Page 53 of The Boy Who Cried Bear
The voice outside is faint. So faint he can’t tell whether it’s a man or a woman. Even if Max screams against his gag, they’ll never hear him, and all he’ll do is make his captor mad. Better to stay still and act like he hasn’t heard anything.
His captor quickly finishes tying the knot. Then, in a guttural voice, he says, “Stay.”
Max looks up in the direction of the voice, trying to act confused. The only response is what sounds like footsteps on hard ground.
His captor is leaving.
Going to see what’s out there.
Max holds his breath and strains to listen. Soon he catches the faint sounds that Sheriff Eric taught him to listen for in the forest. A footfall. The crack of a branch.
His captor is gone and heading in the direction where Max had heard a voice.
He’s left Max with one hand untied.
Max yanks off the blindfold, and that’s a mistake, because as soon as he can see his surroundings, he pauses to take them in. It’s not dark. It’s barely even twilight. He’s in what looks like the ruins of an old shack, with a dirt floor and half a roof and—
And move! Is he going to sit here gawking at a place he needs to escape?
Max listens for any sound that might mean his captor is right outside. When nothing comes, he reaches for the rope tying his hand to a half-broken board. His fingers fly to the knot, and when he finds it loose, he almost stops, his brain screaming that it’s a trap and he has to get his blindfold back on now.
But it’s not a trap. His captor heard the voice outside and quickly finished tying Max’s hand, distracted by the possibility of an intruder.
Max finds the loosest loop and tugs. When the end doesn’t move, he tugs another and feels the give. He keeps pulling, as fast as he can, until the knot is undone and his hand is free.
He starts to pull off his gag next, and then realizes that’s the least important thing. He can handle that once he’s running, and in order to run, he needs his legs.
His feet are bound together, and it doesn’t take long for him to realize they’re tied a whole lot tighter than his hand had been. He makes himself stop frantically yanking at the knot and look around instead.
There’s a piece of broken wood a few feet away. Maybe the edge is sharp enough to saw …
Or maybe he can use his knife … which is sitting right there.
He blinks, as if he must be seeing things. No, he’s not. His knife has been left beside a couple of apples, as if his captor was using it to slice them. The blade is still open.
Max grabs the knife and starts sawing at the rope. For a second, he makes the mistake of sawing inward, and then has an image of the rope snapping and the blade cutting right into his ankle.
He gets the blade inside the rope, cutting out, and that makes it easier, pushing against the rope as he saws. The blade is sharp, and pride surges in him at that. He always keeps his knife sharp, like Sheriff Eric showed him, even when Carson said sharpening it was kinda creepy. Soon he’s throwing the rope aside and pushing to his feet and—
Max falls. His ankles give way, as if the muscles have stopped working. Or as if they’re asleep from the rope being so tight. Max is rubbing his legs hard when a shout comes from deep in the forest.
A man is shouting. He can’t tell what the man says. He doesn’t even think it’s a word. Just a shout. A cry of alarm.
Max bolts for the door. Then he pauses, runs back, and grabs two of the apples and some of the dried meat and shoves it into his pockets.
He won’t need it. He’s about to be rescued. He’s sure of that. But … just in case, that little voice whispers. Just in case whoever’s out there isn’t from Haven’s Rock.
With the food in his pockets and the knife in his hand, Max runs out the door. Then he stops short and looks around. He heard a shout, which would seem to mean that his captor is too far away to race back and catch him. But he can’t say for sure that his captor was near whoever just shouted.
Max takes it slow, peering around the gloom. There’s no sign of anyone. Just trees and more trees. No, that’s not completely true. If he listens, he can hear water. A creek maybe. That would make sense. Whoever built that shack would have put it near water.
Max keeps moving until he’s in the forest. Then he stops and listens. No other sounds have come since that single cry.
He squints in that direction and sees nothing.
Should he head that way?
If it’s a rescuer, then yes.
