And when they fight, they do exactly what I want.
He makes her doubt. Makes her feel bad. Makes her self-esteem dip even lower. I don’t need to break her down; he’ll be doing it for me.
And he’ll know I’m doing it, but he won’t be able to help himself.
A chuckle escapes my lips. Two more days, my players, and we’ll begin.
Just two more days.
SEVEN
I fall asleep against Noah, head on his shoulder, body semi-warm from his skin. I must be exhausted, or maybe I’m still coming down from the drugs still in my system, but I don’t move all night long.
I’m woken in the morning by Noah shifting and the sounds of birds chirping high above me. I blink a few times, rubbing my eyes and focusing. We’re still against the tree, but Noah’s arm is around me now, holding me close. We’re still here. This isn’t a dream. A horrible lump forms in my throat and my heart sinks. I try to fight back my tears as realization slams into my body. I don’t know what I thought, but a part of me hoped I’d wake up today and it’d all be over.
I squirm out of Noah’s grip, and he does nothing to stop me.
I push to my feet, needing to use the bathroom. I move past Noah without a word and find a tree to settle behind. A flittering thought comes into my mind: Is he watching even this? I choose to pretend he isn’t. The sun is out today, the rain clouds having disappeared. I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.
I don’t know what Noah’s plans are, but the clock is ticking. We only have today and tomorrow left before our world turns into a nightmare. We need to figure something out before then—or better yet find a way out of this hellhole. I finish up going to the bathroom and make my way back to Noah. He’s studying the trees, the ground, anything that moves. He’s like a hawk, eyes zooming in on anything out of the ordinary.
“What exactly are we looking for today?” I ask.
My stomach makes a loud rumbling sound and I realize, despite it all, I’m hungry.
“First, food,” he mutters, not looking at me. “Then we’re going to see if we can find a boundary, maybe get an idea of where we are. We need weapons; I’ll have to make them but it’s better than having nothing.”
“Weapons? How are we going to get those?”
“It’s not hard to make a knife from a piece of solid wood, a few sharp rocks, and a steady hand. It will do the job.”
God.
I’m not hungry anymore. The sickness is back.
“Let’s find the stream. There were some coconut palms close by. Come on.”
We walk in silence through the forest for about an hour until we come to a small stream with clear water trickling through it. It isn’t deep, probably not even deep enough to bathe in, but it seems to go on for miles. I wonder if it leads to something bigger, deeper maybe? We use it to wash our faces and our bodies; then we cup our hands and drink as much as we can. Noah studies the trees, squinting to see what we’ve got to work with.
“Sick fuck,” he mutters.
I look up. “What?”
“I’m just pissed that he gave us the one food source that is hardest to get. Coconut palms.”
“Are coconuts all we’ve got?”
“Yeah,” he grunts.
He walks over to the palm tree and starts shaking it, his big body pulling the thin base back and forth. The coconuts don’t budge. Growling with frustration, he finds a big stick and starts hitting it, over and over until his muscles are bunching and his face is an angry red. He looks beautiful like that, so masculine and strong. I hate myself for that thought. It should be the last thing I think about.
“Do you want me to climb another tree and see if I can reach over and shake it, or get a coconut?”
He stops shaking the tree and looks at me. “If I don’t have to risk you getting hurt right now, I won’t. I’ll get one.”
“But—”
He ignores me and keeps shaking the tree. Giving up on that, he finds a big rock and throws it. I expect him to miss, but he hits one of the coconuts square-on and it drops from the tree. He lets it fall before going over and picking it up. He shakes it, nods, and then walks over to a log lying across the ground, an old tree that’s snapped. He puts the coconut on the log, then starts hunting around for a sharp rock.
I feel helpless.
While he uses a rock to peel the first layer of the coconut, I wander around, trying to find something to carry water. There is very little. Nothing that is deep enough, strong enough, or durable enough to hold water for any amount of time. Frustrated, I kick some old shriveled green coconuts around. Then it hits me. We might not be able to carry large amounts of water, but we can carry enough to get us by until we come across another stream by simply using an empty coconut. I lift four and bundle them into my arms, walking back to Noah.
“Can we put a hole in the tops of these?”
He lifts his head from the coconut he’s peeling and studies me. “They’re probably old. We can’t eat them, Lara. I would have picked them up already if we could.”
“I know that,” I say, my voice peevish. “I was thinking of emptying the contents by making a hole and filling them with water to carry.”
His brows go up.
“So do you have the strength or the right equipment to make a hole in the tops of these?”
“It’ll take a while, but yeah. Put them down next to me and come over here. You can crack this while I put a hole in them.”
I walk over, dropping the coconuts, and extend my hand for the one he’s already peeled right down to the little brown ball in the middle.
“Find a sharp rock, a stick, whatever you need to use and hit it until it cracks open.”
I nod, taking it from his hand and walking around until I find a sharp, jagged rock poking out of the ground. I lift the coconut and bring it down over the rock. Not a single thing happens. Frustrated, I do it again, and again, and before I know it I’m slamming the coconut on the rock, anger bubbling in my chest, rage coursing through my veins.
What the hell is happening to me?
With a pained cry, I hit it harder and harder, crying out when it won’t break. I slam it down again and again until my shoulders ache with strain.
“Hey,” Noah says, stopping me with a hand to my shoulder. He pulls me back. “Slow down, Lara. Fuck.”
He takes the coconut from me and effortlessly brings it down over the rock. It splits first. That makes me angrier. I turn and scream into the forest. “This is complete and utter bullshit! We’re being hunted by a psycho killer,” I scream, “and I can’t even crack a fucking coconut!”