Chapter 5 #2
Dave pulled back, his head tilting as if sensing something was wrong. “Wait—”
Amy didn’t give him a chance to finish. She lunged forward, slamming her forehead into his face with a sickening crack.
He stumbled, rage flashing in his eyes, but I was already on him. My arms wrapped around his neck, cutting off his air, squeezing the veins that carried blood to his brain.
He thrashed, clawing at me, but I held on, my teeth clenched and my body screaming from the effort.
After what seemed like eternity, his body finally sagged beneath mine, before I let him drop to the floor. My arms felt like lead, my legs like jelly, but I forced myself upright. He wasn’t dead—I was too weak to kill him—but he wouldn’t wake up anytime soon.
“Let’s go,” I rasped, fumbling to free Amy’s ankle chain. The lock gave way, and Amy grabbed a set of keys from Dave’s pocket before we ran.
Upstairs, the kitchen was eerily silent, the faint moonlight casting jagged shadows that felt alive.
Amy shot out her arm. “Hold on.” She glanced toward the stairs. A sudden rumbling sound echoed from below, vibrating through the floor. My blood turned ice-cold as we locked onto each other.
“Now,” I whispered.
We bolted to the front door, fumbling with the keys until the lock clicked. Throwing the door open, we burst into the freezing night. The darkness swallowed us, but the air tasted of freedom.
“This way!” Amy hissed, dragging me toward his battered truck parked haphazardly near the side of the house. My ankle screamed with every step, but I pushed through it, climbing into the passenger seat as Amy slid into the driver’s side.
The car roared to life, and Amy slammed her foot on the gas, sending us lurching forward down the dirt path.
As the house disappeared behind us, the adrenaline finally cracked something inside me.
A hysterical laugh bubbled up in my chest, and before I could stop it, I was laughing, the sound wild, almost manic. Amy shot me a sideways glance but didn’t say a word, her knuckles white against the wheel as she pressed harder on the gas.
We were out. And we were alive.
One day prior.
When I woke up and noticed the time on the truck’s cracked dashboard clock, I jolted upright in my seat. The sky outside was a dull gray, the first hints of dawn creeping through the trees. I must’ve been out cold for hours.
I glanced sideways, expecting Amy to look as rattled as I felt.
Instead, she was the picture of calm, her hands steady on the wheel, her expression unreadable, as if she were on a Sunday drive instead of fleeing for her life.
“Seriously?” I muttered, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “You’re more relaxed than anyone in the history of traumatized victims of abductions.”
Her lips quirked, the ghost of a smile. “I’ve always been good under pressure.”
Quite the understatement.
“Where are we?” I asked, as I craned my neck to look out the window. The dense forest we’d been racing through was now giving way to open fields and quiet roads.
“Vermont,” she said breezily, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “We crossed the state border hours ago.”
I blinked at her, stunned. “What? How?”
Amy shrugged, a flicker of mischief crossing her face. “Sweet-talked the guys at the state border. Told them we were heading up for some early hiking, you know, before the tourists get there. My charming personality did the rest.”
She paused, then added dryly, “Being human helped a lot.”
A snort burst out of me before I could stop it. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”
Amy grinned, but the amusement didn’t quite reach her whole expression. I could tell she was still processing everything, but for now she wore her calm as armor, and I wasn’t about to pry it off.
I leaned back in my seat, exhaling shakily as I stared out at the quiet Vermont roads, the faint light of dawn painting the horizon.
“So,” Amy said, breaking the silence. “Where exactly are you planning to cross the national border? You didn’t mention that part back in our cozy cellar.”
I bit my lip, as I tried to remember the safest route. “Norton Stanhope,” I said finally. “It’s remote enough, and the terrain gives me the best chance to cross on foot without being seen.”
Amy nodded, her focus on the road. “Makes sense. But you’re not making it there in one go on foot. I’ll drop you off somewhere close.”
“Where’s ‘close’?”
“There’s a spot near Brighton,” she said, glancing at me with a knowing look. “It’s still a good ten hours on foot to Norton Stanhope from there, but it’s out of the way. Quiet. You can slip into the woods without anyone noticing.”
I hesitated, the knot in my stomach tightening. Ten hours. My ankle throbbed just thinking about it, but I knew she was right. I couldn’t afford to draw attention, and the farther she stayed from the national border, the safer she’d be.
“Brighton works,” I said, steadier than I felt. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she muttered, her tone light but her grip on the wheel firm. “We’ve still got a long way to go.”
Hours later, the truck rattled to a stop right outside a small gas station on the outskirts of Brighton.
Amy jumped out first, her movements determined, while I hesitated, scanning the quiet street. A few people milled about, their gazes lingering on us a beat too long. I couldn’t tell if it was suspicion or small-town curiosity, but it made the hair on my neck rise.
Amy was already grabbing supplies: water, protein bars, anything lightweight and portable. She stuffed the items into a bag, her confidence unwavering, and I envied her calm.
After three more stops, we finally rolled into Brighton.
“This is it,” Amy said softly as the truck came to a stop on the edge of a cracked two-lane road.
She shifted into park but didn’t move. “You sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
I stared out at the aging storefronts, the diner across the street, the sidewalks too quiet to feel right. “Yes. I have a new life waiting, and you have an old one to get back to.”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned in her seat to face me, her fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the steering wheel. “I don’t know how to thank you. Or even say goodbye.”
I gave her a sad smile. “I didn’t do shit. You got us out. I only brought the insanity required to pull it off.”
Amy snorted, then smiled. “Can I hug you?”
I didn’t hesitate, leaned over and wrapped my arms around her, and held her tight. “Be safe, my friend.”
“You too.”
I opened the door and stepped out, boots crunching against the gravel as I closed it behind me. Amy gave me one last look—searching, maybe memorizing—before the truck pulled away, tires spitting dust into the still air.
I watched until the taillights disappeared around the bend, only then realizing we hadn’t exchanged phone numbers. Or even last names. Maybe it was for the best. I wasn’t sure she’d want to keep in touch with someone who reminded her of the worst thing that had ever happened to her.
As I turned to the woods, I felt it before I saw it: stares. A group of people near the diner had stopped mid-conversation. Mouths parted, faces tense.
My pulse kicked up.
Then a voice rang out across the street. “Hey! That’s her!”
“Call the cops!” another yelled.
Chaos erupted as more people joined in. “She’s that human-killing witch!” a man bellowed, his face red with fury. “She murdered her own parents!”
The words hit me like a sledgehammer, the agony ripping through my chest so suddenly I nearly doubled over. My breath came in shallow, ragged gasps as my parents’ faces flashed in my mind. Blood. Screams. The truth I could never outrun.
I bolted toward the woods, the angry shouts growing louder behind us. My ankle screamed with every step, but I pushed through it, the fear of being caught driving me forward.
Branches whipped at my face as I crashed into the forest, the sounds of pursuit too close for comfort. I chanced a glance over my shoulder, before a deafening crack split the air.
I skidded to a stop, horror freezing me in place as I realized they were shooting at me.
My jaw dropped, but before I could scream, another shot rang out, closer this time. Bark exploded near my shoulder. I snapped back into motion, legs burning as I tore through the underbrush.
Tears blurred my vision. Every inhale was a gasp. Every footfall felt as if it might be my last.
And then I let the trees swallow me whole, their shadows wrapping around me like a final, merciless goodbye.