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The First Death (Columbia River, #4)(53)

Author:Kendra Elliot

The man stepped back, motioned them out of the shed, and then pointed at the woods. “Go.”

His brain didn’t understand. “Go where?”

“Just go. Get out of here. Take her.”

Is he setting us free?

“Is this another trick?” Malcolm whispered. His heart was pounding, and he wondered if the man could hear it.

“No trick. Get the fuck out of here.”

Malcolm stared at him for another moment and then bent over and shook Rowan’s shoulder, pulling away her blindfold. “Rowan. Wake up. Wake up.” His voice quivered.

She swung a hand to bat him away and nestled her face into the blanket.

He leaned close to her ear. “We can leave now.” He spoke softly, but deep inside he wanted to yell. This was it. This was the moment they’d been hoping for.

“What?” She lifted her head.

“He’s letting us go. But we’ve got to go now.”

“What?” Rowan repeated. She spotted the man at the door and froze. “He’s rescuing us?”

“No. He’s letting us go. We need to go as fast as possible, but I’ll carry you.”

“You can’t—”

He put his arms under her shoulders and knees and lifted.

She’s so light.

Rowan whimpered as he jostled her leg, but she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Sorry about that.” Malcolm turned to the door. The man took another step back, leaving them plenty of room to get by. Malcolm moved out of the shed, Rowan in his arms.

“Get moving,” the man told them.

“Thank you for doing this,” he said.

“Don’t thank me yet,” the man said gruffly.

Malcolm looked around in the faint moonlight. There were tall, dark trees in every direction. He didn’t see a road or path. They were in a forest. “Which way do I go?” He had no idea where they were.

“Doesn’t matter. Go that way. Don’t stop.” He pointed toward a clump of trees.

Malcolm took a breath and started walking. Then he moved faster, feeling as if he were being watched.

Is he close by?

He broke into a jog, and Rowan cried out as her leg bounced.

“Shhhhh.” Malcolm went back to a quick walk, trying his best not to jolt her. They entered the tall trees and the moon vanished. He plunged forward into the dark.

His arms ached. She was light, but he couldn’t do this for very long.

I’ll carry her for as long as it takes.

I can’t stop. Must keep going.

Malcolm halted, panting hard, and leaned one hand against a tree, staring up at the hints of blue sky between the pine trees. It was the afternoon of the second day since he and Rowan had escaped. Yesterday he’d carried her all day but taken frequent breaks. They’d figured out a way for her to ride on his back that made it easier for him, but he still couldn’t go that far without stopping. It was hard to carry her without bumping her leg.

This morning he had left her where they’d slept overnight, telling her he could move faster to find help and that he would mark the way so he could lead someone to her. He’d been dragging his heel, making gouges in the dirt and breaking branches, so he could trace his path back.

Was I right to leave her behind?

They’d drunk at a creek the evening before, but there was no food. He hadn’t even seen berries on their trek. Although if he had, he wouldn’t have known if they were poisonous and so wouldn’t have tried them anyway. Desperate, Rowan had chewed a couple of leaves and spit them out, saying they were bitter.

Malcolm hadn’t seen any trace of people. No roads. No paths. No tents. He kept thinking he heard cars or voices, but he couldn’t find them.

Even if she was with me, we still wouldn’t have found people to help us.

There had to be a town somewhere. The forest couldn’t go on forever.

His feet hurt. He was thirsty. He was hungry. He was tired of crying.

But he started walking again.

“Where you going, boy?”

Malcolm froze.

Is his voice in my head?

“Answer me, boy!”

He slowly turned. The bearded man was twenty feet away, and he had a rifle slung over one shoulder. Waves of anger rolled off him. A few feet behind him was the man who had freed them.

Was this a game?

“You thought your sister and you could escape?” The big man shook his head in disgust. “Stupid kids. You’ll be punished for this.”

Malcolm wanted to run, but his feet hurt so bad. And the man had a gun. He had no doubt he’d shoot him if he ran.

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