Every Precious Thing

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

At first Sara thought she was just hearing her heart pounding in her chest, but the rhythm was wrong, and she soon realized the sound was feet running through the woods, heading in her direction.

She rounded bear rock without even stopping.

The forked tree. The forked tree. Next is the forked tree.

But which direction was it?

More to the right. No, no! To the left. More to the left.

As she corrected her path, she slipped and went down, her knees and elbows slapping into the mud. Grimacing in pain, she forced herself back to her feet.

She knew the person chasing her had to be one of them. She couldn’t let them catch her. She couldn’t let them know where Emily was. She began running again, but the footsteps behind her were closer now.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” a voice called out.

Right, she thought.

There, just ahead, the forked tree. When I reach that, then it’s up the hill, then-

“Sara! Please stop!”

She chanced a look over her shoulder. The man behind her was as drenched as she was. He seemed to be alone at the moment, but she knew there were at least two others out there. She’d seen them on the ridge. Her pursuer was lean and strong. No way was she ever going to be able to outrun him. She had only one chance.

As she ran on, she pulled her left arm out of the strap to her backpack, and swung the bag around so she could get at it. Fastened to the side was a twelve-gauge shotgun. She retrieved a couple shells from the side pocket, then pulled the gun loose and dropped the bag to the mud.

The forked tree. Get to the forked tree.

It was just ahead, big enough so she could hide behind it and use the fork to safely take aim at the man.

She loaded the shells and sprinted the rest of the way to the tree. She leaned against the trunk, catching her breath as she listened to the man approach. Once it sounded like he was no more than fifty or sixty feet away, she slid into place, and propped the barrel of the gun in the fork. She chambered the shell, the distinctive clack-clack cutting through the storm.

The man could not help but hear it, too. He stopped in his tracks, but instead of going for cover, he raised his hands in the air.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he repeated as his gaze found her in the break of the tree.

“I’ll shoot if you come any closer!” she shouted.

“Sara, I’m a friend. I came here with Diana and Richard.”

“Liar!” She was suddenly sure her sister and brother were both dead. It’s my fault! My fault!

Her finger tightened on the trigger.

“I’m not lying. I’m here because of your family,” he said. “I’m here because of Alan and Emily.”

So overcome by her own despair, she almost didn’t hear the names. Once she realized what he’d said, she froze. Then a whole new level of anxiety kicked in.

He knows about Alan and Emily. They know about Alan and Emily!

A scream flew from her lips as her finger jerked the trigger.