She was being irrational, surely? This was likely just one of the jungle’s creatures – a sloth or a coati – or one of the group – Carly or Scott or even Ben, perhaps?
Or maybe it was Paola or Luisa –yes, that could be it!The helicopter hadn’t managed to find them earlier, so perhaps they’d come themselves, on foot – or even brought the search party with them. Was help finally here?
‘Hello?’ she called out. ‘I’m over here! Who is it – and where are you?’
Another snap, a crack of branches. Closer now. But no answer. A spike of adrenaline hit Mira behind her ribcage.
‘Carly? Scott?’
If it’s rescuers, or one of the others... why didn’t they shout back when I called?
A rustle of leaves behind her – or was it in front of her? She tried to tune her ears into the sound, tracing where exactly the movement was coming from – but she couldn’t home in on it properly, not with the squawks and cries of the rainforest’s creatures reverberating across her eardrums like a poorly tuned orchestra.
Where are you?
Snap. Rustle.
Silence.
Her instinct to flee took over then, and she whirled around on the spot, her feet grasping for something solid on the damp, soft earth beneath her, and then she was running as best she could, wildly, straight ahead, and she was slipping and sliding on the jungle’s mulchy floor, panting with every movement.
And now, she was sure of it, Mira could make out footsteps behind her – someone was pounding the ground now, pushing through leaves and vines, perhaps only metres away.
Who was it – and why were they running after her?
But those questions didn’t matter right now; all that mattered was her survival. Whoever it was, Mira knew she couldn’t outrun them, not for long – any second now, her body would give up and she’d collapse on the ground; it was a miracle she was able to run for this long. Her best chance was to try to outwit them – to turn sharply, keep twisting and turning, pushing through small gaps and cracks that her body was mercifully small enough for, and pray they wouldn’t be able to track her down.
She stopped suddenly, hid behind a tree trunk, tried to still her shaking limbs. She waited, forced herself to hold her nerve even as she felt something crawling along the back of her neck – oh God, what was it? Was there even anything there, or was she imagining it? In her mind’s eye, she saw one of the large worms she’d stepped over on the jungle floor writhing its way over her bare flesh. She resisted the urge to move, to retch. Staying still for a moment was her best shot at losing whoever was on her tail.
The footsteps and shaking branches approached, got louder. Mira shrank into the tree, tried to make her body as small as possible – her petite stature was just about the only thing shehad going for her when it came to survival, but at least it was something.
They were approaching now. They were almost in front of her. Through the dense foliage, Mira could make out a human outline, but no more than that.
And then, a different noise: a grunt of frustration, of rage, coming from whoever was following her. It was guttural; not obviously male or female – inhuman, even, though she knew it was a person who’d made the sound. She could make out their silhouette through the branches of the trees.
Whoever that is, they’re angry.
On instinct, Mira grabbed wildly for something – anything – she could use to defend herself if her pursuer found her. There was nothing.
Snap.
Closer now – almost in front of her.
Then all her courage failed her, and, as if they were acting on pure instinct, without her brain’s command, her feet began to move again, and she was running, stumbling and slipping on the wet earth, all the while cursing herself and the people who were out in this hellscape with her; any and all of them were the enemy now, and she could trust no one. No one except herself.
BEN
Ben had never tried to charge a one hundred per cent dead phone from his portable pack before – let alone a big old brick like this. The label on the back of his charger said it was best used on devices before they went flat, and now he could see why. This thing was takingfor ever.
As he walked, Ben kept his other eye on the sun, which he could make out high in the sky, above the tops of the trees. He had perhaps five or six hours of daylight left, but he was thirsty, and hungry, and tired – he needed to keep walking, get back to the lodge and call for help.
Glancing at the phone in his hand, waiting for it to charge, he kept thinking about who it belonged to, and what had happened to her –Hannah is dead, Hannah is dead– and he was hit by a wrecking ball of memories, and with them, waves of sadness.
Hannah sharing his ramen at Tadashi in the Hill Country, breathing in the fresh air outside the city.
Hannah’s hot breath at the side of his neck as she danced her fingers down his spine to the small of his back, in that way that always drove him wild.
Hannah squealing excitedly as she showed him the plans for her new retreat in Costa Rica, right the way down to the decor in each of the bedrooms, because she trusted him so implicitly with every idea she had – every thought in her head.
