Gasping for air, he collapsed against one wall and tried to catch his breath before the final marathon.

There, faintly, he could see the pale glow of the exit. He held his hands out to make sure he wouldn’t bounce off one of the cavern walls and squinted up ahead as he turned the corner into the straightaway. Jack ripped off the hood and cold air slapped his face, making his eyes water. The tunnel stretched onward forever before him. Cold sweat plastered the mask to his face and ran down into his eyes. He could make it about halfway there before it ran out. The adrenaline would only hold for so long. He barreled forward into the passageway to the right in the wake of Baba Yaga’s ominous, bubbling warning, barely suppressing a groan as a spike of pain lanced through his chest from his bruised ribs. “You aren’t about to die in this forest, Jackson. Jack switched off the tracker and stuck it in his pocket, his voice ragged and shaking, but solid. It came back to the most basic survival tactics: run or hide. He could try to lose her in the twists and turns of the cave system, but there was a good chance he’d get lost, and Baba Yaga’s superior senses meant it would only be a matter of time before she found him. If Baba Yaga followed, there was a good chance she could catch up and roast him like a marshmallow.

The only problem was that it was a long passage. A mile up to the right had a man-made exit that spilled back up to the forest. Jack blocked out the rising crescendo of Baba Yaga’s hissing and pictured the map again. He needed to get topside to join the others so they could take her down. He’d gotten a good lead on her-maybe a few hundred yards-but he had no way of knowing if he’d eventually run into a dead end. He got it switched on to see an ominous blob approaching from the right. Jack forced himself up onto his feet again, stumbling backwards and fumbling for the tracker. He pushed onto his knees, nursing what felt like bruised ribs and a sprained wrist, and then paled as an unmistakable sensation traveled up the arm he’d used to push himself up. He gasped as it knocked the wind out of him and gritted his teeth, his mind screaming at him to get up and run, run, run. Jack raced around one corner too sharply and slipped on a piece of dung, crashing hard on his right side. Icy claws of fear squeezed his heart with every breath as he ran, relying on the night vision goggles, the glimpse he’d gotten of the map, and his own instincts to figure out where to go. He didn’t dare look behind him to see if the dragon had risen from the ground yet, but the deafening hiss that assaulted his ears meant she’d woken up. Pieces of dragon dung flew off him and hit the ground behind him in miniature chunks. “His booted feet pounded out an insane, frantic rhythm underneath him as he raced into the cavern across from Baba Yaga’s den at a dead sprint.

Demon deathchase