Hunting Human - Amanda E. Alvarez [59]
Relieved and excited, renewed energy surged through her. The terrain didn’t look too bad. If they pressed hard they could probably reach the bridge, and hopefully help, in an hour or so.
Galvanized, Liz turned and started the climb down, eager to finally be able to give Rachel more than hollow encouragements. As she began to navigate the steepest part of the terrain, Rachel’s scream pierced the air. Startled, Liz slipped. She snatched desperately for something to stop her, the plants and roots tearing up her palms before she snagged something.
She unclenched her fingers and carefully crawled down backwards, using her hands to grip vegetation and keep her balance. Heavy silence descended, pressing against her, forcing her adrenaline to surge, her breathing was thunderous to her own ears. Rachel wasn’t screaming. Nothing moved. Insects didn’t chirp. Bushes and trees ceased rustling. It was as though time stopped.
Screaming erupted again, closer this time, and Liz forced herself faster. The first scream had been terrified. This one was agonized. And it didn’t stop.
“Rachel!”
No answer. The screaming died again.
“Rachel!” Rachel’s screams terrified her. Her lack of response horrified her.
“Rachel, answer me.” Nothing. No crying. No yelling. Just heavy silence. Liz hit level ground, pushed to her feet and took the remaining slope as fast as she dared, gravity adding momentum. She hit flat terrain hard and stumbled, but forced her feet to hold her. She searched wildly for any sign of Rachel.
Hysteria pressed against her, adding frenzy to her actions. Why had she left Rachel alone? They’d sworn they’d stay together. Desperate, Liz called out again. “Rachel!”
“Lizzy…” Rachel answered, struggling with the final syllables as if speaking was the hardest thing she’d ever done.
Liz spun toward the voice. Less than twenty feet away, Rachel struggled up from the forest floor. Her agonized expression conveyed her disbelief more effectively than any words she could have spoken. Blood painted the front of her sweater, flowing from a gaping wound across her collarbone. Her face stood out, an unnaturally white beacon in the middle of the forest. She trembled as she tried to stay on her feet.
Shock. She’s going into shock.
Rachel stumbled forward and crashed to her knees, jerking Liz into action. She sprung forward, Rachel’s name on the tip of her tongue even as a wolf, huge and snarling leaped against Rachel. The beast’s bulk dwarfed her, obscuring everything but the sight of jaws closing around her throat. “No!”
Liz rushed forward, searching the darkness and the forest floor for Rachel and the wolf. Stumbling, she went down hard. The knees of her jeans ripped against the brush and her hands collided with something soft and warm.
Rachel!
Liz curled her fingers into Rachel’s shoulder and flipped her onto her back.
Brown eyes, usually swimming with the emotion of the moment, stared sightlessly into her own. Liz choked on a sob as she let her eyes travel over the face of her best friend. She ran fingers along the side of her cheek, hoping for a response, anything at all. Her fingers slid through something warm. Blood. So much blood. Even as she gagged, Liz pressed her hands hard against the shredded mess that used to be Rachel’s neck.
“No, no, no, no, no.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as flesh slipped between her fingers.
“That won’t help.” Heavily accented English cut the air.
Liz sought the voice in the darkness, vaguely surprised she didn’t recognize it. Ivan. Markko’s younger brother stood, seemingly fascinated, a few feet away. He wiped a hand against his human face, smearing blood from his mouth across his cheek and against the back of his arm.
“I took her throat.” He said it as though it mystified him. “It was… interesting.”
Liz watched, horrified, as an amused and bloody grin spread across his face. “My first hunt. My first human kill.” He paced forward. “I’ve killed boar. And deer, of course. But this…” He swept a hand in their direction, “It was everything Markko promised. Primal.