Page 6 of Mortis

“Shit, shit, shit,” James panted. Cold air burned his lungs. “It’s right fucking behind us!”

Ollie’s eyes widened. Then, because terror had apparently destroyed whatever remained of his common sense, he snatched the camera from James’ hand.

“What are you doing?!”

Ollie didn’t answer. He twisted around and raised the camera over his shoulder, running backwards for several stumbling steps as he tried to capture whatever was chasing them.

“You absolute fucking idiot!”

James grabbed his arm and yanked him forward before he could trip over something and break his neck. When Ollie finally turned and started running properly again, he glanced down at the camera, then at James. His mouth stretched into something halfway between a grin and hysteria.

“I think I got it!”

James stared at him and nearly tripped. “Who fucking cares?!”

His best friend had officially lost his mind. His survival instincts had packed up and left, but his YouTuber instincts remained tragically intact.

They kept running. James’ lungs burned and his legs screamed. His heart hammered so violently against his ribs that he wondered if he’d somehow manage to bruise himself from the inside. There was no time to stop, not if they wanted to get out of Barrowfell Woods. It made him wish he’d spent more time on the treadmill at the gym instead of letting Ollie convince him that cardio was “a waste of gains.”

If he survived tonight, James was going to become the most cardio-obsessed bastard alive.

The pounding hooves behind them suddenly stopped. The silence was immediate, and he should’ve felt relieved. Instead, every hair on his body stood on end, because the creature hadn’t fallen behind, he knew that much.

It had simply stopped making noise.

“Keep going,” Ollie gasped, pulling ahead with the camera light bobbing wildly in front of him.

James forced his legs to keep moving, even when his knees threatened to buckle. Even when his lungs felt too small. Even when Ollie stormed even further ahead and didn’t seem to notice James falling behind.

He just had to keep running, that was all. Keep running and get out of the woods. Find the road. Find the town. Stick with Ollie.

If he kept running, everything would be okay.

It had to be.

And then he tripped.

James’ foot caught on a root hidden beneath the darkness. One second he was running, and the next, the ground rushed up to meet him. He landed hard on his chest, the impact punching every scrap of air from his lungs. For several seconds, he could do nothing but lie there, stunned, mouth opening uselessly as his body fought to breathe.

Then survival kicked back in.

James scrambled onto his hands and knees, clawing at damp leaves as he dragged himself upright. His chest burned. His palms stung. He coughed and spluttered, sucking down desperate breaths.

“Ollie?”

No answer.

The light was gone, and so was Ollie. His friend must not have realised he’d fallen. He’d kept running, taking the camera and its precious LED with him.

James turned in a slow circle, seeing nothing but darkness.

“Ollie?”

His voice disappeared between the trees.

Nothing.

Panic tightened around his throat. “OLLIE!”