Read Apocalyptica (Book 2): Ran for Free Online Page B

rocky enough that my boots only touched dirt about half the time, and since I pushed toward the thickest part of the wood, I had a lot of cover. Only a panicked reminder to myself, repeated like a mantra, kept me from slamming into branches constantly. I didn’t want to leave an easy trail to follow.
    I slipped through a particularly dense stand of evergreens, so thick there was no way I could be seen from the other side, and took a break. I crouched beside the trunk of a pine and listened.
    The sound of loud, angry voices echoed in the distance. Branches snapped. I dug my hands in the dirt near the base of the trunk and rubbed it on my face. Not much I could do about my clothes, but they were already dark. If I could make until night, they’d blend. My light brown skin would be easier to see, and the key to any good camouflage is breaking up regular shapes like faces.
    I had no idea if the thick, random dollops of earth running across my face would do the trick, but I fervently hoped so.
    Rather than risk being heard, I just waited.
    That’s the part Tolkien and his spiritual successors rarely touched on: adventuring is scary, hungry, and often boring. There’s a lot of sitting around. You don’t get into or out of Mordor in a day. There are endless slogs and long nights in between all the action-packed bits.
    I listened as the sound of snapping twigs moved and faded. I didn’t relax, but the seemingly endless increase in my stress levels finally topped off and remained steady. The fact that I couldn’t hear anyone approaching me was excellent. It also poked the irrational part of my brain, which demanded that the absence of a threat was in itself terrifying, with a stick.
    Minutes stretched, feeling like hours. I shifted my weight as well as I could without making noise. Crouching for a long time was uncomfortable, and the last thing I wanted if I had to dash off again was a cramp.
    Forcing myself to be hyper-vigilant for any indication my pursuers were close also made me keenly aware of my own body. My stomach rumbled with hunger, and whatever slaking effect my drink of water back at the house had was long gone. I was prepared to go days or weeks without eating—not a stranger to the experience—but I’d been exerting myself pretty hard. Dehydration kills in days, and I was already running a deficit.
    “Not the priority,” I muttered under my breath.
    Live first, that was the top of the list. I would have plenty of time to suffer the perils of dehydration and hunger if I didn’t get caught or killed.
    After a quarter hour there was a change in the quality of sounds coming from the people looking for me. I’ll give them credit; they were thorough. They stayed close enough to where they had last seen me that I had to assume they possessed some degree of tracking skills. The light conspired against them, however, as the setting sun brought deep and heavy shadows to the woods.
    The sounds of swishing branches and scraping shoes vanished in a space of a minute, even the distant odd noise I’d been listening for no longer apparent. What I could see of the sky between the thick boughs of pine needles was pale blue giving way to streaks of brilliant red and orange, but the forest floor was inky black interspersed with dark grays.
    Horror movies contain valuable lessons. The most relevant being that when you’re being chased through the woods, there is always a moment when you think you’re finally safe and leave your hiding spot. That’s when the dude wearing inappropriate sports equipment pops out and cuts your head off. No thanks.
    First rule of survival when you’re lost is to sit still and wait for rescue. The same works when you’re trying to stay hidden and people have moved on from the spot they’ve been searching.
    So I settled in and waited, fear keeping me awake even if boredom fought with it for control.
     
    ***
     
    I moved out a few hours later. That was a guess, me being without a watch, but full