Free Faint of Heart by Jeff Strand Page A

rather than a knife, but at least it was working, more or less.
    She bound a few branches together with fishing line and then tied one of Gary's shirts around the top. If she heard anything suspicious, she'd douse the top with lighter fluid, jab it in the fire, and have herself a decent weapon. She was far from a hero, but she was sure going to put up a fight.
    Once she'd sharpened six branches into short spears, or the next best thing, she started on the hooks. Even the largest one was only about an inch long, but it would have to do. She took another one of Gary's shirts, one of his favorites that he shouldn't have brought on a camping trip anyway, and began to poke the hooks through it. Once she'd used up all twenty or so, she gave the shirt a test swing. A couple of the hooks fell off, but regardless, if that thing hit somebody in the face they'd probably reconsider kidnapping as an occupation.
    So, she had sharpened sticks, rocks, a hook-ridden shirt, a torch, and lots of beer can projectiles. If she stayed alert and didn't freeze with terror at the first sign of danger, she might just make it through the night alive.
    She surveyed the area, but couldn't think of anything else that might be helpful to prepare. At this point, her best bet was to sit quietly, wait, and listen.
    Rebecca sat down on the log, balancing a spear on her lap while she held her hands out to warm them by the fire. It was almost three o'clock, so she had a couple more hours until sunset. She had a terrible headache, but she suspected it might be due to hunger, since after all this work she should be famished, even if she felt too queasy to actually experience the hunger urges. Hungry or not, she needed to eat and keep her energy level up, so she grabbed a couple of hot dogs and the bag of buns out of the cooler, jabbed one on a stick, and began to roast it in the fire.
    When it was nicely burnt, she slapped it into the bun and gobbled it down. She finished off a second one in record time, then went back to retrieve a third, along with the potato chips. Queasy or not, campfire roasted hot dogs were delicious.
    After she'd eaten her fill, she put the hot dog buns and the chips away, and sat back down to wait. She noted with mild amusement that she was finally getting to sit around and do nothing, just like she'd wanted, and without the guilt of not being a productive citizen.
    She continued to sit as time passed and the sun lowered on the horizon. It was getting harder to keep an eye on the woods now. Somebody could sneak almost right up to the edge and she probably wouldn't notice them.
    She got up and walked around the campfire every once in a while to stretch her legs, but otherwise remained in place, listening and waiting.
    And then it was dark, and she couldn't see anything beyond a few feet of the campfire without using Gary's flashlight, and the noises from the woods didn't sound like they'd ever stop.

 
     
     
    CHAPTER TWELVE
     
     
    Even without the threat of human attack, sitting outdoors at night all by herself would have been a frightening experience.
    She knew deep inside that there wasn't much out there to harm her. If a grizzly bear showed up, she'd have a definite problem, and timber wolves wouldn't exactly be pleasant visitors, but the chances of being bothered by one of those were pretty remote. But most of the noises from the woods, the rustling in the trees and on the ground, were harmless. Squirrels. Rabbits. Ptarmigan. Maybe even a moose, deer, or caribou. Nothing that would hurt her. It wasn't like Alaska had scorpions or poisonous snakes slithering around.
    But what about ghosts and goblins?
    She was a fully grown, mature woman, and she knew that there were no such things. But sitting out there, by the light of the fire, it was pretty easy to convince herself that they might exist. That a ghost might start moaning her name.
    Rebeccaaaaaaaaaaa ...
    I see you ...
    I'm coming to get you ...
    The rustling noises from the woods