Page 57 of Not This Place

A sharp crack of thunder shattered the silence around them as they reached a narrow part of the river. The water was moving swiftly.

"Which way?" he stammered, his gaze darting around nervously.

"Over," Rachel answered, pointing to the opposite bank. She gave him a hard look. "And no funny business."

His lips twitched in what might have been a smirk under different circumstances. But here and now, it was just a grimace. He nodded and began to move toward the river once more.

Rachel watched him, every muscle ready to react in case of any sudden moves. The man was scared but desperation had a way of pushing people into unexpected bravery. She wasn't about to lower her guard.

They waded back into the water, the current pulling at their feet. Rachel kept her gun trained on him as they waded across the shallows. Her eyes constantly flickered between him and their surroundings— never knowing when the sniper might appear again.

Once they reached the opposite bank, Rachel motioned for the man to keep moving. They needed to put as much distance between themselves and the unidentified shooter as possible.

As they moved through the wilderness again, Rachel could hear animals rustling in the bushes and leaves crunching beneath their boots. With every broken twig or rustling leaf, her body tensed, ready for a fight that didn't come.

She glared at the dead radio in her hand once more before shoving it back in her pocket angrily. They had to find a way back to Ethan— and quickly— because out here in the wilderness, they were nothing more than easy targets.

The night seemed to stretch on endlessly as they trudged through mud and overgrown vegetation in silence, their breath foggy whispers against the chilly air.

“It isn’t too late for you,” the gunman was muttering. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I’m a Texas Ranger,” she said simply. “I do my job. You’re a murdering asshole.”

“I didn’t kill those folks.”

“Who did?”

The man hesitated, his eyes flicking around the forest as if searching for an escape. "I...I can't say," he stuttered.

Rachel frowned, her grip on the gun tightening. "Why not? Scared of what they'd do to you?"

"I'm scared of what they'll do to my family."

She paused at that, taking in the fear and desperation writ large across his face. He was a criminal, no doubt about it. But he was also a pawn, trapped in a game much larger than himself.

"What's your name?" she asked, her voice softer.

He glanced at her warily. "Why?"

"Because I want to know who I'm dealing with."

The man took a deep breath before answering. "It's...it's Simon."

"Well, Simon. We've got a long way to go, and it looks like we're stuck together. So how about we make a deal?"

Simon looked at her skeptically, but nodded for her to continue.

"You help me get back to my partner and bring down whoever's pulling your strings, and I promise to do everything in my power to protect your family."

He was silent for a moment, considering her offer. Finally, he nodded. "Alright," he agreed reluctantly.

“So who’s your boss?”

But again, his lips just tightened.

The man gave her a wary look. "I can't say."

"You're running out of chances to make this easier on yourself," she warned him, her tone icy.

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