She crawled over to the water, not even caring if there was a gator in it or not. She drew her straw out and began to suck up water. It was like heaven. Cool and clean thanks to the filter. After drinking more than she should have, she crawled back to the tree and leaned there some more.

  Her head was pounding, throbbing behind her right eye. She knew she had gone too long without drinking, and these were the effects of dehydration. Between the headache and the auditory hallucinations, she figured she'd better rest a while longer. The water had helped her get her wits about her, and she knew she needed a plan.

  "Well, guess I'm doing a little night hiking." She closed her eyes and let herself drift off into an uneasy sleep. She hoped it would cure the headache and make the rest of the journey easier.

  Chapter Fifteen

  She woke up to her own hand smacking herself in the cheek. The damn mosquitoes had even gotten into her dreams. She shook off the smack, wondering if she felt better. It took a moment, yep head is better but still hurting a bit, she felt more awake and hyper aware than she had when she fell asleep. The sun was below the tree level, so the light was dissipating, but she still heard music. Maybe she needed food.

  Syd reached into her pocket and took out one of the three MREs she had taken with her. She headed to the water and used the straw to suck up some filtered water and spit it into the MRE packet. She repeated this until there was enough, then shook the packet to activate the heating element. She didn't see the eyes of the alligator floating on the water, she didn't notice the birds as they settled into the trees, and the frogs lay silent.

  The music still played.

  She dug out the camp fork she had snagged and fiddled with it a bit while she waited for her food. It hit her then.

  The music wasn't in her head. It was coming from her right somewhere.

  She froze in place. What if it was them, the monsters that had killed all her coworkers? The ones who had taken and tortured Maggie?

  But….

  What if it was another group?

  She shook her head; sure another group wouldn't be crazy enough to tromp out to the Everglades for some light camping in heat with the mosquitos large enough to suffocate you in your sleep.

  She sighed, none of this mattered; she needed to eat and move on. So, she dug into her food and savored every moment of it with the bass of the music keeping count with her heart. When she finished eating, she rinsed the packet, folded it, and placed it back in her pocket.

  No need to leave evidence she had been there, and her dad had always taught her to trek out what you trek in. So double whammy on the good side as to why she was now carrying more trash on her person while trying to stay alive.

  She thought about if they ever found her body, with pockets full of trash, if they would understand it or if they would think she was some crazy trash lady.

  She laughed at herself. Shook her head again, knowing she was getting a bit delirious but not being able to do anything about it, and decided to head off and try to get out.

  She kept the music to the right of her; no stars were out yet, so this was the best she could do to help her know which direction she was headed in.

  North, she was certain she was headed north toward the way out.

  But then, why were there people here? She couldn't remember any other campgrounds in the area, not even a spot to pitch a tent, and these people obviously had more than a tent going on.

  Her curiosity got her, or maybe it was a bit of delirium. She stopped, turned in the direction of the music and slowly made her way in that direction.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The music grew louder as she got closer, some tune with a good beat. She felt like she had heard something similar on her trek into Honduras, but she couldn't be certain. She didn't care to get close enough to it to find out.

  The electric lights left shadows on the waters, she could see movement between the trees. There were multiple people moving around, but there was very little talking going on. She crouched down so she would take up less space and hopefully her body would blend in with the shadows.

  There were six of them. Syd wondered if they were the six that had come into the camp that first night, or at least the six she had seen. They were digging, digging in a mound that had not been started yet by their crew. It was a smaller shell mound than the one they had been working on, one that was thought to be almost an afterthought or one that had been built at a later date.

  She watched as they dug with shovels, throwing the dirt to the side. No sifting or recording. She could see a jumble of shells and was that bones? She wouldn't know if they really were unless she got closer, which she had no intention of doing.

  One of the men shouted and the rest dropped their shovels and ran over to where he stood at the edge of a fairly big pit. Inside must have been another man. Syd watched a hand reach up and place something on the edge of the hole. The one who had yelled grabbed it, and the rest cheered. He held it up.

  Jade.

  Syd was sure of it. Then a canvas bag hit the top of the pit as well. One of the men tried to grab it, and a shot rang out from inside the pit. The men on the outside stumbled back, the one that was closest held his arm. Syd could see the blood pooling around his clenched fingers as he gripped his arm.

  Words were yelled, but she could not hear them well enough to understand what was being said. Hands gripped the top of the hole, and a man lifted himself out onto the edge.

  Sam.

  Syd had been sure the night before that he had been involved; how could you doubt it after hearing the conversation that had taken place, but to actually see him in the middle of it and knowing he had shot someone. Syd had a hard time catching her breath.

  Alejate! Es mio!

  Back off, it's mine. Syd's brain translated the Spanish before she could think. Now that she could hear it clearly, she knew what was being said.

  Sam went on in Spanish, Syd's brain translating it, You have what you want. Now go.

  The man that she had seen Sam speaking with last night laughed, then pointed his own gun at Sam and fired.

  Sam ducked, spun around, grabbed the bag, and made a beeline toward where Syd was hiding.

  Syd slid down farther in the muck, praying the little noise she was making had scared away any of the creepy crawlies and that Sam would go past her without noticing.

  He ran about ten feet away from her, into the dank swamp, the other men running after him. Sam turned and fired, hitting the man closest to Syd. He was so close that blood sprayed her where she lay. The man who was shot spun and landed face down in the water. Syd was sure he was dead.

  The other pursuers ran past him only to be sprayed with gunfire and turned back toward the small mound. Syd's heart was beating so hard she could feel the rhythm behind her eyes; her head started to hurt again from the stress of the situation. She knew she had to hold still, pray no one tripped over her.

  She felt movement at her feet. It was too dark for her to see exactly what it was, but she did not want to look. Something nudged her foot as if to see if it would move. All of the information Syd had on alligators floated through her mind. She knew that they were opportunistic feeders and that playing dead wouldn't stop them.

  She closed her eyes, still feeling the body of the animal close to her feet. Anxiety rolled through her body. This was why she had stopped camping with her dad. Not just the bugs and the self-dug latrines, but her fear of death. Funny, she thought, she feared what she studied.

  It nudged her foot again, but this time, she could not help herself. She kicked out, getting it square in the nose. She tried to be quiet as she flipped on her back, continuing to kick at the retreating form, but she must have yelled out.

  A man yelled from somewhere behind her. Her head snapped back as she looked, and then she jumped to her feet and ran. She didn't care about the water or the branches snapping her in the face. The noise she made frightened any birds out of the trees. She knew in her brain that she had to stop, that this was pure panic, but she couldn't. Adrenaline kicked in.

  She turned her head to see if she was being chased, and something hit her solid like a linebacker, and she hit the ground, knocking the air out of her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Her head was pounding again, but this time it wasn't because she was dehydrated. She had hit the ground hard. She pushed herself up with her arms only to have a hand slapped across her mouth.

  "Don't scream." The voice was familiar.

  Sam.

  "We need to get out of here; they found me and tortured me. They will do worse to you."

  Syd just nodded, letting him know she wouldn't scream. He released her, she looked up at him as he strode away. The bag she had seen him run away with was nowhere in sight.

  "They killed Maggie. I saw it. They executed her, dragged her out in front of me, and just shot her." He was crying; if Syd hadn't seen him interacting with the men, she might have fallen for it.

  "Oh my god! When, when did they kill her?" Syd's mind was racing. Did they find Maggie? Did they drag her out of the tree? Was this her fault?

  "When they found me, they dragged her out of her chickee and shot her to teach me a lesson."

  Syd narrowed her eyes. What a liar he was. Before he saw her, she put a look of horror on her face. "Oh God!"

  "Yeah, so we need to get out of here. I think the four-wheelers are over on that side. We should be able to get there if we hurry." He grabbed her by the elbow and hoisted her up. Syd's skin crawled from his touching her. She shook off a chill that had run down her spine.

  I just have to play along. If we can get to the four-wheelers, I can get away and get Maggie's help. Why did I stop?

  Syd knew this was not the time to dwell, but her nature was to question everything. Sam didn't give her time; he just pushed her ahead of him. "I'll watch your back," was all he said.

  Syd knew enough about combat from her father's stories to know he was putting her there to find the land mines, metaphorically speaking, and that she really didn't want him at her back. She knew he had a gun. But she had no recourse at the moment; ahead and in front she went.

  He led her right back to the main path, stupid thought, Syd, but she didn't try to correct him. She was counting on him continuing to think she had no outdoor experience. She moved forward, praying that no one would be there, hoping that her body wasn't so exhausted that she wouldn't be able to move fast enough to get out of the way if things went bad. She patted her pockets discreetly, trying to remember if she had any weapons at all. She had a camp fork; that was it. Her dad would be so disappointed that she didn't even have a knife on her.

  The thought of her father brought tears to her eyes. She knew she would see him again; she was not dying out here. It was his insistence she learn how to camp and live off the land that would make her survival happen. She regretted all the times she fought him. Fought him about learning stupid survival skills and how to fight. She regretted not listening more, and she regretted that even when she told him all of this, he wouldn't know who she was or what she was talking about.

  "I think we should split up," Sam hurriedly said. He then took off into the underbrush, leaving Syd wide open on the path. Instinct kicked in, and she dove toward the other side. Two men came jogging around the corner and stopped where she and Sam had been standing.

  "We know you are here, Sam. Come out now, and you will die a quick death." The other man had his head tilted back in laughter when the bullet struck him. It entered under his chin and exited out the top of his head. Blood and other things splattered around where Syd hid.

  The man who had spoken dove over the side of the path toward Syd. It took everything in her not to get up and run, but between the gunfire and not wanting anyone to know she was still there, she held steady.

  The gunfire exploded into the air, leaving her ears echoing with the noise even after it had stopped. She lifted her face from where she had been ducking into the muck, she could feel the mud covering her more than it already had been, and knew this would help her to blend with her surroundings even if it smelled like decay.

  "Syd! Syd! Are you okay? Are you still here?" Sam looked over the side of the path searching for her. "Shit." It came out softly, "Now what do I do. I need that cover." He stood there for a moment longer. Syd was sure he was going to see her, but he turned and strode off in the direction of the camp.

  Her body slumped down farther into the mud, she turned her head only to be looking at a dead man, his face half gone from where a bullet had gone through him. She didn't react; her body was too numb from the past few days to even be shocked by the death so close to her.

  "Daddy, what do I do now?" Tears squeezed out of her eyes, and she angrily wiped them away. "There's no time for that. Syd, you need to get moving, get out of here." She pushed herself up, slipping once on the mud, and started to stumble back up to the path when a thought shoved its way into her mind.

  "Grab his gun. Search for ammo."

  Syd turned and grabbed the gun out of the dead man's hand. She stood over him, not wanting to search the body, but she knew she had to. She opened and checked all his pockets and ran her hands over his torso. She found two more loaded magazines in the pockets of his cargo pants. She shoved them in the back of her pants; her pockets were too small or full of other essentials like food and the water straw.

  Walking up the slippery hill to the path with the magazines in her pants was uncomfortable. Syd thought about dumping the last two MREs, but then reconsidered. Who knew how long she would still be out here? She headed in the direction of the camp slowly, methodically. Ready to get back down in the swamp if needed.

  "I just need to get around it to the four-wheelers." She kept saying this over and over again quietly to herself while trying to pay attention to her surroundings. She didn't want to run into anyone, especially Sam.

  The sound of gunfire erupted again, but this time from the direction of the camp. She slid back into the swamp while continuing in the same direction. The sound of yelling could be heard the closer she got, along with more gunfire. Syd hoped they were killing each other. She crawled along the outside of the chickees, trying to stay low and in the shadows. At one point, they must have seen movement as a bullet whizzed past her.

  She froze. Sure, if she ran, it would make too much noise. In her head, she could hear her father's voice: "Steady now, Syd. Don't make noise, move slowly. Hunting and being hunted are similar. You don't want to bring attention to yourself."

  It seemed to take hours for her to make it around the camp. The gunfire had stopped, she could hear moaning and crying, someone prayed.

  Syd didn't care. If she had wanted to worry about the injured, she couldn't. She was too burnt out. She had one goal: to get to the four-wheeler. Nothing else mattered.

  "You got this, girly, keep moving. Slow and steady, keep the gun ready at all times when out here. No time for a safety."

  She checked the safety. It was off. "Thanks, Dad." The words slipped out. She wasn't sure if he was there or in her head, but whichever it was, he was keeping her safe.

  The four-wheelers appeared in the distance. They were still sitting there, waiting on the path out. Just a little farther, and she would be there. She hurried as best she could, but the mud seemed to want her to stay. It sucked at each step, threatening to pull off her shoe, tightening around each ankle as she stepped. Syd's imagination ran wild. She swore she could feel hands trying to hold her in place.

  With each step, it felt as though her heart grew lighter.

  "Just a little more and we can get out. Keep going."

  Someone ran out of the camp, a shadow in the darkness. Jumped on one of the vehicles and sped away.

  "One more. We can do this." Head down and determined, Syd fought her way to the path. She pulled herself up the incline that allowed the path to stay dry and stopped to rest a moment.

  "Hello Syd."

  Just like a freaking villain from one of those stupid sitcoms, thought Syd. Of course, he would be waiting.

  "We can both ride out, but I'm not sure I trust you anymore."

  Syd had to laugh at this. He didn't trust her? What a joke.

  "Well, Sam. The trust thing went out the window when you ditched me the first time. But now that we are here," She pulled herself up to standing position, closed her eyes, and got her balance. "What's in the bag?"

  Chapter Eighteen

  He froze. His eyes getting slightly wider, then narrowing.

  "I don't have the energy to get into this with you." He raised his gun, "I could just kill you. But I think I'd rather you suffer. And, if I shoot, they will know which direction to look."

  Syd, too exhausted to worry, replied, "One just took off. How many more are there? You killed a few already, at least three."

  She did the math, two. There should be two left unless he killed more when she hadn't seen.

  She could see his finger squeezing the trigger slowly, it was like time slowed down. Ok kiddo, her dad's voice said in her head, this is what we have been talking about. Life or death. You can stand here like a statue, run, or go on the offensive. Make the call, move!

  She dove to the left, rolled back down the embankment, and pulled her gun. She didn't hear the bullet wiz by her as she dove. Her only thought was cover and fire.

  She peeked up over the small ridge. Sam was throwing his leg over the four-wheeler, not looking in her direction. She sighted, breathed out the way her dad had taught her, and fired.

  Sam rocked off the vehicle, clutching his side. She had hit him. She had aimed for his back, but the side would work especially with an unknown weapon.

  "You shot me!" He said incredulously.

  Syd said nothing. She climbed her way up the side of the path, making sure to hold her weapon the way her father had taught her. She never took her eyes off Sam, just carefully walked toward the vehicle.

 

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