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I make my way back towards the road. Although the concrete would be safer to walk on, I stay by the trees in case I need to duck behind them. My progress is slow; however, and two more cars pass me before streetlights finally start to line the road.
At this point, I’m not even sure I’m still in Keyingham. The road I thought led to one of the residential areas probably leads to the next town.
Then, from further down the road, I see the headlights before I hear the rumble of an engine. Exhausted, I move back into the trees and lean against the trunk as I wait for the car to pass.
Syn said run, so I did.
Now, with the air so cold that it feels like my throat is being sliced open with every breath I take, and every inch of my body feeling like it’s on fire until I touch it, I’m wondering if getting caught is the better option.
As headlights light up the area, the low whistle of someone calling for their dog pierces the night air.
Instead of stepping out of the shadows, I flatten myself against the damp wood.
It’s only when the car has gone that I remember something.
“The safe word.” My lips are trembling so much that I’m not even sure what came out of my mouth was what I tried to say.
Could Syn come up with something worse?
Should I just let myself be found and face the consequences?
Or what if there’s only another hour until sunrise?
Even thinking is an effort now, and I’m not even sure I was making much sense.
Pushing myself off the tree hurts, but as I head down to the road, I tell myself I’m done hiding.
The rain has eased off, though the only difference it really makes is that I don’t have to squint to see.
I force myself forward, dragging my feet more than walking properly. I’m not sure how long I’m walking for but finally, I see something in the distance.
Lights.
Praying it’s a house—because I will knock on the door at this point—I start to move faster.
And then I realize the low buzzing I hear is not in my head.
Stopping, I slowly turn on the spot, but the roads are empty. Until something compels me to look up over my head.
It’s a damn drone.
XXIII
Tori
Like an internet browser with a slow connection, I stand there, staring at the piece of technology hovering above me, waiting for my next action to load.
In the distance, heading towards me from Keyingham, I see headlights.
I’m not sure how I’m still standing because my brain, my thoughts, no longer feel like they’re inside me. It’s like I’m caught in a dream.
Then Syn’s laughter ripples through the air.
I don’t remember ever hearing Syn laugh, and it sounds more comical than it should—like I’m watching a cartoon, and the bad guy is laughing as he watches the world crumble in front of him.
Whether the sound is something I’m hallucinating, or it’s coming from the drone, it somehow kicks me into life. I turn away from the approaching car and run.
I just need to make it to the lights.
