But first, I had to make sure the terrorists wouldn’t find our trail. I had to try to throw them off, at least.
“Stay here. I’ll be back.
From the corner of my eye before I dashed off, I saw the woman open her mouth to say something. But I didn’t have the time to listen. Instead, I crashed back into the forest, but opposite the way we had come.
I ran through the thick brush, not caring that I was making a path that a blind man could see, breaking branches, crushing leaves, my bootsteps pounding the ground. I hoped I was creating enough of a disturbance that if someone ended up tracking us, they wouldn’t notice that there was only one set of footprints, not two.
Not right away, anyway.
I ran until I reached a small stream and crashed through it. But instead of continuing up the opposite bank, I followed the water back in the rough direction I had come.
The plan to throw the terrorists off wasn’t perfect—if they went far enough, looked carefully enough, or they had a good tracker with them, whoever it was would know instantly I had created a false trail. But it was the only thing I could do, the only thing that would give us some extra time to get away.
With water splashing around my legs, sucking down my feet and slowing my running footsteps, I sprinted down the stream, then scrambled over the wet rocks, nearly losing my footing as I raced up the bank.
I came out close to the point where I’d started. The woman jerked up as I crashed back through the trees, her eyes widening and her body tensing until she realized it was me. I gestured towards the beach.
“Let’s go.”
It was time for the rest of the plan. It was time to see if she could handle what was coming next.