chapter seven
Tree after tree after tree shot up, blotting the sky, all around her.
The forest began to look like an endless sea of green, one Sparrow was slowly drowning in. Even her dark-feathered foe had given up on her, leaving her to stumble and search for signs of intelligent life. At night she listened for the call of wolves, and when none came, loneliness burrowed inside her heart and another piece of her soul shriveled up.
“I have no idea where I’m going,” Sparrow said conversationally.
Several days ago she’d taken to talking to herself out loud. Yeah, she was losing it. From pain and grief, to anger and fury, and finally, madness.
“Madness?” She huffed. “Let’s not be dramatic just yet. I think you’re lonely, maybe a little scared.” She looked over her shoulder as though speaking to someone behind her. “Uh, speak for yourself. I admit I’m a little lonely with only you to talk to, but I’m definitely not scared. I don’t care enough to feel fear.”
“If you say so.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Uh, huh.”
“Shut up.”
“What?”
Groaning, Sparrow spun in place, the forest whirling around her. She came to a stop. It didn’t matter which direction she faced; it all looked the same. She had no sense of direction, especially considering she had no idea where she was going.
“Wolfrik, where are you?” she asked in a forlorn voice.
“Better hope you don’t find out. He’ll kill you,” said the taunting voice. “He’ll strangle you the same way he did Eric.”
“Good. I hope he puts us both out of our misery.”
“Yes, I do, and if you don’t stop bothering me, I’ll save him the trouble.”
No answer came. Unbelievable. There were so many comebacks to that, the most obvious one being that if she hadn’t had the courage to end her life at the compound, why would she now? It would be pointless, for one thing. Way too mundane. She’d had an opportunity to make it memorable. Dying in the woods was too anticlimactic.
Sparrow cleared her throat. “Fine, I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t do that—not after all the trouble I took to escape. That would be a tragic waste.”
The other voice didn’t answer.
“Hello?” Sparrow called impatiently.
Nothing.
Her stomach rumbled, but her hunger would have to wait until midday. Her supply of dried food was running low.
Speaking of dull ways to die, she would not allow starvation to take her. She had a gun and a hunting knife in her backpack. Hawk had taught her to shoot in her preteen years. They’d practiced in the field with old rusted cans and glass bottles. But it was one thing to shoot a can, another to kill a living creature. Could she do it? Eventually she’d have to.
Sparrow tamped her hunger down, imagining her belly full of protein. For now, she’d ration.
Sometime after midday, she came upon a gently flowing river. With a cry of delight, she slipped off her backpack as she jogged the rest of the way to the water’s edge. Sparrow removed her shoes and socks before bounding into the water. She didn’t care that the bottom of her pant legs got wet as she sloshed along the river’s shallows. Her clothing needed a good wash—her entire body did.
After walking up and down the riverbank, Sparrow selected a spot with a bit of sandy shore and large river rocks. She collected sturdy branches from the forest floor, breaking some off nearby trees, and balanced them between the tall rocks. Once everything was set up, she pulled her clothing out of her backpack and stripped out of the rest.
Sparrow took each garment, one by one, to the river and submerged the articles, swirling them then plunging them in and out of the water. She took her time with each piece before wringing it out then draping it over a stick to air-dry.
Once her clothes were washed and drying, she waded to the center of the river and crouched up to her neck, hissing at the water’s cool sting. Her skin began to numb. The sooner she rinsed off, the sooner she could dry off in the sun’s heat. She dipped her head back, wetting the ends, keeping watch on either side of the riverbank. Then she quickly dunked her head and blinked water out of her eyes.
Back on the sandy bank, she felt awake and invigorated for the first time in days. She unwrapped one of her six remaining food bars and nibbled small pieces off the end, chewing slowly until there was barely anything left to swallow. She worked her way down half the bar then forced herself to stop, even though she could have eaten two whole bars. Her stomach growled in protest as she carefully wrapped the bar back up and stuffed it inside the smaller front pocket of her pack.
Afterward, she got to work building a small fire on the sandy bank. Once she had enough kindling stacked up to last the rest of the day and night, she put on a pair of black underwear and a blue sports bra and stood beside the blazing fire, turning her body every so often as though roasting meat.
When her undergarments were dry, Sparrow selected a short-sleeved shirt and held it in front of the fire, turning it around every so often. Once dry, she pulled the shirt over her head and repeated the process with a pair of jeans.
She left the rest of her clothes to finish air-drying.
A small fish jumped from the water then disappeared. Sparrow stared at the place where it had surfaced, her stomach twisting with hunger. If only she had a net of some kind—or rope to make one.
She put her shoes on, dug her knife out of her pack, and stepped up to the forest floor, keeping close to her campsite as she searched for the perfect stick to turn into a spear. After a careful search, she found a solid, straight stick about four feet long that fit beautifully in her fist.
She smiled at her find and carried it proudly to her campsite beside the river where she whittled the end into a sharp, pointed tip. Holding the spear at her side, Sparrow felt more like a jungle queen and less like a pathetic runaway.
“Now all I need is a deerskin bikini.”
She lifted her chest and grinned, but the other voice didn’t answer.
Guess it really is just me now, she thought to herself.
There was a rustle in the shrubs.
Or not.
Ever so quietly, Sparrow kneeled beside her pack and pulled out her gun. She always kept it fully loaded and her bag open when she stopped anywhere. Animals, large and small, were constantly making noises in the forest, and she’d learned to keep calm. If she panicked at every swish in the treetops and rustle in the bushes, she’d make herself crazy, and run out of ammo.
But she also had to be cautious—all the time.
Sparrow straightened, gun held at her side, and stared intently into the woods. The bushes continued to shake. This animal sounded quite large—no squirrel or rabbit, that much was clear. Nor was it big enough to be seen above the shrubs.
Keep cool, Sparrow.
She took long, even breaths, hoping they’d turn down the volume of her heart inside her ears.
Maybe it was a wolf. Perhaps she’d finally found Wolfrik’s pack. But what emerged from the brush was no wolf or animal she’d ever seen.
It slunk toward the river on long, black, hairy legs like spiders. Nails resembling talons dug into the earth with each step. The midnight-black head was shaped like a mountain lion, but the rest of its body was skinny.
Sparrow held her breath. The creature hadn’t seen her yet. If she lifted her gun, it might notice the motion, so she waited. As she did, a second, identical creature joined the first. Then a third, fourth, and fifth.
Sparrow’s heart beat up her throat, and her hands shook.
No need to panic. She had fifteen rounds in her magazine clip. Three bullets per beast.
But there are FIVE of them and one of me!
She could do it. She’d shot down rows of cans before—one after another. Same concept. These targets were bigger and therefore easier—except for the fact that they moved.
The leader’s head jerked up, and it made a horrific screeching sound as its eyes locked onto her. Its companions took up the screech. Sparrow’s shoulders hunched as she winced. She lifted the gun and shot into the dark, hairy group. One of the nightmare beasts screamed and fell. The remaining four ran at her.
Sparrow fired shot after shot. There came another scream, and another. Two more of the creatures fell. The remaining two darted into the woods.
She heard screeching in the distance, too far away to be the two who had taken cover in the brush.
Shit! How many of these things are there? What are they?
She wasn’t going to stick around to find out.
As Sparrow leaned down and reached to grab her backpack, the two creatures shot out of the woods. One leaped at her. She shrieked and fired into the air as she scrambled backward. Sparrow sprang to her feet as the creatures screeched at her. One of the foul things had knocked her clothes into the sand. The other stood between her and her backpack.
Sparrow aimed at the one closest, but as her finger squeezed the trigger, the creature leaped aside in time to avoid the bullet. Its companion got onto two legs and bellowed, reminding her of the stories Hawk’s men had told of grizzly bears.
She took a step back then turned and ran into the river, not stopping until she’d reached the deepest part of the water. The two creatures screeched from the shoreline but didn’t come in after her. Sparrow kept the barrel of her gun trained on them, waiting to see if they’d wade in. As long as they stayed away from her, she wouldn’t shoot. She needed to reserve her bullets, especially since the animals had gotten between her and her pack with the ammo inside.
While Sparrow stood in the water, one of the creatures began rooting around in her backpack. It pulled out an energy bar and began chewing through the wrapper.
“Oh, hell no!”
With her left hand, Sparrow grabbed a rock from the riverbed and chucked it at the beast. She missed by several feet. Groaning with frustration, Sparrow switched the gun from her right hand to her left and grabbed another rock, this time getting closer to hitting the creature when she used her good hand. The animal stopped chewing long enough to hiss.
Sparrow hissed back. “Get away from my pack!”
Her words rolled right off the creatures.
There was screeching from the brush as three more of the black-haired animals arrived. They ran cursory glances over Sparrow before joining their friends at her pack.
She heard a rip as they tore her bag open, spilling the contents over the sand.
“Shit,” Sparrow said, anger bringing tears to her eyes.
It would be stupid to shoot at them. She didn’t know how many bullets she had left, and even a full magazine would have been better used defending herself. At the moment, she was perfectly safe. The river flowed just above her waist. The jeans she’d just gotten dry were now soaked again. Her spare clothes were strewn across the sandy bank, torn up beneath the sharp talon-like tips of the creature’s nails.
“Shit,” she said again. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
Now would be the time to get away—while they were distracted, busy devouring her food.
My food! Mine. Damn animals. They can hunt down their own food.
“Like human meat?” There was a snort inside her head. The voice was back.
“So, now you’re talking to me again?”
“Sparrow—”
“What?”
“Time to go.”
Sparrow cast one last forlorn look at her backpack and clothes before wading across the river.