We were both motionless and prone, our bodies low to the ground and hidden by the fence line and wind-tangled foliage.
Sam had edged toward the fence's base for a better vantage point. Her fingers curled around the rusted links, claw-like, until the metal gave a sharp and far too loud metallic groan. The sound jolted me awake, more effective than a gallon of caf.
"Shit, Rob." She whispered breathlessly. "What the hell are you doing?"
That, more than anything, gave me a sliver of fear.
Is Sam just as confused about this as I am?