"What do you mean they'll hurt me?"
The silence is suffocating. My eyes drift from the car following us, over to Freddie gripping her knees, then to the darkness in front of us,
"Hey!" I say sharply. "What do you mean?"
"They want me back and they'll hurt you to get me."
"You can't just help every stray you meet, Jason, One day you'll get bitten..."
I shake off Emily's words. "Who are they exactly?"
"My family."
Perfect. Who needs to talk about horror movies? It seems I threw myself into one. But my irritation is mostly at myself—Freddie is clearly terrified. I have to stay calm for her.
"Listen, it's going to be all right," I try to assure her. "They aren't going to get us. As soon as we get off this road, I'll take you straight to the police."
"No." Terror fills her eyes. "You can't take me to the police. You don't...you don't know my family. If you take me there, they'll get me."
"I'm sure—"
She shakes her head, dark curls flying wildly. "Jason, they'll find out. And they will find out that you took me to the cops. And they...they will not be happy that you helped me."
I bite my lip. "I'm sure the police can protect—"
"They can't!" She hugs herself. "I...I'm so sorry. I never should have gotten into the car with you. I've ruined everything."
"You haven't," I assure her, even though it doesn't feel that way at all. "We'll figure something out."
But I've made up my mind to drive as fast as possible off this lonely road and to the authorities. She'll be upset, but what else can I do?
It is an uncomfortable drive. My eyes keep darting to the car that is following us. We're getting closer to my home. Part of me wants to head there and call the cops. I don't like being followed this way.
But it should be safer when we get to town. Easier to lose them than on this lonely road. And I certainly didn't want to lead them back to my home.
A chill tears through my body and I glance back. For a second, out of the corner of my eye, I thought that I saw someone on the side of the road, staring at us.
I inhale. I am letting the situation get to me. It's late, I'm tired and a bit scared. And I have the pressure of trying to stay calm for Freddie.
But I can't help gazing around nervously, as if I expect someone else to emerge from the woods.
"Not much longer," I say tightly, reassuring Freddie as much as myself.
"I'm sorry."
"This isn't your fault," I say fiercely. "Whatever happened...we'll work it out. It will work out."
Her face relaxes and my pounding heart calms. Everything will be all right.
Noises erupt from the car. My attention is called to the vehicle, but it dies.
It just dies.
We come to a halt in the middle of the road. Everything is too quiet.
She turns her head back and exhales. "No..."
I blink and try to sort out what to do next. The car is steadily approaching and we're stranded. The idealistic part of me dearly hopes that she is exaggerating the threat.
But who the hell tails someone with their lights off?
"Okay." I unbuckle my seat belt. "We're not too far from my house. It's to the left, through the woods. If we get there, I can call the cops."
"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.