“I’m here,” Claire said. Or thought she said. She wasn’t certain her lips formed the words.I amnotdying, she told herself. She tried again: “I’m here.”
She got shakily to her feet.
Got to move, she thought.Got to find them. Got to get away.
She spotted Mariana, leaning against a tree. Careful not to slip on the muddy leaves, she crossed to her. “Are you okay?” Claire asked. Her own voice sounded distant inside her head, as if she were underwater.I am drowning, she thought as rain continued to crash down on her.
“Maybe? Yes? Ow?”
There was too much water. She needed to swim to the surface. Maybe then there would be enough air. If only she could get enough air. Just one deep breath. “Where’s Reyva?” The words popped like bubbles.
Reyva’s voice came with a groan. “Here.”
Gulping in shallow gasps, Claire hobbled in the direction of her voice. A few yards away, Reyva was curled on the ground, her black hair tangled with thick brown mud. She was cradling one arm against her torso.
Immediately, Claire knew. “Broken?”
“Just above my wrist,” Reyva said, teeth gritted. “Tried to grab a branch. Heard it snap. I thought it was the tree that broke, but no. Me.”
Mariana joined them. “Maybe it’s sprained. It might not be as bad as you think.”
“I’ve broken bones before,” Reyva spat out. “It’s broken.” Curling over her arm, she moaned. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Broken.
Broken.
The word thrummed in Claire’s head like a drumbeat.
We’re never going to survive, she thought.We’re going to die here, in the woods, in the rain, and no one will ever know. No one will ever find us.She pictured their bodies strewn against the trees as limp and lifeless as the murdered woman’s.It’s hopeless. Jack could have helped us, but he... he...He’d held a knife to her throat, the metal cold on her skin. He’d chased them. He was still chasing them. He was going to catch them. Kill them.
Her head spun. Her heart thumped.
Count, she ordered herself.
Sixteen times two is thirty-two, sixteen times three... Grand port de bras, tendu front, demi plié, tendu front, developpé to arabesque...
But it was too late. The images of what could happen wouldn’t stop. Reyva, broken, eyes open and sightless. Mariana, crumpled on the leaves. Claire felt the blade against her throat again, and she clawed at her neck. She needed oxygen. Why couldn’t she breathe?
She heard the others calling her name. “Claire! Claire, are you okay? Claire, breathe! She’s hyperventilating. Is it asthma? Isshe choking? Is it her heart? Is she having a heart attack? I don’t think she can hear us. Claire, can you hear me?”
She couldn’t answer.
She couldn’t suck in enough air.
A curtain of black rose up over her eyes.
She woke. Seconds, minutes, hours later?
Rain still fell on her face. Mariana peered down at her. “Claire?”
“I’m sorry,” Claire whispered.
“Are you okay?” Mariana asked.
No, she wanted to say. “I’m fine.”
“Truth,” Reyva ground out. She was cradling her arm against her chest. It was broken, Claire remembered. Reyva was hurt.And I made everything worse, Claire thought. She’d scared herself so badly she’d collapsed. Again.
