Pike (The Pawn Duet #1) - T.M. Frazier Page 0,44

fifth day…

It’s one of the guidelines on the ridiculous memo I found in Pike’s truck. At least, I thought it was ridiculous until I just realized that today is day five.

If Pike is planning on following those guidelines, it means I’m almost out of time.

I push aside my panic, searching for logic amongst the fear.

I know what I need to do.

No, what I have to do.

I risk a glance through a crack in the door. Pike and Gutter are deep in conversation. Good. It’ll buy me time.

I move quickly and quietly. While my brain is screaming for me to hurry, I take it as slow as I possibly can, padding to the back of the room. At a pace slower than a snail’s I push aside one of the metal panels in the back of the room. The murky water below looks like a vat of tar.

Don’t think about it. Just do it.

With a deep breath, I crouch down on the wooden planks, then slowly lower myself into the water so as not to make even the slightest ripple. It’s over eighty degrees outside, but the water might as well be from the arctic. It’s that cold. My teeth chatter as I begin to move, walking slowly through the waist deep water, too slowly for the pace my mind is racing and heart is beating. It’s not until I’m deep enough inside the reeds to be hidden from view that I pick up my pace. Thankfully the black water is shallower here, hitting at my knees. But it’s also thick and filled with grass and weeds and I don’t want to know what else. My thighs burn with the effort it takes to lift my feet from the mud that sucks them in with each step. I walk for what seems like hours, but in reality I have no idea how long it’s been. I keep my eyes trained straight ahead into the dark to avoid spotting whatever critters might be lurking nearby.

What you don’t know can’t hurt you. It doesn’t exactly apply in this situation because I’m pretty sure an alligator I don’t know is there can hurt me, but I’m going to go with it and pretend it makes sense.

A sigh of relief escapes me as I reach an area surrounded by cypress trees where the water is only ankle deep. My jeans are soaked through, wet and heavy against my skin. I slap a mosquito on my cheek, shaking off the dead, bloody bug from my palm. The hot night air feels icy as it blows over my wet skin. I shiver, rubbing my hands over my arms.

A honk of a horn in the distance drags my attention toward an embankment up ahead. As quickly as I can, I trudge toward the sound. When I don’t hear it again, I think I imagined it.

But I see lights. Headlights.

My shoes get sucked into the mud, falling free from my feet, but soon, my foot lands on more solid soil. My feet ache and sting as I step on countless sharp branches and rocks. It takes everything I have left to climb the embankment.

My hair snags on a branch. Untangling it would take time I don’t have, so I use my hand and yank, pulling it free from the tree and some of it free from my head.

When my feet hit pavement, I know I’ve found the road.

Minutes pass without another car, and I remember that I’m in the middle of nowhere in the Everglades. The chances of spotting another car out here in the middle of the night are slim to none.

With nothing to do but wait, I begin walking toward where I think the highway could be. A wild boar runs across the road a few feet in front of me, and I cover my mouth to keep from shrieking and drawing attention to myself.

Headlights appear behind me. I turn around, happy to see it’s a car and not Pike’s truck. I leap into the middle of the road, waving and jumping around frantically until it slows to a stop.

I round the car, an older style classic black Cadillac. I reach the driver's side window just as it rolls down.

“Thank you so much for stopping,” I say, not realizing how out of breath I am until I have to stop to breathe for a second so I can continue. “I’ve been kidnapped. I need to go to the police. Or anywhere where there’s people. A gas station