Ruthless by Carolyn Lee Adams Page B

terrifies me.
    Now, more than ever, he has the upper hand. He holds all the cards. Against the rocks, naked and injured, I have no advantages.
    He disappears from view, but I can hear him. After a few minutes, his footsteps grow louder again.
    He’s sweeping the hillside. Back and forth, back and forth. Searching out all the crevices.
    What can I do? How can I win this? A terrible conclusion begins to feel inevitable. But I want to win. Not only for me, but for Mom and Dad and Grandpapa and Nana. For Caleb. I want to make them proud of me. But I can’t win this. There’s no way I can run. He’s far too close, and his gun is too powerful. I don’t think I can sneak away and stay quiet enough. In the silence of the autumn forest I can hear every sound he’s making. My own movement would be just as obvious.
    I half close my eyes, worried the whites of them might give me away.
    Staring at the forest, I wonder if this is the last thing I will ever see.
    Is this how the girls felt before they died? Did they feel the noose of inevitability tightening around their necks? Did they give up? I hope they fought. That they never gave up. That they never gave him that satisfaction.
    Be here for me , I pray to them. Be here for me and make me strong. I then think: Help me. If you can help me, help me now.
    Something comes into focus. I am looking at a deer. A buck with an enormous rack of antlers. He stands, still as a statue, manyyards away. It is only thanks to a perfect window through many bushes and trees that I can see him at all.
    It seems he looks at me, just as I look at him.
    He is beautiful.
    Run, I think. Run as fast as you can. Make him think you’re me.
    But he stands, seemingly fearless, unstartled by me, unstartled by the presence of the Wolfman.
    Run! You are in danger! Run!
    I scream so loud inside my own skull I almost drown out the sound of the Wolfman’s steps. They are so close, too close—they’re on top of me.
    Help me.
    Wolfman takes a bad step. A rock crashes down the ravine.
    The stag runs.
    He is big and he is loud, but thanks to the undergrowth, he is invisible. Wolfman takes off after him. He’s no longer slow and careful; now he’s excited by the hunt.
    Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
    Quiet returns to the forest. He is gone. For now.
    Exhaustion comes over me, and there, clinging to my rocks, I fall out of consciousness and into a dream. But this time I do not know I’m dreaming, and it’s not a memory dream. It’s more hallu­cination than anything.
    In my dream the other redheaded girls come to me. There are six of them. They do not say a word, but they surround me as I lie in the ravine. They want to help and comfort me.
    I look into their faces. They’re all younger than me, twelve tofifteen years old, maybe. Some still have cheeks that carry the soft roundness of childhood.
    â€œWhat are your names?” I ask, but they say nothing.
    â€œHow old are you?” I try again.
    Finally I say, “Does anyone know what happened to you?”
    One girl makes eye contact and shakes her head no. She has dark eyes, and her hair is so deeply red it’s almost brown. There is so much sorrow radiating from her it makes me want to cry.
    For the first time I consider what would happen to my family and friends if I just disappeared and never came back. How would they deal with not knowing? Would it be better than knowing my fate? No, I’d rather they know. If for no other reason than that they would bring this man to justice.
    Which is one more reason why I can’t fail. It’s my job. That fight would be too much for them. I need to do this.
    My eyes water. The Wolfman tried to take my family away from me with his notebook and mind games, but I know they love me. And I love them.
    The girls huddle around me now, tucking my muddy hair behind my ears, wiping my tears away, softly touching my wounds and making them feel better. Their