Page 143 of Imogen

“There’s more,” Landon adds.

“There’s an empty bottle of vodka and an empty pack of tramadol on the passenger seat,” Mark utters.

I take the car out of park and continue on down the dirt road. “What the fuck is he thinking?”

“Beats me,” Mark growls.

“Try her dad again,” I announce to no one in particular.

“Already on it,” Hayden promises. “I’m still not getting signal.”

We reach the car park, which is empty. I park closest to the path, not bothering to use the spaces allocated.

In a hurry, we all jump out, and Landon throws a torch to me. We begin to race up the path. It’s eerie being in a forest after dark. There’s no sound other than the rain and the rustle in the trees. I can’t see anything past the light from my torch. The moon has been swallowed up by the dark grey clouds. This is worse than any scare fest I’ve been to. It has my hairs standing on end and a shiver racing down my spine.

The path is like a zig-zag winding up the hill. If the footpaths were close to each other, you could probably just climb it like steps. They aren’t though, and I bet trying to get through the wild bushes and overgrown weeds, plus the rocks, would make it harder. And take twice as long.

I keep the torch moving in every direction, not wanting to miss something vital. I can’t get rid of the feeling of someone lurking, waiting to pounce. The thought clings to me like sweat on a hot summer’s day.

And I vow to never watch another horror movie for as long as I live.

The sky expels a low rumble, seconds before a jagged silver flash slashes through the night air, startling a whimper out of me.

Keep going.

My feet hurt from my trainers, the material digging into the backs of my ankles, and I struggle to keep up. The only reason I don’t stop is because it’s Imogen. She needs us. And she’d do the same for any one of us.

The trees give us a little protection from the rain, and it no longer feels like it’s cutting into my cheeks as I run. Yet I still feel like I’m in a nightmare. My footfalls feel heavy, and my movements are sluggish. And in the pitch black, it’s like running in a never-ending maze, unable to find your way out. The path just keeps going.

“Did I mention I fucking hate running,” Hayden yells.

Preach.

I take note of the post markings as we pass section five. It’s just a shame there are no emergency phones out here. They would have come in useful if we need to call the police.

Or an ambulance.

Smudged dirt catches my attention, and I skid to a stop at the sight of it. It’s not the only spot. The embankment looks flatter, like something or someone has rolled down it.

“Guys, come here,” I yell, searching the ground for any other signs of a struggle.

“We don’t have time,” Landon shouts back.

“No, look,” I order, pointing to the dirt. “Something happened over here.”

“It could be a rock,” Hayden points out.

I arch an eyebrow. “I’ve watched every episode of Criminal Minds. I know what this means.”

“Seriously?” Landon asks. “We need to keep going. We don’t have time for you to analyse a smudged piece of dirt.”

Yet my feet can’t move. “No! I’m going to check it out.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Mark utters. “It’s dangerous.”

“No, she’s right,” Hayden declares, and shines her torch down the embankment. “That’s a shoe.”

I shine my torch down and see the glitter shoelace she weaved in this morning. “That’s Imogen’s shoe,” I cry, and before they can stop me, I begin to make my way down.

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