Hostage Negotiation

Living life without internet was inconceivable to many, downright prehistoric to others. He was still in withdrawal himself. Snapping a picture of some crazy thing he’d come across in the swamp and texting it to his buddies back home or his family was so second nature that he still found himself pulling out his phone several times a week to do just that.

Until he remembered he was living in the land that time forgot.

He started down the path again, but he kept a close eye on his surroundings. While residents of this backwater town, including the children, understood the dangers and took them in stride, this was all new to him. He was still learning how to acclimate himself to the hostile environment so he didn’t become a gator snack or experience the painful, possibly poisonous bite of a snake. Cottonmouths and rattlers weren’t uncommon out here.

But it wasn’t reptiles or the slithering inhabitants of the Everglades that had him studying everything with a keener eye than usual.

Buddy’s outlandish stories about monsters and people disappearing in the swamp had obviously gotten to him just as it had the children. Because even though he knew that mournful, terrified-sounding screech had to have come from the owl, he couldn’t help a niggling doubt that kept running through his mind.

What if I’m wrong?

Chapter Two (#u2a1c38af-01b6-5eb4-ab53-c0061eda44d8)

Tears streamed from her burning eyes. Blinking furiously, she stumbled to a halt and braced herself against a tree, her stiff fingers curling against the rough bark. Her breaths came in quick, shallow gasps as she raised a hand to block out the bright morning sunlight streaking down through the canopy of tree branches overhead.

How many times had she prayed for sunlight, to feel its warmth on her skin? To breathe in air that was fresh and clean, not musty and heavy with her own stink? She’d whispered that prayer hundreds of times. But not today. Today the light was a curse, a harsh, blinding torch to eyes used to utter darkness; an enemy in her desperate bid for freedom.

Swiping at the tears, she took off again, leaping over a branch in her path. Then she put on a fresh burst of speed, grimacing each time her bare feet hit a rock or sharp twig. A knobby cypress root seemed to jump up from out of nowhere, tripping her. She landed hard on all fours.

A burst of fiery pain shot through her knees and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth and she pounded her fist on the ground in frustration. Pain lanced through her body, from the stinging cuts on her feet to the throbbing in her head that never seemed to go away.

You’re wasting time. Hurry! You have to be miles away before he realizes you’re gone.

She staggered to her feet, risking a quick look over her shoulder.

What if he’d already discovered that she’d escaped? What if he was tracking her, right now?

He won’t find me. I’ll be okay. He’ll give up the search.

A bitter laugh welled up inside her. No. He would never give up. He would keep looking, searching, hunting. He was fast. And cunning. And more terrifying than any nightmare she’d ever had.

A thud sounded behind her.

No! It can’t be him.

But what if it is?

She surged forward on wobbly legs, pouring what little strength she had left into trying to run. Tired. She was so tired. And hungry. And thirsty. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and surrender to exhaustion.

Don’t give up! He nearly killed you when you ran the first time. If he catches you again, he will kill you, but only after he punishes you.

A sob rose in her throat at the thought of enduring another one of his “punishments.”

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Footsteps! Oh, God. No. Please. She stumbled, caught herself against a tree. Fell. Pushed herself up. Started running again.

She couldn’t deny the truth any longer. He was following her. She knew it even without seeing him, by the way her joints tightened with fear, the way her heart slammed against her ribs so hard she thought they’d crack. The very air around her seemed charged with menace, a black, choking fog of evil.

More thumps. Faster. He was running. He must have found her tracks. He was so close. A whimper escaped between her clenched teeth.

I don’t want to die. Twenty-three years isn’t enough. I want a family, babies. How can I die when I haven’t even lived?

Another sound interrupted the quiet of the Glades. A low rumble. Wait. Was that a car? Leaves crackled and twigs snapped somewhere up ahead, as if they were being crunched beneath tires. Yes! Someone was driving a car through the woods. Had she finally found civilization? Was there a road through this horrible, cursed, endless swamp? Hurry, hurry. She couldn’t let them pass her by. This might be her only chance.

She ran full out. She didn’t even try to be quiet anymore.

Neither did he.

A roar of rage erupted behind her. She whimpered again and hated herself for it.

Don’t look. Don’t turn around.

The car was coming up fast. Would she make it? This time she couldn’t stop herself from looking over her shoulder, to see how close he was. A choked sob escaped her. She saw the leather mask he wore through a break in the trees, the gaping hole over his mouth.

He smiled.

She choked on a sob of terror. A horn blared. She whirled around. The grill of a dark vehicle filled her line of vision. She screamed as it slammed into her, tossing her through the air. The boggy ground rushed up to meet her. Excruciating pain slammed through the side of her head, her hip, as she flopped end over end to land on her stomach in a tangle of arms and legs. She lay unmoving, her cheek pressed against the ground, her gaze fastened on the bushes and trees fifteen feet away.

A door slammed. Running footsteps came toward her from the direction of the vehicle. And at the edge of the tree line, directly across from her, he stopped. Watching her. His feral smile vicious and deadly, promising retribution.

She let out a small cry.

“Miss. Can you hear me?” A man’s deep voice, thick with concern as he knelt beside her, his back turned to evil incarnate.

The devil slowly drew a large, serrated knife from the holder strapped to his thigh.

She sucked in a breath and tried to warn the stranger. But she couldn’t make her lips form any words. Blood bubbled up in her throat, choking her. Can’t breathe. Can’t. Breathe.

The stranger kneeling beside her, ever so carefully, tilted her head. Her airway cleared. She coughed and tried again to warn him.

Run! She tried to tell him. He’ll kill you! She tried to raise her hand, to wave toward the devil. But she didn’t seem to have control over her body anymore. Everything was going numb. And cold, so cold.

Satan took a step toward the stranger, knife raised.

“My name is Zack Scott.” Her would-be rescuer leaned down into her field of vision, his handsome face lined with worry. He scooted a bunched-up cloth of some kind beneath her head. “I’m the chief of police of Mystic Glades. Just hold on. I’ve got you.”

The devil paused.

“Turn around.” She forced the words past her bruised lips, but they came out a gurgle.

“Don’t try to talk. Lie as still as you can. Don’t move.”

A rumbling noise echoed through the trees. Another car? Brakes squealed. A door slammed. Footsteps pounded.

The devil jerked back beside a tree, a shadow amongst shadows.

“What the...?” Another man’s voice. Dirt sliding as he dropped to his knees beside Zack. “What happened? Who is she?”