4

"It's too late. They know. We have to leave."
Although it was as if she were stating the obvious, the words cut deep as he began to comprehend the extent to which things had already progressed. He knew these things were inevitable but he could not have predicted its speed.
“Where? Where can we go? The hole?”
“No, the hole is too dangerous now. They will be all over it.”
“Then where?”
Both stood rigid as they heard someone approaching. With Dwayne’s father close in tow, the old man trudged up the path, his flash light scanning the low foliage around him.
She spoke once more. Softer now. “Follow me.”

The shadows of the boat shed enveloped them. A small yacht bobbed silently in the dock. Sails down. She hesitated momentarily before unsheathing a blade. In the darkness Dwayne went red as he mentally compared the blade with his pocket knife. A thought entering Dwayne’s mind around this point would have looked something like, ‘Since when did they start issuing those to scouts?’ or maybe, ‘Damn, she looks fine.’ Either way he had no time to contemplate such things as the pier came alive. He froze. Most people have two reactions to a threatening situation which they choose from instantaneously. Fight or flight. Dwayne had neither. A stunned mullet on the jetty.

He stayed like that well into the night, even once they were a good distance off shore. When he tried to apologies, she just shrugged. “You’re gonna have to start thinking quicker if you want to stay alive?
A bead of red seeped through the back of her shirt.
“Sleep.”
“What?” He stammered, still looking at her back.
“Sleep, you’re gonna need it.”
She placed a rig in the water then lay on her front with a finger under the nylon line and slept.
(Tag To Nick)