ONE
Sadie
Bang!A gunshot reverberates through the forest. It’s in the distance. The trees canopy overhead as the sunlight is blocked by the thicket of leaves.
I should run in the opposite direction and stay as far from the dangerous situation up ahead, but there’s only one trail, and turning around means I’ll be hiking another ten miles.
I’m nearly back to my car.
Two miles to go.
My sister always told me not to go hiking alone. She warned me that dangerous men in the woods liked to snatch women and were involved in human trafficking rings.
Never hike alone.
She was always a bit overprotective. I don’t blame her for her fears. She had a bad experience at college, dropped out, and moved home with Mom and Dad.
But we’re nothing alike.
A second shot rings out, not quite in succession. Like there might have been a struggle. I can conjure up a dozen different scenarios in my head.
The tires squeal as dust kicks up, and the vehicle rushes away in haste.
I jog off the beaten path toward where the gunshots had erupted moments earlier. The vehicle is gone. The danger must no longer be imminent, either.
I don’t know the exact spot. The trees all look the same. I’m unsure what I’m searching for when I stumble on his warm, lifeless body, tripping over him.
His complexion is pale as blood drips from his forehead. There’s a fresh gunshot wound to his temple. Whoever shot him left him for dead.
I drop down onto my knees, searching for a pulse. It’s faint, and sweat beads on his porcelain skin, mixed with blood.
Grabbing my cell phone from my pocket, I dial 9-1-1 and give my location as best I can, along with what I know, which isn’t much.
“Hurry,” I say.
The 9-1-1 operator doesn’t have me hang up. She keeps me on the line. “Is he breathing?”
I lean down and can feel a soft breath expel from his lungs. “Barely,” I say. “His pulse is really slow.”
“Help is on the way. They should be there soon.”
I put the phone on speaker and search through the dying man’s pockets, looking for identification. There’s no wallet on him. No keys. No phone.
Had someone driven him out here to kill him and dump his body?
Tattoos cover his arms. His beard is thick and matches his hair. There’s a roughness, even while unconscious, that he echoes.
“Who are you?” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer.
The EMTs arrive, and by the time they find us in the forest, off the beaten path, I’m not sure that the handsome stranger is still alive. I struggle to find a pulse. It’s faint, but it’s there.
I should walk away, return to my car, and never think about him again.
That would be a smart decision.
Someone wants him dead. If he survives, then that puts a wrench in their plans.