Page 103 of One Step Too Far

A preternatural hush has fallen all around us. As if every life-form has hunkered down and buttoned up. Keeping out of sight of big bad heading their way.

We don’t have to see him to know.

The hunter has arrived.

CHAPTER 35

Neil and I remain frozen in place beside the pines. The clump of spruce, with their wide-spreading, low-hanging branches, had been an excellent place for concealment. Here, however, we are more exposed as we hold our breaths, listen to our thundering heartbeats.

I do my best to scan the forest around me, looking for signs of human presence. Maybe the shape of a head or the whites of someone’s eyes or the reflective glint off a rifle scope. I come up with nothing, but then, I’m not sure where to look. Down low, up high? I can’t get a bead on the danger, just the overwhelming sense that it is very close.

Neil tugs on my hand. His already wan features have gone a shade paler. He points to the spruce trees. I nod my understanding.

He takes the first tentative step. No crack of gunfire. A second step, then a third. I follow shakily behind him.

He’s still dragging the cut branches. I grab two of them as well, though I’m not sure why.

We hit the thick-needled spruce, duck beneath. Now I’m grateful for the sticky pitch and prickly needles. Evergreens are my new best friends.

We wait again. I count off the seconds in my head, if only to give myself something to do. We still don’t hear anything.

Then, from the distance: a trill, like from a happy bird.

Neil and I exchange desperate glances. It’s too early. We haven’t finished constructing our hideouts. Neil and I aren’t even in the right position. Let alone Scott and Miguel...

This is not the plan!

Neil rallies first. He reaches behind himself to twist his unbuckled pack sideways. He draws out a can of bear spray, stares at me resolutely.

I can’t help but think of his words. He’s already the wounded prey. Might as well go out on his terms.

As I watch, he takes a few of our cut branches and twists their ends into the straps on his pack. I don’t completely understand it. His own homemade ghillie suit? But then I notice how it obscures his form, changes his silhouette, making it harder to target the human buried beneath. Works for me. I quickly follow suit.

I have my knife but take out my can of pepper spray as well.

—

Neil crawls out from beneath the trees. The noise of pine cones crunching and branches dragging sounds incredibly loud in the hushed stillness. We both wince but keep on moving.

The happy-bird trill again. Bob, letting us know the hunter approaches.

We should be running away, I think wildly, not creeping toward. We should be disintegrating into every man for himself.

But our group that was not a group has turned solid as a rock.

Death approaches.

Neil and I head out to meet it.

—

We pause in sight of Daisy’s snagged red vest. I don’t see any sign of Scott or Miguel. Were they able to take cover behind the bushes? Nothing moves. I don’t hear so much as the rustle of a leaf.

Once more I scan the horizon. Once more I come up with nothing. Sweat trickles down my brow, stings my eyes. I can hear insects now, droning in my ear. Look. Listen. Breathe.

Then the snap of a dead twig.

Straight ahead, the clump of bushes trembles in response. Scott or Miguel—has to be. But still, my gaze can’t pick out another person moving through the trees around us.

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