Page 100 of The Island
When she had gone twenty feet, she turned to Olivia and nodded. Olivia began walking in her footsteps and Owen followed his sister.
Paper targets riddled with buckshot lay on the ground. Broken glass was everywhere.
Their progress was slow.
Dogs in the distance.
“I stepped in something,” Owen said.
“What kind of something?”
“Something metal.”
Oh God.
“Owen, I want you to—”
“I’m lifting my foot.”
“No, wait!”
“It’s OK. Crushed soda can.”
Heather breathed again. “Be careful. I know they’re coming but we have to go slow.”
Slow.
In case…
In case…
And there it was. Not unexploded ordnance but an iron animal trap, its ragged jaws rusted but still terrifying-looking. She imagined it was there to catch dingoes or foxes or something.
If she hadn’t seen the sign, she or one of the kids could have run right into it. She picked up a stick and shoved it in the ground next to it as a marker. “Owen? Olivia? Do you see this thing to the left? It’s a bear trap or something. Stay clear of it! Keep in my footsteps.”
The kids followed Heather. She made sure they gave the trap a wide berth.
And eventually they were past the makeshift range.
It had slowed them down. Fifty yards in twenty minutes. They had to really hoof it now.
“This way!” she said and on they went, parallel to the shore.
All the old tunes:
Thirst.
Sun.
Dogs.
They had gone another quarter of a mile before Heather realized that she had miscalculated again. The shoreline had sunk gradually to their left and on their right a ravine had widened and deepened. For the past ten minutes they had been running on a peninsula that came to an abrupt end at a cliff.
Heather, in the lead, almost ran straight over the edge before catching herself.
She appraised the situation and swore. They could try and get down the cliff, which looked steep and dangerous, or they could retrace their steps back to the range, with its ordnance and mantraps.
The cliff was the apex of the triangle. There was a vertical drop to sand on one side and rocks on the other.
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