Page 49 of Lucky 14

Heart racing, I look for the smudge.

What if I put someone in danger? Real, actual danger.

I couldn’t…I can’t…I can’t live with myself if I did. Standing, I run my hands through my hair as I feel my shoulder twitching.

I didn’t want this! I just wanted to prove my love to Poppy. I didn’t want any of this.

You’re not worthy of her love.

My thoughts spiral, and I pace more frequently. I need my phone. My computer. Something. I need to get away from the thoughts. Need to look at my notes. Poppy wouldn’t stop loving me. I remember writing that she did the dishes for me and kissed me that one night. And another time, she charged my headphones when I had forgotten they were dead.

She wouldn’t stop loving me, right?

Only, she would. I literally put a woman at risk because of my love. Poppy would never forgive me for that. She would never love me.

Dread grips my chest, and the feeling of inevitability washes over me. I get dizzy looking for that spot, then my heart races and my chest feels tight.

No! No. I yank on my hair, shooting pain through my scalp. No, this isn’t real. I didn’t know, and I can fix it. I can fix it!

Slowly, I blink.

I can fix this. I’ll just go find Holland and bring her back to my room, then get us both out of here.

As I think about it, it slowly becomes a real plan in my mind. And as it does, the crippling death throes of anxiety loosen.

Finding a backpack in my closet, I find water bottles and snacks inside, like peanuts and pretzels, and a watch. At the bottom, there’s a small first-aid kit, and that makes my stomach turn. Ignoring why that was included, I slide the knife into my waistline. I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt the day I left, and I brought nothing else. I didn’t realize we were getting on a plane until I was staring at it, drunk. And when I was drunk, I didn’t care.

Now, I stink, and my clothes are sweaty, but I realize with horrifying clarity that that is the least of my problems. The knife makes me nervous. I’ve never used one on anyone else before. After that failed hunting trip, I never volunteered for anything again. Now, with the long end of the sheath poking into my thigh, my breath quickens. Will I have to use it?

Shaking my head, I clear away the anxiety. I’m getting Holland, and I’m getting out.

Downstairs is crowded. Everyone is there wearing masks, and they all look shifty. There's an energy in the air that’s rank and excited at the same time. Loud guffaws and pats on the back and mocking laughter make me feel like I’m back at summer camp and we’re about to go down the biggest slide.

Only, the knife pokes into me, making my stomach sink.

I get a few looks, but I ignore everyone, and when they open the doors, I let everyone out first. I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m going. I heard them talking about a supply drop that they think all the ‘prey’ are headed toward.

I almost vomit hearing them talk about people like that, but I manage to keep it in. And when the outside air makes it through my mask, I suck in a deep breath. Everyone else disappears into the woods, following a well-worn path. I follow at a distance for hours, ripping my mask off after the first twenty minutes so I can breathe. That only lets the bugs at my face, and they swarm me, biting my neck and humming by my ears. Finally, I start to see the sparkle of water through the trees and see that a beach has appeared. It’s beautiful and lonely and windy, and I break out of the trees to let the wind blow the bugs away.

Sweat drips down my body, and I scratch the back of my neck. I’ve had hours to think about what I’m going to do if I find Holland. The longer I’ve walked, the more I’ve realized finding her in this vast expanse of land is going to be…damn near impossible. The thought makes me want to cry.

I have to find her. Not finding her is not an option.

My shoes sink in the sand, and I find myself wishing I had learned how to track. Jeremy talked about it all the time before our trip. How to track animals by the marks they made on the ground and the things they left behind. You can do the same for a human, right?

Only, I don’t know how. And what if someone gets to her before me?

And as I hike, I hear a motor behind me.

Jumping into the treeline, I turn to see a golf cart flying down the beach. As it gets closer, I see Wyatt in his mask driving a loaded golf cart.

It’s going to be a bloodbath. My stomach churns. Holland could get caught in it.

Some items fall off the cart, but Wyatt keeps going. I’m not sure if he noticed, but he doesn’t look like he does.

Then, a small figure darts out of the woods. It goes right to the items, dropping to their knees and ripping open a backpack.

I squint, staring at the small person. Her hair flashes in the sunlight. Blonde hair.