Page 138 of Death is Familiar

Like the dogs. I’d never been pursued by tracking dogs before. I’d heard enough from old Leslie’s Pies contacts who had to get dogs off their trail to know what worked and what didn’t, but that didn’t make me feel any better when I saw a beam of light arching through the pitch-black night.

Or the next.

Or the next.

Each beam illuminated a person, a dog leashed to their side—nose to the ground or in the air. Flashes of arm. Leg. Tail.

The swamp drowned out the sound of their approach, but every now and then, the light lit the clouds of moisture emanating from the dogs’ mouths. That’s how I could tell they were getting close. I could make out more than general shapes, I could see the dogs barking, just as I could tell what the men were wearing.

The lucky fuckers had boots and waterproof chest waders, and here I was a sitting duck in a hollowed-out tree, skin caked in muck, with only a lukewarm leech of a person at my side hoping that the dogs didn’t catch onto our scent.

My hand hovered over Three’s mouth, feeling the gentle puffs of unbothered breath as she continued to sleep. A sleeping Three, was a silent Three, and the only way I could guarantee her compliance.

If she knew how close the men were, she might change her mind about our escape, which she would have been free to do, if there wasn’t a chance she’d give me up in the process.

As the men and their dogs drew closer, Three’s teeth began to chatter, and a horrible, dreadful, thought crossed my mind—to fend for myself, and leave Three behind in the hollowed-out tree, if the men got too close.

I mean, she had planned to lead the men to us, and return to her cell. She didn’t know enough about the world to dislike her former life. In fact, she found comfort in it. Maybe this would be easier, maybe it would be for the best if I just left Three and⁠—

No. I wouldn’t, I couldn’t, do that, even if she was a terrible traveling companion. She deserved to live her life outside of a cage. Or at the very least, get to choose her own path forward.

Light slashed over the ground before us. The men were closing in.

The all-too-familiar rise of blue-black panic swelled. My limbs so cold with fear and wet, if it weren’t for the constant waves of Three’s warm breath against my fingers, I would have thought they were numb.

The men were getting close. Any closer and we’d need to make a run for it. Any closer, and our odds of getting away plummeted.

Think before you run.

Swallowing down the lump of nerves in my throat, along with every instinct that told me to flee, I forced myself to think things through. Logically.

If the men were onto us, they wouldn’t be scanning our surroundings, they’d be bee-lining for us. Which meant they didn’t know that we were here, not yet anyway, and running now would most definitely get their attention.

Keep going…

If the men had just walked through the swamp, like us, this was the first non-submerged stretch of land they’d seen for miles… they were probably looking for a break from the water just as much as we were.

Good.

Or they came here thinking we needed a break, that we’d look to land—which we had—so we could rest.

Wrong direction…

The fact that they were closing in didn’t help matters. If they ventured any closer it would be next to impossible for the dogs to not latch onto our scent. Dogs could separate out odors, the mud and sulfur really wouldn’t be much of a deterrent, and the men were near enough I could start to make out their voices. Just.

The first man said something that sounded like, “I thought you said the road was this way?”

“It is,” said another.

“You sure? Protocol dictates⁠—”

“I’m aware we need to regroup, the road is… wait is that east?” A beam of light shot west.

Another beam of light moved, this time, north-east. “No, that’s east.”

They were lost. Which would have been funny if it weren’t for the threat they posed.

“Are you kidding me, we’re an hour-and-a-half late, and we’ve been walking the wrong direction?”