The Last Echo
Page 77
Anxiety gripped her chest, making it ache, gripping like a vise as she grabbed a pair of woolen socks stuffed inside a pair of old work boots. She thought about taking the boots too, but she knew just by looking at them that they were several sizes too large and they would only slow her down. A coat hanging from a stand beside the door would at least keep her warm. She wouldn’t let herself think about who these things really belonged to.
Since the door locked from the inside, Violet simply unbolted it and stepped outside.
She was swallowed by blackness so complete that it sucked the breath out of her. She heard herself gasp at the same time her inner voice silently screamed at her: Run!
And she did. Without another thought, she ran. Stumbling and scrambling and running some more.
She didn’t get far before she found the trap. Or rather, before she triggered it.
There was no way she could’ve seen it. And no way it could have been avoided. When she hit it—the wire, the thin metal cable that sliced into her shins—she howled into the darkness that engulfed her. That was just before she lost her balance and spilled forward, landing on her face and tasting the rich dank earth beneath her.
And from behind, all the lights of the house switched on, blazing to life.
And she knew: She had caused that. When she’d tripped the wire.
She rolled onto her side, feeling leaves and needles beneath her as she clutched her shins. She spit, trying get rid of the taste of dirt in her mouth, and even without looking, she could feel the blood beneath her fingers and knew she’d cut herself.
Her mind raced. She didn’t know what to do, but she couldn’t just lie there and wait for something to happen. For him to find her.
Beneath the glare of the lights, she saw the car in the driveway. She hadn’t noticed it before, when it had been camouflaged by blackness, and her heart sank.
Keys! She jammed her blood-slicked hands into the coat’s pockets, hoping, praying she’d get lucky and they’d be in there. But she found nothing, and she cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner. She should’ve been searching for car keys instead of trying to find a cord for the phone.
Still, she didn’t recall seeing any keys, and there was no time for regrets now.
She clambered to her feet, taking in her surroundings as best she could. All around her, dark tree trunks rose toward the sky like inky shadows, creating an even darker canopy overhead.
She was somewhere deep in the woods.
And if Violet knew anything, she knew the woods.
“Violet? Vi-o-let, where are you?”
It was Caine. She didn’t know him well enough to recognize his voice, but he was the only one out here who knew her name. The only one who would be calling for her in the middle of the night.
Hearing his voice only spurred her on, making Violet run even faster. Beneath her feet, branches cracked and she stumbled more often than she should have. Her socks were soaked from running across the damp forest floor, but she refused to shed them. They were the only barrier between her and the rocks and thorns and sticks that threatened to slice her feet. Her bare legs had nothing to protect them and were being ripped and scraped every time she bumped into something spiked or prickly. And she’d fallen more times than she could count.
It was so damn hard to run in the dark.
Still, she kept on. Keeping low and trying to stay quiet as she moved in quick bursts, huddling behind clusters of trees whenever she could.
She would’ve called out, cried for help, but she knew it was useless. And it would only serve to give Caine something to focus on, some way to find her. A deadly game of Marco Polo.
She already knew he was gaining ground. He had several advantages over her. Most importantly, he knew where they were.
And he had a flashlight. Violet had seen its beam, searching and scanning through the trees, cutting through the night. Her heart had nearly stopped when it had come too close. And unlike her, he had shoes.
Violet didn’t know how long she could outrun him. She had only one advantage. His imprints.
Even without seeing him, she could sense whenever he was drawing near. Her skin, her nose, and her tongue warned her of his presence.
For now, at least, the distance was enough and Violet broke cover and sprinted once more. She raced as fast as she could, trying to ignore the punishing ache in her feet as she moved over the jagged surface. She stubbed her toes and cracked her already bleeding shins against fallen branches in her path. Again and again she tripped.
And again and again she picked herself up to keep moving.
She had to keep moving. . . . It was the only way to survive.
Violet was exhausted, her body fatigued and her spirit crumbling. Her eyes had adjusted enough so she could at least see the ground in front of her and the trees all around her. The sound of her own breathing eclipsed all else . . . crickets, the rustling of leaves overhead, and the far-off calls of night birds.
She pinched her side, massaging the stabbing pain, and panted as she leaned heavily against the rough surface of a tree trunk, desperately seeking her second wind. She couldn’t give up.
She knew now they were near water, probably a lake. At first she thought she’d stepped into a puddle. But as she’d waded farther, she soon realized it was getting deeper. Too deep to simply walk through.
Since she couldn’t see well enough to know for certain, she’d thrown a rock and had heard it land with a definitive plunk. At the very least, it was an impassible pond.
After catching her breath, she eased away from her hiding place and maneuvered once more through the brush. She shoved aside branches and prickly vines, and brushed away spiders’ webs in her path.
Since the door locked from the inside, Violet simply unbolted it and stepped outside.
She was swallowed by blackness so complete that it sucked the breath out of her. She heard herself gasp at the same time her inner voice silently screamed at her: Run!
And she did. Without another thought, she ran. Stumbling and scrambling and running some more.
She didn’t get far before she found the trap. Or rather, before she triggered it.
There was no way she could’ve seen it. And no way it could have been avoided. When she hit it—the wire, the thin metal cable that sliced into her shins—she howled into the darkness that engulfed her. That was just before she lost her balance and spilled forward, landing on her face and tasting the rich dank earth beneath her.
And from behind, all the lights of the house switched on, blazing to life.
And she knew: She had caused that. When she’d tripped the wire.
She rolled onto her side, feeling leaves and needles beneath her as she clutched her shins. She spit, trying get rid of the taste of dirt in her mouth, and even without looking, she could feel the blood beneath her fingers and knew she’d cut herself.
Her mind raced. She didn’t know what to do, but she couldn’t just lie there and wait for something to happen. For him to find her.
Beneath the glare of the lights, she saw the car in the driveway. She hadn’t noticed it before, when it had been camouflaged by blackness, and her heart sank.
Keys! She jammed her blood-slicked hands into the coat’s pockets, hoping, praying she’d get lucky and they’d be in there. But she found nothing, and she cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner. She should’ve been searching for car keys instead of trying to find a cord for the phone.
Still, she didn’t recall seeing any keys, and there was no time for regrets now.
She clambered to her feet, taking in her surroundings as best she could. All around her, dark tree trunks rose toward the sky like inky shadows, creating an even darker canopy overhead.
She was somewhere deep in the woods.
And if Violet knew anything, she knew the woods.
“Violet? Vi-o-let, where are you?”
It was Caine. She didn’t know him well enough to recognize his voice, but he was the only one out here who knew her name. The only one who would be calling for her in the middle of the night.
Hearing his voice only spurred her on, making Violet run even faster. Beneath her feet, branches cracked and she stumbled more often than she should have. Her socks were soaked from running across the damp forest floor, but she refused to shed them. They were the only barrier between her and the rocks and thorns and sticks that threatened to slice her feet. Her bare legs had nothing to protect them and were being ripped and scraped every time she bumped into something spiked or prickly. And she’d fallen more times than she could count.
It was so damn hard to run in the dark.
Still, she kept on. Keeping low and trying to stay quiet as she moved in quick bursts, huddling behind clusters of trees whenever she could.
She would’ve called out, cried for help, but she knew it was useless. And it would only serve to give Caine something to focus on, some way to find her. A deadly game of Marco Polo.
She already knew he was gaining ground. He had several advantages over her. Most importantly, he knew where they were.
And he had a flashlight. Violet had seen its beam, searching and scanning through the trees, cutting through the night. Her heart had nearly stopped when it had come too close. And unlike her, he had shoes.
Violet didn’t know how long she could outrun him. She had only one advantage. His imprints.
Even without seeing him, she could sense whenever he was drawing near. Her skin, her nose, and her tongue warned her of his presence.
For now, at least, the distance was enough and Violet broke cover and sprinted once more. She raced as fast as she could, trying to ignore the punishing ache in her feet as she moved over the jagged surface. She stubbed her toes and cracked her already bleeding shins against fallen branches in her path. Again and again she tripped.
And again and again she picked herself up to keep moving.
She had to keep moving. . . . It was the only way to survive.
Violet was exhausted, her body fatigued and her spirit crumbling. Her eyes had adjusted enough so she could at least see the ground in front of her and the trees all around her. The sound of her own breathing eclipsed all else . . . crickets, the rustling of leaves overhead, and the far-off calls of night birds.
She pinched her side, massaging the stabbing pain, and panted as she leaned heavily against the rough surface of a tree trunk, desperately seeking her second wind. She couldn’t give up.
She knew now they were near water, probably a lake. At first she thought she’d stepped into a puddle. But as she’d waded farther, she soon realized it was getting deeper. Too deep to simply walk through.
Since she couldn’t see well enough to know for certain, she’d thrown a rock and had heard it land with a definitive plunk. At the very least, it was an impassible pond.
After catching her breath, she eased away from her hiding place and maneuvered once more through the brush. She shoved aside branches and prickly vines, and brushed away spiders’ webs in her path.
