Untraceable

Survival Skill #49

Knowing how to tie good camping knots is an invaluable skill in the wilderness.

~

I scream and slide down the hill. “Dad! Dad!” As soon as I reach him, I throw my arms around his filthy neck. He smells of urine mixed with mud and blood but I don’t care. “I knew you were alive.” I push him back and check him over quickly. Mud covers his bloody body from head to toe. His face is swollen from obvious beatings, and his lips are cracked from dehydration. I touch his bearded face. “Are you okay?”

Dad doesn’t say anything. Or can’t. He just nods and smiles. That wonderful smile.

Mo hollers up the hill. “Grace! Go! Go!”

I grab Dad’s hand and tug him after me, but I can’t seem to get good traction. His tattered boots slip along the grass, almost dragging me with him. Clutching both of his wrists, I try to hang on but his hands are too slimy. He rolls halfway down the hill.

Carl charges down the path and points a gun at us.

I scream at him. “Carl, no!”

He grins and aims straight for Dad. We all sink into the underbrush. A few bullets peck the hillside around us, kicking up plants and dust. Carl tries to shoot again, but his gun jams.

Without any warning, Al limps up behind Carl and shoots him in the back. As Carl crumbles to the ground, Al sneers at me and points his gun.

Mo claws his way up the hill and throws himself over my dad as more shots ring out.

I cover my head until they stop. Then I hear grunting below me. “Mo, are you okay?”

He shifts a little and looks up, gritting his teeth. “I’m fine. Get your dad out of here. I’ll be right behind you!” Mo struggles to get my backpack off his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about my bag! Let it go!”

He coughs, and a splotch of blood paints his lip.

“Oh, my God. You’ve been shot!”

Mo gives me a sad face, like a puppy begging for food.

I cover my mouth with one hand and stretch down as my mind floods with worry. “Take my hand!”

He shakes his head. “No! You have to go!” He tosses my backpack up and holds his side. “Get out of here! Your dad won’t make it without you.” I stare at him as if I don’t understand any words coming out of his mouth. He pleads with me. “Grace, don’t let this all be for nothing. Save him. It’s what you came to do.”

I look back at my dad lying in the weeds. “Fine. But, if you die, Morris Cameron, I’ll never forgive you!”

Even his smile is too weak to move. “I’ll be right behind you, Blossom.”

“You promise?”

He nods once. “Abso-bloody-lutely.”

I half drag, half walk Dad down the path as gunfire erupts behind me, trying to ignore any creeping thoughts about Mo’s fate. Dad leans his full weight on me as we stumble along the path. Every few feet, he collapses from exhaustion. It takes everything I have to keep him moving.

As we round a bend, a whistling noise drowns out the hissing trees.

I stop in my tracks and slowly turn around.

Al is following us, slightly hobbling from my shot to his thigh. He spits to one side. “What? No hello? How rude.”

“I’m not afraid of you anymore.”