Page 2 of Hard to Hold


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“Let’s hope we find him before dark.” Being in the woods at night with creepy crawlies and deadly animals was not on my agenda. A shiver skirted my spine.

I jogged behind Jimbo, following him through the forest as if he knew exactly where we were going. Sweat dotted my brow, my calves ached, and I was pretty sure I was about to cough up a lung. I could no longer feel my feet, so I slowed to a walk, clutching the cramp in my side. Jimbo stopped running and jogged back to where I was.

I could hear the trickle of water from the creek bed. I knew we were close. A deer froze as we neared before jetting off. Squirrels ran up into trees, making the birds fly out. We were in the middle of Mother Nature. This was beautiful to most people. It was another layer of hell to me.

I smacked another mosquito dead. Only a gazillion more to go.

I couldn’t imagine an eight-year-old out in this…alone.

We stopped at the stream. It had been wider in my premonition with raging water and fish swimming up-stream.

This stream was a disappointment. It was more like a kiddie pool with current. Maybe a foot deep and three feet wide and yet I still wished I could lie down and let the waters cool my heated skin.

Jimbo glanced in both directions as I squatted, cupped the water, then dumped it over my head before splashing another handful on my face.

“Which way?” Jimbo asked.

I didn’t even close my eyes. I let my intuition guide me. I pointed downstream. “He’s that way.”

“You sure?”

“No.” I chuckled. I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t prove it. “We’re running out of time though,” I said, glancing at my watch. “We’ve got thirty minutes to find him before the bear attacks.”

My premonitions were never wrong. Not about locations of missing people. Every night I’d get a premonition, and the very next day it would come true.

“Maybe we should split up. I’ll go north, and you go south,” he said, taking the radio clipped from my hip. “Keep this on channel three and don’t venture too far away from the shoreline.”

I saluted him.

“Nice.” He rolled his eyes. “What are you going to do if the bear shows up and you’re there?”

“Throw him some tuna, grab the kid, and run.”

“Nina, I'm serious,” Jimbo said.

“So am I, and we’re wasting precious time,” I said, giving him a shove in the opposite direction. The direction I knew wouldn’t be a killer animal bearing down on an eight-year-old kid.

“Premonitions don’t fail me now,” I said, taking off in a jog, ignoring the sweat clouding my vision. I yelled as I ran, “Peter.”

My voice carried through the woods. My sisters had always told me I had a loud mouth. Today it was useful. My gaze scanned the trees, searching for the one elusive tree that I knew the kid was sitting under.

No answer was the reply. Nothing.

I continued on the path for twenty more minutes, yelling his name, my gaze darted my surroundings. I was running out of time.

“Over here.” I heard his small voice and stopped in my tracks.

“Over where?” I called back.

“Follow my voice,” he said and began to sing a nursery rhyme. I followed it through the trees until the voice was louder. I rested my palm on the tree in my premonition, only there was no boy. No Peter.

“Up here,” he called out, and my gaze shot to the branches above.

Dressed in a Boy Scout uniform, he stared down at me with a tear-stained face.

I pulled the radio out and pushed the button, calling up. “He’s alive. I found him in a tree near the stream.” I pulled up the GPS location on my phone and called it in before hooking the radio back to my hip.

I held out my arms. “There’re a lot of people searching for you. Your mom is worried sick.”