32. Detritus
Chapter 32
Detritus
Neve dreamed she was in a cold, dark place, her body curled up in a fetal position and leeching its warmth into unyielding rocky ground. But when her heart began pounding against her rib cage like a prisoner trying to break out of a cell, she quickly realized this was no dream. It was an all-too-real nightmare.
Where was she? How had she gotten here? As fragmented memories slid their way back into her consciousness, a double dose of panic and adrenaline flooded her veins. Images, each one fuzzy around the edges, flashed on her mind’s movie screen. A needle stick to her neck. A woman manhandling her, her harsh voice ordering her to walk, a jostling car ride, the same voice ordering her into the back of a strange vehicle, a smelly tarp settling heavily on top of her, the beginning of another chaotic car ride, then the light going out. And now she was here—wherever here was. She was outside, and it was dark and freezing. What was this place?
She rolled onto her back, ready to prop herself up on her elbows, when pain shot up her arm, through her shoulder, stealing what little air her body had stored in her lungs.
Shit! What’s wrong with my arm?
Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic.
The mantra didn’t work.
Instead, the fuzzy memories crystallized, and her instincts screamed at her to get up, to get moving, that more danger lurked nearby.
Though she was dizzy and confused, a new chant sounded in her head: Run, run, run! But where? If only she could make sense of where she was and, more urgently, the location of her kidnapper, she could solve that question. She needed to get her bearings, but her vision wasn’t feeding her any clues.
A new question surfaced: What would Reece tell a survivor to do? She slowed her breaths, tried to box breathe, lost her rhythm, and started up again. Meanwhile, she tested her other arm, relieved when it held her weight. Wiggled her toes, her feet. They tingled with numbness, but they worked.
Trying to make sense of her world, she blinked, struggling to focus. A canopy of tree limbs stretched overhead, fading into an occluded, inky sky, so it was difficult to tell one from the other. She could smell snow coming. What time was it? She felt her back pocket but didn’t find her phone. Worse, she no longer wore her down jacket, and shivers ran a race track over her chilled body.
“Get a grip,” a voice sounded inside her head. “You gotta move, girl.”
The mountains were not her friend. It was dark. She was cold. She was lost. And she was scared.
She tucked the hurt arm against her side and dug her good elbow into the rocky ground, gritting her teeth against the bite of sharp points poking tender spaces. She felt every single stone as she oh-so-slowly pulled her body upright, gasping when she jostled her bad arm. Panting from the exertion, she sat still and took inventory. Her entire body ached. Pins and needles fired off everywhere, and they hurt like hell, but she welcomed the sensation. At least she could feel . And if her legs worked, she could get out of here .
A warning voice in her head told her to be as quiet as the air surrounding her. What if her abductor lurked nearby and heard her struggling? Heard her breathing? Came and finished the job?
At last, her vision began to clear, adjusting to the darkness. A vague thud made her pulse skyrocket. Whoever had done this to her might be creeping toward her now. She was exposed, vulnerable. What should she do? Flatten herself against the ground like a wild rabbit and hope that, by keeping still, they wouldn’t see her? Or should she run for it, footfalls and noises be damned? How far could she get? Her one arm was useless, and she didn’t have a lot of faith in the rest of her body. All these thoughts bombarded her foggy brain like an incoming hail of bullets. She had to decide.
Now!
She dragged herself up onto her knees. With her good arm, she pushed herself off the ground and stood on wobbly legs. Teetered. Wavered. Started to keel to one side but steadied herself and limped for cover in blind desperation. Her foot struck a rock, and she thumped to her knees, pressing her lips together to keep from crying out when they hit the sharp points of decomposing granite.
Gulping in silent lungfuls of air, she stayed in the same position as moisture seeped into her jeans. She listened. Nothing stirred. She stared into the darkness, trying to discern movement. Nothing moved. If only there was a moon overhead. If only she could find an opening in the canopy and the sky was clear so she could use the light of the stars.
If only she could get out of this alive!
An object thudded beside her, and her heart flew to her throat and wedged there, even as her eye caught on the reason for the sound: a pine cone dropping from the canopy overhead. She sank back onto her heels and brought her breathing back under control.
Two warring messages of survival screamed inside her brain: Run for your life . But then came Reece’s voice: As long as there’s no imminent danger, people need to stay put so we can locate them. When they move around, especially in the woods, they make themselves that much harder to find. Except there might be a crazy person out there trying to kill her—she was in imminent danger.
Get your bearings . She hoisted herself up, stumbled a few more feet, and brushed against a dirt wall. Reaching out, she ran her hands over it, exploring its rock-pocked surface crisscrossed with roots. The ground beneath her was uneven, and she caught herself a few times. She was at the bottom of a ravine that seemed to go on forever.
Climb! Climb up for a better vantage point. Maybe she would find a road at the top.
She felt her way along the wall, searching for a more gradual slope, but it was steep everywhere. She caught a root with her undamaged hand, tested it, and began hauling herself up, trying to walk the wall like Batman on the side of a building. But her weight was too much for her one good arm, and she part rappelled, part dropped back to her starting point with a muttered curse.
Rustling made her blood freeze. She crouched, listening, waiting, scanning her surroundings. Wind ruffled tree limbs and lifted leaves from the forest floor. As her vision sharpened, something big and solid took shape in the darkness against a palisade of tree trunks. She crept toward the outline. Her toe struck something hard, and she tripped, landing on her injured shoulder. A yelp punched from her lungs as white-hot pain seared the length of her arm.
She pushed herself onto her haunches, catching her breath and forcing it into a slower cadence as she turned toward the object. It glinted in the dimness. She crawled toward it and gingerly ran her fingers over its cold, smooth lines. It felt like part of a vehicle. A fender or a bumper maybe. She peered into the murky shadows beyond it, toward the large shape she’d been heading for when she tripped. Another gleam, then several more, as if silver shimmered in the carpet of detritus on the forest floor.
Inching ever closer, her outstretched hand landed on more metal. She groped it until she bumped into sharp, jagged edges, nearly slicing her good hand. She snatched her fingers back, and her mind’s gears locked into place. Before her lay the carcass of a vehicle, its shape reminding her of a Subaru Outback or a Honda CR-V, its parts scattered in a field of debris.
The car lay on its roof, and a familiar sight was visible through the windows. Airbags, their light-colored fabric in some state of deflation. Visions of Diane came rushing back to her.
Oh God! Was someone bleeding—or worse—inside the car?
Neve scurried around the vehicle and looked in, relieved yet disquieted when she found the seats empty. Where was the driver? Were they responsible for bringing her here? And were they out there somewhere, hunting for her right now? How many were there ?
In vain, she tried prying open the doors. The driver’s side window was mostly gone, so she lay on her back, draped herself across the frame, and wiggled inside. She saw nothing of use.
The glove compartment was destroyed, but the center console above her head was intact. She stretched her good hand up and struggled to spring its jammed lid. Finally, she coaxed it open and covered her head as objects rained down.
Shit! If someone was out there, they’d know exactly where she was. But she didn’t have time to give in to the paralyzing fear.
Go, go, go!
The gleam of a cylinder caught her attention, and she closed her hand around it. A penlight! Her thumb found the on-off button, and she clicked it. It threw out a weak beam, but it worked! She wriggled out, careful not to bump her bad arm, and swept the light across the vehicle’s headliner, searching for anything that would serve her right now. Other than a rumpled energy bar, which she pocketed, she came up empty.
Another Reece-ism floated up and bobbed in her brain. If you’re going into the woods and you can only carry a few items, make sure you have water, a multi-tool or knife, a light source and a supply of batteries, a first aid kit, and dry socks. One of those space blankets or a poncho too.
He’d recited the list when they were twelve years old. She remembered vividly because she had been trying very hard to impress him that day, and all he’d wanted to talk about were the survival tips he had learned from his grandfather, so she had listened closely and repeated them back to him. So many memories.
Reece. God, she had loved him for so long!
So what if he was moving to Vermont? They could still see each other, talk on the phone, video chat. Maybe she’d sell her practice or simply shut the doors. The place was turning into a headache and a money pit anyway.
Standing, she began scanning her surroundings, willing herself to pull through this so she could feel his strong arms around her again. The penlight’s weak beam revealed tree trunks on one side and the ravine wall on the other. She nearly caught her foot on a heap at the foot of a broad pine. Holding the penlight in front of her, she inched toward it. Her heart picked up its pace. A human form, lying on its back, its limbs bent at unnatural angles, came into view.
Oh God !
She side-stepped toward it like a cautious crab, ready to bolt if she needed to make a getaway. As she neared it, she shone the light where a face would be but saw only a black void. She stuck the light in her mouth and dropped to one knee. With trembling fingers, she reached out. The body was cold; it didn’t move.
She skimmed her hand up to the elbow, searching for a pulse. Nothing. Swallowing hard, she slid her hand to the neck, where it slipped along a thick, sticky substance that looked black in the dimness. She knew that texture. Blood . Her hand moved over the head, fingers feeling fabric. A mask of some kind. Slowly, she lifted the bottom over the chin and gently rolled the mask up.
The head lolled to the side.
With a gasp, Neve scrambled backward and fell on her butt. Slitted, glassy eyes stared straight at her. Though covered in blood and grotesque in death, the facial features coalesced into a recognizable visage—and made absolutely no sense. Her thumping head began to spin, and she felt her body sink backward, down, down into the detritus. She would be swallowed by the forest floor.
As a black shroud descended over her, she knew she would never see her love, her life again.