Watcher’s Web

Chapter 4-1

4

“GIRL, WAKE UP!” Someone shook Jessica’s leg.

“Huh—what?”

She pushed herself up, seeing nothing but pitch darkness. The scent of musty air. Her hands clawed in leaf litter.

What the hell . . .

Then it came back to her. The crash, the forest.

“Someone’s coming,” Brian said. Leaves rustled as he jumped to his feet. He whistled so loudly her ears hurt. “We’re here!”

Footsteps came closer. Male voices rang out. Jessica peered into the darkness, expecting to see the glare of torches and hear the barking of dogs, but all remained dark.

Strange.

The footsteps stopped quite close. From somewhere ahead came the sound of panting breaths. A musty scent wafted through the air, reminiscent of something that had been in stale water for days, mixed with a smell of fish.

“Who are you?” Brian asked, his voice laced with the same apprehension Jessica felt.

A man spoke in a foreign language, full of harsh and guttural sounds.

Brian mumbled, “What the hell’s going on here?” He took a step back, stumbling into Jessica. “We need help. Our plane crashed. There are four of us and one’s been injured real bad—”

The rest of the sentence drowned in a blue flash. By its brief burst of light, Jessica could make out five figures on the slope below. Small and lithe, with wild mops of hair in dreadlocks. The closest one held out a fist, pointing at Brian.

“What the f**k, they’re shooting—”

That was Martin’s voice.

Holy s**t! They must have stumbled on a group of poachers, or a drug syndicate’s hide-out, or some set-up like that. Her father often talked about those and how dangerous those men were. As a police officer, he would know.

Jessica shouted, “Brian, get out of here, hide yourself!”

She scrambled up the slope, slipping on boulders, stumbling over branches and fallen tree trunks. Shadows followed her, quick and silent. Something gripped her arm. She screamed and kicked. There were shouts, rough voices, more footsteps; hands on her arms, holding her, pulling a rag around her wrists. She wriggled. One of her arms shot free and hit what felt like somebody’s face.

“Let me, go, let me go! I know nothing. I won’t say anything.”

A wave of heat welled up from within her, rising to the skin in swirls of sparks. It flowed into her arms, up her shoulders, burning like boiling water.

Oh damn it, that was the tension still inside her coming out.

Blue-white light flowed out through her skin, engulfed her hands and crackled up her arms in a net of sparkling threads. Shapes formed in the air while the sounds of the forest dulled.

* * * *

She was on the front steps to the main entrance of her inner city boarding school. There was a police car in the drive. The school principal stood under the arched entrance of the porch, surrounded by about half the girls from her year. Some were crying.

A voice said, “They found nothing?”

It was a male voice, unfamiliar, coming from her throat.

The principal shook her head and glanced up over her reading glasses. “Are you a relative?”

“I am . . .” She found herself hesitating, in her male vision-persona, and a wave of anguish washed over her. His anguish.

Where are you?