Free Fight or Flight by Natalie J. Damschroder Page B

they’d gotten away. Even stupider to cry in front of Tom.
    “What’s the matter?” He leaned forward to look at her, and she swiped at her cheeks.
    “My phone’s gone. I must have dropped it when we were running.”
    “It’s okay, I’ve got mine,” Van said, holding it up. “It’s mostly charged.”
    “Call now. Maybe she’ll answer,” Tom added soothingly.
    “I can’t. I don’t know the number. I programmed it in the first time and forgot it.”
    Her friends didn’t say anything. They didn’t need to. The silence pressed down on Kelsey until she felt immobilized. She didn’t have time to give in to it, though. They neared an exit, well lit. Other cars were merging onto the road.
    “On or off?” Van asked.
    Kelsey wavered, glancing at Tom.
    “Traffic is still really light,” he said. “Hard to get lost up here.”
    They’re counting on you . “Okay, off. Get away from the highway. We’ll call the police at home and find out what’s going on.” She didn’t know what came next. She wanted her mother, needed to know she was all right, but was afraid to go home. They’d be waiting.
    She leaned back, exhausted, letting Tom keep lookout behind them.
    One step at a time.
    ***
    Regan broke out of the trees onto a cornfield, struggling to see in the meager glow of light reflecting off the clouds. Tyler was dozens of yards away, along the tree line. At least, she thought it was him. He moved like Tyler. But as she started in his direction, she saw two more shadows duck into the woods ahead of him. God, was it Kelsey? Was she running from Tyler? Ignoring the shoulder ache and blazing knife wounds, she kicked off the flip-flops and started running as fast as she could. Which was about as fast as a turbo-charged snail.
    Shit. She’d never catch up. She couldn’t tell where they’d re-entered the woods, but they had to be heading for the road. She ducked between trees, held her right arm out in front of her to block branches, and prayed not to trip over anything.
    She came out of the woods again, this time in a deep ditch. There was no way she’d get up to the road here. She listened. No more shouts. No running footsteps. She had no idea where anyone else was, or who’d been chasing whom.
    Panic threatened to overwhelm her until she battled it back with clenched fists and sheer determination. Then she began slogging through muddy water in the bottom of the ditch, looking for a place where the slope was gentle enough for her to climb out. Scant minutes had passed when she heard a shout that might have been Tyler. A moment later a car roared by. She froze, listening. There was a sound like a gunshot, then more shouts. Then silence.
    Cursing, she grabbed a root with her right hand and tried to pull herself up the few feet to the verge. Her shoulder screamed, and she felt the cut on her hip split open. Her right foot slipped in the wet dirt, but her left foot held, and she managed to roll onto the grass. A couple of cars flashed by. One braked briefly, then kept going. Regan wondered what they thought they saw.
    She started to rise, then caught her breath and flattened herself into the grass. Two men stood arguing by the Chevy. The other car was gone. She was too far away, her view blocked by the center barrier, to see if Tyler’s truck was still there.
    The men started walking toward her. There was no way they wouldn’t see her lying there. There was no time to consider. She inched slowly sideways, watching the men, who walked with their heads down. One appeared to be on a cell phone, though he wasn’t yet close enough for her to hear him.
    Moving slowly made her heart nearly burst with pent-up adrenaline, but fast movement would definitely be seen. She reached the ditch when they were about fifty feet away and slid feet first into it, bending her knees to keep her head out of sight. She pressed tight to the dirt wall and tried to breathe silently. Her pulse pounded at every pulse point, the throb in