Thank God. I swim over, using the last of my energy. I reach the waterfall, and the soft mist created from the water crashing down over the rocks soaks my face. I close my eyes and reach for the hand Noah extends. He hauls me up as if I weigh nothing and I have to hold my breath as we shove through the waterfall.
We get blasted with water from every angle. It pounds down over our heads, nearly taking my feet out from beneath me. I keep holding my breath and hanging on to Noah’s hand as he pulls. Step by step we go. My lungs feel like they’re going to explode. Finally, the water stops. I open my eyes and blink a few times, clearing the water from them.
“Wow,” I breathe.
“Yeah,” Noah mumbles, walking in and running a hand through his hair, flicking water everywhere.
“This is … magical.”
I take in the small but cozy space in front of me. It’s cave-like in its creation, with high moss-covered rock walls. The only difference is that the area to the left has a small opening in the rocks, perhaps from damage, and a little natural light is flowing in, lighting up the space enough to see where you’re going. Water is trickling down the walls in tiny streams and I can hear the water roaring overhead. I can also hear it in the cave, but where it’s coming from I don’t know.
Noah hobbles around, examining the space inch by inch. “Check this out,” he says, encouraging me over with a hand.
I limp over and peer in. He’s pointing into a deeper part of the cave, which to be honest looks like it might continue for a good long while. “How far do you think this thing goes?” I ask, squinting into the darkness.
“Could go for miles. No way to tell. It might be tiny, it might be never ending.”
“Do you think he knows about it?”
“Well, we’ve gone off his track, which makes me wonder. The only way we’ll know is if he shows up. But to be honest, this cave looks untouched. Getting in here was a big effort and it wasn’t easily visible from the outside.”
“Do you think he’s even ventured this far into the stream?”
“No way to tell, but given how far off the track we are, my guess is that we’re in one of his blind spots. We just might have found a safe place.”
Hope explodes in my chest, but I do my very best not to cling to it. Knowing we had a safe space … that would mean everything.
“Should we go deeper?”
He looks into the darkness for a few minutes, then turns back to me. “At this stage, no. There isn’t light in there, and it could be dangerous. We didn’t come this far to fall and die.”
“Well,” I say. “I’m happy to have a safe place for now.”
“Don’t know that it is one yet, but I’m hangin’ on to hope.”
“Me too,” I admit.
“We need to get dry and we need to air out our wounds. Do you have any objection to getting naked so I can dry out these clothes?”
I blink. “Was that a pickup line or…”
He grins. “Jesus, woman. No. It’s survival.”
“Sure it is,” I mutter.
“Okay, well, sit in wet clothes.”
“I have underwear,” I point out. “I’ll sit in that.”
He shakes his head and removes everything he’s still wearing, down to his boxers. He unwraps his leg and I can clearly see the wound now. It’s so clean from the water. It’s just a big, gaping hole. The gash on his chest is so clean I can hardly see it, but it’s there, skin peeling on either side of it. I turn away, finding it painful to look at. I unwrap my own leg, strip down to my underwear, and hand Noah my clothes.
“I’m going to see if I can find a way to get out and put these in the sun without going through the water.”
I nod, pressing my back against a cool rock. My eyes are heavy and my body is exhausted. Hunger growls low in my belly and I’m thirsty, even though I just spent hours in water. I shuffle forward, moving toward the natural light shining in. The sun is blaring through and I sit directly beneath it, feeling its warmth against my skin and sighing with bliss.
“Sorry to burst your bubble,” Noah says, stopping in front of me. “That’s the only sunlight.”
I want to scream and rip my own eyes out, but instead I shuffle back and let him lay out the clothes. “Do you think we’ll have enough daylight left to dry those?”
He shrugs. “Don’t know, but I hope so. How’s your leg?”
I stretch it out in front of me, and it throbs. “Killing me,” I admit. “Yours?”
“Same,” he mutters, sitting down beside me. It’s warmer here, so even though I’m not directly in the sun, I decide to stay as close to it as I can get.
I sigh and drop my head into my hands. My hair falls down over them; it’s a tangled mess, strands matted together to form dreadlock-type creations. Noah reaches over, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me closer. “You hungry?”
I nod.
“I saw some wild plums growing near the waterfall,” he says. “I can go get some.”
“In a minute,” I murmur, turning and pressing my face into his chest. He’s warm, and he smells familiar, which I need right now more than anything. A familiar comfort.
He hangs on to me, fingers combing through my hair as best they can. We don’t move, we just sit like that for what seems like ages, in each other’s arms, taking the only comfort we have right now.
“Let’s eat, drink, and get some rest while we can. We’ll take it in turns. You sleep, I’ll keep a watch, then vice versa.”
“Okay,” I say, voice weak and tired.
“Okay, baby.”
He lets me go and I immediately miss his warmth. He goes back outside and soon returns with his hands filled with wild plums. He’s beside me again, handing one to me. I take it and eat it, then finish another. Then we drink from the stream.
“Sleep, honey,” he murmurs, looking down at me. “I’ve got us covered.”
I don’t argue.
I don’t believe I have the strength.
I just lie down on the warm rock and let my eyes flutter closed.
For a few hours, I pray I’ll find peace.
TWENTY
I wake to hands running over my cheeks and Noah’s quiet voice. “Lara?”
I shift, back aching from lying on the rock. It takes me a few minutes to open my eyes, and when I do it’s still fairly light in the cave. I’m guessing it’s late afternoon. I mustn’t have slept long.
“What is it?” I whisper, groaning as I shift.
“He’s out there.”
My entire body freezes. Three words. Isn’t it funny how they can have that effect on you? In a split second I go from relaxed to utterly terrified. I’m tired of fear. Tired of living with it constantly weighing down on my chest.
“What?” I whisper, throat tight.
“I heard the bike about five minutes ago. It’s stopped.”
“Do you think he knows we’re in here? Oh God, Noah. We can’t get out. This was a stupid, stupid idea and—”