NEBRASKA
The first ten feet were the worst. A sharp drop straight down sent Maggie falling into a black abyss. A ledge caught her, pine needles breaking the impact. Somehow she had managed to not cry out though she landed on her right shoulder again. If Griffin had heard the scuffle it would only be seconds, maybe a minute if she was lucky, before he realized where she had gone.
She forced her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Even the parking lights didn’t add a glow of illumination. She knew the ridge continued down, she just didn’t know how far. She pushed up to her knees and tested the small ledge she had landed on. Then she turned around, started scooting down on her butt, feetfirst, testing and feeling. It wasn’t quite as steep.
She glanced up. Still no flashlight aimed down to find her. She allowed herself to slide, bracing her hands in front of her. She wouldn’t be able to grab onto much but she could protect her face and head from slamming into a tree.
The sand gave way and she began to skid. She lost her balance. Her body twisted and she was sliding on her side.
Too fast, way too fast.
Branches lashed out, stabbing and scraping her skin. She needed to slow down, but she couldn’t get a grip. Couldn’t stop. Her bound wrists kept her from grabbing a rock or branch. Her hands became fists trying to protect and getting battered. Her body became a toboggan rolling over anything in its way, her hip bumping a tree trunk and sending her up against another. Branches snapped and cracked, stinging her arms, whipping at her face, catching her hair.
Then suddenly she landed a second time. On her back.
She stared up at the pine trees. In the complete darkness the patches of sky were bright with twinkling stars. She saw the top of the ridge above her. Dear God, it had to be at least sixty feet, more than six stories tall.
In the silence she heard an owl and the constant hum of cicadas. She lay perfectly still, knocked out of breath, certain that if she lifted her head she’d feel the dizziness at full force.
A branch snapped. Somewhere to the left of her there was a rustle of leaves. She forced herself to stay quiet, to not move. It wasn’t possible. Griffin couldn’t have made it to the bottom of the ridge before her.
Just an animal, she told herself. Then in the same breath she remembered it could be a coyote or cougar.
Calm down. Please heart, stop racing. Breathe. You need to breathe.
Her body ached. Her knuckles and elbows were scraped raw and bleeding. The zip tie had dug into her wrists and cut deep. The pain in her shoulder burned. But she had made it to the bottom. She’d gotten away.
That’s when she saw the beam of a flashlight sweep over the ridge.