Grant proceeded to tell me his plan. He and I would head down the same path, only he would run ahead of me, clearing the way and marking spots for us to set up traps. I’d walk alone, trailing behind him. As if that wasn’t scary enough, I’d have to "pretend" to be weak and injured. Grant’s thought was that if I appeared vulnerable enough, it might lure some of the other groups’ members out of hiding.

He assured me that even though I wouldn’t be able to see him, he’d be close by. I knew he wouldn’t intentionally let anything happen to me. It was the unintentional things that worried me. The unexpected surprises or plans that might blow up in our faces that terrified me the most. We had been lucky so far; very lucky. As my confidence began to fade, reality snuck its ugly head back in to remind me that I didn’t have to fake being vulnerable. I was vulnerable. We both were.

The cabin was close enough that we could make it there in a short amount of time. Had this been a legitimate, real camp, the trek to their cabin would have been considered a daily walk that I could have done easily. I’d always enjoyed hiking and being out in nature. But after being malnourished, dehydrated, and mentally and physically exhausted, the walk may as well have been a marathon race.

Of course we hoped we wouldn’t run into anyone at all. Not only because we wanted to avoid any physical confrontation, but because it would also allow us time to fully prepare. Using whatever we had in our backpack, we concocted different types of traps in our heads.

"I can make a snare with the last of the rope," Grant told me.

I have him an inquisitive look and he went on to explain that he knew how to make certain slip knots that would tighten around someone’s ankle if they stepped into its loop. It reminded me of a Saturday morning cartoon as I listened to Grant describe it. I couldn’t picture anyone getting swooped up by their ankle by a makeshift trap we would make from a rope hung over a tree branch, but Grant was adamant that it would work.

He would mark the areas for me so I wouldn’t be the one to walk right into it and end up hanging upside down, swaying from the tree’s limbs like a carnival prize or under-stuffed piñata.

"Where’d you learn how to make these anyway?" I asked him as he tied one.

He shrugged. "My uncle and cousins used to take me camping, hiking, hunting...I guess I learned stuff from them."

I wanted to ask him about his dad, since he hadn’t mentioned him, but held back. I wasn’t sure how comfortable he’d be sharing so much personal information with me. Instead, I just nodded and waited.

"That’s the last of the rope," he said. "Let’s hope this works."

With a deep breath, we headed out onto the path. Grant gave me one last long look before assuring me we would both be fine and then took off ahead of me. I counted to one hundred slowly in my head before following him.

It was strange being out there all by myself. It was quiet, with only the periodic chirp of a bird or soft wind interrupting my thoughts. The hot sun beat down on my head, so I tried to keep my face down with my eyes focused on my feet. It wasn’t difficult to appear injured or weak; that’s exactly what I was in reality. I walked at a steady, but slow, pace keeping my eyes open for Grant’s secret markings on any of the trees.

Just as I began to wonder if the sweat that was forming on my brow was from worry or from the summer sun, I saw a large tree branch bent almost completely in half. It dangled down toward the dirt and I knew that was Grant’s first marking for me to show I was going in the right direction. I exhaled a breath of relief and kept walking.

I walked blindly along, looking out for the small signals Grant had left me as he had run ahead. With the sun shining so brightly, it was difficult to see my surroundings. The glare of the sun’s rays, plus the heavy heat, made me squint my eyes and try my best to shade my face with my hands. My head had been throbbing with a headache for days and figuring the heat wasn’t helping, I decided to focus on my feet and keep my face bent down toward the ground.

I pulled at the black shirt I wore, fanning the hot air in and out through the neckline. Sweat had soaked the back of my neck and was dripping down my forehead. With Grant having gone ahead of me to set traps for anyone that may cross our path, my only job was to walk along and be on the lookout for his markings. I followed every bent tree branch on my way back to the cabin where I’d been kidnapped. We had all been led there under one false camp or another, all kidnapped and held in the basement, chained up like wild animals.

The more I thought about it, the sicker I felt. But I couldn’t push it from my mind. Gina and Dean’s faces would flash into my mind without warning. Of all the emotions I had raging through me, anger was now the most prevalent. I’d gone through fear, sadness, anxiety, and hopelessness. Somehow, somewhere deep down inside of me, I still had the will to survive and the determination to get off that island.

I took it one step at a time. Just as I was about to say to myself how lucky it was to have not run into anyone, I heard a rustling from the trees on my right. Hoping it was Grant, I side-glanced over without slowing down. I couldn’t see much more than a quick dash of black within the leaves, but that was enough for me to know it wasn’t Grant. Taking a deep breath, I steadied my nerves and kept going. A broken tree branch up ahead gave me some solace, as I knew Grant wasn’t too far up ahead of me.

More rustling in the trees next to me made me flinch and force myself not to stop to look. I braced myself. Within seconds, a tall, lanky guy in a matching black t-shirt like the one I was wearing strutted out of the trees and stood directly in front of me in the dirt. He grinned a toothy smile while folding his arms across his bony chest.

"Hiya," he sneered. "You out here all my yourself? That can’t be too safe."

I stopped in my tracks, eager to keep the short distance between us. When I didn’t respond, he kept talking.

"Where are all your buddies? Oh, wait. I think I remember now. My team killed your team."

My eyes darted past his shoulders, hopefully scanning the area for a trap of Grant’s. I grew nervous when I couldn’t find any.

"Where are my manners?" he continued. "My name is Johnny. And you are?"

I dropped my hands to my sides and remained silent.

"Well, it doesn’t matter, I guess," he shrugged. "You don’t gotta tell me your name. I just like to know the names of those I’m about to...dispose of."

He took a slow step toward me and I steeled myself. Adrenaline made my stomach turn and I balled up my fists. I could feel my fingernails dig into my skin. I tried to keep one eye on him while still glancing around us. There had to be a trap somewhere.

He took another step and when his foot kicked up against a rock, he reached down and picked it up. Tossing the rock between his two dirty hands, he smiled again. The sides of his pale face were sunburned red. I looked away and scanned the ground. Along a tree to my right, I finally saw it. A rope was laid out and covered with some dried leaves. It had to be a snare of  Grant’s. I just hoped I could lead this guy, Johnny, into it and that it would work.

I side-stepped over toward the trees. Johnny, of course, shadowed my movements, assuming he would cut me off. When I stepped forward, so did he.

"What’s up, girl? Wanna dance?" he joked.

"No, thanks. You’re not my type," I replied.

His smile faded and I could see anger growing in his beady eyes. I used the next few seconds to take larger paces into the wooded area while he contemplated his next move. The snare trap was now so close. If I angled my body the right way...

I tried to will him to keep mirroring my steps, but now he was anchored in front of me. He stood before me, watching.

"Nice shirt, by the way. Did you think you could fool us by wearing it?" he asked.

I knew if I ran, he’d chase me. If I could make it to the trap before he caught me, I would have a chance.

"Leave me alone!" I cried, trying to sound scared and nervous. My voice quivered, making him laugh.

"Oh," he said. "That’d be no fun!"

I bolted. My feet kicked off the dirt and I sprinted to the trees. Johnny had anticipated my move and he sprang into action. The look on his face told me he actually enjoyed this part, the chase. I jumped over the rope and almost toppled onto the dirt. Steadying myself, I lost precious seconds and felt his hand grip the back of my shirt.

I let out a scream as I tugged at my shirt in his hands. He wouldn’t let go, but the harder I pulled, the more he skidded toward me. Finally with one giant yank of my shirt, I fell over and landed on the ground. I watched as his foot took a step and landed on the rope’s edge. He must have felt it because he quickly glanced down. I scooted over and kicked him once. He wobbled a bit before stepping directly into the snare. At first I couldn’t tell if the trap would work. Johnny looked like he slipped. He fell backward, landing hard on his tailbone.

The rope grasped around his ankle, his long foot stopping it from falling off, before it tore across the tree branch and scooped him up into the air. In my head, I had expected it to go much smoothly. In reality, it was a bumpy ride. His leg was abruptly pulled at the socket as the rope flew across the branch. Johnny was bent at his waist with his arms reaching out to his foot when he was dragged across the hot dirt and hit up against the tree. I think watched as his body dragged upwards, heavily swaying and hitting the tree. Prickly branches poked and prodded him. I knew I should have used that opportunity to run, but I was so awestruck at the sight that I stood by and watched.

"Get me down or you’ll be sorry!" he screamed at me.

I stepped back, missing his grip as he swung by me. I wasn’t sure how long that rope would hold, so finally I turned and ran. I bolted up the path to the one broken branch I had seen, panting and hoping that trap would keep Johnny there at least long enough for me to be long gone. Grant came barreling out of the bushes, wild eyed.

"What happened?" he asked. "Did it work? It worked!"

"It worked!" I said, stopping to catch my breath. "But I don’t know how long-"

My sentence was cut off by the sound of a branch breaking in half and a loud crash. We exchanged worried looks. Johnny was wailing in pain.

"Let’s go!" Grant shouted and grabbed my hand.

We took off, unwilling to wait to see just how badly injured Johnny was from what he sounded like a nasty fall.

"How many more traps did you set?" I called out to Grant behind him.

Without turning around, he replied, “None! That was it!”

Next Chapter: Forty Two