Free You Only Die Twice by Christopher Smith

  If she had a choice between dehydration and illness, she should drink
and pray for the best.
    She
stopped for a moment, pressed her back against a thick pine, and reached inside
her pocket for the phone he left her with.   She turned it on, saw that no other texts had been left, and then she
tried to see if she could get a connection, but she couldn’t.   Everything outgoing had been dismantled
and since she was no techie, she knew that whatever he’d done to the phone,
she’d never be able to fix.  
    She put the
phone back in her pocket―and her heart stopped when her fingertip s
touched something cool at the very bottom of it.   She knew at once what it was, and the
thrill she felt was undeniable.   She
forgot she had it on her because she rarely smoked, though she did last night
because Patty was with her and that’s what they did when they went out.   She’d been so distracted by everything
that was happening to her, she hadn’t even felt it in her pants.   She pulled out the red Bic lighter and
gave it a flick.   It took three
tries for it to light, but when it did, it was perhaps the most beautiful sight
she’d seen all day.  
    Besides
the moose.
    Hunters
hunted in these woods.   The less
responsible ones would leave debris behind, like tin cans used for coffee or
food.   If she could find an old can,
she would be able to create a small fire and boil water in it.   That would kill off any bacteria and she
would be fine.   She wasn’t so much
worried about food, at least not right now, but water and shelter were critical
for her survival.
    She
needed to make plans.   First, she
had to find a water source.   Second,
she had to make an inconspicuous shelter that was near it.   Third, she needed to find something,
anything, that could be used to boil water.  
    Finally,
what was most daunting is that somehow she had to do all of this without him
hearing her, and she wasn’t sure that was possible, since building the shelter
alone would involve the breaking of branches.   Worse, when she created a fire, the
smell of the smoke would give him an idea of where she was.   At night, if she started even the
smallest of fires to generate heat, he’d see the glow.   So, at the very least, she couldn’t have
a fire at night.   The smoke would
drift in the breeze, which might actually confuse him if the breeze came from
different directions, but the glow was a mainstay.   He’d see it.   He’d find her.
    She
thought about that for a moment, and her mind went to a darker place.   If she was prepared for him, was it so
awful if he found her?   If she could
draw him to her, what were the possibilities if she did?  
    She
looked around her, from the forest floor to the few dead pines scattered amid
the living trees.   She studied their
branches, which, if broken, could be used as a weapon.
    But he
has a gun.
    So he
did.   But at night, in the
ever-changing shadows cast by a fire, he might not see her until it was too
late.
    It was a
risk, a big one because setting a fire would absolutely draw him to her, but
what else did she have?
    And
then, in a rush, it came to her.
    She
thought it through.   She smiled in
spite of her broken lips and the knowledge that the odds were against her.   She knew she likely wouldn’t come out of
this alive.   But it was
something.   And it could work.
    For the
first time since she woke this morning, beaten to a pulp on some random forest
floor by a maniac she didn’t know, she felt a spark of hope and knew exactly
what she had to do.

 
 
 
    CHAPTER NINETEEN

 
    Ted
Carpenter stood deep in the woods, his gun at his side, his breathing labored,
his heart slamming against his chest as if it wanted out every bit as much as
Cheryl Dunning wanted out of these woods.  
    He was
lost.  
    Before
he was chased by the moose, everything was going as planned.   Everything was under control.   She was in his sights.   He was scaring the hell out of her just
as