The Girl in Red

This was what she’d been doing all along—frog-hopping from wooded area to wooded area, avoiding settlements if possible. Most people likely weren’t aware of just how much land was still wild in the United States, even if that land was only pockets between civilization.

“These guys are not going to want to be far from a road,” Red said. “They’re using it to transport anyone they capture, and any supplies they need. Despite the walking patrols they’d still be pretty dependent on their vehicles.”

“So their camp, or base, or whatever you’d like to call it, won’t be in the woods,” D.J. said, leaning over the map.

“If they walk along the state road here—and we know they do, since they pass us every day—then they can connect up with Sparrow Hill Road here”—he pointed to the spot—“and could follow along it for another mile or so before turning south again.”

“And if they follow the southward road here,” Red said, “they’ll come back to the state road, because it curves like a backward J there before straightening back up this way. How big would you say that loop is?”

“Perhaps six miles, give or take,” D.J. said.

“Six miles. That means a walking patrol doing a twenty-minute mile could follow the whole loop in about two hours. And you said that’s how long the patrols usually take.”

“And since it’s not the same men every time,” D.J. said, following her train of thought, “then a fresh patrol can go out quickly when the first group is ready to rest.”

“So if you’ve got it all figured out,” Sam said quickly, “then you don’t have to go out to investigate, Red. We can just avoid those roads.”

We. Red ignored the little candle that lit in her heart when Sam said we. Sam, at least, still wanted to travel with Red.

“But we have to be sure,” Red said. “What if we’re wrong? What if they are using a larger area and we’re only seeing one circuit of patrols when they’re actually sending out more? I can’t take a chance that anything will happen to you.”

“But, Red,” Sam said, and she looked down at her hands folded in her lap as she said this. “You . . . you can’t get away from them really fast.”

Red sighed. Sam didn’t mean to treat her like Poor Slow Crippled Girl. She didn’t really understand that Red could do a lot more than most people thought.

“I don’t need to get away from them really fast,” Red said. “Because I am going to use my eyes and my ears and my brains to avoid them.”

Riley tugged her sleeve again, and he leaned into her arm. “But what if they catch you?” he whispered.

Red thought of her axe, and the things she had done with it.

“I’ll make them sorry,” she said. “They’ll regret the day they tried to catch me.”

•   •   •

The next day Red was awake long before the sun was up. D.J. packed her a small sling bag with water and some food and a few other essentials, because she would be leaving her heavy pack behind. Her axe, however, went into its accustomed place on her belt.

She needed to move quickly, and while she was certain she couldn’t do the circuit in two hours she was fairly confident that she’d return by early evening—if she discovered the base.

“And if you don’t find it by midday,” D.J. said quietly, for Sam and Riley were still asleep, “you will return to us regardless and search again tomorrow. I don’t want you caught out at night. And those children will fret about you until you’re back.”

Red had told them they could see her off in the morning, but she wasn’t about to wake them. She was a little afraid that they might try to follow her, or that they would cry, and she didn’t think she could leave if they did.

Besides, the night before Riley had complained of a sore throat and Red didn’t want him getting sick because he didn’t rest.

(It’s not the Cough, though)

(It’s definitely not the Cough because their dad had it and they didn’t catch it so it’s probably just a regular kid thing a regular sort of cold and nothing to be concerned about and D.J. can give him tea with honey and by the time I come back he will be fine just fine because it’s not the Cough)

“I really wish you would take my rifle with you,” D.J. said.

“Why, so I can shoot off the only real foot I have left?” Red said. “I don’t have the first clue what to do with a rifle.”

“I can show you—”

“I told you, I don’t like guns,” Red said. “I’ve gotten this far without one and I’m not going to start using one now.”

D.J.’s lips pressed together, but he didn’t say anything else about the gun.

Red’s plan was to follow the road from as safe a distance as she could manage. If she didn’t find the base between D.J.’s house and the woods, then she would turn onto Sparrow Hill Road.