The Reaping

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“But how did it get…” I trailed off, realization dawning. I felt the blood drain from my face, guilt and sorrow mingling in the hollow pit of my stomach. “Do you mean that’s who—”

I couldn’t finish the sentence, but I didn’t have to. Derek was already nodding, his eyes focused firmly on the plate in front of him as he poked at the food with his fork.

“Oh, Derek, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”

Derek held up his hand to cut me off. He wasn’t interested in my remorse.

As I looked at his bowed head, at the misery that screamed from every dejected line of his body, I realized that I could end up just like that—alive, but full of anger and regrets, bitterness and hatred, not really living.

Though I refused to dwell on the eventuality of my “call”, it hovered over me, day and night, like a dark cloud. It sucked up a huge portion of my energy, my enthusiasm, my life. It was killing my spirit before I even had a chance to fight for it. And that, I decided, was crazy! I’d had enough.

At that moment, I determined that whatever fate had in store for me, whatever life had to offer, whatever was coming my way, I was going to do my dead level best to enjoy what time I had until then. And whatever happened, whatever I was eventually forced to do or endure, I would get through it and leave it behind—or die trying.

Something inside me steeled, became firm and unyielding, resolute. My father’s smiling face floated behind my eyes. This was what he’d been trying to teach me all these years—how to survive—but he’d missed the most important thing. There’s so much more to living that just surviving. Derek had survived, but look at him. Look at his life, his family. His world is a shambles, like the warped twisted metal of a train wreck.

Like a dusty old light bulb flickering hesitantly to life, a glimmer of hope broke through the darkness that had settled over me. It occurred to me that I had two options: I could lie down and wait to die, accept the fate someone else had decided for me, or I could find another way, a way to save the people that I loved.

Just the thought of making the decision, of taking charge of my life and not laying down to just accept whatever was to come my way, empowered me, gave me a sense of control in a world where I no longer had any. It was clear that, for me, there was really only one option. It had been bred into me all my life. I was no quitter; I would fight.

I had a mother and a sister that I’d never known. I’d been robbed of a normal life for seventeen years and I wasn’t about to give up on the possibility of having a normal life somewhere in the future.

Dad said he thought I could save my sister. Maybe I could save us both. I would fight, but not the way I was expected to fight. I’d fight for my life and for my sister’s. I’d find a way to get us out, to free us from whatever deal had been made. And I’d find a way to save Derek and his brother, too. I had to.

My resolution wavered the tiniest bit when, unbidden, one word popped into my mind. How? How could I do what had never been done before, what had never even been attempted, as far as we knew? How could I do the impossible?

And, just as quickly as the doubt had arisen, it was allayed by another vision of my father’s smiling face. I knew the answer. I’d do it for Dad. Because he didn’t raise a quitter, he raised a survivor.

I felt a smile creep across my face, probably one of the first genuine moments of happiness I’d felt in a long time. Then I looked at Derek. I thought he could use a little pick-me-up and I remembered something else I’d seen in Dad’s closet.

“Will you take me for some target practice tonight? For just a little while?” I turned my smile up a little brighter when he raised his head.

“Alright,” he said with a sigh. “Go get dressed. We’ll take the car.” I got the feeling that last was said as a little push, to see if I was going to freak out again. But I didn’t.

“Great. I’ll meet you in the garage.”

I dressed quickly, throwing on some jeans and a sweater, then grabbed my backpack and threw a few things inside. I rushed into Dad’s room and immediately found what I was looking for. Everything was just where Dad had left it.

I heard Derek start the car and pull out of the garage so I hurried out the door and hit the button to close the garage on my way out.

We were well on our way when I asked Derek to take a different direction, toward the lake. Though he tossed me a curious look, he said nothing as he made the necessary turns.

As we turned off the main road toward the clearing, I saw a PRIVATE PROPERTY sign nailed to a tree. We really had no right to be there, but I was feeling a little reckless and counting on the clearing being vacant.

When Derek cut the engine, I got out of the car and glanced around. It looked very much the same as it had when I’d come to this very spot with Stephen Fitchco, minus all the party accoutrements and people. And fire. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that we were alone.

Quietly, we made our way across the clearing and down the dock to the little boat still tied at the end. I reached out and steadied the little dinghy, threw my backpack in and stepped carefully in after it.

I looked up at Derek. “You coming?” I couldn’t help but grin. It seemed Derek was always saying that to me.

With a little shrug, he stepped down into the boat with me, grabbed the oars and untied us from the dock.

I told Derek where we were going and he got us into position then began to row. I leaned back to watch him, much as I’d done that night with Stephen. I couldn’t help but compare the scenario and the two men involved.

This was someone I cared about, probably even loved, though I couldn’t be absolutely certain since my experience in that arena was virtually nil. This was someone I would gladly (I think) give myself to. This was someone who thought enough of me and my best interests not to take that step no matter how much I wanted to, much less try and force me. This was someone who actually protected me. If I had to be stuck on an island with someone, even if it was only a few hundred feet from civilization, there’s no other person I’d rather be stuck with than Derek.

When we were a little over half way to the island, I got out my flashlight and shined it across the water to where the tiki torches lined the shore. I concentrated and, with a flick of my fingers, the first one sputtered to life. I shot Derek a cheeky grin and I saw the corners of his mouth twitch a tiny bit in response.

I shined my flashlight on the next one and brought its flame to life then the next and the next. By the time I trained my flashlight on the fifth one, I had begun to feel pretty confident. Too quickly, I flicked my fingers at its tip, the entire top of the torch exploded.

“Woops,” I said sheepishly.

“Yep. Got too cocky,” Derek said, shaking his head.

By that time, we’d reached the tiny island. Derek rowed ashore, much as Stephen had done, then got out to drag the boat further up the bank. He walked on ahead of me then stopped halfway up the beach area and turned back to me.

“Watch this,” he said. With a snap of his fingers, all the other torches sprang instantly to life. There were torches there I hadn’t even seen, ones that hadn’t been lit the night I’d been there before. And Derek had lit them all at once.

“How did you do that?” He was constantly amazing me with his power, his strength, his focus.

“I saw them as I walked up the beach and then, when I turned around to you, I just pictured them, just like I’d seen them, in my head.” Then, with a satisfied grin, he said, “Easy as pie.”

“Show off,” I mumbled, trying to keep the boat steady as I disembarked.

I was getting ready to step out onto the sand when Derek swept me off my feet and carried me up onto the beach. When he sat me on my feet, he let my body slide down his until the tips of my toes barely touched the ground.

The friction kindled a low fire in my belly, like contact with Derek so often did. I looked up into his handsome face, the torch light warming his bronzy skin and turning his eyes to shimmering pools of mercury.

There was a day’s worth of stubble on his chiseled cheeks. My fingertips itched to touch it, but I was on a mission and getting all hot and bothered this early wasn’t part of the plan.

“So,” I said, clearing my throat. “Are you up for some fireworks?” I saw Derek’s pupils dilate. He had no doubt mistaken my meaning, which I knew he would. I knew before I asked what his answer would be.

I wiggled myself onto better footing then stepped out of Derek’s arms. I unzipped my backpack and took out a blanket to spread on the sand.

“Sit down,” I said with a wink, chastising myself for being such a tease, but loving every minute of it. Then I turned back toward the shore and took out the rest of my goodies.

My father had bought a bunch of fireworks for the fourth of July, but the church had had a big production so we never got to use them. I laid them out in a row, fuses stretched out facing the blanket, and walked back to Derek.

“First rule of the night: there are no rules,” I said dramatically, using my best “Fight Club” voice. Then I giggled. “Just kidding. Whoever gets the most fireworks in the air and makes them explode before the fuse does wins.”

“Wins what?”

“Uh,” I paused. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Winner gets a wish.”

“A wish? What kind of a wish?” Something about the way Derek said “wish” made my stomach flutter.

“Whatever kind of wish you want,” I said softly.

“Hmm” was all he said.

I sat down beside him, close but not too close. “Let’s get ready to rum-ble,” I said, doing my very best Michael Buffer impersonation.

“I’ll go first,” I declared, focusing on the thing string trailing behind the first firework. I flicked my fingers and the fuse sputtered to life. Seconds later it launched into the sky. I concentrated on the little torpedo as it rose, but I wasn’t fast enough. It exploded into a shower of beautiful sparks before I could blow it up.

“Not bad,” Derek said. Without even sitting up, much less breaking a sweat, Derek lit the fuse of the next two fireworks. When they left the ground, they didn’t even make it ten feet into the air before they burst with a loud pop, sending colorful embers falling to the ground.

“Two–zero,” he boasted. “Looks like you’ve got some catching up to do.”

“Show off,” I mumbled, directing all my energy to the fuse of the next firework. As soon as it was lit, I immediately began to focus on the body of the projectile. Unfortunately, my concentration was too complete and too early; the firework burst while it was still on the ground, skipping and sputtering along on the sand.

“Ouch,” Derek said. “Still two–zip.” He sat up and pushed up the sleeves of his black Henley. “Now let me show you how it’s really done.”

A tiny frown of concentration creased his brow just before Derek flipped both his hands up, like a maestro leading his orchestra to raise their instruments. Instantly, all the remaining fuses lit and seconds later all the rockets launched into the air. Once they were airborne, Derek flicked his fingers out as if he was brushing the dust off something and every firework exploded simultaneously in a brilliant, glittering display.

The light show was dazzling, erupting into an amazing conglomeration of shapes and colors then falling to the lake and sand like diamonds from the sky. Though it lasted only a minute or so, it was awesome. It was like sitting beneath a galaxy of shooting stars as they breeched our atmosphere and rained down on our heads.

Acrid smoke hung in the air like a thick cloud. I looked toward the water, where the fireworks had lain. They were gone and my bag was empty. I turned to look at Derek. “Well that sucks.”

We looked at each other for several seconds before we both burst into laughter. It was the first time I’d laughed like that in a long, long time and it was the first time I’d ever heard Derek laugh, really laugh, at all. The sound was a deep, velvety rumble that made my toes tingle. I wanted to hear it again and again. As our mirth died off, I silently promised myself and Derek that I would make him laugh more.

Derek leaned back on one elbow and patted the blanket beside him. Obligingly, I leaned back, too. His face was relaxed, giving him a rakish, devil-may-care look that made my stomach contract.

Reaching out, he wound a piece of my hair around his finger, rubbing the smooth strands with his thumb. “One wish, huh?”

He was still grinning when he tugged my hair, urging me toward him. When my face was a couple inches from his, he leaned forward and nipped at my lower lip with his teeth.

“Can you guess what it is that I want?”

Warmth spread through my body and I was instantly alive with desire. Then I was on my back, the cool sand beneath me, with Derek stretched out on top of me. His chest hovered over mine, his weight supported on his forearms. I could feel the heat rolling off him in waves.

I wiggled beneath him, stimulating all the nerves in my skin with the feel of his body against mine. He growled, a sound that had me digging my fingers into his hair, pulling his face toward mine. Then our lips met and the rest of the world melted away.

Derek leaned to one side so that one hand was free to roam. From my shoulder to my waist and on down to my hip, I tingled everywhere he touched. I felt his hand slide down the back of my thigh and grip behind my knee, pulling my leg up and around his waist. Heat flooded my lower body.

His lips left mine to kiss a trail to my ear then down my neck. I turned my head to the side to allow him better access. I was lost in a sea of sensation when a familiar and disturbing smell teased my nose. It took several seconds for it to penetrate the haze of passion that had settled over me. But finally it did.

My eyes flew open and met the dull black eyes of a tall blonde man that stood in the shadows at the edge of the trees. I couldn’t stop the startled squeal that bubbled up out of my throat.

Before I could blink, Derek was on his feet, crouched beside me, alert and battle-ready. He scanned the tree line, looking for the threat, but it was already gone. In the half second that Derek had interrupted my line of sight to roll off me, the man had disappeared.

“What is it? What did you see?” Evidently he hadn’t seen what I had. Derek rose to a standing position, his posture a little less tense.

“There was a man standing in the shadows.”

“Where?”

“Over there,” I said, pointing to where I’d seen him.

“What did he look like?”

I described the man as a huge, handsome man with long blonde hair and coal black eyes. He was wearing a creamy button-up shirt, untucked, over faded blue jeans and cowboy boots.

“That’s a lot of detail for a couple of seconds,” Derek said curtly.

I just shrugged, a little shaken and a little creeped out. He’d been watching us and, for some reason, I got the feeling he was enjoying it, like he was mentally licking his lips and waiting for us to start peeling each other’s clothes off.

But the most bothersome part was the smell. “Derek, I- he- there was a smell.”

I saw the understanding in Derek’s eyes even though he still asked, “What kind of smell?”

“The same kind that I smelled that night in the clearing.”

“Fahl,” he spat.

“But it looked nothing like—”

“He rarely ever looks the same, Carson. You just have to trust your gut. Even if you can’t smell him, you can feel him. Trust that.”

“I just- I didn’t…”

“I know. I should’ve felt him, but I was…well…” Derek grinned. At least it hadn’t totally ruined his favorable mood. It was a good sign that he could joke about missing something that important.

Needless to say, that curtailed our romantic tryst so we shook out and packed up the blanket and set out across the water in the boat.

When we were about half way to the dock, I realized that all the tiki torches still burned. “Derek, the torches,” I said, pointing to the island.

Though Derek didn’t even glance back at the island, the words had only just left my lips when I heard the pitter patter of a hard rain as it hit the lake’s surface. After about a minute, the torch flames were extinguished and the rain had ceased.

I couldn’t help but smile. “You’re pretty handy to have around,” I said.

Derek turned his head to throw me a provocative look. “You have no idea,” he said. His wicked grin conjured up all sorts of seductive images that had me warming up inside again. I smiled back at him and let my mind wander off to places I hadn’t yet been, but that I’d imagined in fairly great detail. Our trip home was extremely stimulating.

********

The next day, Leah and I enjoyed an unseasonably warm walk home from school. I’d already begun my daily goodbye followed by my newest excuse why I couldn’t stay for dinner.

As we neared her mailbox, we saw a young girl standing on Leah’s front steps.

“Isn’t it a little early for cookies?” Leah asked, no doubt referring to the girl’s beige and green wilderness uniform.

I thought it a little odd, too, but didn’t become really wary until we took a few more steps and I saw the woman standing beside the girl, leaning against the house beside Leah’s front door. The way she smiled at me started a thread of apprehension weaving its way down my spine.

“It sure is,” I agreed absently. “Come on,” I said, urging Leah up her driveway. “I wouldn’t mind having some cookies for the holidays.”

As we approached, the young girl turned toward us, smiling in the overly cheerful way that salespersons usually do.

“Would you like to buy some cookies?” The child directed her question to Leah.

She looked to be about twelve years old. Her rusty red hair sprang from under her cap in a frizzy tangle. Her features were nondescript other than the smattering of particularly large freckles across her pert nose. She was cute and looked absolutely nothing like the woman who accompanied her.

About fifty or so, the woman’s sable hair was cut in a chic chin-length bob that was longer in the front and shorter in the back. Her long, oval face was sheathed in skin so pale it appeared translucent. Her dark eyes held the shrewd look of a business woman and she was dressed for the part, her curvaceous body wrapped in a tight black skirt and matching blouse.

“Yum, I’d love some,” Leah said lightly. “Give me just a minute.”

Leah moved past the girl to her front door. She swung the storm door open wide, nearly hitting the woman behind it. Neither of them flinched.

“Would you like to buy some, too?” The little girl looked toward me, smiling hopefully.

As I looked down on her, the wind blew softly, rustling in the girl’s copper curls. It carried a hint of something unpleasant in its cool blanket, some sickeningly sweet, putrid smell that swirled around my face. I froze.

“Hello, Carson,” the woman said, pushing herself away from where she leaned up against the house. Her ruby-red lips turned up at the corners. “You’re looking particularly fetching today.” Though her voice was distinctly feminine, it had the sultry, husky sound of a smoker. And something about it made my skin crawl in recognition.

“What are you looking at?” The child’s question startled me. When I dropped my eyes to her, she was looking toward the woman blankly. Then she raised her confused blue eyes to me.

She wasn’t the only one that was confused. I stood, rooted to my spot, with no idea what to do, looking back and forth between the woman and the girl.

Just then Leah returned with some money. “All I could find was ten bucks,” she said, stepping out onto the stoop in front of the girl. “Are they still five dollars a box?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the girl said with a sweet grin.

Then the woman spoke, “Such a sweet and pretty girl, isn’t she? Leah, I mean.”

Leah and the child exchanged money and information, the little girl writing it on her order sheet. They both acted as if they hadn’t heard the woman speak.

“It would be a shame for her to fall into harm’s way, wouldn’t it?”

My heart lurched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Huh?” Both Leah and the girl were looking at me in confusion.

“Just that as long as you don’t do anything reckless, Leah will be enjoying her cookies by Christmas,” the woman said, her chilling smile widening to reveal perfectly straight, glaringly white teeth.

Leah was still looking at me strangely. “Carson?”

“Sorry, what?”

“Would you like some cookies, too?”

“I, um,” I said, looking back and forth between Leah and the woman who’d moved to stand right behind Leah. “I, uh, I don’t think so. I- I changed my mind, but thank you.”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Sorry,” I said, shaking my head, trying to ignore the woman as she raised her hand to pinch one of Leah’s dark curls between her scarlet-tipped fingers. “I was just thinking about something else. I’ll just see you tomorrow, k?”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yep,” I said as lightly as I could manage. That seemed to have helped. Leah’s wrinkled brow smoothed somewhat at my response.

I turned and made my way down the driveway. As I turned onto the sidewalk, I looked back up at Leah. The woman was gone; only Leah and the little girl remained on the stoop.

Hurrying home, I quelled the urge to run, knowing Leah could see me if she stepped out into her yard. When I reached my mailbox, I got the mail and continued up my driveway as was my habit. The garage door was closed, but I silently prayed that Derek’s bike was hiding behind it.

And it must have been because when I turned the front door knob, it was already unlocked and Derek sat in the living room floor cleaning my father’s Glock. Relief flooded me.

I closed the front door and leaned back against it, closing my eyes.

“What’s wrong?” The question was innocuous enough, but I could hear the sharpness of anxiety in his voice.

“Fahl was at Leah’s.”

Derek was on his feet in an instant. “What? What happened?”

I described the encounter to him, leaving nothing out. The furrow in his brow grew deeper and deeper as I spoke.

“What could that possibly mean?”

His only response was a humph.

“Why am I seeing him? And now in the light?”

“He can travel outside the shadows. He’s dead, but he’s also… something else.”

“What do you think it means? Why is he stalking me?”

Derek watched me carefully, his expression unfathomable. “Your time might be coming.”

“What?” My heart sank. “So soon?”

“It’s impossible to know when, but…”

“How long do I have?”

Derek shrugged in that way that I loved. “Hard to say.”

I fought against that claustrophobic feeling that the world was closing in on me. I reminded myself that I was a survivor and that I wasn’t going down without a fight. My confidence was wavering, though, with the idea that my time might be imminent.

We ate dinner that night in silence, both of us lost in thought. Later, in the wee hours of the morning, I stirred at the sound of my bedside lamp switch clicking off. Fear rose inside me at the darkness that surrounded my bed until I felt Derek’s weight as he sank into the mattress beside me.

Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around me and I snuggled into his bare chest, reveling in the intoxicating scent of him. And though his presence was comforting, he’d never been in my bed before and I felt the significance of it, like a nail of finality in the coffin of my circumstance.

The days that followed drifted by in a haze of desperation and awareness. There might as well have been a giant clock with glowing red numbers hanging over my head, counting down the days to my summons. Only the invisible clock that ticked away inside me had no numbers, no way of letting me know exactly how long I had left and, crazy as it might sound, that was the most disconcerting thing of all—not knowing.

********

Two weeks later, I sat in front of the Christmas tree, drinking my coffee, staring at the single, cheerfully-wrapped package that lay beneath it. My curiosity was at fever pitch. The gift had arrived last night. I’d noticed it when I’d come into the living room looking for Derek. He was gone when I woke up.

He’d left sometime while I slept, like he was doing more often of late. I never knew where he went, what he was doing or how long he was gone. I just knew that it was making me more and more uncomfortable as the days went by. At this point, I’d shifted from uncomfortable to downright suspicious.

Just then, I heard the roar of Derek’s bike as he zoomed up the driveway. I didn’t move, choosing to wait patiently where I was for him to come inside. And he did.

He came through the front door, carrying a bag with golden arches on the side. He smiled when he saw me sitting in front of the Christmas tree. “You’re up early. Aren’t you supposed to sleep in when school’s out?”

I smiled a sleepy smile in response.

Dropping a quick kiss on my lips as he passed, Derek took the bag into the kitchen. “Want some breakfast?”

“I’m not very hungry,” I said flatly.

I heard Derek’s boots clacking on the linoleum as he crossed the kitchen back toward the living room. “Is something wrong?” He asked, poking his head around the corner to look at me.

I said nothing at first, knowing that I wouldn’t get a straight answer if I asked the question that was always hovering at the back of my mind. Instead, I said, “Where’d this package come from?”

“The store,” he said with a mischievous grin.

“Duh,” I said, trying a brighter smile in return. I failed miserably, though. It’s not an easy task when your heart is heavy.

“You’ll just have to wait and see when you open it,” he said, turning back into the kitchen. “Come and eat.”

As I listened to the crackle of the fast food bag, I tried to push the doubts and reservations from my mind and pull out my most convincing “normal” demeanor. When I felt like I had been moderately successful, I reluctantly got up and went into the kitchen.

Over a sausage, egg and cheese biscuit, I did my best to smile a lot and chat about all the things I might normally chat about. But behind my attentive eyes and easy laugh I was elsewhere, hatching a plan. And though it gave me a modicum of comfort to be in control of something, I could feel my mood growing darker and darker as the day wore on.

By the time the sun had set, I was extremely anxious and my heart felt like lead in my chest. I had let myself care far too much for Derek, especially considering that I hardly knew anything about him. I’d let my emotions have free reign and now that misstep was coming back to bite me. And it had nasty teeth.

I was not to be deterred, however, so that night, true to the habit we’d fallen into, I got ready for bed and laid down, leaving my bedside lamp to shine brightly into the corners. I turned on my side and closed my eyes. I slowed my breathing as much as I could and purposely relaxed my muscles, pretending to fall asleep. But inside, I was a bundle of nerves. I just hoped that if Derek could feel my anxiety, he’d attribute it to something else. It’s not like there was a lack of sources of turmoil in my life.

About two hours after I’d gone to bed, I heard Derek’s footsteps. They padded softly across my bedroom floor and stopped beside the bed. He must’ve been watching me because there was a full minute’s delay before he turned off the light and slid into bed beside me.

As usual, he pulled me into his arms and, as usual, I went willingly. His lips brushed my forehead and he whispered something I couldn’t quite make out before he stilled. I lay perfectly motionless until I heard his breathing become deep and even.

I don’t know how long we lay like that. I must’ve dozed off at some point because I came awake when Derek gently shifted and pulled away. I let him rearrange my limbs, making them as heavy and limp as possible. Then I listened as he quietly made his way from my room.

As soon as I heard the door from the kitchen open and close, I leapt up and threw on the jeans and sweatshirt that I had readied just inside my closet. I pushed my feet into my shoes and hurried to the door.

Derek quietly slid the garage door open and I watched as he pushed his bike down the driveway. I grabbed the Camaro keys from the hook beside the door and stepped out into the garage.

When he fired up the motorcycle’s engine, I ran to the car and started it as well. As soon as he was out of sight, I backed out of the driveway and flew down the street after him.

I reached the stop sign and said a silent prayer that he took a left. That was the direction that most everything was from my house so I figured that’s the way he’d go. I made the turn and sped up, looking for the single tail light of his bike.

Finally, it came into view. I slowed to avoid him paying too much attention to who was behind him. I just needed to keep him barely in sight, just enough to see if and when he turned.

We made several turns. Never did he drive any differently or let on that he knew I was back there. I could only assume that I had remained undetected.

After a few minutes, I found that I was anticipating his moves and that was because the roads were familiar to me. I knew where he was going.

Derek made the final right turn that would take him to the forks. I hung back so that he could drive ahead and not see me stop behind him. I killed the lights, pulled the car onto the shoulder and parked, climbing out quickly and making my way across the road and into the forest. I assumed he was going to the clearing and decided I would take a slightly different path to it so that he wouldn’t hear me following him.

It took me a bit longer to get there from my convoluted approach, but when I reached the small open area in the woods, my suspicion was confirmed. There, standing in the middle of the bare trees, was Derek. He was perfectly still and silent, as if he was waiting, but for what I didn’t know.

After several minutes, he finally turned as if he’d heard something. I looked toward the tree line and my heart sank.