Free Run (The Hunted) by Patti Larsen Page A

handle. Still, the primal part of him is so hungry he feels his mouth flood with saliva.
    Reid finds a short stick and rolls the squirrel over. It’s the first time he notices the small body is moving. His disappointment is sharp and quick and he considers killing it anyway. But wait. The movement is odd, rippling, and only in the animal’s stomach.
    Reid pokes the belly with his stick and the fragile, decaying skin erupts. A mass of fat, squirming maggots spill out over the dusty fur. Reid falls back with a cry of disgust, covering his nose with his T-shirt at the stench the open belly cavity releases. He has a flashback to the first dead boy, entrails bloated and shining in the moonlight and had he anything at all in his stomach, he would have thrown up again.
    It takes him a while to recover. When he does, he looks around. Grass. Leaves. He knows they are edible, as long as he avoids certain ones. Poison oak and ivy, especially. As unappetizing as it may seem, at least it will give him something for his aching stomach to work over.
    Reid pulls a handful of limp grass from the base of a tree and brings it with him to his hiding place. The stuff is thin and tough, but has some moisture in it. He knows from what his father told him it won’t sustain him for long, but figures it’s better than nothing. Reid doesn’t dare risk mushrooms knowing most are poisonous, but he can start scouting for nuts and more grasses he knows he can eat. And if he can find another meadow, there is bound to be some dandelions or other edible plants to forage for. The idea actually perks him up and gives him some hope. He’s precious low on anything resembling motivation, so he takes it as a good sign he’s ready to move on.
    Well, not quite. Reid lays in the undergrowth, pulling leaves from the bushes, taking advantage of the cover long enough to slowly fill his stomach. In the end, he simply stuffs them in his mouth, chewing and swallowing the precious morsels. But the greenery isn’t what he craves, what his body really wants. The thought of meat won’t leave him alone and he is unable to stop staring at the dead squirrel the entire time.
     
    ***
     
    Chapter Ten
     
    Reid must have dozed off, because he jerks awake in fresh terror at the howl of the hunters. They are far from him yet, but too close for any kind of comfort, if he had any to begin with. As he scrambles to his feet and checks his surroundings, he realizes the call itself is a weapon, designed to scare him and their other prey. Knowing it doesn’t make it any less frightening, but the logical part of his mind that keeps trying to assert itself logs the information for later.
    Reid also makes the connection between the hunters and wild animals. According to his dad, wolves cry out during the hunt as a method of herding their chosen meal into a trap. When Reid moves out, he understands that is probably the case with him as well. He hates to think their tactics are working, but doesn’t have the courage or the heart left to do anything about it.
    Until he remembers Monica and what she taught him. He’s been running in straight lines, for all he knows heading right into their waiting arms. The image of her zig-zagging her way through the forest triggers something inside him, a subtle but effective means of fighting back, even if only by staying out of the clutches of the hunters a little longer. He doesn’t want to think about delaying the inevitable.
    So, instead of heading directly away from the sound, he chooses a diagonal path. The trees are still sparse here, the undergrowth thin and simple to maneuver. The canopy is thick enough that most of the direct sunlight is blocked, making it easier to see.
    Another howl pushes his pace forward. He considers taking his rebellion against their tactics one step further and resisting the urge to run, but knows he’ll lose that fight. He reminds himself again that he needs to be smarter about it than he has been, less reacting