[ The Watcher ]

The watcher chapter 25

Chapter 25

I plopped onto a rock. Wracked with shivers now, I folded into myself, rocking back and forth, rubbing my arms and legs. "I'm freezing. What are we going to do?"

"We're going to walk back," Emma said. She looked at me on the rock. "Don't sit. Move around."

I took her advice and hopped up, shaking out my arms and legs, desperately trying to generate a little heat. The movement made me light-headed. "Oh, my God, I'm starving, too. I haven't eaten since this morning. I mean, I drank-fortunately-but no food. How can I walk all that way with no energy? How long does it take to pass out from hunger? You'd think I'd know that kind of thing." My panic had me chattering and chatty.

Emma studied the sky, calmly taking it all in. "You think you're hungry, but you're not. That won't be the thing to kill you, anyway."

"Wow, cool. Thanks." Chafing my arms, I went to stand near her. My gaze tracked hers, sweeping the cloudy night sky. I tried to approach the problem scientifically. "This place can't be longer than four miles from end to end. I think there are some large rock formations in the center of the island, so we'll need to hike around. Our biggest concern right now is the cold."

Emma stared at me in that blank way of hers. At first I'd found a sort of appealing serenity in her stillness. But now it was just driving me batty.

"Jeez, Emma. Aren't you freaking out?" I began to jog in place. "Why are you shaking your head?"

"The biggest concern is fear. Not cold. Fear is what kills." She began to walk away.

"Wait. Where are you going?" I jogged to catch up. It was pitch-black now, and I didn't want to lose her. If fear was what would kill me, I had a decent head start.

"Dealing with first things first," she replied.

Emma found the road we'd come in on, and we backtracked a few hundred yards. I had no idea what she was doing, but she seemed to have a plan, which was more than I could say for myself.

She halted. A dead rabbit lay at our feet.

Emma squatted, studying it. The top of its body canted at an unnatural angle from the rest of it. Other than that, it was remarkably blood-free, looking ready to up and hippity-hop away, if not for the whole snapped-spine thing.

"That must be what we hit on our way out here," I said. "Can't be very auspicious to have-"

She plucked the rabbit up by the ears.

"Gah!" I skittered back a few steps. "What are you doing?"

"You're hungry."

"Not that hungry." I gave her a wary look. "I've seen the survival shows. You're not going to make me consume larvae or urine or anything like that, are you?"

She didn't laugh or even pretend to answer me. Instead, she said, "This'll help the chill, too."

I didn't want to begin to think how Emma might use roadkill to keep me warm.

Rather than going back to our original starting point, she headed toward a rock face, barely visible near the side of the road. Dropping the rabbit, she reached behind her and pulled a ginormous knife from her waistband.

"Jeez! Where'd you get that thing?" It looked like a hunting knife. One of those things with a wooden handle and garishly serrated edges, used by guys with names like Cletus or Bobby Ray.

"It was in my drawer." She patted around the boulder, snapping off small branches from what little shrubbery grew at the base.

"So you just carry it with you?"