Page 74 of Catching Fire

It was an easy enough task.Easier than fighting, Kalan thought as he gulped the water. Though his brain still churned, still wondered if Seline had water, if Seline had food, if Seline hadlife.

But he fulfilled the promise and saw his friend out the front door. The two men walked through the living room where FBI agents sat, a mild buzz permeating the air and telling them the agents were still working diligently. And that they had still achieved nothing for all their effort.

As the door clicked behind Sebastian, Kalan felt the click somewhere in his chest as well.

And he wondered if this was how it would always be. If Seline would always be gone, and if he would never find her …

Chapter Forty-Eight

Seline’s heart pounded as she put her hand on the doorknob at the small house. She swallowed hard and prayed that the car had taken Sanders away and he hadn’t returned. She twisted at the knob but it didn't give.

Seline furtively looked around, though it appeared no one had seen her—luckily not Sanders, and unfortunately not anyone else.

She headed around the side of the house, trying to avoid stepping on the gravel in the driveway. Her feet had only the torn silk of her old top to protect them, but it was unavoidable. The gravel and stone bit into already soft skin, and she found she was past caring. As she tried this door, the knob also didn't give. But this one had a panel of nine smaller panes of glass. That was all she needed to break in.

Shit, she thought.She was going to have to do this.

Clearly, Sanders had chosen this place for being out in the middle of nowhere, so she was unlikely to be seen. Sadly, the thing that meant no one would see her also meantno one would see her… Nebraska was known for big open spaces.

And she had to do this, because hewouldcome back.

Seline looked around again. For the first time it occurred to her that his getting in the car and driving off was a ploy to draw her out. To make her brave enough to risk running across an open field. But she could run for a long time and not find anyone. Of that, she was certain.

Now her only question was, how long before he came back?

He most likely figured he could find her. But—exactly as she'd told Kalan and others—what if Sanders had gone back to the cabins? Because that would be the one place no one would look. So she had returned here—hopefully the one place Sanders wouldn’t expect her.

So she could only hope that Sanders was out driving around searching anywhere but here. He would likely assume she'd gotten further than she actually had the night before. Or maybe he’d figured out that she’d found a hiding place. But wouldn’t he expect her to keep moving far from here?

And if anyone else found her? Well, that should be her best chance of staying alive. In fact, sheneededother people to find her. That was why she was here. So she unbuttoned the front of her suit jacket, which already made her look like a refugee from the Victoria's Secret modeling event and stood there in her bra. She wrapped her hand in her once expensive blazer and punched through the glass.

She paused only for long enough to flex her now-bruised fingers and listen for noise coming from inside. With the car away, she had to guess that Sanders was gone, too. After picking out the shards of glass that jutted into the hole she’d made, she reached inside and turned the knob.

She had a very short time period to do what she needed.

Seline followed the plan she’d made on the way over and threw open the pantry doors. Grabbing the first thing she saw—a box of Cheerios—she opened it and stuffed her hand inside and began eating for the first time in two days. Had anyone seen her, they would have guessed she was more horse than human, but she had zero fucks left to give. She stuffed another handful in as she next opened the fridge, the precious, nearly-stale cheerios still hugged tightly to her side.

There was no filtered water, but that wasn’t surprising. A gallon of milk sat in the middle of mostly empty space and when she opened it her head snapped back. She wasn't that desperate yet, so she slapped open cabinets with no concern for noise and grabbed a large plastic cup from the mismatched pieces and poured herself water from the sink.

She listened happily as the water glugged from the glass and down her throat. But just as soon as she finished the whole thing and sighed with relief, her body rebelled. Her stomach seized and she barfed everything into the sink.

Tears formed in her eyes, she needed food. She had to keep it down, but it had been too long and she’d eaten too fast. So she braced her hands on the sink and waited through the heaves she didn’t have the time for.

Slowly, her stomach untied itself, as she took in big gulps of only air this time. In and out. In and out. She told herself she’d be okay.

But she still had to eat and drink. So she poured more water and this time took it in sips. She ate just a small portion of cheerios as she rinsed out the sink because she would need it later, not because she was cleaning Sanders’ shitbox.

Taking her big plastic cup of water and her box of Cheerios toward the back of the house, she slammed through the place. If Sanders was here, he'd already heard her and she stood no chance. And she didn’t have time to be quiet. She quickly used the restroom and then found what she needed in the second bedroom: a closet full of clothing.

She ate another slow handful of Cheerios and managed to keep them down as she looked through what was available. If she hadn't just barfed up the only food she'd eaten in over a day, her stomach would have churned at the thought of putting on Sanders’ clothing. But she’d thought of no other options, so she pulled out an old t shirt and wondered if it had microscopic bloodstains on it from his previous victims. She was in no position to care.

Seline tugged it on over her head. Then she found a long sleeve shirt and pulled that on top. An old flannel lumberjack-type shirt came next, and she tied it around her waist. She found jeans and a belt and rolled them up so she could wear them, and she abandoned her once-favorite pink suit pants to the floor.

She rummaged through drawers, looking for socks and found several thick pairs. They would be too warm for the day, but overheating was the least of her problems. She also needed shoes and found a pair of old, worn hiking boots that looked to be her best bet. Sitting on the floor and eating another small dose of cheerios, she layered on three pairs of socks, shoved her feet down in the boots and wiggled her toes. They still felt as if there was too much room, but she didn’t have time to complain or shop around. Lacing them as tightly as she could, she stood up and tested to see if the size wouldn’t cause more harm than help. But they stayed in place and she figured she could run in them if she had to.

It would feel good to get away from Sanders using his own things.

She drank more water carefully to help her wash down the cereal. This time when she headed into the kitchen, she clumped her way through the house. Her feet, now cushioned by all the socks, didn't scream quite as loudly as they had before. Though she could still feel the cuts, and she was confident they would need medical attention, she could move more freely. But it made her think …

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