Chapter Text
The handle turned when I tested it, and my mouth dropped open—the guards actually forgot to lock the door. I didn’t want to call it luck, not yet, but I eased the door open all the same.
I poked my head as far into the hall as I dared, glancing left and right quickly at first, then again more slowly, and saw the same thing both times: nothing.
The hallway was empty.
Even just looking around gave me a headache, the crack in my glasses doing nothing to help me get a grip on my surroundings. I swallowed hard, my heart beating faster in my chest, then stepped out of my room and quietly closed the door behind me.
This is a bad idea, I thought frantically—didn’t say it because I didn’t want anyone to overhear me—but that didn’t stop me from taking one step down the hall. Then another. And another.
What was I doing? I was going to get myself killed! I didn’t even know the way out!
…except my feet carried me to the left, and I realized that wasn’t quite true. I knew the paths between the three rooms I was allowed to frequent, and I knew which side hall was strangely colder than the rest and sometimes carried a light breeze, like it had a door that opened to the outside.
Oh god oh god oh god.
I moved as fast as I dared, trying to keep my footsteps light while panic crept up my chest and made it hard to breathe—or maybe that was the bruises layered on my neck.
I crept through the halls for what felt like ages until I finally turned a corner and caught sight of a door that looked different from the rest—weathered and warping in its frame. I took one more look around my immediate surroundings, but still didn’t see anyone. I only had one shot at this; if Clay caught me, he would kill me.
I took a deep breath, braced myself, and ran at the door with all my strength.
I burst out into fresh air, bright sunlight blinding me, and I lifted a hand up to shield my eyes but didn’t slow down. I heard a few shouts, but the advantage of surprise gave me a headstart and they quickly fell behind. I kept going, panic giving me strength even as it made it harder to breathe.
My eyes adjusted to the light. I didn’t dare look behind me, worried I would trip and fall on the uneven ground. I was in a- valley? Maybe? Hills on either side of me, dry grass underfoot, and a treeline ahead. My lungs burned as I gasped for air, my body weakened from starving, and I couldn’t even hear the sound of my own footsteps over my panting breaths. I didn’t know how far I could run, but if I made it into the trees then maybe I could hide.
A sharp burst of gunfire split the air, bullets spraying into the ground next to me and throwing up a cloud of dust. I flinched and veered to the side, but nothing hit me. I heard more shouting, and couldn’t tell if they were yelling at me or at whoever just shot at me; Clay probably didn’t want anyone else to hurt me.
I made it into the trees, crashing through the undergrowth. I was wheezing, barely able to breathe at all, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop, because I knew if Clay caught me then he’d kill me. I was surely leaving behind an easy to follow trail, but I’d worry about that once I got farther ahead-
The ground disappeared from underneath me.
I felt like a cartoon character as my momentum carried me forward another few feet, my legs pinwheeling wildly in the air, and then I fell.
It wasn’t a graceful fall. I tumbled head over feet, the ground and sky spinning wildly around me and making me sick. I couldn’t see where I was going, couldn’t control my descent at all, could only wrap my arms around my head and pray I didn’t crack my skull open on a rock. Branches snapped against my skin, leaf litter flying around me like confetti as I fell further, and further, and-
I hit something hard enough to jar every bone in my body, and everything went dark.
I opened my eyes to find myself flat on my back, staring up at the tree canopy.
Ow.
Everything hurt. Like really, really hurt.
The sun was way too bright and I had to close my eyes again in order to think. Right—escape, running, falling.
I had to get farther away, but I should make sure I hadn’t broken anything first.
I didn’t open my eyes, instead carefully tested my range of motion because I didn’t want to be surprised by bones sticking through skin. I felt like I had a million bruises, and every inhale pulled at a dull ache in my chest, but somehow I didn’t think anything was broken. I cracked my eyes open to make sure, and yep, I was still in one piece. Covered in dirt and leaves, but whole.
I laid back on the ground and slowly took stock of my surroundings—the sun was still in the sky, so I hadn’t been unconscious for too long, and though I no longer heard the shouts of my pursuers that didn’t mean they weren’t there. My glasses were gone, lost somewhere in the fall, and I wasn’t going to take the time to search for them. I tilted my head to the side to look up at where I’d fallen from, surprised to see a steep hill several hundred feet tall—at least it looked that high from my position lying on the ground.
I had to get out of there. My tumble bought me a little bit of a head start, and I wasn’t going to waste it.
Getting out of there proved to be a more difficult process than anticipated. Every movement took ten times the normal amount of energy to execute, and all of them hurt, like every single muscle was bruised. I very slowly managed to push myself to my hands and knees, the world spinning a lot more than it should’ve. I grabbed a nearby tree to help drag myself to my feet, but as soon as I put weight on my left leg it buckled, and I nearly hit the ground again as I stifled a scream.
I breathed stiffly through the pain, clenching my jaw to keep from making any noise and broadcasting my position to anyone following me. I snatched a stick off the ground near me to use as a makeshift cane, then sent one last glance up at where I’d come from. There was a rather obvious drag path through the undergrowth where I’d fallen, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that.
I looked to either side of me, my stomach dropping when I realized that if I’d been even a hundred feet to the left I would’ve gone off the edge of a cliff instead of tumbling relatively gently down a hill.
I’d been lucky so far, but I needed to get far away before anyone found me.
I hobbled off as fast as I could.
I shivered and wrapped my free arm around my middle to try and retain heat. I’d been walking for what felt like hours and had seen nothing but forest in that time. The sun was setting, the air gaining a chill that had me worrying about my jeans and thin t-shirt. It wasn’t too cold yet, but I had no idea how cold it would get—I didn’t know what country I was in. Or heck, what continent. I could be literally anywhere in the world.
Okay, not anywhere. I was in the forest in a mountainous area, so that narrowed it down some. The trees were mostly coniferous, though they didn’t look particularly familiar. I didn’t recognize the birds either, so I probably wasn’t in North America, but that still left several continents to pick from. Once the stars came out I’d be able to tell what hemisphere I was in, but aside from keeping my mind busy I didn’t know how much that would help me. I could try to climb a tree and get a lay of the land, but honestly I didn’t trust myself not to fall.
Besides, all of that was secondary. My primary objective was to get as far away from Clay as possible, which meant not stopping.
One of the things I’d taught my students was that if they got lost in the woods, they should stop and sit and wait for rescue to come to them, as otherwise they would only get more lost. That wasn’t going to work in my case; the only people who had cause to look for me around here were people that I really did not want to find me. So walking it was.
I’d been heading vaguely downhill the whole time I’d been traveling, which was the only confirmation I had that I was in fact moving away from Clay and not just walking in circles.
I shivered again and swapped which hand held Sticky—I’d traded out the stick several times before finding one that was the right height, which I promptly named Sticky McStickerson. He was my only company, okay?
I stuck my now freed hand under my armpit to warm up and glanced at the sky, worrying my lip between my teeth. Dusk was rapidly approaching, and I still hadn’t seen any sign of civilization. Should I stop and rest for the night? Walking would keep me warmer than sitting unless I built a fire, but I didn’t think I wanted to risk Clay seeing smoke. Walking also carried the danger of wandering off a cliff in the dark—and I knew there were cliffs around here, I’d nearly fallen off several. I’d have to find someplace safe and dry to stay if I stopped, but if it got cold enough then no amount of hunkering down would save me.
In the end I kept walking. It was partly because I didn’t want to risk Clay catching up, but also because stopping required too many decisions about where to rest and if I should build a fire and a million other little considerations. It was easier to keep going because I didn’t have to think as much—which was good, because it was getting harder and harder to think as the day wore on.
Night now, I thought, glancing up at the sky to see some stars peeking out. Hey, I was in the northern hemisphere! Didn’t really help, but it was something to focus on. I couldn’t keep track of the stars for long though, because a set of dark clouds rolled in, obscuring the sky and making it even harder to see my surroundings.
There was part of me that was tempted to lie down, to give up. Clay as good as killed me already.
But I didn’t want to die. And screw it, I didn’t want Clay to be my cause of death. I’d finally gotten away from him! I wasn’t going to die now.
So I kept walking. For ages. Getting progressively colder and more tired as I stumbled downhill. At least I was still shivering, which I took as a good sign as it meant my body was still functioning properly, but it was hard to be appreciative when my teeth wouldn’t stop chattering.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it started raining. Drizzling, really, but any amount of water was deadly to me. I had no layers on, was already dangerously cold, and had no idea where the closest living human was that didn’t want me dead.
God, it was cold. The only reason I still had a grip on Sticky was because my fingers had frozen around him—okay, not actually frozen, as it wasn’t that cold out, but it felt like they were frozen. I couldn’t move them, could barely feel them. If I had literally anything more than jeans and a t-shirt on, this would’ve been a lot more feasible. Or if I hadn’t lost so much weight. But no, I was cold and wet and tired and really wanted to lie down and go to sleep.
No, bad idea, Ryland! Don’t go to sleep here or you might never wake up!
I shook my head, but that did nothing to clear the fog from my thoughts. I just had to keep walking, that was it. That was fine. I could do that.
I just had to keep walking. Just a little further and I’d find someplace safe.
I had to keep walking. I’d run into someone eventually, right?
I had to walk. I couldn’t let Clay catch up with me.
I walked. Every step felt like a monumental effort, but I couldn’t stop.
I walked.
And walked.
And walked.
And-
I saw a light up ahead.
I tripped over my feet in surprise, barely catching myself with Sticky. I only saw the light for a moment before it disappeared again, and I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t imagined it, but I kept going in that direction anyway. Had I reached the “hallucinating” stage of hypothermia? Actually, were hallucinations even a symptom of hypothermia? I felt like I should know the answer, but my brain was one giant block of ice, trapping my thoughts inside.
Another flash. Then another.
Okay, so I hadn’t imagined it. I didn’t think the light was actually flashing, I was probably just catching glimpses of it through the undergrowth, but what mattered was that there was light, and light meant people. People who weren’t Clay.
Well, who probably weren’t Clay. Unless I’d stumbled upon another one of his torture-bunkers. I doubted he’d have more than one—that didn’t seem very practical. Then again, nothing Clay did ever seemed practical, so who the heck knew?
Besides, even if it was another of Clay’s bunkers, I wouldn’t survive much longer without outside help. I’d stopped shivering at some point, couldn’t feel my fingers or toes, and I’d even dropped Sticky. The only thing I could think of was getting closer to that light. It was a miracle I didn’t walk right off a cliff.
I broke through the treeline and finally caught sight of the building in front of me—a small farmhouse-looking place, with lights on inside that were only slightly blocked by curtains. I couldn’t see much, but I saw shadows moving.
People. Real, living, people.
I nearly collapsed right there, but I wasn’t safe yet. It took an eternity to limp up to the door, my breath misting in the air, my damp shirt sticking to my skin. My vision swam in and out of focus as I put all of my concentration on not collapsing while also trying to string together a coherent sentence asking for help. I really hoped I wasn’t in the US and whoever was inside would actually help me.
I knocked on the door, unable to stop my hand from shaking in a way that turned the attempted purposeful knock into frantic thumping. Someone inside said something in a language I was pretty sure wasn’t English, but I also didn’t trust my ears to work correctly. I knocked again, as I couldn’t gather the breath to say anything in response.
The door cracked open, and I found myself staring at a middle aged man. He opened it even wider upon seeing me, bright light shining across my face, and I saw the vague outline of a woman standing somewhere behind him. All the pleas I’d come up with vanished from my head as the warmth from inside their house washed over me.
“Help,” I croaked, and promptly collapsed.
Hands picked me up, moved me around.
I wanted to flinch but I didn’t have the energy to.
I heard people talking, but I couldn’t open my eyes.
I had to keep moving. I couldn’t stop now. Clay could be right behind me.
I tried to push myself to my feet, but my limbs didn’t respond correctly and all I managed was some vague flailing.
“Signore? Sta bene?” A hand touched my shoulder and I flinched, ingrained instinct from Clay telling me to make myself smaller.
But- no, I’d gotten away from Clay. Hadn’t I?
I forced my eyes open, and I didn’t recognize my surroundings. Wooden floor and a worn couch and pictures hanging on the walls. It looked… homey. Not like someplace Clay would keep me. Someone knelt next to me, and I was vaguely aware of blankets draped across my body.
“Please,” I rasped, trying and failing to focus on the blurry form next to me. “Please don’t send me back. I’m not- I can’t-”
The man said something else that I didn’t understand and started to back up, but I grabbed onto the hem of his pants.
“Please,” I said, my eyes filling with tears. “Please don’t send me back.” Even if Clay didn’t punish me for escaping—which he certainly would—I wouldn’t last much longer with him no matter what.
I must’ve blacked out, because the next time I opened my eyes the woman knelt in front of me instead of the man. I’d been moved, too. There was a fire roaring somewhere close by, washing over me in almost unbearable heat, hot and scalding. Even more blankets were draped over me, my wet shirt and pants piled on the floor nearby, and I was shivering hard enough that I felt like my brain was about to rattle out of my skull—but at least I was shivering again.
The woman smiled when she saw my eyes open.
“Please,” I mumbled, unsure if she even understood me.
“It’s alright,” she said, her voice carrying an accent I didn’t recognize. “You’re safe now.” I didn’t know if that was true. Didn’t know if Clay had followed me here, if I’d unwittingly led him right to this lovely couple and doomed them.
“What’s your name?” She asked.
It took me a moment to get my voice working again. “Grace,” I mumbled. “Ry- Ryland Grace. I’m on- Hail Mary. I’m part of- Project Hail Mary.” Speaking was hard, my voice a strangled rasp, and every word felt like it tore up my throat. “Please, you can’t- he’s gonna- don’t let him-”
“It’s alright,” she repeated. “You’re safe now.”
I didn’t know if I believed her, but I lost the strength to keep my eyes open.
The next time I became aware of my surroundings there were even more people in the room. I flinched as they moved around me, but that blended in with the way I couldn’t stop shivering and I didn’t think they noticed.
“Sir?” Yet another person knelt near me, his hand wrapped around my wrist—feeling for a pulse, I was pretty sure. “Sir, can you tell me your name?”
“G- Grace,” I stammered, then frowned—hadn’t I already told someone?
Had I? I couldn’t remember.
“‘m Grace, with the- with H- Hail Mary,” my teeth chattered so hard I nearly bit my tongue in half. The man said something that I didn’t understand, and I wasn’t sure if I should blame that on the language he spoke or if the ringing in my ears had drowned out his words.
“What happened to you?” He asked. It was hard to think. My brain felt like it was on fire even though I was freezing. I couldn’t feel my fingers or toes, couldn’t feel the ground beneath me or the blankets on top of me. “Sir?” He reached towards my neck and I flinched away before realizing that he was only pulling the blankets down. Probably staring at the bruises Clay left behind.
The thought of Clay filled me with enough terror to clear my mind momentarily, and I grabbed at his arm with all of my strength—which wasn’t much.
“C- Clay,” I said, my lips and face numb from the cold. “You can’t- he’s gonna- don’t send me back. P- please.”
“Who?” The man took my hand in his, and I couldn’t tell if it was meant to be a comforting gesture or not.
“Clay,” I rasped. “Clay. D- don’t send me back to him. You can’t.”
“Alright,” the man said. “You’re alright, we won’t send you anywhere.”
I didn’t know if I could trust him—what if he worked for Clay?—but I was too tired to argue.
I dropped my hand from his arm, going limp against the ground.
I felt more people move me, and by the time I opened my eyes, I was outside. The drizzling from earlier had increased to a steady downpour, but even through the dark clouds I realized the sky was getting lighter. The sun was rising.
How long had I been unconscious?
The air was cold on my face, but the rest of my body was tucked securely under blankets. I missed the warmth of the fire, pins and needles stabbing across my skin as I shivered.
I was loaded into a vehicle and immediately missed the sight of the sky. I didn’t want to be trapped. Not again. The same man from earlier sat with me.
“Don’t send me back,” I mumbled. He looked up sharply, like he hadn’t noticed I was awake. “You can’t send me back.”
“You’re not going back,” he assured me. “We’re taking you away to someplace safe, alright?”
I managed to nod—away was good. Away was safe. Away meant that Clay couldn’t get me.
That time when I slipped into unconsciousness, I didn’t try to fight it.