72 Hours

  “I can’t believe he did that, Rach. I … I can’t get it out of my head.”

  “Maybe you should talk to him, let him expl—”

  “No!” I snap. “No. I won’t talk to him. There is nothing he could say that will make this go away, or make it better. We’re done. It’s over.”

  “Lara…”

  “He was kissing another girl, Rach. There is no excuse for that.”

  “He loves you.”

  I flinch.

  No. He doesn’t.

  How could he love me? How could anyone love me? No. This is exactly what happens to people like me.

  “I’ve changed my number. If he calls you, do not answer.”

  I drag my things down the hall, voice devoid of emotion.

  “Lara…”

  I get into my room and slam the door.

  This is what I get.

  The rumble of a bike has my head snapping up and the memory rushing from my mind. I swipe the tears that have leaked down my face. No. There’s no way he could have found me already, not that quickly. How the hell is he that good? Where’s Noah? Did something happen to him? Panic seizes my chest and I leap to my feet. I don’t know where to go or what to do. I look around, frantically trying to come up with a plan as the bike comes closer and closer, torturing me with its sound.

  I fumble around, trying to find our makeshift weapons. I can’t get hurt again. I don’t want to. I just … I just can’t. I don’t think I can live through any more pain. I don’t think I’m strong enough to fight. I need to escape. That’s what I need. The bike speeds through the trees far too effortlessly and I realize the track he created very likely runs the entire length of the stream. Of course it does.

  Is that how he’s finding us so easily?

  “Lara!”

  The bellowing sound of Noah’s voice has my head jerking to the left.

  “Noah?” I scream.

  “Run!”

  Run? Oh God.

  I leap into the water and start moving as fast as I can in the opposite direction of the bike. Logs and rocks tear into the flesh on my legs, but I don’t stop. The bike is nearing with every passing second and I know I have no choice but to fight, even though I’m exhausted. Tears run down my cheeks and fear catches hold of my heart for the millionth time in the last few days—but I swallow it down. I suck it back in. I have to fight right now.

  “You running is utterly adorable.”

  The sound of the maniac’s voice has my skin prickling. I swim harder, but he appears on the bank before I have the chance to move more than a hundred feet. He’s got a gun slung over his shoulder and he’s laughing at me, like the idea of me trying to get away is so completely hilarious. I have to fight. Goddammit, I have to fight. I don’t know how I’m going to do that. I don’t even know where to start. Find your strength, Lara, or you’ll die. I pull the spear from my pants and clutch it in my hands.

  Then I dive under.

  I swim downstream as fast as I can, coming up and climbing out of the water. There is a small space beside a few trees, and I tuck myself behind one and just wait. I can hear his boots sloshing through the water as he moves closer. Sweat trickles down my face and my body trembles. I press myself against a tree and just listen.

  It feels as if a thousand tiny ants are crawling all over my body as pure, raw terror takes hold.

  Fight.

  Fight, Lara.

  “You have to pay for what you did to my bike, Lara,” he calls, seeming to move closer and closer without even knowing where I am.

  How is he doing that?

  I stop breathing as he pauses behind the tree I’m hustled behind. I clench my eyes closed, take a deep breath, and then pop them open before leaping around the tree. I pick the right side, see that he has his back to me. I don’t hesitate, I propel the spear forward, its point aimed directly at his neck. But before it hits home, he ducks out of the way.

  He swings around and then throws his head back and laughs as he turns to face me. He’s still wearing the black ski mask, but the evil in his eyes is evident.

  “You could have done so much damage with that spear, but I heard you coming and you lost your only chance. You’ve let me down, Lara.”

  My entire body shakes as he takes a step forward. He’s got a hunting knife as well as the gun, and it’s big. I think I’d prefer the bow and arrow.

  “Now, I think you need to suffer for what you’ve done. Don’t you?”

  I shove the spear out in front of me. “Don’t come near me,” I yell, voice betraying me by coming out weak and shaky.

  He laughs again. “Really, Lara?”

  I take a step back. He grins and moves closer. “I think I should remove something from your body, something essential. Say, a finger? What do you think?”

  I say nothing. I just lunge. Up close, I see how big he is, and his body is solid muscle. I’m tiny, haven’t worked out in ages, but I have fear and a fierce desire to live on my side. I stab the spear at his heart, but before it makes contact he has my wrist. He bends it back and the spear tumbles from my hand. I’m left with nothing.

  Goddamn it.

  * * *

  Laughter fills my ears as he takes hold of my hand, jerking me closer.

  “No,” I scream. “No!”

  With a feral laugh, he brings the knife closer. I squirm, thrash, and kick, but he’s strong and he’s not letting go. I scream and pull as hard as I can, and as if a prayer has been answered, he lets me go. I fall backward, slamming into a tree, my head thrown back to collide with the trunk. Dazed, it takes me a few seconds to gather myself. When I do, I see Noah. He’s on the ground, Psycho on top of him, fighting.

  God, is that blood?

  “Run, Lara,” Noah bellows as the knife is raised above his head.

  No.

  No.

  No, Noah.

  I don’t think, I just charge, bringing the spear under Psycho’s neck. Gripping each end and pulling back hard, I choke him while he struggles to escape. For a moment, I think I have him. But he swings around and throws me to the ground, and once again my spear falls from my hand.

  I scramble to my feet.

  “Run, run, run!” Noah roars, swinging out suddenly and hitting the man in the face so hard he topples back. Then he’s charging at me and hauling me over his shoulder.

  Noah runs harder and faster than I could have ever imagined a person could, especially with someone over their shoulder, but he moves through the trees on a small cleared track that I realize is yet another creation. He must have followed the psycho in here. He’s got blood on him, he’s panting, but he doesn’t stop. We reach the motorbike, and Noah puts me down.

  “Get on,” he orders.

  I don’t hesitate. I just climb on, and in a matter of seconds we’re speeding off into the forest, faster than I can handle. I close my eyes, pressing my face to Noah’s back. I pray that we didn’t escape a killer only to die on a motorcycle. Noah rides for what feels like hours. Eventually, he comes to a stop and looks behind him, eyes scanning the thick shrubbery.

  “Without this, he can’t catch us. I don’t think we’ll see him again tonight.”

  “Are you sure about that?” I whisper, frantically scanning the trees with my eyes. “What if he has another bike?”

  “Even if he does, he’ll have to go and get it and we’ve had a head start. It’ll take him some time to catch up.”

  “I … I don’t know,” I say, my voice trembling.

  “We have at least a few hours. He won’t come back in without full protection. I can guarantee that. He won’t be back tonight.”

  I climb off the bike and Noah does the same, jerking the key out and tucking it into his pocket.

  “This bike might just be our only escape.”

  He’s right about that. It’s an advantage—a small one, but one all the same.

  “Are you okay?” I whisper, studying him. He has a fair amount of blood on him, and that worries me.

 
“I don’t know,” he murmurs, slumping down to the ground, legs out in front of him, big body exhausted. His already torn shirt is covered in blood and has a few extra gashes.

  I swallow, trying not to panic at the sight of all his blood. He needs me. He needs me to be strong. I have to get over this. It’s just blood. I kneel down beside him and gently start raising his shirt.

  “What’re you doing?” he says, voice so broken it pains my heart.

  “I’m helping. Be quiet and let me work.”

  He doesn’t fight me. He has no fight left. I take his shirt off and recoil at the gash on his chest. It takes me a few minutes to gather myself enough to closer inspect the wound. It’s not deep so much as it is long. Thank God. If he needed stitches I honestly don’t know what we would have done. I look down at the remains of his shirt, useless to him.

  “What happened?” I whisper.

  “He got me. Fucker is smart.”

  I need water. We don’t have our coconuts anymore.

  I stare down at my still-damp clothes. They’ll do.

  I remove my shirt. It’s still quite heavy with water after my swim. I use it to wipe his body, removing as much blood as I can, then press it over his wound. He doesn’t even flinch, he just sits there, staring straight ahead. He’s starting to scare me. I keep moving, keeping quiet and working. I wipe his back and move up to his neck, then I stop dead.

  “Noah,” I whisper, leaning in closer. “What’s this?”

  He turns slightly. “What?”

  “There is something under your skin.”

  “What?” he demands, reaching up and feeling the small lump sitting just under his skin at his hairline. It’s barely noticeable, but now that I’m so close, I can see it quite clearly.

  Noah curses and leaps up. “Fucker. Motherfucker.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a goddamned tracker!”

  My heart feels like it stutters to a complete stop. “Pardon?” I croak.

  “That’s how the piece of fucking shit has been finding us. Goddammit.”

  I reach up and with trembling fingers feel around my own hairline. Sure enough, I can feel a similar lump. Of course he’d track us. It makes perfect sense.

  “How did we not feel this?” I whisper, massaging the tiny device with my fingers.

  “They’re easily injected. He would have done it when we were drugged.”

  God.

  “What do we do?”

  “We get them out.”

  I know I have a horrified look on my face. Noah walks closer and grabs my shoulders. “Lara, if we don’t do this, we’re going to keep fighting. We have a solid chance of escaping if the fucker can’t find us so easily. He has little tracks and hiding places all through this forest. We’ve got no hope with these in; without them, we might actually have a chance.”

  “H-h-h-how are you going to get it out?”

  He gives me a pained look. “It’s going to hurt, baby.”

  Tears well in my eyes, but I take a shaky breath and say, “What he’s got planned will hurt more. Let’s do it.”

  Noah steps forward and cups my face, running his thumb over my cheek. “Brave, beautiful girl.”

  My bottom lip trembles.

  He leans down and kisses me, long, deep, and full of emotion. I tangle my hands in his hair and kiss him back. I’m done holding back. The harsh reality is that we could die at any minute, and I’m not going to waste any more time pretending I’m not head over heels in love with this man.

  “Noah,” I murmur against his mouth. “I love you.”

  He jerks and pulls back, looking down at me. His eyes flash and he says in a low, husky tone, “Don’t tell me that now. Tell me when we get out of here.”

  I give him a wobbly smile.

  He just gives me intensity.

  I’m okay with that.

  FIFTEEN

  “This is going to hurt. I’m sorry, baby.”

  I close my eyes, gritting my teeth and waiting for the pain to come. I know it’s coming, I know because I spent the last hour with Noah finding a tool sharp enough to break skin. We found a jagged rock and used another rock to make it even sharper. The very idea of something like that piercing my skin is enough to make my stomach turn.

  We found the stream and cleaned it as best we could.

  I still don’t know if that’s enough.

  Noah feels around on my neck and I panic, lunging forward. “I don’t think … I don’t think I can.”

  “Lara, look at me.”

  He spins me around and his eyes find mine. “If I don’t get this out, he’s going to keep finding us and we’re going to die. Do you want that?”

  “Of course I don’t,” I snap, then close my eyes. “Sorry.”

  “Turn around, on three I’ll remove it.”

  My body trembles as I turn and he feels around on my neck again.

  “One,” he says, voice low.

  I clench my eyes closed.

  “Two.”

  He doesn’t get to three. A sharp pain pierces the back of my neck and I scream, back arching. A big arm goes around my waist and he hauls me against him, other hand still on my neck. The rock drops to the ground and he squeezes. I try to remain quiet, teeth gritted against the pain. This needs to be done.

  “Got it. Hey, it’s over. I got it.”

  He holds me to him, arm still wrapped around me. He presses the shirt I used to clean him up against my neck. It’s fresh and cool from the stream. It soothes the throbbing pain. He leans his head on my shoulder and presses a kiss to my cheek. “You’re okay. It’s all over.”

  My trembling subsides and I spin around, pressing my head to his chest. He holds me like that for a good long time, big arms closing me in, big body giving me comfort. His hand is still on the back of my neck, and after a while he removes it and gently turns me back and checks the wound. “It’s already stopped bleeding.”

  “Can I … can I see it?”

  He opens his hand: A tiny, blood-covered device is in his palm. It’s no bigger than a grain of rice, and it’s gray. Well, I think it’s gray. It’s hard to tell. Noah’s hands are covered in blood.

  “Your hands…” I squeak.

  He wipes them on his jeans. “You’ve got to get mine out. That prick will figure out we’ve removed these when he gets back, and it could cause a frenzy. He may head back sooner than expected, so we need to hurry.”

  That thought terrifies me enough for me to lean down and pick up the rock. I use a new coconut we collected to tip water over it and clean it off. Then I look to Noah. He turns around. I reach into his thick mane of hair and run my hand down until I reach the base of his neck. I find the tiny implant.

  “How do I do this?” I ask, fighting the bile rising in my throat.

  “You need to get it in your fingers and use the rock to cut the surface. Then you just squeeze.”

  I swallow thickly and take a deep breath, then I use the rock to slice his skin. He flinches but doesn’t make a single sound. I know it hurts—I just had it done—and his strength surprises me. Such a powerful male. Blood immediately pours from the wound and I have to close my eyes and take a few deep breaths to keep myself from passing out. My head spins but I concentrate. He needs me to do this.

  I open my eyes and squeeze. The little device pops out and I catch it in my fingers, struggling as I become light-headed from the sight. I press the cool shirt to the wound and turn away. There’s so much blood. I close my eyes and try to focus on my breathing. I’ve already lived through worse than this. I can’t let it bother me. No. I’m stronger than this now.

  I can do this.

  I take a shallow, shaky breath, and then another—until I’m calm again.

  After a few minutes, my breathing is strong enough that I straighten and hand him the device. He studies it, then tosses both of them into the stream. He looks up into the trees where he knows the cameras are. “Now the game begins for real.”

  He’s poking
the devil.

  I can’t say I blame him.

  “What if there are more?” I ask.

  “Come here, we’ll check each other.”

  For the next twenty minutes we run our hands over each other’s body, feeling for anything different. The only way we’ll truly know if there is another device, though, is to run and see how quickly he finds us.

  “What’s the plan now?” I ask, staring upward as the sun begins to set.

  “We should be fairly safe for the night, and we both need to rest. He’ll follow us from the cameras, so we’ll have to go up into the trees again.”

  My heart sinks.

  I don’t want to climb trees. I want to sleep. To eat. To feel safe.

  “I know you don’t want to, but we have to.”

  I know we do.

  I nod.

  “There are some solid trees up there, good enough to get some rest on. How’s your leg?”

  “Better than it was.”

  “Good. Come on, before the sun goes down.”

  “What about the bike?”

  “We could hide it, but if he went through the trouble of putting tracking devices on us, I’m sure the bike’s got one, too. Being up there is our only advantage for the moment.”

  I sigh and we head up the closest, shortest tree. It takes us a solid ten minutes to get to the top, and my leg throbs with every second, but I don’t complain. Noah’s wounds aren’t so bad, and for now, he should be free of infection if we manage to keep clean.

  Noah leans into me when we make it onto the second tree. “He can still hear us on the cameras, so don’t speak unless you have to. We need to move as quietly as we can or he’ll track us by sound.”

  I nod.

  We carefully move through the trees, and honestly, unless he’s got superhero hearing, I don’t think he’ll be able to hear us among the birds fluttering around and the breeze whooshing through. The sun continues to go down, and we move as far as we can without causing too much ruckus. We make it another hour and a half before we have to stop.

  We’ve skipped through easily forty trees, but in the scheme of things, it’s probably not that far. Still, it’s the best we’ve got for right now.

  Noah finds a super-thick branch that we can easily sit on, and like last time he presses his back to the trunk and I curl in between his legs, nestling close. He leans down to my ear and whispers, “As soon as the sun comes up, I’m going to inspect one of the cameras. I want to see if I can knock them out.”