Chained

Two

"They'll catch us," she says weakly.

My urge to comfort almost overwhelms me and I barely stop myself from taking her hand. "Freddie? You don't want them to get you, right? So we go."

"But if they catch us—"

"We don't have time." I tense at the sounds of the steadily approaching of the car. "I know these woods and they don't. But we have to go now."

"Into the woods with a strange man," she says faintly.

I laugh out of sheer nervousness. "I don't know if I'd normally advise this, but circumstances and shit."

We really don't have time to joke. I get out of the car and come around for her. Her face, barely visible in the night, twists as she steps onto the hard street. It won't be easy for her to run. But I take her hand and...

Coldness. Emptiness. Nothing is real and everything screams. The street opens into an abyss, a black ocean churning beneath my feet. Millions of voices seem to blend together in a symphony of screaming. So many languages, so many words that all feel like they mean nothing at all.

"Jason?"

I shake my head as Freddie's voice cuts through the deathly dissonance. Briefly looking around, I assure myself that the night is still silent and the street is still solid.

And the car is still coming.

"Shit!"

Without much regard for Freddie's condition, I yank her forward and we plunge into the murky woods. Some part of me is aware that everything is too quiet and too still, but my pounding heart drowns out that concern.

The other car—the only noise that isn't the crunching of the ground or our rapid breathing—silences.

I silently curse myself for not asking Freddie how many people were in the car. It can't be that many, but we're outnumbered. I force us forward, trying to put as much distance between us and the pursuers as possible.

But no sounds follow. Nothing. Eventually I slow down, trying to get my bearings. Freddie slows, not making as much as a whimper after our rough run.

"How many are there?" I whisper.

"More than us."

Not much of an answer, but I guess it's stupid to expect her to give me an exact number. "Are you sure they are coming? I don't hear anything."

Silence.

My hand runs through my hair. "Maybe they gave up. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe—"

"They are still coming."

She's just a regular source of pep.

"I don't hear them," I say.

"You won't." Her hand—still clutching mine—trembles. "No one ever hears them. Until it's too late."

Perfect.

"All right," I say, fighting to control my own fear. "We'll just keep going. And try to be as quiet as possible."

Of course it isn't as easy as I make it sound. It reminds me of the last time I went hunting with Emily's dad. I always imagine that the animals knew we were coming to end their lives and made the mistake of telling Emily. She laughed in my face when I told her and said to stop overthinking things.

"Seriously, Jay, you've got to quit it with the empathy!" Emily's words ring in my ears. "You're a good guy. I get it. But there are limits."

She was right. I know she was right. My empathy and overthinking always ends up hurting me. There is something wrong with me. Normal people don't end up running in the woods at night because they decided to help some weird woman.

Fortunately years of hunting trips left me with a few skills. The first is that I can navigate most wooden terrain as silently as humanly possible.

The second is that I have sensitive hearing. The echo of footsteps enters my ears. It is still a considerable distance away, but I am able to muffle our own footsteps as we increase our speed.

We reach the clearing faster than I hoped. My house isn't that far away and it doesn't take long to run across the yard until we reach the porch.

I looked back to see that a shape as emerged from the woods. It isn't pursuing us—just standing still.

"They've found us!" Freddie gasps.

I fumbled for my keys. "It's fine. We'll get in and call the cops. They'll deal with..."

I can't finish my sentence as I look back. The shape is closer. Far too close. I hadn't heard the man run. There was no way he could have made it halfway across the yard so fast.

"Fuck!" I hissed.

I unlock the door and usher Freddie inside. As soon as the familiar walls of home surround me, I slam the door and lock it.

Freddie lets go of my hand and slumps to the ground, body quivering and little moans escaping her lips.

"It's okay," I say quickly. "We're okay."

"They're coming..."

I peek out the window. "No, we..."

And my heart freezes.

There is a man on the porch.