Summer Lane - State of Emergency

I sigh. I guess if there’s a bright side to this situation, this would be it.

About an hour later, I pause at the corner of curve number five thousand, sniffing the air. I smell…smoke. It’s a light, woodsy scent that reminds me of burning pine needles. I tighten my hands around the straps of my backpack, nervous. Where’s there’s smoke, there’s usually people. Fire doesn’t just happen by itself unless some lightening and a tall tree is involved.

I walk just off the road, putting a few feet between me and the open space of the highway. As I get farther, the smell becomes stronger.

And then I hear laughter.

Every muscle in my body freezes. Why? A) If there are people here, there’s a good chance that they’re not friendly because B) they’re probably Omega soldierslooking for somebody to bully.

I drop to my stomach, crawling forward on my hands and knees through the brush. The laughter gets louder, and there’s definitely a girl’s voice mixed in with it. I get a nose full of bear clover as I keep my body perfectly still, glued to the scene in front of me.

Across the road, just past a big clump of fern, is a little campfire. Tendrils of smoke rise up and drift towards me. Three people are gathered around it: a girl with a blonde ponytail, and two guys, one with dark hair and the other that looks like he could be the girl’s sister.

They don’t look like Omega hacks to me. Friend or foe?

I rest my chin in my hands, thinking back to the abandoned baby carrier on the side of the road when Chris and I first escaped LA.

There are a lot of crazies in the world , I think. I’d better play it safe.

But I’m afraid that if I move backwards, they’ll see me. It’s probably a miracle that they didn’t hear my footsteps on the pavement. So I just stay there, trying to think of a way to get around these people without being seen and without getting lost.

What would Chris do? He’d avoid them altogether.

One of the boys at the campfire, the one with the blonde hair, stands up and stretches. He says something to his friends and disappears into the bushes. I assume he’s going to collect firewood.

Seriously ? What now?

I slowly lift myself up enough to wiggle backwards, trying to make the least amount of noise as possible. I’ll just go back the way I came and make a wide detour past their campfire, hope we don’t run into each other again, and be on my merry way.

Problem solved.

As I retreat, the soft voices of the strangers fade. My heartbeat slows. If I can’t hear them, they probably can’t hear me. I sit up with my legs tucked under me. Crisis averted.

“Gotcha!”

A strangled scream dies in my throat as somebody grabs the collar of my coat and yanks me upright. I see a flash of blonde hair and green eyes, and for a split second I think it’s Chris. Relief floods through me, but it doesn’t last, as usual. It’s not Chris. It’s the blonde boy from the campfire.

He’s got a boyish face — maybe fifteen years old — but he’s almost three times as big as me. “I got her!” he yells across the road. His voice is way too loud. Is he stupid? “She was spying on us.”

He’s got one hand on around my neck, and the other is literally wound around the belt of my pants. I’m facing away from him, so I can’t turn around and claw his eyes out with my fingers.

“Let go!” I say, choking. “For crying out loud!”

“What do you want?”

The blonde walks towards me, trailed by the kid with dark hair. They’re all high school age, no older then the guy currently using me as a stress ball. “Um…choking…can’t…talk,” I sputter, feeling my cheeks turn red.

“Drop her,” Blondie says.

The guy I affectionately dub “Choker,” in my head lets go. I stagger forward, gasping for air. “Geez. Thanks a lot,” I spit, hoping my windpipe is still intact. “Are you insane?”

The dark haired one looks down at me.

“Why were you watching us?”

“Why were you watching me ?”

“I asked first.”

“Your buddy almost choked me to death.” I shoot Choker a glare. “Thanks, pal.”

The three exchange puzzled glances. Maybe they were expecting me to pick them off one by one with a sniper rifle while I hid in the bear clover. A side effect of watching too many teen television shows.

“Come on. Back to the fire,” Blondie commands, her arms crossed. “Bring her.”

Choker and the dark haired one each take an arm, hauling me across the road. It occurs to me that I should just try to make a run for it, but hey. Maybe they’ve got some food or coffee they’re just dying to share with me.

“Sit.”

Blondie plops down on a log, her legs crossed. The boys stay on each side of me, and then Choker leans behind Blondie’s log and grabs a hunting rifle. He keeps it trained at my head, with his finger on the trigger.

I suddenly feel very uncool about all this.

“What’s up with you guys?” I snap. “I’m just hiking, that’s all.”

“Right,” Blondie laughs, and it annoys me because she sounds a little like Tinkerbell right before she tried to kill Wendy. “You were just hiking . Nobody’s just “hiking” up here anymore. We’re not that stupid.”

“That’s a debatable point.” I say.

Blondie gives me a death stare.

“Were you planning on stealing our food?” she asks, her lip curling. “Maybe killing us in our sleep and taking all our supplies?”

“Um…” I roll my eyes. “Yeah. That was definitely my plan. You got me.”

The dark haired boy opens his mouth to speak for the first time.

“Maybe she’s okay,” he says softly. “Maybe she’s telling the truth.”

“Please.” Blondie’s hands tighten into fists. “I’m keeping my eye on her. We all are.”

I sigh dramatically.

“So now what? You’re going to tie me up and cook me for dinner?” I ask. “Because I don’t really have a lot of meat on my bones.”

Blondie kicks me in the shins.

It doesn’t hurt, it just makes me mad.

“Try to reign in your random violent urges, will you?” I say, kicking back. She cries out, completely falsifying the amount of pain she feels.

“See?” she gasps. “She’s dangerous. Take her stuff. Tie her up. There’s no way we can trust her.”

“Ditto, darling,” I mumble, relaxing into my predicament.

Even though Choker is aiming the rifle at my head, and even though his finger is on the trigger (didn’t anybody teach him firearms safety techniques?), his hands are shaking. He doesn’t look like he wants to kill me. He looks likes he’s afraid of me.

Good.

The dark haired boy moves quickly beside me, pulling out a pair of plastic ties from his daypack. He cinches up my wrists too tight, drawing blood. He doesn’t apologize. He only stares straight ahead, his eyes empty, his face emotionless.

“You move, redhead, and he’ll kill you,” Blondie warns, crouching over the fire. “Got that?”

“Right,” I reply, wondering if any of them are actually capable of killing someone. “Is there a reason you’re making a campfire in the middle of the day, by the way?”

“None of your business,” Choker growls, sitting down. He keeps the rifle in his lap, watching me out of the corner of his eye. Blondie nods, apparently proud that he’s being rude to me.

“Look,” I say, “here’s the thing: I need to find my dad. We got separated and I’m going to be seriously late if I have to hang around with you guys while you do your afternoon marshmallow roast.”

“She’s lying,” Blondie replies, spitting out the words. “Why would she be spying on us if she was really trying to find her dad?”