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SIXTY-SEVEN

Erica shivered as the phone screen faded to black. Stupid tears leaked from her eyes. She used the hem of her tank top to wipe them away, hoping Noah wouldn’t notice. Her sweatshirt was turned inside out and folded under his head. She’d nearly gotten the dry heaves again when her fingers brushed the open gash along the side of his head, hidden by his matted, bloodstained hair. At least the blood underneath him, staining the shed floor, had dried and congealed. Some of it peeled away from the concrete like strips of plastic. This was not a tidbit about blood that Erica had ever wanted to know. In fact, if she never saw blood again, that would be cool.

She really had thought he was dead when she tripped over him. The smell alone was enough to convince her. Copper and dirt and piss. Then she saw him, curled onto his side, unmoving, the blood from his head wound spread across almost the entire shed floor. Bruises covered his bare forearms, some the perfect imprints of boot treads. And his face. Good lord, his face. Nose so crooked it almost made an L, dried rivulets of blood staining his lips, his chin, and his throat. The skin around his eyes was black and puffy. One of his eyelids had swelled so badly that he couldn’t open it. It reminded her of the day her mother had gone inside the magical house.

If this wasn’t full circle, she didn’t know what was.

“Hey,” Noah whispered.

She could tell it took a lot of effort for him to hold up his hands. He’d kept telling her he was fine but how could he not be dying?

“Erica.”

Even as jacked up as he was, he had some kind of weird calming effect on her.

Scuttling closer to him, she picked up the arrow and used the broadhead to saw through the duct tape around his wrists. He dropped his arms to his sides, hissing in pain. Every movement seemed to cause him pain. Without prompting, she freed his ankles next. That took longer. Sweat poured down her face while she worked, mixing with the tears that just wouldn’t stop.

“Thank you,” he said.

There were more gasps of pain as he tried to move his legs.

“Stop,” she said, placing a palm over one of his knees. “Just be still. Rescue will be here any minute.”

“Yeah,” said Noah. “But they won’t get to us for hours.”