Noah’s jaw tics and he runs a tired hand through his hair. “I don’t fuckin’ know.”
My heart pounds with a familiar feeling of fear and desperation. We both know he’s coming back. Neither of us knows when, but it could be any second, or it could be hours. But he is coming back. And he has the ability to find us. He has the ability to hurt us. To make us suffer even more. Any more injuries like the one I received today, and we might not have a good deal of fight left in us.
I rack my brain. There has to be a way to find some sort of safety. I think of everything I’ve seen out here, but it’s all just trees and a stream. A stream. God, how did I miss the stream? Most water supplies come from a bigger body of water. They don’t just appear with no source. I stand and shuffle closer to Noah and whisper in his ear, “What about the water?”
“What about it?”
“Well, it has to be coming from somewhere, right? We never followed the stream, but maybe we should. I mean, you’d assume it gets deeper, or maybe will lead us to a waterfall. If we walk through the water instead of outside it, he’s going to find it a good deal harder to get hold of us—he’s been counting on us not being able to get off the track, but I don’t actually think he considered the stream. He’ll have to get off his motorbike, and we have a far bigger advantage that way.”
He jerks his head back and meets my eyes, then nods. “You have a point, but it may not lead anywhere and we could be wasting our time.”
“It’s the only part of the forest, outside of his track, that isn’t covered so thickly we can’t move through it.”
“You’re right. It’s worth the risk to find out.”
“Let’s go, then.”
His breath tickles my ear as he leans in. “It’s going to be harder for you to move through the water.”
I shrug. “It’s that or die, Noah. I don’t want to die.”
He pulls back and his brows shoot up. “Who are you and what did you do with Lara?”
I give him a weak smile. “Lara doesn’t want to die today.”
He cups my face in his hands. “Not going to let you die.”
My heart pounds and we hold each other’s gaze for so long, I’m sure he’s going to lean in and kiss me. The air is thick around us and the tension is out of this world. I swallow back the lump in my throat and whisper, “Then let’s get moving.”
“Let’s get moving,” he agrees, voice tight.
We fill our coconuts again and shove our spears into our pants. Then we step into the stream and start walking. Noah’s right, it’s a good deal harder than I first thought it would be, and every step is agony on my leg. But I was also right: The farther downstream we move, the deeper it gets. And as we move in deeper, the stream washes over my wound, numbing it with cold water.
“You okay?” Noah asks after about an hour of silence.
“I can’t feel my leg anymore. I think the water numbed it completely.”
“Probably not the best idea to keep it so wet,” he murmurs.
“No, but what other choice do we have?”
He makes a throaty, angry sound and keeps walking in silence.
We’re deeper in the forest now. Trees skirt the edge of the stream and they’re cramped together, but stop neatly on the edge, with the occasional few dipping over. We have to push past those, but it’s a great deal better than moving on foot down a track created to hunt us.
“This was a good idea,” Noah grunts, pushing his big legs through the water. “But fuck, it’s hard work.”
“You’re telling me,” I say, voice strained as I force my body to take yet another step.
“Tell me something, distract me from listening for that fuckin’ awful noise to come.”
“What do you want me to tell you?” I ask, grunting as the water gets even deeper.
“I don’t know. Anything. What’s your favorite childhood memory? Something I don’t already know.”
Odd question, but if it distracts me and him for even a second, I’ll give it a go.
“My mom got me a puppy when I was five. It was so ugly. I can’t even describe how ugly this puppy was. She saved it from a shelter, but it looked like some kind of alien dog. It was skinny with bald patches, with big bulging eyes and an underbite. I loved it, though. I wanted a puppy for so long, I just didn’t see how hideous it was until I got old enough to walk it and people used to point on the street.”
He chuckles.
I laugh, softly. “Anyway, one day I was walking Pigsy down the street—”
“Wait, Pigsy?” he says, stopping and giving me a horrified look.
I grin. “Yep, Pigsy. I know, it’s awful. It seems fitting now that I look back, though. I have no idea how I came up with that name for her.”
He keeps walking with a throaty snort.
“Anyway, I was walking her down the street when this old woman stopped me and told me that my dog was quite possibly the ugliest thing she’d ever seen. I was so upset, so devastated. I loved Pigsy. So I told her that if she wants to see an even uglier dog she should look in the mirror.”
Noah barks a laugh.
“She grabbed me by the arm and dragged me back to my house, horrified. She told my mom what I’d said and what an awful child I was for being so rude. Do you know what my mom said to her?”
“I’m not sure I want to.”
I smile at the memory. “She said, ‘My daughter has an eye for beauty, I guess you left yours at home today. You can’t blame the girl for calling it like she sees it.’”
Noah chuckles. “God, now I see where you get it from.”
“The old woman was so angry, she turned and stormed off. Every time she saw me walking Pigsy after that, she’d turn away and huff, but I’d always wave and greet her.”
Noah chuckles. “I miss that side of you.”
It feels like a punch in the gut, and I turn to him, whispering, “That side of me got my nanna killed.”
“Lara,” he says softly.
“That Lara ruined my life.”
“That Lara didn’t ruin your life. You’ve gone from one extreme to the other instead of learning to be more balanced. You were such a firecracker and now you’re not. You let that Lara disappear completely when you should have kept part of her, because she made you who you are.”
As much as he’s right—and I know he’s right—those words hurt me. Irrationally so.
“What if I’ll never be that Lara again?” My voice is soft and a little wounded.
Noah stops walking again and turns, eyes on mine. “You don’t need to be that Lara. But you can’t be this shell of a person that you’ve been, either.”
I wince. “Ouch.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Didn’t you?” I say, dragging my gaze from his and walking past him.