He traced his fingers across the map’s surface. “Are you sure?” he asked his companion, who was watching with a smirk.
“I’m sure,” she said.
“They’re camping there, in broad daylight, and we’re the only ones who know about it?”
Dina smiled, folding her arms and nodding. “More specifically,” she said, “they don’t know that anyone knows of their whereabouts. To them, they are completely out of sight of anyone and covered from all angles. There’s the motorway to the south-” she pointed to the line on the map, “-and the city to the north. The east and west are more country fields. And the place they’re hiding contains a small copse. No doubt they’re resting in there, lighting fires only when necessary.”
“How are they surviving?” Michael asked.
Dina shrugged. “Search me. But that male always had a good survival instinct.” She hesitated, and then said, “I should know.”
Michael didn’t notice any change in Dina’s voice and instead started packing up the map. “Well, we’ll never find out unless we go,” he said, hoisting a rucksack over his shoulder and heading for the door. “Let’s go and get them.”
Dina watched as her companion left the room, and then, retrieving her phone from her pocket, began to dial a number she had known off by heart for a long time now. She turned away and pressed the phone to her ear; but just as she heard a male voice answer, the phone was knocked from her grasp and went skidding across the floor.
Michael was in front of her. “I wondered how long it’d take for you to do that,” he snarled, holding her with his gaze.
Every day during February I’m going to write a piece of creative writing inspired by a prompt. The prompts have been taken from here, although I may shuffle some of the days around if I fancy.