the shadow and realize I’m not looking at an emptiness among the trees but a very full man, dressed all in black, swaddled among the branches. His face is completely shrouded, pushed deep in a dark hood.
“Who...” The whisper of the word is still on my lips as Garrett tears away from me, in a lightening sprint, toward the trees.
Chapter 6
I see the tree branches shake a trail of the man’s retreat as he escapes back into the woods. Garrett reaches the tree line only seconds later. I don’t know how he got from me, to the tree line, which is across half a football field, but he did. My chest begins whirring and I shoot off after him like a runner out of the blocks. I don’t think to do it, I just do. My breath flows through me, easy and deep, and my protective bubble blows out around me like a snow globe. I am in and out of myself at once, watching as I cover the ground as silent as a rabbit, but a hundred times faster. I don’t question how the ground passes beneath me in a dirty blur or of how weightless I feel.
I just focus on following Garrett.
He crashes through the shroud of branches and the limbs are still quivering as I tear through, about twenty feet behind him. I follow his trail as best I can, the leaves whipping back and stinging my face. The man is so fast, I lose sight of him immediately. I put up my cast to shield my face and glimpse Garrett dodging to the right. Although my body automatically shifts in the same direction, I falter with the thought that maybe it would be smarter for me to take a different path. Circle around. What if I’m the one to actually catch the man? The thoughts multiply and the fear of touching the man’s ski mask again, or smelling his rotted breath, seeps into me.
Like a vacuum that has suddenly sucked me up, I am jerked back inside myself. The rhythm that had made my speed effortless, collapses under me. My feet stumble as if I’ve miscalculated the number of steps in a staircase and fall down the last. I pitch forward, hitting the ground hard and rolling as I try to keep my cast pulled into my chest. The momentum finally throws me down, flat, onto my stomach, both arms sprawling at my sides. I would groan or scream or both, if the air wasn’t completely kicked out of my lungs. It takes a minute before I can even pull in a dusty breath.
I lay there, panting against the ground, listening as the sound of Garrett’s chase grows more and more faint. After a few moments of not being able to hear the footsteps any longer, I push myself onto my feet, checking to see if anything is broken or re-broken. Nothing is. My arm isn’t even aching.
I retrace my path out of the woods, half walking and half running and fully expecting to find Garrett along the way. Every time I think I’ve found the exit to the track, there is no exit, but more trees. It didn’t seem like I ran into the woods nearly this far, but I follow the prints all the way back to the exact bush that Garrett annihilated when he barreled into the woods. I scour the ground at the opening and find both mine and Garrett’s prints along with the rippled print of a workman’s boots.
My ears feel like they are working on bat sonar. I twist, searching for sound or movement, but the only snapping or rustling I hear is what I am doing myself.
I scuttle out of the woods, trying to will Garrett to come darting through the trees. I run to get my jacket, still heaped on the track, and my backpack from the bleachers. I don’t know what I should do next. I pace in front of the bleachers, wringing my hands in front of me while I keep my eyes on the trees. I don’t want to leave in case Garrett returns or in case I hear him calling to me, and I don’t want to stay because Garrett might need help and I keep hearing things behind me and beside me and in front of me that aren’t there.
I finally turn and sprint home.
~ * * * ~
“You need to slow down.” my mom tells me after I burst in the door,
“Who...” The whisper of the word is still on my lips as Garrett tears away from me, in a lightening sprint, toward the trees.
Chapter 6
I see the tree branches shake a trail of the man’s retreat as he escapes back into the woods. Garrett reaches the tree line only seconds later. I don’t know how he got from me, to the tree line, which is across half a football field, but he did. My chest begins whirring and I shoot off after him like a runner out of the blocks. I don’t think to do it, I just do. My breath flows through me, easy and deep, and my protective bubble blows out around me like a snow globe. I am in and out of myself at once, watching as I cover the ground as silent as a rabbit, but a hundred times faster. I don’t question how the ground passes beneath me in a dirty blur or of how weightless I feel.
I just focus on following Garrett.
He crashes through the shroud of branches and the limbs are still quivering as I tear through, about twenty feet behind him. I follow his trail as best I can, the leaves whipping back and stinging my face. The man is so fast, I lose sight of him immediately. I put up my cast to shield my face and glimpse Garrett dodging to the right. Although my body automatically shifts in the same direction, I falter with the thought that maybe it would be smarter for me to take a different path. Circle around. What if I’m the one to actually catch the man? The thoughts multiply and the fear of touching the man’s ski mask again, or smelling his rotted breath, seeps into me.
Like a vacuum that has suddenly sucked me up, I am jerked back inside myself. The rhythm that had made my speed effortless, collapses under me. My feet stumble as if I’ve miscalculated the number of steps in a staircase and fall down the last. I pitch forward, hitting the ground hard and rolling as I try to keep my cast pulled into my chest. The momentum finally throws me down, flat, onto my stomach, both arms sprawling at my sides. I would groan or scream or both, if the air wasn’t completely kicked out of my lungs. It takes a minute before I can even pull in a dusty breath.
I lay there, panting against the ground, listening as the sound of Garrett’s chase grows more and more faint. After a few moments of not being able to hear the footsteps any longer, I push myself onto my feet, checking to see if anything is broken or re-broken. Nothing is. My arm isn’t even aching.
I retrace my path out of the woods, half walking and half running and fully expecting to find Garrett along the way. Every time I think I’ve found the exit to the track, there is no exit, but more trees. It didn’t seem like I ran into the woods nearly this far, but I follow the prints all the way back to the exact bush that Garrett annihilated when he barreled into the woods. I scour the ground at the opening and find both mine and Garrett’s prints along with the rippled print of a workman’s boots.
My ears feel like they are working on bat sonar. I twist, searching for sound or movement, but the only snapping or rustling I hear is what I am doing myself.
I scuttle out of the woods, trying to will Garrett to come darting through the trees. I run to get my jacket, still heaped on the track, and my backpack from the bleachers. I don’t know what I should do next. I pace in front of the bleachers, wringing my hands in front of me while I keep my eyes on the trees. I don’t want to leave in case Garrett returns or in case I hear him calling to me, and I don’t want to stay because Garrett might need help and I keep hearing things behind me and beside me and in front of me that aren’t there.
I finally turn and sprint home.
~ * * * ~
“You need to slow down.” my mom tells me after I burst in the door,
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