Chapter 35

I panned my head slowly in deliberate sections: a periscope slicing through the ghostly silence like a probe seeking the origin of the snapped twig. My hairs were set on end; the frigid and gloomy morning wore a poker-faced stillness, a velvet hush with a sharpened edge.

Like a spilled secret under a held breath, another series of cracks froze me in place. The dampened air coated my skin in a frost-sheened sweat. My ears rang, void of footsteps, void of clues. I strained to gauge how near.

The proximity was stifling.

Panic spiked through me.

I felt a corpse-like grip seal my scream. The clammy fingers over my mouth belonged to a face no more than a breath's breadth from my own.

Recognition hit like a hammer blow: It was Sam. I couldn't blink. Couldn't respond. I'd tracked nothing. She was as good as Rob. Maybe better: Rob was quiet.

Sam was silence.

Slowly she pressed a single finger against her lips, a gesture to remain mute. Her hand peeled away from my lower face as she pointed to the bag and signaled a retreat. I expended extra care to stand as slowly as humanly possible with careful maneuvers to avoid making our presence known.

We kept the blind between us and the embankment below as we slowly edged away.

Sam placed a hand on my shoulder, and, like an idiot, I jumped. She kept a still finger on her lips as her eyes rose upward. I followed her gaze to see into the canopy of a particularly large and notable tree, easily three or four times my width.

With a start, a strange sense of deja vu and realization came over me: It's the same damn tree...

Yep. Just like the other two times, we'd all been caught entirely unaware.

She wanted us to climb. 

Several thigh-thick branches were nearly within reach, but I couldn't see how we'd be able to solo ascend without noise. If we were going to do it, we’d need to work together. With a nod I turned and interlinked my fingers with the intention to cup my hands into a human step.

She was a blur as she moved. It was, quite honestly, amazing. Despite my bumbling half-lift from the surprise of her approach, she'd launched herself high enough to catch a limb and disappear into the branches like some sort of lethal and deathly silent gymnast. I don't even think a single leaf rustled.

Inverting herself, she did something else with her legs and hung downward, upside-down, arms ready to receive me like a flying trapeze artist in a circus. The additional length of her extended torso made it so her hands were only a few inches from mine, close enough for me to grab if I jumped.

With a run-up I gave a little hop, aiming to let her catch me, a choice to give myself over to the trust of our newfound teamwork. I had half a nanosecond to mentally register the surprise when my hands were stung by a sharp slap.

My feet reconnected with the ground in a sudden and jarring manner that caused my joints to pop and groan in protest as I gawped stupidly up at her. Extending my hands, I gave a sharp gesture in Portsign, asking in not-so-calm words: WHAT. THE HELL?!

A commotion beyond the blind grew louder. Whoever lingered down there clearly had no intention of keeping quiet. Two distinct voices floated upward, light and meandering, reminiscent of a gently murmuring stream as their volume intensified on their approach.

They were getting closer.

Sam pointed at my back, and I could’ve smacked myself for not thinking of it first. She wanted me to hand her the pack, which, honestly, made a lot of sense; it was heavy. Heat rushed to my face as I slipped my arms from the straps and hoisted it high overhead. There was a lurch as she snagged it and pulled it upward in one swift motion. With seamless grace, she lifted it past her waist and onto the branch before she folded herself upward and vanished into the canopy with a liquid-fluid movement.

Wow!

The shadows around me shifted as lights swept the tree line nearby. Two sources. One below and another set beyond. Likely another team making their patrol, waiting for the next check-in. Crumbs.

Far too close for comfort.

Sam vied for my attention from above as she hissed, almost too low to hear. I sprang to action. With another jump, this one much higher than the last, I managed to grab her extended wrists as she locked onto mine and swung me. My shoulders, arms, and abs burned as I struggled to pull myself onto the lower, rain-slick limb.

Sure it lacked grace, poise, and any form of dignity; I even managed to bruise my shin before I was finally able to be secured, but I’d gotten up there. The ground below was sodden, but up here, the air felt unexpectedly dry. The contrast between my drenched clothing and the arid surroundings sent an itchy crawl along the skin at my neck and hands.

Sam scampered past me into the darkened canopy overhead. With a simple hand gesture, she beckoned me forward and pressed a finger to her lips. Another reminder for a need for silence. She scaled up the trunk with the ease of a ladder, as if the bark itself had rungs for her hands and feet.

With care, I moved to follow. The pack rested at the base of the branch. It only took me a moment to secure it safely upon my back before I ascended, albeit with considerably more effort than she'd shown.

With an upward glance, I mentally mapped how best to climb as I adjusted for the extra mass of the bag. By the quantity of clustered branches above, this appeared to be a monstrous tree.

Near the base where we were, the trunk was coarse. Fibrous ridges scraped at my fingers, damp enough to feel slimy but dry enough to suck the warmth from my grip. I could feel moisture trickle down my sleeves. The inner lining stuck to my arms like molasses. The dampness slowed every movement as it pulled the fabric tight.

If you’d asked me earlier, I would’ve told you the tree hadn't seemed quite so tall when we were under it. Even if it was one of the taller ones, the others around it didn’t seem so far off either, but it was fortunate the limbs above us would be much easier to tackle than our initial jump.

The rain outside sounded muted, less present as we progressed. I lost myself to the physicality of the climb. Before long I was sweating, a dangerous state to be in a cold environment, as my arms and legs began to burn from the unfamiliar exertion. From above and to my right, Sam’s voice pierced the stillness in a hushed tone. “We should be high enough," she said.

With a soft grunt, I carefully adjusted myself and slid the bag from rear to front. The branch was wide enough to sit cross-legged, so I balanced myself against the tree trunk and opened my jacket. I was sweating. Badly. A shiver ran through me as I loosened clothing. Though the still air was frigid, I ignored it. Discomfort now would stave off the risk of hypothermia. If I continued to sweat this way, the insulation in my gear would fail, and I'd risk more than just discovery.

Sam sat above me, coiled against the trunk like she belonged to it. Grown from it. One leg dangled in a way reminiscent of a predator cat, perhaps a cheetah. It wasn’t hard to marvel at her ability to look as if she were entirely in her element as the sweat evaporated through the opening of my jacket.

She caught my eye and pointed down to direct my attention below us.

Darkness had turned to gloomy detail, the kind that let shapes pretend to be something else, like images in a forbidden forest. The puddles at the base of the tree glinted faintly, but nothing held still enough to be trusted.

From our perch, I felt secluded enough we shouldn't have to worry about casually being seen, but I was still wary; a keen eye could still easily pick us out if they looked up.

It was made quickly evident Sam had been right to climb when the shadows below lengthened and shrank in cadence to a cantankerous walk. Four figures with flashlights swept the darkness around them.

Prison spotlights on the prowl.

A voice rasped from the rear, raw with cold and irritation. “We’ve been stomping around this frozen hell for hours. When do we turn back? I swear my balls are turning to ice cubes.”

“For the last time,” An annoyed but authoritative voice said, “We follow orders. Period. Not until we get bored, not only until we feel tired. We stop only when a runner is sent to order us to stop or the right flares go up. Got it, Nevens?”

“Tell that to Paul and Tim, then," Nevens muttered. "Where the hell are they?"

A third voice piped up, deeper than the first two, “Should be around here somewhere since the flare came from somewhere over there.” A light wavered. I couldn't see his hand but guessed he was pointing because they all stopped. Right beneath us.

The beams clustered toward the same patch of brush where Sam had first gotten surprised by Tim and Paul. It just so happened to be right next to the blind.

Whew.

“Who the hell does Golrich even think we’re going to find out here?” A fourth voice spoke, the last of the visible group.

“Apprehend and report anyone we find near the canals. No questions.” The authoritative voice snapped.

“Well, this is bullshit!” Nevens shouted, “Freaking Paul and Tim had better be here somewhere. I’m sick of sticking it out because Paul’s busy diddling someone again and doesn’t wanna share!”

“Shut up,” the leader seethed. “They aren’t part of this group right now. We’re here to find someone on orders. I hear another word out of you about it? You and I are going to have a VERY serious discussion about discipline. At the very least, shut your mouth before you give us away."

“Oh yeah?” Nevens said in a reedy, mocking tone. “What...you think they’re gonna fall out of the sky if I don’t?!”

I froze.

A flashlight’s beam swiveled straight up to burn and pierce right into the back of my skull. My optics blacked out and shuttered tight as if my body could erase itself. The light, despite the fact it was far below, felt like it could sear my skin like a heat lamp.

For what was likely the fifth time tonight, my heart thumped as if it would leap out of my chest, feral and wild as if ready to claw its way out.

Man, you are one unlucky tree! I desperately thought as I fought my instincts and didn't move.

“Hey, WAIT!” someone screamed from below.

“HALT!"