Page 12 of Through The Woods

The crashing got louder and then stopped. I held my breath and closed my eyes, as if doing so would make me invisible. Clint had to be within five feet of me.

Right then and there, I sobered up long enough to pray that he suffered from night blindness.

Anything that would keep him from seeing me lying on the forest floor.

I continued holding my breath, even as my body pleaded for air. There was a loud retreat back into the trees and then the sounds of the forest were the only thing surrounding me again.

The air turned colder and I shivered involuntarily as I inhaled a grateful breath, my tank top and Bermuda shorts doing nothing to keep me warm. I pressed my body up against the log, seeking warmth from any source I could find.

The trees above me looked like a giant blanket, just begging to be pulled down over my body. I couldn’t have chosen a more perfect place to die.

Apathy? Wasn’t that a sign of hypothermia?

I fought to stay conscious, but with that thought, my vision swam and everything went dark.

Fir tree

“Fuck if I know how she got here, but we can’t leave her.”

“Charm’s gonna flip his shit over this. We can’t just bring random women back to the club—”

“Well, what do you suggest we do with her? Leave her here to die?”

The male voices continued arguing nearby and I struggled to open my eyes. My body, on the other hand, disagreed with even the mere thought of consciousness so my eyes remained closed.

I listened to the men, but their voices were unfamiliar to me. It didn’t sound like Clint or Trev. In fact, I was certain I’d never heard them before in my life. He hadn’t found me. That was really the only thing I had going for me at the moment.

Hands touched my throat and I stiffened in response. “She’s got a pulse.” From there, they moved down my side, stopping at the wound that was making me feverish and delusional. “But, she’s in pretty bad shape.”

Maybe I was hallucinating this entire thing. I’d fallen in the middle of nowhere. There was no way that someone had found me so soon. I’d simply conjured up a mountain doctor in my mind, a man ready to piece a cokehead like me back together. He’d probably discovered me as he’d taken his evening constitutional. I pictured him having a cane that he’d carved himself and cheeks that were permanently rosy.

I was losing it. The reality of my situation was that I’d stranded myself in the middle of the wilderness. There were no hiking trails that I’d passed as I ran for my life and it was even more impossible to assume that someone had just miraculously stumbled upon me.

“She’s been stabbed. It needs to be treated.” If I was going to keep with the narrative in my mind, I’d call that voice Doc. He seemed to know what he was talking about.

The faint scent of cigarette smoke and cologne hit my nostrils and for whatever reason, it reminded me of my dad, even though he’d never smoked a day in his life. This was the best hallucination I’d ever experienced—my whole body was participating. Maybe I was still high.

“Fuck, do whatever you want. It’s your funeral.” That was obviously Grumpy.

There was a loud sneeze followed by a curse. “Did she have to end up in a pile of flowers? Shit, my eyes are watering like a motherfucker.” That one would be Sneezy.

“I think we should keep her,” a chipper voice added. I’d call him Happy.

I mentally ticked off the list of my imagined rescuers. Obviously, I was still missing a few. Strong arms lifted me up off the ground and an involuntary groan of pain escaped past my lips. I felt as if I’d been forced through a meat grinder. My elbow gave a sharp protest at the movement, another reminder that last night had not been some drugged-up dream. Fingers dug into my ankle and I damn near cried out again.

An object at rest will remain at rest, unless acted on by an unbalanced force.

Hello, unbalanced force.

“Careful with her. We don’t need to add to her injuries.” Maybe Grumpy had a heart after all. “I, for one, don’t want her staying any longer than she has to.”

Maybe not.

I was jostled along uneven terrain before being placed gently in the backseat of a vehicle. I needed to sit up and take in my surroundings.

I could get a grasp of where exactly I was—maybe find a landmark. Just in case I had to run again.

The vehicle hit a bump and all plans of moving went out the window. Pain barreled through me like a locomotive and I couldn’t think of anything but how badly I hurt. Beads of sweat ran down my face and I couldn’t distinguish whether it was from the fever or the movement.

I flirted briefly with the idea of sitting up again before fully committing to unconsciousness.

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