Only once, deep in the wood, do I see something.
“Lizzie?”
Rushing forwards, I catch a glimpse of a jacket. A pair of jeans… It’s ghostly, barely there. I wonder for a moment if it’s like a desert mirage, if I’m seeing something in my desperation.
Then I see it again, zipping between the trees.
“Lizzie, over here! Come this way!”
She doesn’t listen, or can’t hear, because the vision darts in the other direction, away from me. Cursing, I hurry through the trees, charging around underbrush and ducking low branches.
Each time I get close, the figure seems to dart away, disappearing between trees or into shadow. But, with each near-miss, I catch more of its appearance.
It’s not Lizzie.
The figure is too tall and too broad in the shoulder. A hiker?
“Jace?” Had he come out here despite my warning?
My eyes trained on the distant figure, a flash of lightning suddenly brings it into sharp focus. Light curls, dry and unfettered by the rain. Warm green eyes. An easy smile.
I feel the bottom of my stomach disappear.
“Matty…?”
I blink and the moment of insanity has passed. The figure is gone and I’m left standing in the middle of nowhere.
“Dammit!” I cry.
“…hello?”
I freeze solid. Oh. My. God.
Stumbling toward that familiar, beautiful voice, I feel relief course through me so hard that my legs turn to jelly.
“Anyone there? Hello?” it calls again.
“Lizzie!” I call out.
“Caleb?”
I climb a shallow ridge, and look down to find my worst nightmare come to life. The relief that turned me weak disintegrates, and my feet are suddenly stone. My mouth is dry, my belly twists in knots.
“Oh no…”
The sides of the slope—a minor inconvenience to hikers, on a dry day—has become a treacherous slide of mud. And at its bottom is a rushing stream of rainfall, carrying leaves and debris in its path.
Lizzie is already half-submerged. Her hips, waist, and most of her legs are underwater. Her shoulders are bunched up around her ears as she lifts herself, trying to keep her head above the surface. One of her knees is still visible, held at an awkward angle.
“Lizzie!”
“Oh, you have no idea how glad I am to—” Lizzie coughs and splutters as a swell of dirty water hits her full in the face.
“Hold on, I’m coming down there!”
“Be careful. Go slow!”
Oh, hell no. I will go safe, but I am not going slow.