One Was Lost(58)

Chapter 24


We make our way through the valley quickly, but there isn’t a road on the other side. More mountains. More trees. Neither of us says a word as we weave our way through undergrowth that’s denser with every step.

Shadows stretch longer as we walk. It’s hard not to think about the figure I saw. Harder still to not imagine Mr. Walker in every rustle of leaves or snapping branch I hear. I’m jerking my head back and forth so much, I’m about to get whiplash.

“I don’t think he’ll come tonight,” Lucas says. “I think it’ll be tomorrow.”

“Because that’s the anniversary?”

“Makes sense, right?” he says. “None of this was spur of the moment. This all leads up to something, I think. And the article said she died tomorrow.”

True. Doesn’t mean he’s not in the trees right now, waiting for midnight. Watching us walk. We crest over one mountain and collapse just past the top. It’s grown dark, and the terrain is rough. The mountains are sharper here, rocky outcrops jutting up more often, the occasional drop-off reminding me of Ms. Brighton’s ghosts.

Lucas offers me our remaining water. Thirsty as I am, I’m not sure I shouldn’t use some of it on my hand. That situation is getting worse by the hour. It’s throbbing up to my elbow now. The moon is high and bright, but I still can’t see well enough to assess redness or swelling.

“Hand bothering you?”

“It needs to be dealt with.”

“We’re getting close,” he says. “We’re heading north again. I bet the road cuts right through one of those valleys up there. I’ve got a good feeling.”

I don’t feel good about anything. I’m convinced that even if we do manage to avoid Mr. Walker, we’ll end up lost out here until my arm falls off and I die of gangrene.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” he asks.

I smirk. “I wouldn’t say I’m drowning in optimism.”

“I could climb a tree when we get a little higher. I might be able to spot headlights.”

“You’re suggesting climbing a tree. In the dark. Do you want to end up like Hayley?”

“Good point.” Lucas downs another few sips and stands up. “I don’t like all the cliffs now that it’s getting dark. We could fall if we’re not careful.”

It’s a real risk. The drop-offs barely have rhyme or reason, cliffs that run along the ragged mountain ridges and fissures—those are even worse—that spring up without warning. Tree, tree, three-hundred-foot fall to our deaths.

Something snaps in the distance, and I flinch, scanning the darkness. Leaves rustle, and then I hear the scrabble of tiny claws on a trunk.

“Coon probably. Maybe a possum,” Lucas says. “They come out at night.”

I don’t talk about who else could come out at night, but we’re both thinking it.

Far in the distance, something calls in a rhythm. Once. Twice. Low and long in a way that makes me think human.

“Do you think…?” I ask him.

“An owl again? That one we heard made crazy noises.”

When we hear it again, he doesn’t look so sure. It’s two-toned and too low to be a bird, and it’s coming from the direction we came. Through the pass between the mountains, I think. I can’t think of any animal that could make a noise like this. It sounds human.

It sounds like my name.

I stand up, knocking over my almost-empty water bottle.

Lucas saves it fast and rests a light hand on my leg. “Relax. Mr. Walker wouldn’t go through all this stalking just to start screaming for us, right?”

I try to smile and ignore the cold sweat breaking under my arms as Lucas stretches and tightens the caps on the water. We’re just moving when the noise comes again.

I clamp a hand over Lucas’s arm because it is my name. Someone is calling my name.

“Do you hear that?”

He stops, and I can tell by his expression he did hear. I bite my lip and feel a mosquito puncture the back of my arm.

“Sera! Emily! Lucas! Jude!”

My blood frosts over in my veins. It’s him—Mr. Walker.





Chapter 25


Lucas doesn’t say a word—just grabs my good hand and starts marching. We’re going faster than before, sloshing across ground that feels marshy. I smell old rain and rot, but it fades as we climb. Another mountain—we’re heading up diagonally—and my legs are burning. Aching.

“Sera! Emily!”

I bite down a whimper and speed up. Mr. Walker’s closer now. Below, I can hear the occasional thump of a footstep. God, can he hear us too? Lucas is silent as he climbs, but I’m panting too loud. My thighs shake with every step. I’m terrified I’ll collapse and roll down this dark mountainside. And Mr. Walker will be waiting for me at the bottom with permanent markers and a knife.

I let go of Lucas’s arm to grab at the trees, hauling myself up even though every muscle is shuddering. I have to get over this ridge because…because if I don’t, I’m giving up. One step. Another. Another.

“Hey! Hello! If you can hear me, make some noise!”

Mr. Walker sounds a bit farther north of us now. He’s continuing on the way we were going to go. But whatever, he’s moving away, and thank God because I cannot take one more step. I cling to the tree, and the pain screams across my wound. I’m sucking air so hard, I can’t tell Lucas to wait. He sees I’ve stopped. Maybe he can’t go either.