Maybe he knew he wouldn’t get the opportunity to look.
He heard Jared stumbling above him. “You’re dead now, Alec-suh!”
Good, Alex thought. He sees me. He’s not gonna get me right now, but I know he’s there.
He headed into the street. The cold air was even more intense after going through the fire. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him, though he wasn’t sure if it was the drastic shift in temperature, or what was chasing him. Wiping the panic sweat from his brow, he ran across the parking lot and stopped to watch the door. Jared stumbled out, looking around frantically for his prey. Alex felt the wind ripping around him, pushing him back toward the building. Jared spotted him. Rubbing his fists into his eyes, he yelled and started for Alex.
Alex ran. He just had to stay ahead of Jared, who would be going at an all-out sprint; he’d have nothing holding him back and rage pushing him forward. Alex wouldn’t risk looking; he knew that Jared would stay after him. His friends were safe, for now. He just had to lead Jared somewhere to give them time to get farther away. He had no idea where he was going. Just away. Into the dark. The clouds allowed hardly any moon- or starlight to shine down on the streets. Over the howling wind, he heard Jared’s footsteps slamming on the pavement behind him.
As he approached an intersection, he had to make a decision: if he kept going straight, Jared would eventually run him down. If he went right, he would be headed into an unfamiliar neighbourhood. If he went left, he headed toward his own house.
He turned left, forming an idea. One that would possibly even help him survive and get back to his friends.
He ran through yards, around barns and abandoned cars to create obstacles between him and his pursuer, though it proved just as difficult for him as it seemed to be for Jared. Realizing the futility of dragging the chase on that way, he decided to take a shortcut to his house. The woods would prove just as much of a challenge for Jared as the debris in people’s yards.
Alex stopped behind a truck to catch his breath, just for a moment, until Jared got close enough, and then he ran into the woods, jumping over fallen branches and raised roots.
Jared might even hurt himself in here! he thought. He might be so blinded by rage that he could run into a low branch or slip in the mud. He felt hope, as he imagined Jared lying on the ground with a twisted ankle, unable to pursue him or his friends any further.
If not for that image—if he had been paying closer attention to what he was doing—he probably would not have tripped over a root, twisting his own ankle and falling hard to the cold, muddy ground. His arm caught underneath him, all of his weight suddenly thrown onto it with an audible and painful crunch. The intense, sharp pain told him it was broken, but that was the least of his problems.
Jared was there within seconds. He grabbed Alex’s twisted ankle, triggering excruciating pain as he flipped him over. “Aww,” he said in mock sympathy, “you take a widdle spill, Awec-suh? You gon’ be all wight?”
Alex could only look up in terror, unable to even squirm away, unable to make his inevitable torture or death even remotely difficult for Jared.
Jared reached down with his knife, putting the blade against Alex’s throat.
As they walked, Alex almost wished Jared had just killed him, or left him in the woods to die. No one would be there to save him. But Jared had another idea—what he called “a more suitable punishment” for Alex.
He forced Alex to his feet, one bent awkwardly as he tried hard to not put any weight on it. The uneven, slippery ground made that impossible and he was in immense pain within seconds. “Get moving,” Jared said, punching him in the obviously broken arm. Alex howled in pain, but didn’t dare look at it; he knew his hand hung the wrong way.
Jared stayed behind him, prodding him by punching, or just tapping, his broken arm. Alex limped slowly on his twisted ankle, forcing noises of frustration from Jared. Alex took a small joy in that. He would make things as annoying for his captor as he could.
The harsh wind blew against them as they went. Alex kept a close eye on the ground, making sure he had good footing and that nothing was in his way to trip him again. He’d had to catch himself on his injured ankle a few times already and each time the pain grew, forcing him to squeal or whimper.
Each time he made a sound of pain Jared laughed and prodded him harder.
The wind carried the smell of smoke from the community centre, even so far away. Or maybe it was coming from his clothes. Either way, it reminded him of the day when he set out to find his father at the former elementary school only to find it burned down—flaming and smouldering walls, thick smoke in the air stinging his eyes. It seemed so long ago, though Alex could not really remember how many days it had been.
As they went, he noticed a new smell. The rotten, filthy, stench of decay and death. He stopped when he realized where they were heading. Jared’s shove almost knocked him to the ground. He caught himself and let out a scream of pain.
The moon had finally come out, just in time for Alex to see what Jared had prepared for him. A few feet away, Jared’s pit was a dark shadow on
