they’re still looking in the rocks.”
More unease hit her, and she gave a sharp nod, unwilling to trust her tongue. She took another look at the map before folding it and setting it beside her. Miles moved to sit by her pack and leaned against a tree trunk.
“I’ll take first watch,” she said.
He crossed his arms and closed his eyes. She moved closer, noting his eyes opening to watch her briefly before they closed again. Once she was sure he slept, she stuffed the map in a pant leg pocket and sighed. She had to go. Or sure as her name was Affrica O’Shea, she would be dead. And the man sleeping there would be part of the reason.
Although she wished to leave right this second, she waited a bit longer for him to be even more deeply asleep. While she waited, she mulled over her very disturbing realization that Miles had sold her out. Why? What was his gain? And did it really matter? All she needed to do was get the fuck out. She grabbed two of the canteens—leaving the third since it was around him—her pack, and slipped away, moving as fast and as silently as she could.
She ran on, checking her watch’s compass to ensure the right destination. Great! Hell of a time to realize just how right your brother is about Miles, she reprimanded herself. So where does this leave me? Oh, right. Alone in the Australian Outback with murderers on mah trail.
She ran harder, until her lungs burned and the already present blisters on her heels screamed in agony. Once again, among the rocks, she did her best to hop from flat surface to flat surface, avoiding the chance of leaving any footprints.
Collapsing in some shade, she drank a fair amount of water then dug through her pack for her cell. She flipped it open and saw one bar. And roaming. She didn’t care. In her estimation, she had one chance to get this off. Moving to type her text, she swore when the signal died. She typed it anyway and pressed send. No signal flashed at her. Ignoring the pain leeching through her, Affrica scrambled upwards. Four rocks later, she got the break needed and, with a prayer, sent the message.
Her relief turned to anguish when she lost her precarious hold and fell backwards. The world went black, and later when she came to, she gingerly sat up. Blood trickled from her arm and head. She used her bandanna to hide the one on her head and wrapped a second one around her arm. It didn’t feel like anything was broken.
“Great,” she muttered. “Just fucking great.” Her phone lay in pieces.
Flicking through the pieces, she retrieved her SIM card and stored it. “Get moving,” she instructed herself.
But to where?
For, as fast as the sun went down, her options were dwindling. She fumbled for the map and gazed at her necessary trek.
“Over the river and through the woods…”
Twenty klicks. Could she do it?
“Hell yeah. Or die trying.”
A weapon would be nice, but why wish for what one couldn’t have? She ate a protein bar and got back to it. Moving as cautiously as she could.
She heard her brother in her head with each step she took.
No, Affrica. Not like that. Yer making too much noise. I heard ya coming a mile away. If you dinna want the animals to hear ya and bolt before ya get your shot, pay attention. Do it over, and this time, do it right.
Who knew, it could be saving her life? How she wished him with her now. Hell, any of his SEAL brethren; she wasn’t picky. Just one.
It wasn’t to be. She was on her own. People trying to block her in. Her only chance that Miles hadn’t woken for a while to give them a head’s up.
Anger grew in her gut. Miles. The fucking traitor. One day, he would pay. First, she had to get free and clear. So she pressed on, pushing her exhausted body to its physical limit.
That night, she hunkered down and ate an MRE to provide nourishment. Covering up as much as she could, she used the light on her watch to check coordinates.
She had a bit less than ten klicks to go. It wasn’t happening. Not
More unease hit her, and she gave a sharp nod, unwilling to trust her tongue. She took another look at the map before folding it and setting it beside her. Miles moved to sit by her pack and leaned against a tree trunk.
“I’ll take first watch,” she said.
He crossed his arms and closed his eyes. She moved closer, noting his eyes opening to watch her briefly before they closed again. Once she was sure he slept, she stuffed the map in a pant leg pocket and sighed. She had to go. Or sure as her name was Affrica O’Shea, she would be dead. And the man sleeping there would be part of the reason.
Although she wished to leave right this second, she waited a bit longer for him to be even more deeply asleep. While she waited, she mulled over her very disturbing realization that Miles had sold her out. Why? What was his gain? And did it really matter? All she needed to do was get the fuck out. She grabbed two of the canteens—leaving the third since it was around him—her pack, and slipped away, moving as fast and as silently as she could.
She ran on, checking her watch’s compass to ensure the right destination. Great! Hell of a time to realize just how right your brother is about Miles, she reprimanded herself. So where does this leave me? Oh, right. Alone in the Australian Outback with murderers on mah trail.
She ran harder, until her lungs burned and the already present blisters on her heels screamed in agony. Once again, among the rocks, she did her best to hop from flat surface to flat surface, avoiding the chance of leaving any footprints.
Collapsing in some shade, she drank a fair amount of water then dug through her pack for her cell. She flipped it open and saw one bar. And roaming. She didn’t care. In her estimation, she had one chance to get this off. Moving to type her text, she swore when the signal died. She typed it anyway and pressed send. No signal flashed at her. Ignoring the pain leeching through her, Affrica scrambled upwards. Four rocks later, she got the break needed and, with a prayer, sent the message.
Her relief turned to anguish when she lost her precarious hold and fell backwards. The world went black, and later when she came to, she gingerly sat up. Blood trickled from her arm and head. She used her bandanna to hide the one on her head and wrapped a second one around her arm. It didn’t feel like anything was broken.
“Great,” she muttered. “Just fucking great.” Her phone lay in pieces.
Flicking through the pieces, she retrieved her SIM card and stored it. “Get moving,” she instructed herself.
But to where?
For, as fast as the sun went down, her options were dwindling. She fumbled for the map and gazed at her necessary trek.
“Over the river and through the woods…”
Twenty klicks. Could she do it?
“Hell yeah. Or die trying.”
A weapon would be nice, but why wish for what one couldn’t have? She ate a protein bar and got back to it. Moving as cautiously as she could.
She heard her brother in her head with each step she took.
No, Affrica. Not like that. Yer making too much noise. I heard ya coming a mile away. If you dinna want the animals to hear ya and bolt before ya get your shot, pay attention. Do it over, and this time, do it right.
Who knew, it could be saving her life? How she wished him with her now. Hell, any of his SEAL brethren; she wasn’t picky. Just one.
It wasn’t to be. She was on her own. People trying to block her in. Her only chance that Miles hadn’t woken for a while to give them a head’s up.
Anger grew in her gut. Miles. The fucking traitor. One day, he would pay. First, she had to get free and clear. So she pressed on, pushing her exhausted body to its physical limit.
That night, she hunkered down and ate an MRE to provide nourishment. Covering up as much as she could, she used the light on her watch to check coordinates.
She had a bit less than ten klicks to go. It wasn’t happening. Not
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