Narrator

I know, he whispered trembling.

I know it sounds insane, but I heard Luke.

Like a person saying it with a mouth full of mud, he pressed his palms to his eyes.

I don't know what's worse, if it was real or if my brain is just breakin'.

Tessa stared at the darkening woods, voice flat.

It's real enough, she said.

Day six.

We try for the road and the mountain tries to keep us.

The next day was the hardest physically, and that's saying something.

We had no messenger, no phone signal.

No clear trail, just a half-remembered sense that downhill would eventually lead to something human.

An access road, a power line cut, a creek that met a bigger creek.

But downhill in those mountains can also lead to cliffs, dead ends, private land, or another hollow where the wrong people live.

We moved slow because Luke was hurt.

He could walk, but his balance was off and his left ankle was swollen from being dragged.

Every time he stepped on uneven ground, he winced and hissed through his teeth.

Tessa took point checking constantly for signs.

Broken branches, boot prints, unnatural stillness.

I watched our back, paranoid, jumping at every squirrel crash.

We found the first sign they were following us before noon.