7
Emmett was right. There’d be time enough for interrogating Mike later, and my aching arm did a good job of helping me focus on the more important task at hand—staying alive. Had I really seen something in the woods when Emmett grabbed me? The yellow had been awfully bright for something found in nature, or for something inanimate that had been cast off and left to fade and rot outdoors. And I was certain there had been movement. But could the movement have been because we were moving and the object was fixed? It had also been low to the ground for a person. Perhaps it was a very careful person, or a brightly spray-painted armadillo. At this point, both options seemed equally likely.
My arm wasn’t just aching from rough handling and physical exertion. I was hungry, and as usual, that hu
