Page 56 of Devil Inside: Green

It’s a direct hit he doesn’t expect. The knife soundlessly falls to the floor as he stumbles backward into the wall of the van, knocking his head. I leap from the bed, grabbing up the knife, and burst out of the door. I hit the ground running for my life.

He has the van parked in a clearing, where it looks like a house used to stand. I see the remnants of a foundation as I beeline for the trees. There’s a long, dirt drive, but he’s in a van. If I stay on the roads, he can easily overtake me. I have to go where there’s less chance of him finding me.

Every movement hurts and it’s a struggle to stay quiet. The cries of pain, I can tamp down, but it’s the breathing so heavily through my nose that’s probably going to get me killed.

“You little bitch!” he screams from somewhere behind me. The blood pounds so violently in my ears that I can’t hear if he’s catching up to me. Yet I keep running because it’s my only chance. “God hates sinners.” His voice bounces, so I know he’s running. “I cleansed your mother. I’m cleansing you… I’m sure little sister will step out of line.”

I stop short. My sister? He’s going after Misty?

“Do you hear me, cunt—little sister is dead. God hates sinners.”

Shit.I change directions, running to my right because back at the clearing, that was the way the driveway pointed. As I run, my foot comes down and twists when metal snaps up, catching my ankle in its serrated jaws, and I fall to the ground. Blood oozes from the wound.

A goddamn animal trap. Rusted. Who knows how long it’s been hidden out here on the property? I use the hunting knife to help me leverage the trap open. After several failed attempts, I finally wedge it open enough to remove my foot. I stand to try to run, but the crush of the jaw snapped my ankle. There’s no way it’s not broken.

Rather than run, I do the only thing I can think to do, crawling on my hands and knees to the nearest tree. Then I use the trunk to help pull myself up without putting pressure on my ankle. I shove the knife into the waistband of my jeans horizontally so the fabric punctures from the tip by my pocket. It’s the only way I can think to climb still holding on to my only weapon but without injuring myself even more.

Climbing a tree is one of those activities that if you did it as a kid, you never forget how to do it. I press the rubber sole of my sneaker to the bark to give me grip and push up. It’s hard because my left foot is out of commission and my right arm has a pretty nasty slash through it, weakening the muscle. But I use my left leg as best I can in my climbing efforts. Anything to keep the pressure off my ankle.

Methodically, I take care with each foot placement. The pain is so intense, I have to fight to keep from passing out, but this is my only shot to leave these woods still breathing. And dammit if in the still of the forest, I don’t hear movement. Leaves rustling. Twigs snapping. He’s getting close. Still, I keep pushing myself harder and harder to make it up the tree. I could cry when I reach the first heavy branch. Rather than a free climb, this gives me some stability. But I know he can still see me from this branch, so I need to go higher into the leaves.

The branches become thinner the higher I climb. And I finally reach the time to decide if I try for higher and risk the bough breaking or roll myself into a ball and hope he doesn’t notice me. It’s scary to contemplate staying put, but the pain has grown almost unbearable and the adrenaline that had been fueling me has started to wear off.

This is it.

I hang on tight and hope for the best. Not a bird or a chipmunk dares to lay claim to this tree. Dusk must be hitting because the forest grows even darker than it was before. That’s an advantage. It might make it harder for him to see any blood smears or disturbances where I ran.

“Repent now, cunt,” he yells. “You’re about to meet your maker.”

The rustling grows louder. He’s a hunter and I’m far from his first prey. My whole body seizes with fear when I see the top of his head appear. He bends down on a knee, examining the animal trap. I hold my breath.

“Not running far with that injury,” he says. Then he stands, continuing in the direction I’d have run if I’d had the strength to keep running. “I’m going to cleanse you, Danni.” He grows louder now that he knows I’m injured. “You need to be punished… Pain first for the pain you put men through… The ones you lied to… you made them believe you’re a good girl when all you are is a dirty, dirty whore…” He’s trying to terrorize me. But the man keeps looking between the ground and straight ahead as he passes right under my tree. He never feels my eyes on him and I know this because he never once looks up.

Time passes and I hear his scream of anger rip through the woods in the distance. I wonder if he’s reached the road and thinks I’ve found a ride, or if he’ll circle back to try to track me down.

As night descends, it gets cold up in the tree, even though it’s summer. I start to feel myself nodding off. The pain has reached a point where my body wants to shut down enough for it to start healing.

I fight to keep myself awake. But my eyes dip closed. They spring open, but then they droop closed again. It becomes harder and harder to stay lucid. My eyes dip closed again, followed by a rush of wind. I open my eyes enough to see the ground rushing at me and I only have time to cover my head with my arms before I hit the ground hard.

In my last split seconds of consciousness, everything hurts.

And then, blissful nothingness.

20

GREEN

At the bottom of the hill just inside the downtown section of Bentley, I pull off into the large, brick library’s parking lot to Facetime Carter. He’s predictably confused because I’ve never Facetimed him before. Reaper pulls in next to me, but I ignore him. I don’t want to fight my brother, but to get Danni back safe, I’ll kill any motherfucker who tries to stop me. Lucky for him, he doesn’t try.

“Where are you?” I bark at Carter.

“In my office.”

“Show me.”

He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind but obliges, slowly spinning his phone to show me a room filled with monitors and CPUs and tables full of other techy gadgets whose purposes I can’t presume to know.

“Are you in Florida?” I ask.

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