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My head is spinning, and there’s a ringing in my ears. Likely the result of two back-to-back head injuries. The ringing makes it hard to hear anything.
I think it might be nighttime. I hear crickets over the ear-ringing. It’s colder, too. The wind blows through my now-tattered T-shirt. If it is night, then I’ve been knockedout for a few hours.
I doubt Em and her friends have hung around that long, but I give it a few more minutes before I decide I’m alone.
When no other sounds come, I start struggling against the ropes. I’m shivering, whether it’s from shock or the cold, I don’t know. Probably both. I’m at risk of hypothermia if I don’t find a way off this tree.
God, my head hurts.
I need to find a place to warm up, and soon.
I do the stupid thing and let myself feel grateful that at least I’m mostly dry. Cold raindrops splatter across my body, as if on cue with my misplaced optimism.
If there is a god, I’m clearly not their favourite.
I keep trying to wiggle out of the ropes. They’re still tight, but not as tight as they were earlier. I must have loosened them when I struggled to escape the stones.
Stones.
Those lunatics actually stoned me and left me for dead.
I shove that thought back into a dark place in my head. It’s reserved for all the trauma I am not ready to process. This is not the time.
Just focus on getting free.
How do people in movies get out of these situations? Right – break your thumb.
I’d really rather not. But if push comes to shove, I have that option. Let’s call that one Plan Z.
My wrists are burning as I keep trying to loosen the ropes. I might be getting somewhere; I have a decent amount of wriggle room now. My hand keeps getting stuck at the thumb junction. Just a bit further to go.
It takes me a second to realize that something has changed. It just got quiet. The crickets are silent. The only noise left is the splattering of rain.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I think it’s a bad sign when a forest goes silent. Doesn’t that usually mean there’s a large predator nearby?
I’m looking a lot like a wounded animal right about now.
I need to get off this damn tree.
I keep trying to tear my hand through the looser opening, but the ropes aren’t giving. I’m so close. I can pull my hand out if I can just get my thumb through.
Reluctantly, I settle on Plan Z. I keep tugging on my hand, though, working up the nerve.
It can’t hurt that badly, can it?
My internal motivation is interrupted by the sound of a branch snapping somewhere behind me. I freeze at the sound.
It’s followed by a menacing growl.
Well, that’s all the motivation I need.
Instantly, I crack my left thumb back as far as it will go. I scream into my gag but manage to wrench my hand through the binding. I’m still screaming as I fall to the ground in a heap.
I don’t give myself time to feel the pain. I sit up, yank the sack off my head and pull out the gag. I don’t bother to look behind me or get my bearings. After ripping the tape off my legs, I’m up and running for my life.
Despite being weak and exhausted from the cold, my adrenaline is kicking in full force, pushing me forward. I can feel a twinge in one of my ankles. I must have tweaked or sprained it when I fell off the tree. I try toignore the pain that is beginning to radiate out from it and keep running.
Sprains aren’t life-threatening. Growly things in dark forests probably are.
