The Perfect Escape (The Perfect Escape #1) - Suzanne Park Page 0,64
way in hell.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nate
None of this made any sense.
And we had no time to contemplate.
The sun had risen, and the haze finally lifted. Kate and I followed the winding footpath until we came across an abandoned fire pit filled with charred firewood. Half-drunk Capri Suns and full beer bottles littered the area. Crushed graham crackers, trodden marshmallows, and unopened chocolate bars were strewn across the dirt. What kind of monstrous people would abandon their s’mores?
More alarm bells rang in my head when we discovered trampled canisters of sunscreen, bug repellent, and unused sleeping bags farther down in the woods.
“Maybe zombies?” Kate asked.
I popped a straw in an unopened Capri Sun and sipped while we surveyed more of the grounds. The sugary water coated my dry mouth and throat, relieving the dehydration I didn’t know I had.
Kate picked up a few things and stuck them in her pack.
“Snacks?” I asked.
She handed me some Black Cat firecrackers, a fancy lighter engraved with initial “H,” and a foil condom single-pack. I lifted my eyebrows, making her laugh.
“You think they ran off, and these guys are maybe still in the game? Or you think, you know, they were—?” I made the universal “finger slit across throat” signal.
“Hard to say,” she said, chewing her bottom lip. “Whatever happened here, it took place in the night. These ashes are damp.”
Walking on the far perimeter of the campfire area, there was more evidence of struggle. Broken branches. Trees with large, chipped-off chunks of bark. Stampeded brand-new cigarettes and joints ground into the dirt. No way someone would willingly leave unsmoked weed lying around.
Scattered footprints made it look like a wild dance party had taken place. By the looks of the sleeping bags and quantity of food and drinks, though, there were five, maybe six people there tops, hardly enough to make all those prints.
“Okay, let’s move on,” I announced. “This place is creeping me out. It’s like the aftermath of a shitty dystopian movie.”
We walked ahead, finding broken glass bottles, torn clothes covered with zombie flesh goo, and four inactive wristbands just past the campsite. Another quarter-mile down, we came across the two gladiators on the side of the road. Assholes Natalie and No Mo’ Bo Staff Guy. Their once pristine jackets were filthy and torn, but physically, they were picture-perfect. Infuriating.
They raised their hands in the air.
“We’re out of the game. No wristbands, see?” Natalie took a step forward. “We just want some water and any food while we wait for pickup. The game officials are on their way to get us.”
I threw them two juice packs we’d taken from the campsite. “But the bo staff’s mine.”
They agreed to the terms with eager nods. I gave them each a Pop-Tart. A modern-day olive branch.
Kate glared at me. “You’re helping them? That guy tried to whack your head off.”
“I believe in karma,” I said, shrugging. “Plus, I like the staff.” In a low voice so only she could hear, I whispered, “And I gave them the unfrosted ones.”
Natalie took a cigarette from her pocket. “You guys have a light?”
Kate rolled her eyes when I pulled out the fancy lighter from my pants pocket and threw it at Natalie. “You can have that too. We found it at the campsite back there.”
Natalie squinted at it. “Hey, this is the lighter that guy had.” Natalie lifted it so her partner got a better look. “The one who gave us the flyer. He was with that really pretty blond girl.”
Kate’s shoulders stiffened at the words pretty blond girl. She turned and stormed back to the main path, pushing through tall ferns to reach the clearing.
I ran to catch up to her, my bulky pack growing heavier with each step.
A gentle breeze carried Natalie’s voice our way. “Watch out for that guy, though. You think we were bad? He’s a real primo asshole.”
* * *
“Cool Ranch or Nacho Cheese?”
It was my third time trying to start up a conversation with Miss