underbrush.
I don’t know if it was another animal, a bird, or a headhunter with the same idea of spacing themselves across the mountain. It doesn’t matter though, because it was time for me to move on anyway. I work my way to what looks like the beginnings of a trail. Suddenly I recall what Zita said about Boom traveling back and forth multiple times while I make my way down it. For a second, there’s a little regret at not listening to what he had to tell me. Until Verla’s voice booms off in my head. When you make a decision, you better love it. It stuck with me, because she said when you make a decision, there’s no going back.
I come to a clearing where I quickly scan the mountain to see if I can detect any of the other prisoners. I look up and down, left and right. Everything appears normal. I’m already fairly tired. The mountain has taken a lot out of me. I can imagine the others, who aren’t in as good of shape, have slowed down too. I glance out over the valley again and try to judge how far another fifteen miles must be.
When I reach the base of the mountain, I pull out my water and take a couple more sips. I scrounge through the pack to see what kind of food I’ve got. I have a long haul ahead and I need energy to get through it. I find strips of dried meat, some kind of bars wrapped in cellophane—four of them, and nuts.
Everything goes back inside my pack except one of the bars. I spot a half-dead tree about five yards ahead past a small clearing, and give myself until then to walk and eat my meal. I scramble to get the wrapping off so I can meet my goal. I bite off a small corner and chew cautiously, just in case King ordered a mass poisoning. The texture is hard, but it tastes like peanut butter and dough. It’s fabulous. I scan the trees and bushes to see if there’s any easy prey I might catch, when a woman screams not too far from me. I shove the remainder of the bar in my mouth and close up my pack.
“There’s someone!” I hear a guy yell. I’m praying he’s not talking about me and bolt into a full run. I look in the direction the voices came from. Through the trees I get a glimpse of two guys standing over a woman, one of them rummaging through her supplies while she cowers. Each of the men is carrying several extra packs.
I barely make out the woman begging them not to take hers when I’m sideswiped and knocked off my feet. I hit the ground hard, the collar digging into my neck, the air knocked from my lungs. I’m gasping, unable to get a breath, while my pack is yanked from my shoulders. It takes a couple of seconds to gather my bearings and when I do, I see that the youngest of the prisoners, the ten-year-old kid, is racing off with my pack.
The kid is hollering at his bandit friends that he got another one. As much as I want to go after him, I decide against it, fearing worse harm might come to me. I scramble away as fast as I can without actually running. My lungs still burn and I need a few minutes to recover.
While I duck and move as quickly as possible, I realize I didn’t have as much of a head start as I’d hoped. More than that, I’m angry that I wasn’t more careful. If I hadn’t taken time to eat, if I’d just went on a little longer, I might still have my pack with the food and water, and my ninja knives. And Verla’s voice wouldn’t be hounding my head about patience not being a virtue, but a necessity.
Ten feet to my right is a thick copse of trees, so I head over there. My lungs work a little better by the time I do, and I’m ready to get going when it dawns on me that I have no compass. It’s okay , I tell myself. I didn’t have anything to begin with. I can still do this. I know the general direction.
I brush off the leaves and dirt and then I run. Straight ahead. It’s the only way I know to go. Through the trees, zigzagging around bushes, ducking under branches and hopping over rocks. I don’t think about anything but running, keeping a
I don’t know if it was another animal, a bird, or a headhunter with the same idea of spacing themselves across the mountain. It doesn’t matter though, because it was time for me to move on anyway. I work my way to what looks like the beginnings of a trail. Suddenly I recall what Zita said about Boom traveling back and forth multiple times while I make my way down it. For a second, there’s a little regret at not listening to what he had to tell me. Until Verla’s voice booms off in my head. When you make a decision, you better love it. It stuck with me, because she said when you make a decision, there’s no going back.
I come to a clearing where I quickly scan the mountain to see if I can detect any of the other prisoners. I look up and down, left and right. Everything appears normal. I’m already fairly tired. The mountain has taken a lot out of me. I can imagine the others, who aren’t in as good of shape, have slowed down too. I glance out over the valley again and try to judge how far another fifteen miles must be.
When I reach the base of the mountain, I pull out my water and take a couple more sips. I scrounge through the pack to see what kind of food I’ve got. I have a long haul ahead and I need energy to get through it. I find strips of dried meat, some kind of bars wrapped in cellophane—four of them, and nuts.
Everything goes back inside my pack except one of the bars. I spot a half-dead tree about five yards ahead past a small clearing, and give myself until then to walk and eat my meal. I scramble to get the wrapping off so I can meet my goal. I bite off a small corner and chew cautiously, just in case King ordered a mass poisoning. The texture is hard, but it tastes like peanut butter and dough. It’s fabulous. I scan the trees and bushes to see if there’s any easy prey I might catch, when a woman screams not too far from me. I shove the remainder of the bar in my mouth and close up my pack.
“There’s someone!” I hear a guy yell. I’m praying he’s not talking about me and bolt into a full run. I look in the direction the voices came from. Through the trees I get a glimpse of two guys standing over a woman, one of them rummaging through her supplies while she cowers. Each of the men is carrying several extra packs.
I barely make out the woman begging them not to take hers when I’m sideswiped and knocked off my feet. I hit the ground hard, the collar digging into my neck, the air knocked from my lungs. I’m gasping, unable to get a breath, while my pack is yanked from my shoulders. It takes a couple of seconds to gather my bearings and when I do, I see that the youngest of the prisoners, the ten-year-old kid, is racing off with my pack.
The kid is hollering at his bandit friends that he got another one. As much as I want to go after him, I decide against it, fearing worse harm might come to me. I scramble away as fast as I can without actually running. My lungs still burn and I need a few minutes to recover.
While I duck and move as quickly as possible, I realize I didn’t have as much of a head start as I’d hoped. More than that, I’m angry that I wasn’t more careful. If I hadn’t taken time to eat, if I’d just went on a little longer, I might still have my pack with the food and water, and my ninja knives. And Verla’s voice wouldn’t be hounding my head about patience not being a virtue, but a necessity.
Ten feet to my right is a thick copse of trees, so I head over there. My lungs work a little better by the time I do, and I’m ready to get going when it dawns on me that I have no compass. It’s okay , I tell myself. I didn’t have anything to begin with. I can still do this. I know the general direction.
I brush off the leaves and dirt and then I run. Straight ahead. It’s the only way I know to go. Through the trees, zigzagging around bushes, ducking under branches and hopping over rocks. I don’t think about anything but running, keeping a
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