“There are no certainties in life.”
“There certainly are not. Is this another good friend of yours?”
“No.”
“Someone who owes you a favor?”
“Definitely not.”
“But they’ll help.”
“Probably.”
“Jamie...”
“Definitely. It’s definitely probable.” He scooped a hand into the water and splashed his face. “Fuck. Maybe we should beach and you go on ahead so I don’t slow you down.”
“I don’t know the way. It’s dark.”
“It’s just over...around the...through the... Fuck, you’re right. I’ll be okay. I’ll come right in a few hours.”
“It’ll be dawn by then. You know their resources. We’ve just seen their resources—well, I did. How long until they get a helicopter up here?”
“You’re right. You’re right.” He lurched up, grabbed the oars, took a stroke and hissed.
“Oh God, your arm.”
“It’s fine.”
“Don’tlie to me anymore. Don’t hide things from me. You keep saying you respect me but if that were true you wouldn’t shield me. I told you, it’s the surprises that make me freak out and panic, not the truth.”
“You didn’t panic, Samira, just then. Well, no more than the average person would.”
“How would you know? You weren’t there—well, you were there, but...”
He exhaled heavily. “Okay, you’re right. So my shoulder hurts like fuck. Feels like my arm’s going to burn right off.”
“That’s more like it but we should stop speaking. Move aside.” She clambered over and sat heavily next to him. “I’ll take one oar.”
“I’m sorry, Samira. I really am.”
“Eshi.”
“Aye, like my arm’seshi.”
They settled into silence, finding a rhythm, Samira pulling her oar with both arms, and taking Jamie’s lead on the navigation. He angled them to a spot on the shoreline midway between the country house and the cottage—or where she assumed the cottage was, as the burning tree was no longer visible.
They beached the dinghy and Jamie held it steady while Samira stepped out. Icy water seeped into her boots. They stashed the boat among prickly bushes. Jamie opened a hatch and pulled out a plastic bag. “Emergency kit,” he said, throwing it to her. “Flares and stuff. Might be useful. Can you put it in the rucksack?”
At least his brain seemed to have been jolted back to normal operating speed. While she packed, he covered the dinghy with ferns and a springy plant.
“This way,” he whispered, tightening the straps on the backpack and setting out along the pebbly shore in the direction of the country house.
“How do you know?”
He looked over his shoulder. “Instinct.”
Huh. Her instinct had implored her to trust him. Luckily she hadn’t left their security completely to him. If she hadn’t set that camera trap... She caught up to him, wincing at the crunch under her boots.
