Gretel by Christopher Coleman Read Free Book Online Page A

wind that was sure to come. The breezes she so welcomed during the heat of the day now terrified her.
    A shiver scurried the length of Anika’s back, the night again teasing what lie ahead, and Anika tucked her arms into the sleeves of her thin cotton blouse, gripping the bottoms of her elbows, her forearms layered across her abdomen below her bra. This was a bad sign, she thought: the sun had not fully set and the early stages of hypothermia had already begun. If she made it through the night, it wouldn’t be without the help of God. Somewhere in the back of her mind she considered that her faith would help, but she would conserve her prayers for now, knowing the worst of the cold was still to come. What she wouldn’t give for a blanket.
    Anika drifted to sleep but was awake within minutes, the result of another short, epileptic shiver. She was wide-eyed and focused for a minute, and then drifted away again, repeating this cycle on and off for what may have been an hour, with her shakes each time becoming increasingly violent, as her muscles tried desperately to create warmth. She needed to move.
    She crawled from the cave and stood outside in the open of the forest. It was dark, but not as dark as she would have imagined this far from civilization; the moon, thankfully, doing its part for her on this night.
    She got to her feet and forced herself to run, at first in place, and then occasionally in short bursts to about a ten-foot radius, making sure not to lose sight of her shelter. She lifted her knees as high as possible, feeling the blood in them resist, and then start to come alive. The short naps had been frustrating and alarming—with death being the result of any deep sleep, she feared—but they had momentarily revived her, and Anika suddenly felt she could sustain the exercise long enough to get warm again. After that she wasn’t sure, and she knew running around wasn’t the long-term solution to her situation—after all, she was hungry, and her energy would fail soon. But for now running felt good, and she went with it.
    The crunch of her shoes on the leaf litter and dry twigs sounded abrupt and panicky in the stillness of the forest, and the noise evoked in her some long-forgotten sense of urgency, the primal need to continue even under dire conditions and the harshest of circumstances. Though being lost in the woods in early spring, Anika conceded, hardly qualified as the ‘harshest of circumstances.’
    She felt suddenly energized, and desperately wished it were daytime so she could continue her lonely journey, ill-fated though it may be. She even considered, with the brightness of the moon, moving on at night; but her hunger, which was manageable now, wouldn’t stay in the shadows for much longer, and if delirium was coming, she’d rather it arrive in the relative safety of her new burrow or in the light of day and not in the open of the forest darkness. Besides, if she did brave the forest tonight and was unable to find a cabin or some other artificial structure, it was unlikely she would again find natural accommodations like those she had now and would almost certainly freeze.
    No, for now she would stay awake and keep her body moving as long as possible, conserving her water and resting when necessary. The night had a long way to go, but she felt she could make it.
    Anika continued her pattern of light jogging, followed by short bursts of sprints, and then rest. As her legs began to tire, the jogging and sprint sessions became indistinguishable, and the rest periods became dozes. She resisted the urge to lie down, or huddle back in the cave, but sleep was inevitable.
    ***
    The loud crunch of feet startled Anika, and with semi-cognizance she chuckled to herself, realizing she had fallen asleep while somehow walking in place. Wouldn’t that be a great ability to have right now, she thought, and then realized she was doing it now, which inspired her in a groggy, abstract sort of way. Maybe she could