I grab onto the branch with leaves, poise it on my lower back, and use the satin belt to anchor it to me, tying the fabric in several tight knots. And then I start speed-walking, swiveling my head back and forth to both keep from kissing a tree, and ensuring the branch is doing its job.
It's too dark to tell for sure, but it appears as if it is, and that's good enough for me.
So I take off, counting my steps and lifting my branch carefully over the wire when I reach them. My pace is quick but steady, holding on to the belt tightly for extra security with one hand and keeping the other in front of me, preventing me from running into anything nature has to offer.
I dart from one tree to another, keeping myself concealed at all times. Several minutes later, I reach a dead end, and from the corner of my eye, I see a flash of dark orange to my left. Phoebe.
Of course, she doesn’t know how to cover her tracks as she runs. And as dangerous as she is to be around right now, I refuse to keep my mouth shut and allow another woman to fail.
“Phoebe!” I call out, keeping my voice as quiet as possible.
She skids and turns to me, breathing heavily. I can’t see much of her features, but I imagine her face matches mine. Panicked, and eyes dilated with fear.
“Cover your tracks. You’re leading them right to you,” I tell her in a whisper-shout, and then I take off in the opposite direction. I don’t know if she’ll listen, although I do know that it might be too late. She’s led them this far, and to ensure my own survival, I need to get the hell away from her.
The branch dragging behind me is loud, so I force myself to slow, counting my thirty steps and keeping an eye out for any wires. I’m nearly gasping for breath, willing my heart rate to calm. I should’ve put enough distance between the two of us by now.
So, when I turn to see Phoebe running after me, I fucking spazz.
“What are you doing?!” I exclaim, attempting to keep my voice down, only causing it to break from the pitch.
“Please, let me stay with you,” she pleads, no branch in her hands to cover her tracks. She didn’t even bother to try.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, no! You’re going to get me killed,” I snap, chest pumping as my eyes pinball, searching for any movement in the darkness. I'm almost positive our ten-minute head start has passed. They have night vision goggles—we don’t. Which means they could be anywhere.
Her pale hand clutches my arm and pulls me close, her nails digging in. Now that I can see her clearly, she looks crazed.
“Please, I can’t let them do that to me again. Let me come with you, please!”
I try to wrangle my hand from her, but her grip tightens, and she refuses to let go.
“I’m not letting you go! I’m coming with you.”
Shit. This is what I fucking get for not being like Sydney and gladly watching others fail.
"Okay, fuck. You can come, just let me go," I hiss, finally freeing my arm from her desperate clutches. Making a split-second decision, I run back the way we came about twenty feet, swivel my branch to my front and start brushing away her tracks, walking backwards until I reach her once more.
"Stay in front of me, and run as fast as you can," I demand. "And don't do anything to get us killed. Not more than you already have."
She winces from my harsh words, but I feel no remorse. I'm pissed off that my kindness has most likely just earned me an arrow in the back, and even more angry that I can't find it in me to knock her ass out and leave her behind.
It would benefit me, however, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. It's the whole reason I called out to her in the first place. She's young, desperate, and terrified and I'm putting on a good show of looking like I know what I'm doing. Of course, she's going to latch onto me.
Thankfully, Phoebe listens this time, keeping in front of me as we sprint. My branch is behind me again, clearing our tracks. Sweat coats nearly every inch of my skin, trickling down my forehead and spine, irritating the stitches in my skin. Clouds puff from my mouth, and I have an insane moment of panic when I wonder if my bad breath will leave a scent trail.
Several times we get turned around, and I swear we’ve passed the same fucking tree three times now. I’m growing frustrated and tired, so I skid to a stop and urge Phoebe to find a large tree to hide behind. I find one several feet southwest of her that provides a clear view of the space between both trees.
I'm heaving, desperate for oxygen, and on the verge of puking. I need to catch my breath, and I'm growing paranoid that even if they can't see our footprints, they'll be able to hear us.