Stolen (29 page)

A pale pink awoke me. Dawn. I felt the lack of your heat beside me before I opened my eyes and found you gone. I missed it. I stretched my hand out along the sand: The grains where you’d been sleeping were still faintly warm. Perhaps you hadn’t been gone long and the sand was still storing your heat. The shape of you was indented into it. I traced my fingers down the hollow where your head had been, then your broad shoulders, your back and legs, the sand firm and compacted from the weight of your body. Traces of paint had rubbed off, lingering on some of the grains.

I pulled the blankets around me, shutting out that cool freshness of morning. But already the light was intrusive. My eyelids glowed orange when I closed them. I sat up. Sand was all over me. A wind must have been blowing in the night. Funny, I hadn’t even felt it. I shook out my clothes. There was a line of stones, leading out to a smoother section of sand a few feet away. I followed them.

There were words there, finger-written in the sand. I stood at the bottom and read.

Gone to catch a snake. See you lata. Ty x

I knelt down beside the message and traced my fingers through the
x
. I rubbed it out, then drew it again. You didn’t seem like the kind of guy to write an
x
in the sand, a kiss. My stomach twisted, though for the first time it wasn’t from fear.

I stood, needing to move. I looked across to the house, but I didn’t want to go in there. Not yet. What I really wanted was to have your hard, hot arms around me again. I craved your warmth. I hugged myself, rubbing my fingers up and down. I guess people are like insects sometimes, drawn to heat. A kind of infrared longing. My eyes roamed across the land, looking for the heat of a human. One particular human.

I blinked, rubbed my eyes. I was being stupid. But I couldn’t figure it out. I did, and yet I didn’t, want to be near you. It didn’t make sense. Without stopping to analyze it, I started walking toward the Separates.

I paused by the camel. She was sitting and sleepy. I reached my hand to her forehead and rubbed between her eyes. Her eyelashes blinked against my arm. I sat beside her, nuzzling into her warm dusty fur, and watched the pink and gray of the sunrise. The morning was perfect, still. I heard shrieks from a flock of birds as they arrived at the Separates for their morning bath. I took my boots off and dipped my toes into the sand. I rubbed them against the grains, scratching them. I tried being still for a moment, tried relaxing into the camel and the morning. But I wanted to find you.

I walked barefoot. I tiptoed carefully around the prickly plants and played stepping-stones with the rocks as I made my way around the Separates. Then I saw fresh prints in the sand. Yours. I put my foot inside one of them, the print of your toes and heel surrounding mine entirely.

I brushed my fingers against the rock as I walked slowly around the outcrop. I touched the wavy streaks embedded in the surface, left by ancient streams. A black bird cawed at me from high in a tree, a grating, warning call in that stillness. Perhaps he was warning his flock about me, a clumsy human stumbling across his territory.

I kept going. There was a jagged bit of rock coming up, sticking out from the base of a boulder. I couldn’t see past it. But I could see a pathway around it, a collection of large, smooth rocks to step across. I rested my arm against the boulder for balance, and started to step from rock to rock. The cool stone felt good beneath my feet.

When I had almost climbed around the jagged part, I heard movement on the other side. A grunt or two. Then, silence. It could only be you. I paused, grasping the boulder, my breathing suddenly quicker. Should I step around and show myself? Or just wait there, listening? My ears strained for sounds of you. I heard a faint rustling of leaves. A muffled swear word. Then, silence again. I hugged the boulder.

“Gemma?”

Your voice startled me so much I almost fell. But I clung on and got myself around the rock. You were standing, facing me, your arms outstretched. For a second I thought you’d been waiting for me like that, waiting to hug me to you, enclose me like you had done the night before. The sun was bouncing full onto your chest, making your skin bright. There were still traces of paint on you. I wanted to run toward you, but something in your eyes held me back.

“Where are your boots?” you whispered.

I frowned. Then I remembered what you were supposed to be doing. “The snake.”

You nodded. “I thought I found it, but then I heard you coming. I wasn’t expecting you to follow me.” Your eyes were soft as they looked at mine, curious. You smiled a little. “It’s OK,” you whispered again. “This snake’s not aggressive. You just need to stay still … stay there and don’t step onto the sand, OK?”

“Really?” My voice was suddenly shaky. I coughed, not wanting to sound nervous. “Maybe I should go back to the house?”

“No, it’s better if you keep still. It’s somewhere near; I don’t want it distracted by your movements.” You looked me over. “Just sit on the rock there, be still, watch. I’ll keep looking for it.” You flicked a piece of hair out of your eyes. “Don’t worry, Gem; I’ve caught hundreds of these guys before.”

I did as you said and knelt down cautiously on the rock. You stepped slowly, moving like a crab. You stuck one foot out first to feel the sand carefully before moving the rest of your body.

“What are you doing?”

“This snake hides. He buries himself underneath the sand so nothing can see him. He’s shy and clever. His prey comes to him—he never really has to hunt.”

As you stepped closer toward me, the small black tip of a tail darted up from a bundle of dried leaves near my rock. I started backward.

“He’s here,” I whispered.

“Don’t move.”

My body tensed, wanting more than anything to race back to the house. I looked at where the tail was. Around the leaves was a smooth lump of sand. The snake was underneath. You crouched a little, coming toward me like a ninja, eyes focused on the patch of sand in front of me. “It’s OK, he’s looking at me,” you said. “He knows I’m the threat.”

You shuffled toward that small mound in the sand, getting just a couple of feet away. Then the snake raised its head, throwing off its camouflage. My breath faltered. Its body looked long, its skin the same color as the sand, with thin yellow bands circling its middle. It hovered there, watching you … each of you waiting to see what the other was going to do.

“Be careful,” I whispered.

Those words made you glance up at me. The snake saw. He chose his moment to escape. Unfortunately that escape path was back toward the rock I was sitting on, and the snake slithered quickly in my direction. I saw the length of its body, the large triangular lump of its head, and the darting of its tongue. With the snake looking at me, you took your chance and stepped toward it. But the snake felt your vibrations; it turned back. Its tongue was darting in and out constantly, trying to find the threat. When it found you, it moved its head backward, its body curling into an
S,
ready to strike. You stopped, your arms outstretched. There was only a pace or so between you. One movement was all it would take. The snake wavered a little, watching. You were ready to spring. But the snake surprised us both. It spun away from you and again slithered fast across the sand toward me. You lunged at it, grabbing the black tip of its tail. But it slipped through your fingers easily. It picked up speed, swishing from side to side across the sand.

“It’s trying to get away,” you shouted as the snake got closer. “Don’t move. Stay exactly where you are. It’s just scared.”

But I couldn’t help it. The snake was only inches away. Its head was bobbing slightly, its pink tongue stabbing in and out. I pushed myself backward and leaped toward the surface of the boulder, trying to claw my way up it. I got a foothold with my right foot.

But the snake was going in the same direction. I felt its heavy body slither over my other foot. I looked down at it, screamed, then lost my balance. My foot slid down the rock face. I tried to push myself into the rock, tried to stop my foot from falling farther. The snake was sliding fast toward a crevice at the bottom. But not fast enough. My foot slammed down hard on its tail and it twisted around toward me. I saw its huge triangular fangs, its jaws open wide, warning me. I arched backward, trying to get away, but the snake didn’t like the movement. Its head darted toward me. It sank its fangs into my leg.

Then it disappeared into the crevice in the rock.

You were at my side immediately.

“Did it get you?” You reached for my leg, turning it over. “I saw it strike.”

You held my leg carefully, pressing gently at the skin. You felt all the way up to my knee and back down. Then you found what you were looking for. There were small scratches on the skin above my ankle, as if I’d brushed against a sharp thorn. You ran your thumb over these, then over the skin around them. You looked at me.

“I need your shirt,” you said.

“What? Why?”

“It’s either your shirt or my shorts, you choose. I need to stop the venom from going up your leg.”

I looked at your serious blue eyes. “Take the shirt.”

“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I know what to do. I have antivenom.” You tried a smile, but it didn’t look that genuine. I just stared back at you, still in shock, I think. You moved closer to me, sitting beside me so that I could lean against you. “Come on, your shirt.” You tugged at the bottom of it.

I crossed my arms and pulled it over my head. You took it from my hand instantly. I wrapped my arms around my bra, but you didn’t stare once at my body; you just found a long, straight stick and pressed it to the bottom of my calf.

“Hold the stick there,” you said.

I pressed it against my skin and you tore my shirt down the middle. You wound it quickly around my leg, securing the stick by pulling the material tight.

“I can’t feel anything,” I said. “Are you sure it got me?”

“It got you.” You frowned. “But maybe it didn’t release any venom. Let’s hope so. But if someone had stood on me that hard …” Again, the forced smile when you couldn’t finish your words. You took my head in your hands, suddenly serious. You stroked your thumb against my cheek. “From now on, you must tell me everything you are feeling … headaches, sickness, numbness, general weirdness … anything. It’s important.”

There were beads of sweat on your forehead. I reached out and wiped them away.

“OK,” I said. “But I feel fine now.”

“Good.” You grabbed my hand. “But you need to stay calm and still, don’t move too much. Whether there’s venom in there or not, we need you relaxed.”

I nodded. I didn’t like the seriousness in your tone. I glanced at my leg. I thought I could feel a numbness starting around my ankle. I closed my eyes and tried to keep myself from panicking.

“Keep your leg as straight and as still as possible,” you said.

Carefully you fed your arm underneath my knees and placed your other arm beneath my shoulders. You stood, slowly, lifting me up. You held me out, slightly away from your body, trying to keep me as flat as possible, holding me steady. I could see the muscles in your arms twitching with the effort.

“I’m taking you back to the house,” you said.

You walked carefully, choosing a route between the rocks and plants. You winced as you stepped on a pile of twigs.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” you whispered.

You hurried past the camel, your breathing becoming more labored. I could feel your muscles shaking with the effort of holding me like that. I shut my eyes against the sunlight. The rays were so bright and piercing. I turned my face to your chest, pressing my forehead into your skin.

“What’s wrong?” you murmured. I felt the words rumble in your chest. I whispered back.

“I’m starting to get a headache.”

You let out a quick breath before moving on. “I’ll fix it,” you said. “I promise I’ll fix it. Just don’t panic.”

I didn’t say anything. There was a dull pain in my ankle, working its way up my leg. I concentrated on that.