The Gender Game 2 by Bella Forrest (positive books to read txt) 📗

I needed to eat. I was burning calories with each step I took, not to mention the fever I had. My body was already in starvation mode, and it would only get worse.

I closed my eyes and forced some of the gel into my mouth. The texture made chewing unnecessary, so I just swallowed it, forcing it down past the lump in my esophagus.

Once I finished the tin, I put it back in the bag, and took a deep calming breath. It helped me focus.

I pulled out the egg. The size and shape of it was distinct. If I hid it on the southerly route I was taking, I could use the compass to get me back. Provided I knew where to start from. However, there was no guarantee that I would choose the right path. And with how slowly I was moving, gauging the hiking time was out. I needed to create a landmark that only I could recognize, but be vague enough that everyone else would overlook it.

My time was running out. I could already feel my stomach rejecting the protein gel. I concentrated on my breathing, trying to push past it.

I needed a hole, somewhere safe and dark. I could cover it with moss, and then block it with a rock. Then, I could use the cloth from my dress and hang it in the area, so I knew I was in the right place. But how to hide the rock?

The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was hopeless. There was no way I was going to be able to backtrack my way in a forest this dense. I had to carry it.

I tucked it back into the bag, my body movements leaden and weak. I shouldered the pack, and started walking again. My vision was growing gray. Not rapidly, but I noticed blurriness just at the edges of my peripheral vision.

I stumbled as a stick rolled under my foot, my ankle folding. I jerked my weight back, trying to avoid falling, but I overcompensated. My body impacted with the ground, but it took my brain a moment to register.

I groaned, and started to sit up, when a flash of silver caught my attention. Turning my head to the left, I saw a massive coil flex, the scales shimmering as it moved. Tracking the coil, I found the head looming up over me.

I gasped.

The snake stared at me, the beady eyes black and unexpressive. Its head was as big as my torso, much bigger than the one Ms. Dale scared away. Its tongue flicked out, pink and forked, tasting the air. I was aware of the sound of it breathing, like air escaping a tire. The coils tightened, and it reared back.

I rolled out of the way in time for its head to impact the ground with a snap. Adrenaline was flowing through me, cutting through the fog and pain. I continued to roll on my side, and then tucked my body. My muscle memory was working for me for once, and I managed to roll so I was up on one knee. I drew the gun from my pocket, sighting down the barrel.

The python hissed at me, the coils spooling up again. I exhaled, and squeezed the trigger, unloading the entire clip into its open mouth. I was glad the target area was so large, because even though the adrenaline was helping, I wasn’t sure I would have been able to hit a smaller mark.

The snake thrashed, blood pouring from the twelve bullet holes in its head and mouth. For a second, I thought that somehow, even with all of those bullets, I had missed the vital organs. I started to reload the clip when it suddenly collapsed, the coils slackening.

I exhaled, my breathing hard. Leaning over, I tore off my mask, and immediately emptied the contents of my stomach onto the ground. The adrenaline was receding, leaving me even more tired than when I had started. Yet again, I was faced with the option of just lying there and going to sleep.

I wasn’t sure how I kept getting back up. It was almost mechanical at this point. My body was beyond exhausted, but it was like it didn’t know how to do anything else but walk.

Picking myself up, I staggered under the weight of my bag, but remained upright. I picked up my stick, and then continued moving south. I double checked my compass, just to make sure I was reading it correctly.

I walked until I thought my vision had gone dark. It took me a while to realize the sun had set. I took out my flashlight, and began stumbling around, looking for a place to sleep. Eventually, I found two massive roots to a tree sticking out of the ground, providing cover on both sides. I sprayed it with the aerosol can, watching the moss wilt and die under it. I managed to place the pack gently on the ground, and then I allowed myself the luxury of collapsing.

I rolled over, so I was lying on my back. I was thirsty again, always thirsty, so I tried to work my canteen out of my pocket. I couldn’t even feel my fingers, so it took me what felt like an eternity to get it out. Rolling over to my side, I managed to pry it open, and tilt it so that the cool water trickled past my lips.

I immediately vomited it up. I tried again, drinking a smaller amount, with the same result. After the third attempt, once I finished heaving, I gave up, and rolled over on my back.

Once again, the Benuxupane filled my thoughts. It wasn’t because of fear, or grief, or pain, or even the guilt that I thought of it. Those feelings were there, but they were buried under something greater. Something more terrifying and upsetting.

I wanted the Benuxupane because I knew I was finally giving up. I could feel the icy darkness of sleep waiting