“Come on!” Beck exclaims.
I shine the flashlight forward, suddenly very unsure what direction we’re going.
Tree branches whack against us, skinning flesh with each layer. Weduck up, down, weave past obstacles seconds before we realize they’re there at all. My heart beats so fast I swear it’s going to explode before we get to the watchtower.
Heavy footsteps sound behind us. A few paces back.
We find the watchtower in the dark.
Beck grabs onto the first layer of ladder. “Follow right behind me! I’ll pull you up!”
I dare to glance back.
The figure is a few feet from us.
I grab onto the bottom rung of the ladder and jump on. I land halfway up. I cry out as the raw material digs into the cut on my hand. I yank my hand off, but my other hand nearly slips with it. My muscles scream as my feet scramble for the next rung.
This thing is so unsteady. It twists and flows in a soft dance when I need to fuckinggo.
The figure reaches the spot where the ladder was. She looks up.
There’s not enough space between us.
Beck grabs my hand, pulling me so hard my shoulder screams in pain.
The bottom of the ladder slips out of my hand.
It falls right into the killer’s arms.
“Fuck!” Beck screams. “Okay, faster this time.”
Beck jumps up and climbs. I grab the bottom rung and follow her.
The killer makes it halfway up the ladder.
Beck hits the third level platform.
The killer steps onto the second platform. I’m barely halfway between the second and third levels.
There are probably a million panicked thoughts running through my brain. But my body only follows one.
I jump off the ladder, landing harshly on the second level platform. My knees groan in pain at the unforgiving wood, but adrenaline takes away the bite.
I run at the killer, pushing her as hard as I possibly can.
She flies off the platform, landing with a dull thud on the ground below.
I pull the ladder from the ground leading to the second floor and make sure it won’t fall back down. When I breathe, it’s like the air has become so syrupy thick it’s hard to get a breath in. But holy shit, Ididthat.
I might’ve just saved our lives.
Beck peeks over the third platform and throws the ladder down without saying a word. My heart beats like a hummingbird wing, but it slows down with each movement of my muscles as I go from rung to rung, careful to not put any pressure on my hand. I know the killer can’t climb up to meet us, but I still can’t shake a need to not look down. I struggle with my footing and sweaty hands, forced to take the climb slowly so as to not fall myself. In the end, it’s not the climb of a hero. Beck even helps me up the last few feet.
But somehow when I reach the third floor and it’s really, truly just Beck and me in our little safe haven again, we come back to life.
Beck slaps my shoulder blade like I’ve seen her do to girls on the volleyball team after a great play. “You didnotjust do that.”
I find myself laughing a bit, even if it’s more at the horrific absurdity of what just happened than at Beck’s words. How many real-life teens can say they know how they’d react to being chased by a real-life killer? No one would’ve ever guessed I’d be even slightly useful in a chase.
