Wild (27 page)

Dara stiffened.

“And it's going to save them so much time if they start looking in the right place. I mean, you said yourself that his best bet was to start hitching I-75 North to Ohio.”

It was a perfect lie. Totally plausible. Why wouldn't she tell Cade how to get to Cleveland? Everyone wanted to believe he belonged in cities—they'd want to believe he fled to find his home. Dara threw her arms around Lia and squeezed her until she squeaked.

Then she pulled away and cleared her throat, playing along. “God, you're such a creeper.”

“Freak,” Lia replied lovingly.

Then she stood back and watched her sister head off to destiny.
Or whatever,
she thought, and rolled her eyes.

Forty-five

D
ara was pretty sure that somebody had once said you never step into the same river twice. Or the same ocean. Whichever it was, it was true for the forest, as well.

The last time she'd hiked into Daniel Boone National, Josh had been at her side. The trees were still mostly bare, which made it easy to see down the long paths worn through the underbrush. Since they hadn't seen animals, they assumed there weren't any.

Wrong. All wrong. And now, the forest was a jungle. A thin one, to be sure. But nothing looked the same. Thick, woody vines bloomed with new leaves. There were blossoms now instead of buds, and the canopy was thick and green. The sky was nothing but stuttered glimpses of blue, mostly obscured.

Moving slowly, Dara stopped to test her memory. Had they passed that twisted tree last time? Was that the boulder where they jogged left? The compass kept her from turning in circles. She marked the maps every half hour. And whenever she heard a noise nearby, she looked around—and up.

Sweat soaked through her clothes. There would be no breaks—she'd decided that as soon as she climbed out of Sofia's car. Now that she knew how dangerous it could be, she sharpened her focus. She got a new burst of energy when her thighs started to burn. It was uncomfortable, for sure. But she recognized it: that subtle incline that led to her camp with Josh.

Dara crested a hill and stopped short. A ruined toothpaste tube lay on the path. In the elements, it had faded. But she knew it belonged to her. In the rush to save Cade, they'd abandoned their entire camp. The deputy who'd returned her camera had left everything else behind.

Now, laced with anticipation and fear, Dara walked into her past.

The tent was in pretty good shape. Faded and wet, but still standing. Something had knocked over the stones that made their fire pit. Boxes rotted, plastic bottles bled from chewed edges. The cooler was there, and she shuddered to think what that looked like on the inside. But that was camp. On the surface, just a bunch of litter.

But Dara saw the stone she'd dropped on the bear. It was ridiculously big; how did she ever move that? Long gouges rent the ground. The blood was gone, long devoured by insects. But she didn't need to see it to know that it had been there.

She could barely breathe. Suddenly jittery, she circled. She stared into the brush and up in the trees. Down along the tree line, then up again. Breaking out her water, she took long, deep gulps. It wasn't very cold, but it made her stomach clench anyway. Her body urged her to run! Run away fast, far away, never come back!

“Shut up,” she told it.

Kicking at trash, she yelped when something pale flipped up. Muddied, faded, the ivy and bees pendant that the stranger—that Cade—had left for her lay on the ground. It had weathered without her. Kneeling down to pick it up, she marveled. It felt insubstantial, delicate. All at once, an edge of calm settled around her.

Cade had found her once. Now it was her turn to find him.

She tucked the pendant in her pocket, then pulled out her cell. With the signal booster, she got one whole bar—just enough to text Sofia.
HALFWAY THERE STILL OKAY
. Her bread crumbs were digital. The phone chugged plaintively. After a too-long moment, it bleated. Message sent.

And now, the hard part. Snapping the lid off her antihistamine, she popped two just in case. Normally, that would have sent her straight to naptime. She was way too keyed up for that today, though. Pulling on a pair of gloves, she climbed to the top of the ridge.

Scanning the horizon, she saw butterflies and dust motes. A particularly daring squirrel darted past her. Ache crept into her bones as she waited, but there was no way to hurry this. Her heart leapt when she heard a heavy murmur nearby.

There it was. Her quarry, a drowsy bee, lacing through the air.

It drifted purposefully, dropping onto each flower in a copse before humming off to the next. Careful to stay behind it, Dara followed. Grasses whispered against her jeans. The rhythm and cry of the wild surrounded her—she was trying to melt into it. As the sun shifted, Dara felt like she'd seen every snowdrop and crocus in Kentucky.

New sweat wetted her hands. They felt humid in the gloves, itchy, too. But she kept them on because now she had to do the hard part. All her life, bees had been something to avoid. Summer picnics full of soda cans, had to keep them covered. Lia had drunk a bee once. It stung her mouth, and she'd swelled up, fleshy and thick.

Dara held her hands apart. Suddenly, an old playground song played in her head.
I'm picking up my baby bumblebee, won't my mommy be so proud of me . . .
Stifling a bit of hysterical laughter, Dara took a deep breath. Another. The bee landed on a new flower and Dara approached.

Against all instinct, she moved slowly. Cupping her hand beneath the flower, she closed her fingers one by one. Trapping the bee in the blossom, she plucked it from its stem. With her heart raging, she stood. To be honest, she was waiting for the sting. It didn't come. Instead, she felt its buzzing. Its warmth.

Dara didn't know if she was talking to the bee or herself when she said, “You're okay.” But they both were. Checking her compass, Dara turned directly east and started walking. It wasn't quite noon and she hoped that bees liked to be home by dark.

 

As dusk slipped in around him, Cade surveyed his camp solemnly.

It was possible to be home and homesick at the same time, it turned out. He was erasing himself. His family. When he left, Mom and Dad would sleep alone under their cherry tree by the river. The fragmented remains of his mother's research would stay, seeding the cave—maybe forever.

Picking up a stone from his fire pit, he chucked it into the woods. Charcoal smearing his hands, he reached for the next stone and threw it in the opposite direction. The truth about his world might have changed, but the rules hadn't. Leave no trace—nothing for people to find. Nothing for anyone to remember.

Ash blended with his sweat. He tasted it, bitter on his tongue, and it gritted across his skin. It was hard work, and he was trying to favor his good side. Still, it was impossible to do everything one-handed.

After he'd dismantled the pit, he considered his palms. They were covered in ashes from the last fire his father had built. The first fire he'd tended entirely by himself. He'd lived in this place four years, and now it was time to leave it. Carefully, he pressed four fingers to each cheek. He wanted to take something with him, however temporary.

Scattering the rest of the ashes, Cade swept the clearing in front of the cave. He'd already tied up his furs and his tools. They waited for him on the travois. Hunger crawled through his belly, so he slaked it with water. There probably wouldn't be any food until he made a new camp.

That never used to bother him. Now it did, and his mouth watered for things he'd never be able to find in the wilderness. Not just the delicious garbage, but treats like oranges. Would he ever have an orange again?

The rumble of his stomach distracted him so much, he didn't notice the trees go quiet. The steady song of frogs and birds trailed off. All that remained was the shifting of branches, and the wind in the trees.

Lashing his iron pan to the travois, Cade stopped abruptly. The underbrush rustled. His ravenous hunger made him reach for his knife. It could be a wild hog, perhaps a piglet.

That would feed him for days. He could carve new fish hooks from the bones, make salve from the fat. He was praying again, for a piglet, for a boar. Dropping low, he crept toward the sound. His feet fell silently, and he wrapped his hand tighter around the hilt of his blade.

Excitement loosened his limbs. The sound was coming from the bee hollow. Wild beasts of all kinds loved the hollow. The ground was always thick with dropped fruit. The bark was sweet—plenty of animals were happy to eat the bees or the honey.

A light flared. Not a candle or a flame, not lightning. Something electric. Cade dropped to the ground, disguising himself in the brush. It wasn't an animal—not one to eat, anyway. Only human beings carried flashlights. It wasn't even that dark yet, so it had to be an outsider. An absolute stranger.

Slowly, Cade backed through the brush. He couldn't be seen. Mentally, he went over his path. The remains in his camp. If he lashed the travois to his back, he could move faster but not as far. Which was more important? Thoughts spinning out madly, Cade pushed to his feet. Time to run.

Then a voice rang out. “Cade!”

Silence and ice swept over Cade. He stopped, dead still in the stretching twilight. It was a bird, he told himself. An owl. A hawk—their cries were the right pitch. He imagined his name in it, he wanted it to be true and he was hungry, he had to be hallucinating.

Twigs snapped behind him. The light bobbed, then stopped. So did the footsteps. Cade turned. He had only a moment to register gold hair and green eyes. Then he crashed to the ground, smothered in heat. Sugared skin. Soft hands on his face. Lips on his.

Dara.

Split through, Cade rose into the kiss. Banding arms around her, he clasped the back of her neck. Lifting to seek her mouth, his chest rumbled with unspoken words. He tasted hers, too, slipped to him on a sudden shock of tongue. Fingers tangling in her hair, he pulled her down until she blanketed him. Until nothing separated them, not even a breath.

“I didn't think it would work,” she whispered, and kissed him again. “I can't believe I really found you.”

Cade dropped his head back. She filled his sight, and his blood, and his imagination. Tracing a rough finger along her cheek, his chest hitched. And he trembled, under the stark rush of sensation. The numbness fled, and now everything was bright and visceral. Pain and pleasure at once, fear and need. Love.

Pressing her hands to her face, Dara drew back and gazed into his eyes. “I want to see where you live.”

Forty-six

I
t felt strange and victorious to have Dara in his camp.

Quietly, he hated that it came so late. It was dirty now, a place he was leaving. She should have seen it when he had skins tanning, and his bone and shell chimes inside. When he had plenty of food, and his books displayed in the stone niche inside.

But he refused to give in to regret. She was here now. Shaking the herbs out of his furs, he spread them out to make room for them both. Then, he stoked the fire and put water on to boil. She'd want to wash her face.

“You spent four years here?” she asked softly. He saw it in her eyes, confusion laced with hesitation.

“It was nicer before,” he told her.

Taking her hand, he was overwhelmed by a rush of desire. Need. He wanted to ask if she was going to stay. It would make a difference. She was used to walls and windows and beds. He'd peel supple poplar branches to make a bed for her. Lash it with cattails and lavender, so it smelled sweet.

“You left so fast, I was afraid you'd be hungry.” From the depths of her bag, she produced granola bars. Beef jerky, trail mix. Then she pulled out a cloth bag. Unzipping it, she caught his eye with a smile. “You said you have a frying pan. I brought bacon to go in it.”

Springing over her, he grabbed his skillet, and then the plastic packet in her hand. With a few quick flashes of his knife, he had the package open, and thick slices of bacon arranged in the pan on the fire. Sucking the grease from his fingers, he pretended not to see her surprise.

“That smells good,” she said.

“Yes.”

“So,” she said after a moment. She turned to survey the camp. “I kind of expected more stuff.”

Cade shook his head. Where would he keep stuff? The travois was over-packed as it was. But he had a feeling she didn't mean things, not physical objects. She looked for hints that this was home for him.

Gently, he took her hand. Turning it over, he kissed the inside of her wrist. The skin there was delicate, soft beneath his lips. He longed to lick it, to bite her. Just to leave a faint mark. Proof that he'd been there. Instead, he led her into the cave.

There was just enough light from the fire to show her his drawings. There was art here. Beauty. It wasn't the same as her gleaming glass world, but it was just as good. With every step, his bones begged her to stay.

“This is amazing,” Dara said. She reached out to touch one of the drawings, but stopped short. It was like she realized it was impermanent, or too precious to risk smudging.

Holding her hand up to the prints, she measured herself against them. Then, she sank to study other drawings. His favorite, the fleet, slim shadow of a deer, leapt across the wall. There were birds there, leaping fish and bees.

He wasn't surprised that she stopped at the human figures. Those were older drawings, blockier. But they were certain enough that his mother's face, his father's, too, rose up from the darkness. Firelight animated them; their eyes followed, lashes lowered. Their lips turned in smiles, directed at each other.

Dara sat heavily, and looked up at him. “I've never taken a picture as real as this.”

“You have,” Cade said. He followed her down. The stone floor of the cave was cool, and she had kissed him. So he tangled around her, breathing warmth on her neck, banding his arms around her to keep her close. “Sofia on the rock wall.”

Shaking her head, Dara said, “It's not the same. How can you stand to leave this behind?”

A pang tightened in his chest. Burying his face against the back of her neck, he surrounded himself in her scent. With the warmth flowing from her hair. Its silken glide against his face was a kiss. Not as sweet as the one on her lips, but still wondrous. “My memories will last.”

Alone in the half dark, they clung to each other. Without clocks, the stars stretched long above them. Wood smoke carried the savory scent of meat, swirling it toward the heavens. Honeysuckle bloomed in the distance. The forest rose up, a dark cloak to keep them from the rest of the world. Drawing her back, he leaned over her shoulder to find her mouth.

To share a breath with her, a kiss, and the night in the place he called home.

 

Dara woke with dawn. She shivered, trying to burrow against Cade but the cold had stolen her will to sleep. Yellow sunlight dripped through the trees, haunting and beautiful. Dara slipped a hand beneath Cade's shirt. His back was hot to the touch; his body strong and hard.

A tremor passed between them. As he woke, he reached for her. Possessive hands washed up her back, too. Rough, they teased her skin. They demanded a kiss, another touch. Her hem rucked up and she caught her breath when her belly brushed against his.

The reporters seemed so far away now. Her father probably still dreamed in his bed, sure that his eldest daughter had spent the night at her best friend's house. Locked in. Safe. Nearby. Dara wondered, only briefly, what would happen if she stayed.

Tangled together beneath furs and beside a banked fire, it would have been easy to forget everything else. Waking up to him like this, disappearing into the quiet . . . it was fantasy. Perfect in her thoughts, but in reality, she wasn't prepared. She knew it. She hated to admit it. More than that, she hated to say it.

“Dara?” Cade asked. He read her better than anyone.

“I have to go,” she said, then she kissed him fiercely. Splaying both hands on his face, she pressed closer, whispering against his lips. Each word felt like bloodletting. “I didn't want to talk about it last night, but I have to now. They're coming. Everybody, the reporters and the police . . . you have to run.”

“I know.”

Dara sat up. Where was her pack? Her hair fell in her face. Skin protesting the cold, she climbed from beneath the furs to find it. When she did, she slung it open. Voices howled in her head, parts of herself urging her to go with him, the reasonable bits roaring that she couldn't. She couldn't listen to any of them. As wrong as it felt, she had to do this, and get up, and go home.

“Dara,” Cade said. He rose behind her, heat radiating from his skin.

Turning, she thrust a compass at him, bundles of paper. “Run south. Everybody thinks you're hitchhiking to Cleveland, so you have a head start. Go as far as you can, as fast as you can. They won't be able to follow you into the mountains.”

The compass lay in his hand like a stone. Cade stared down at it. “I've never seen mountains. I always wanted to.”

His desolation cut through her. She felt cruel and irrational, even though she knew she was making the best sense she could. Digging into the bag again, she handed him a cell phone.

“It's disposable,” she explained. “For when you get somewhere safe. You'll probably have to go into the open to get a signal. But my number's in there, just press one. That's all you have to do. Promise me.”

Slowly, Cade looked up. “Why?”

“Just promise me.”

Though sunlight streaked across his face, his eyes were full of shadows. All the other thoughts she had, about cutting his hair to disguise him, giving him new clothes—it fled from her thoughts. Because when she looked at him, she saw everything he'd already lost. It was easy to hate herself for taking more, but she had to. Forcing herself to stay calm, she repeated, “Promise me, Cade.”

“I promise.”

As soon as he said it, she swept in for one more kiss. This one lingered, a slow, sure claiming. It had to last her; she needed her lips to sting with his kiss as she pressed back through the forest, back to her ordinary life in Makwa. It had to be enough for both of them. When she broke away, he reached after her.

Dara shook her head. Climbing to her feet, she zipped her gear and hauled it onto her shoulders. “I have to get back now. If anybody realizes I bailed, they're going to know where I went.”

Following her, Cade seemed determined to make this hard. He caught her, held her tight. And he pressed his brow to hers. When he murmured, his voice slipped into her veins, sizzling through her body to her heart. “I love you.”

It was a moment suspended. She longed to keep it, to let it play out until the bubble burst. But there was too much at stake. With one last kiss, she hoped she'd imprinted herself on his skin, too. “I love you, too. And that's why you have to run.”

“Stay with me,” he said.

“I can't, not yet,” Dara told him. She pushed away, stronger than he was. Backing into the forest, she raised her hand—a good-bye. Tears streaked her cheeks, but she didn't look heartbroken. No, she was determined. Certain. Sure.

His voice broke when he asked, “When?”

With one last smile, she swore, “I'll find you. I promise.”

And then, she was gone.