No Sanctuary

She dashed through the pines. Springy limbs smacked her body and bent away. Others scratched. She leaped over rocks, over barriers of fallen trees. Rocks and twigs and pine cones punished her feet. But all the pain seemed to belong to someone else. She was free. Though Holden was pounding through the woods behind her, she still had her lead, she still had her chance.

I’ll make it.

He won’t get me again!

He’d had her but someone had come along and he’d rushed her into the trunk but with hands still tied to the belt. Untying herself had been easy. She’d been given her chance.

Gillian lunged between two trees The branches tried to hold her back, shoving at her face and chest, but she plowed through. And found herself in a flat, sunlit clearing.

She picked up speed. She tucked her head down and darted her long legs out fast and far. The belt and rope in her right hand flew as she pumped her arms. They lashed her face and shoulder and breast, they whipped her thigh and groin. They scorched her. She wanted to throw them down. But she might need them later. She couldn’t waste time balling them up to stop their flailing. So she ran as hard as she could, bearing the pain, hoping the snapping belt and rope would stay away from her eyes.

The sound of Holden’s crashing feet went silent. “Stop or I’ll shoot!” he shouted.

Gillian sprinted across the clearing. She heard her harsh breathing, the soft crushing noise of her footfalls, the sharp smack of the belt striking her bare skin, the softer whup of the rope’s lash.

She listened for a gunshot.

She could almost feel a slug crashing into her back. Right between the shoulder blades.

He doesn’t want to kill me, she thought. That’d spoil his fun.

He’ll try to go for the legs.

The sound of the gun reached her ears, filled her head. It was a quick metallic clack.

Silencer?

She heard the sound again and realized it was the hammer dropping.

The hammer snapped down fast, again and again. Gillian didn’t try to count the quick hard dada, but they went on and on.

She glanced back.

Holden stood in a shooter’s stance at the edge of the clearing, far behind her. The front of his pale knit shirt had a dark patch of blood on one side a few inches above his waist. He brought the revolver up dose to his face and scowled at it.

That was all Gillian saw before she swung her head forward again.

Empty gun, she thought. What luck!

Then she thought, My good Christ, I’m the one who unloaded it !

It was the revolver she’d found yesterday in his desk. Had to be. She remembered the cartridges tumbling into her palm, how she had dropped them into her shirt pocket and the heavy feel of them against her breast. Then she had put the revolver back into the drawer where it belonged-where Holden must’ve grabbed it before driving her from his home.

I saved my life.

The thought astonished her.

Not only had she rendered the revolver harmless, but it had caused Holden to stop while he took aim and snapped the hammer down on all the empty chambers. Now he was far behind her.

You’re not out of it yet, she warned herself. Don’t let it go to your head. You’ve had a couple of reprieves, that’s all. You’re in the middle of nowhere and he’s not going to give up............

She came to the edge of the clearing, dodged a tree, and dashed into the shadows.

Hide? she wondered.

Not yet. But maybe soon. Duck behind some rocks or something.

He might see you do it. Then he’d have you.

If you’re going to do it, you’d better do it now.

Hide. If you get away with it, you can backtrack to the car. Maybe he left the keys.

Fat chance.

Maybe he did.

If the keys are gone, disable the car. Stay on the dirt road; you’ll get to a real road. Flag down a car ...

I’m naked.

Big fucking deal.

Maybe I can find something in bis car to put on.

Gillian heard him racing through the woods. A long way off. She looked back and couldn’t see him.

Do it! she thought. Hide!

Still running as fast as she could, she swung her head from side to side. The tree trunks looked too skinny to hide behind. There were no clumps of bushes in sight. The few rocks jutting out of the forest floor seemed too small.

Climb?

He’ll see me.

People don’t look up. That’d been a big point in some novel she’d read years ago. The thought had intrigued her at the time, and she’d never forgotten it. People look down and around, but they rarely look up.

Get above Holden, maybe he’ll run right by.

Off to the right, not far ahead, stood a pine that was much bigger than most of the others. Its lower branches drooped to within a yard of the ground. Its upper trunk was completely hidden by the surrounding green of its bushy limbs.

Gillian raced toward it. As she ran, she shoved the belt between her teeth. She balled up the rope and pitched it to her right. It uncoiled in midair, sailed down, and dropped over a sapling about twenty feet away. She wished it had gone farther, but that was good enough. It might throw Holden off her trail.

If he sees it.

She dashed the rest of the way to the tree, dropped to her knees and scurried beneath the umbrella of its foliage. She crawled to the trunk. She stood up. The lowest branch was as high as her shoulders. She wrapped herself around the trunk and began to shin up it. The belt was in her way. A few times, it got caught between her chest and the trunk, and tugged at her jaw. But she kept her grip on the belt, freed it when it snagged, and kept on climbing.

She heard the distant crunch of Holden’s footfalls.

They were coming closer and closer.

She got a knee onto the lowest branch. Reaching up, she clutched a limb. She carefully straightened herself. She raised her left leg, squirmed against the trunk, found a foothold on the other side of the trunk, and thrust herself higher.

Holden sounded very close now. His shoes were thudding on the forest floor. She heard him gasping for breath.

Peering around the trunk, she saw patches of light through the tree’s curtain of foliage. But she couldn’t see Holden.

If I can’t see him, be can’t see me.

She wanted to climb higher.

The branches above her feet looked thick, but not as thick as those she had stepped onto before. If she put her weight on one and it bent even a little bit, a whole section of green on the outside of the tree might shake and give her away.

So she stood motionless, left foot braced on the branch, arms and legs hugging the trunk. Hearing Holden’s approach, she pressed herself more tightly against the trunk. She wished she could sink into it and disappear.

The sounds of the rushing footsteps stopped.

Near the place where the rope had landed?

He knows he’s lost me, Gillian thought. He doesn’t see me anywhere ahead, doesn’t hear me running. He’s