Hostage Run by Klavan Andrew
Author:Klavan, Andrew [Klavan, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: ebook
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2015-01-01T08:00:00+00:00
20. FOREST SURVIVAL
MOLLY RAN THROUGH the winter forest. She ran and ran and ran, but she seemed to get nowhere. It was as if the woods went on forever. The dead trees on every side of her grew denser. The ground beneath her feet grew wetter, swampier. The branches scratched and tore at her face and arms. The earth turned soft and muddy beneath her sneakers. She stumbled and fell, and when she rose again, the knees of her jogging pants were soaked through. She felt as if the forest were pressing down on her from above and trying to swallow her from below.
And every time she stopped—to catch her breath, to find her footing, to look for a way out—she heard them. The killers. Their voices called to one another through the woods. Their footsteps tromped through the brush. All around her. Everywhere. Hunting her. Getting closer. No matter how fast she ran, she could not escape them.
She ran and ran until, finally, she was exhausted. She tumbled into a thick patch of weeds. She lay on her back, breathing hard. For a moment, she thought maybe—maybe—she had lost her pursuers. She held her breath and listened . . . listened . . . No, there they were. She could see them. They were still far enough away to be hidden by the dense jumble of tree branches—as she was hidden from them. But she could hear their voices through the trees.
“Spread out this way . . .”
“Keep moving together. She can’t get past us.”
“Stay in line. We’ll get her.”
“Keep looking left and right.”
Lying there, staring up through the branches at the sky, Molly began to weep with weariness and frustration. Her body trembled as tears spilled over her temples into her hair. She prayed wildly, Please, please . . .
But the voices of the killers kept getting louder. The footsteps kept getting closer, crunching on the forest duff. Soon, very soon, they would be able to see her through the forest. She knew what they would do if they caught her. But how could she lose them? How could she escape?
She rose to her knees. She choked down her tears. Dragged a sleeve across her face to dry her eyes and wipe her nose.
Crying time was over.
She looked around her. She had no idea where she was. No idea how far she’d come from her prison or in what direction. She’d dashed out in such a panic that she hadn’t paid any attention. All she knew at first was that the gunmen were behind her, the bullets whizzing past her through the branches: she had to keep moving.
She scanned the distant trees. They were blurry with her tears. Still, she saw pale winter light cutting in through the low branches. Something soured inside her as she realized: the sun was getting low. Night was falling. Soon the forest would be dark.
It would be cold, too. It was already cold and it was getting colder. She hadn’t noticed it so much when she was on the move.
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