“I’m fine.” He gave Daryl a shove. “Go. We’ll be right behind you.”
Grudgingly Daryl turned and gestured for the rest of his team to follow. They jogged around the corner and out of sight.
If Jason picked up his pace a little, no one said anything.
By the time they reached obstacle three—a giant seesaw, for want of a better description—
Daryl’s team were already up on the first platform. Jason shielded his eyes from the sun to get a better look.
“Wondered how this one worked,” Nathan mused from beside him, still with his arm around Jason’s waist, offering support. “You reckon they all need to get on there?”
“Yeah, from what Alpha Cornell said.”
Two raised platforms were separated by what looked like a huge metal seesaw. The far end was heavily weighted down, with the near end stuck up in the air. The only way to get it down was with the thick rope attached to it. From the looks of it, all four of Daryl’s team had worked to get it down and now they struggled to keep it there.
“I reckon they’ll need to get on one at a time with the others holding it in place,” Nathan offered.
“With all four of them on, it should balance it out and they can slowly make their way across.”
Jason eyed his leg. They’d definitely have to wait till it was fully healed. He watched, trying to decide how his lot should handle it.
Neal was by far the heaviest set of Daryl’s team, and he held the end of the rope behind all the others. In Jason’s team, that would probably be Nathan, or possibly Simon.
“That’s one on,” Nathan pointed as Daryl climbed onto the metal plank, arms out to steady himself. The plank rose up as Rob let go of the rope preparing to climb on, and he had to jump a couple of feet to reach it. Daryl steadied him, holding onto his arm until he got his balance back.
A high-pitched twang rang through the air, followed by another and another.
“What the fuck—” Jason’s words caught in his throat as he watched the scene rapidly unfold.
Neal and Kara fell backwards onto the platform as the rope they were pulling on snapped. Rob lost his balance, and despite Daryl making a grab for him, tumbled off the plank to the ground ten feet below. With only Daryl for balance now, the weighted end, no longer held in place, slammed down on the opposite platform catapulting Daryl high in the air. He landed out of sight, but they all heard the sickening sound of something hitting the trees. The silence that followed was deafening.
“Oh bollocks.” Jason started to hobble forwards. “Go make sure the rest of them are all right,”
he yelled, pointing his team towards the rest of Daryl’s. “And call for Alpha Jones.”
It seemed to take forever to get around the base of the third obstacle, and Jason cursed up a storm at not being able to move faster. His heart pounded, breath coming in short sharp gasps, and he physically hurt with his need to get to Daryl.
When he finally made it to the tree line, he stopped still, frowning as he scanned the ground but couldn’t see Daryl anywhere. “Daryl?” he called. Conscious of the sounds of the others, he tried to tune them out and listen for something close.
Nothing.
He limped further into the forest, ears straining for a clue as to where Daryl might be. “Daryl?”
A soft groan startled him into looking up. “Oh fuck,Daryl.” No wonder he hadn’t found him anywhere on the ground. Over to his right, Daryl’s limp body lay supported by a huge tree branch about nine feet off the ground. His arms and legs dangled either side, and as Jason got closer, he saw why Daryl wasn’t moving—one of the smaller branches had snapped off and impaled him through his chest. Blood dripped down onto the forest floor, the scent filling Jason’s lungs until he choked back a sob and covered his mouth. “No!”
Ignoring the way his leg protested, Jason ran over and started to climb. He heard Alpha Jones approaching, yelling for him to “Get out of the fucking tree with that leg,” but Jason pulled himself up until he reached the branch Daryl was on. His leg throbbed, the pain helping to ground him as the scent of Daryl’s blood and pain filled the air. “Hey,” he whispered, clinging to the trunk. Daryl’s eyes were closed, lips parted, and he was a colour Jason had only seen on dead people.
He daren’t move closer, afraid the branch might’ve been damaged by the impact. The last thing Daryl needed was for it to break and plunge him to the ground. “Daryl?”
Another pained groan, but this time Daryl’s eyes fluttered open. It took him a few long seconds to focus on where the voice was coming from, but when his gaze landed on Jason, his lips curved up into a smile. “I guess neither of us is winning this fucking thing,” he muttered, eyes drifting closed again.
A startled laugh burst out of Jason, and he slumped back against the trunk. “I guess not.”
Daryl didn’t say anything else, the smile gone from his lips, and Jason started to panic. “Daryl?”
Nothing.
“Daryl?”
