your ground.
“There’s something there,” Beck says.
The brush around us rustles with movement.
I move my phone flashlight around, tensing my body to prepare for the surprise of having the light reflected back off some creature’s tiny eyes.
Then pain radiates through my hand.
My phone goes flying.
I try to track the beam of light as it goes, but it snaps off as the flashlight lands with a hard thud on the ground.
Without it, I can’t even see my own hand stinging in front of me. The only sense I have left is feeling the thick, warm blood dripping down the heel of my hand.
I can’t see Beck. I can’t see how big my wound is.
I can’t see who’s lurking around me.
Or what they’re holding.
“Beck!” I cry out. “Where are you?”
She should be right next to me, but I don’t feel her warmth, hear her footsteps. I drop to the ground desperate to find my flashlight buthave already forgotten how far away the thud sounded. Suddenly, the forest around us is teeming with sound. Leaves crunching, branches slapping, footsteps, breathing.
“Here!” Beck says. “Hold on!”
There are two sounds of footsteps around me.
Someone is literallyhere with us.
Here to kill us.
Where’s my fucking phone?
I dip down as low as I can to the ground, some wayward instinct to avoid whatever weapon the other person’s got. I ignore the panic in my brain telling me that it doesn’t matter, we’re sitting ducks, that Beck is already dead.
Footsteps sound over me, toward me. Fast. Faster and faster.
My fingers wrap around my phone.
I fumble it on, pressing the flashlight as bright as it goes.
I illuminate a figure standing over me, a ski mask on and dirty clothes that don’t fit right.
She raises a blade, glinting moonlight off it as she sails it down toward me.
I shut my eyes, waiting for the pain. Wondering if this is what animals feel out here every day.
Then someone cries out.
The figure drops to the ground.
Someone grabs my shirt and yanks me so far up the shirt nearly comes off.
