Page 28 of The Unlikely Pair
Despite the fact I’m the one holding the compass, Toby sets off ahead of me, the survival kit secured over his shoulder.
My gaze lingers on the set of his shoulders and the determination in his step before I snap to attention and stride after him.
Chapter Nine
Toby
Harry and I trek through the forest.
My whole body feels shaky with fear and exhaustion.
We don’t hear any more helicopters. And we stumble across a stream, where we fill our water bottles and quench our thirst.
That’s the good news.
The bad news is that, as the sun goes down, it turns from cold to positively freezing. My body is relatively warm from moving, but the cold nips at my hands and face like it’s got a personal vendetta against my exposed skin.
Not having my phone makes me feel twitchy. Who knew I’d miss the constant pings of social media notifications more than indoor plumbing?
Nausea sloshes in my stomach, and it’s not just protesting that I’ve only fed it an energy bar in the last eight hours.
I don’t think I’ve ever been as scared as I was when that helicopter hovered overhead. We were like sitting ducks. If they had spotted us, we would have been very dead ducks.
I’ve never thought much about dying before, but as we push through the undergrowth, I can’t help dwelling on the concept.
This is real. This is very, very real.
The forest seems to stretch forever and my legs feel like lead.
Suddenly, my mother’s words of encouragement when I was a child, tired from a long walk, are back in my head.
“Just put one foot in front of the other, Toby, and soon you’ll be dancing over the finish line.”
I get the feeling dancing isn’t on the agenda tonight, Mum.
I’m so caught up in talking to my mother in my head that I don’t notice the bramble patch until I’m intimately entwined.
Thorns snag my trousers, and I perform an ungraceful dance, trying to untangle myself without sacrificing too much dignity. I fail miserably. After a prolonged tug-of-war, I resort to a less-than-dignified shimmy to escape.
Harry steps around the bramble with a smug smile.
Anger surges inside me. I know it’s ridiculous, but I hate that I fell apart when that helicopter was overhead while Harry held his nerve. I hate that Harry seems completely unflustered with everything that has happened today, like we’re simply strolling through Hyde Park. And I hate that I’m stuck out here in the wilderness with him and only him.
The cold curls around me.
I’m at the point of collapse, but I stumble through the darkening forest. I don’t want to be the first to suggest we stop. I lurch over a log, and Harry glances back at me.
“Perhaps we should stop. I think we’re going to run out of light to continue.”
Damn. Now I feel like he’s only suggested it because he’s noticed I’m flagging. I do not want to be the recipient of Harry Matheson’s pity.
“There’s a torch in the survival kit. We can use that,” I say.
Harry’s lips press into a thin line. “I don’t think using artificial light is a good idea when people are hunting us. Besides, we’re going to have to stop sometime. We can’t continue indefinitely.”
I try not to let the relief show on my face. “All right then.”
I glance around us. This is as good a place to stop as any.
