Page 26 of North

“Where did the injured boy go?” Jameson turned in a slow circle. “Everyone fan out.”

We spread out, searching for more blood or any sign of the boy.

Where are you?

Ahead of me, Jess stopped by a fallen tree. The large trunk was now hollowed out and overgrown with bushes and grass. She pushed some of the vegetation aside.

“Hey.” I grabbed her arm.

“What? This could be a perfect hiding spot.”

“I know that we’re usually more worried about monsters, but Australia is home to some of the deadliest snakes in the world. Taipans, brown snakes, red-bellied black snakes, death adders?—”

She held up a hand. “I got it. Lots of killer snakes.”

“I suggest you use a stick, not your hand.” I grabbed a stick off the ground and held it out to her.

She took it and her nose wrinkled. “I’m not fond of snakes.”

“And I’m not fond of treating painful snake bites.”

She started poking inside the fallen trunk. “Ugh, there are lots of spiderwebs.”

“Australia has lots of nasty spiders too.”

“Yes, I know all about Australia’s very large bug population.” Suddenly, she gasped and leaped back, practically throwing herself into my arms.

An angry brown snake hissed and slithered out of the tree.

“Oh God,” she whispered.

We watched as its long, thick, sinuous body slithered away.

“You okay?”

She scrambled away from me, patting her chest. Then she tightened her ponytail. “I’m fine.” She shuddered. “I really hate snakes.” Then she stilled. “North, look.”

I turned and saw a small, bloody handprint on the fallen trunk of the tree. I touched my ear. “Jameson, we found a handprint. He came this way.”

“Acknowledged,” Jameson replied.

I leaped over the fallen tree and scanned the ground on the other side. I spotted some footprints—one with a shoe, and one of a bare foot. The poor kid was only wearing one shoe.

“This way.”

Jess and I broke into a jog. We followed the prints until we reached another creek. The water rushed quickly past us, splashing over some rocks. The spot was almost idyllic.

“Do you see him?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“Come on.” I moved down the bank and spotted more prints. “He swam across.” I waded into the water.

The creek was deeper than the other one we’d crossed, and soon, the water reached my hips. I held my carbine above my head.

Jess sloshed through the water beside me, holding her weapon up, as well.

On the other side of the river, the footprints disappeared.

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