I imagine Andrew leaning over to me and whispering, “Bitch got your number there.” Because she does. Andrew’s the only person who’s been with me this whole time. I’ve been wishing for someone to talk to about this, but it’s been him all along. He’s the only one who’s left.
Cara seems to take something from my silence. “I can leave.”
“No. You don’t have to leave.”
“I’ll get water. You can say what you need to.” She doesn’t wait and begins to pack up.
“What if he doesn’t... like... me?”
Cara actually looks at me, locking eyes. But she seems confused. Like she doesn’t understand how I could be saying the things I’m saying. “He does.”
She picks up her water bottle and puts it in her bag.
“Cara.” She turns her attention back to me. There’s something that’s been nagging at me ever since we saw her in the road outside the diner. “How long were you really following us?”
She doesn’t hesitate or lie. “Since you left.”
“And you kept your distance. We didn’t see you once, but you saw us. You went out in the open and stood in the road so we would finally see you, didn’t you?”
When she doesn’t answer, I take that as confirmation.
“So why did you finally show yourself outside the diner?”
She watches me for a moment over the small fire. I expect her to say it’s because she saw how we were with each other. I expect her to say she knew right away we were safe, that we wouldn’t hurt her. But it’s more practical than that.
“It was going to rain.” She smirks and turns her attention back to her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. I can’t help but laugh. Before she leaves I reach over to Andrew’s pack and grab the handgun.
“Here.” I hold it out to her but she doesn’t take it. I hold it closer. “Take it. Andrew will kill me if I let you go off into the woods by yourself without a gun.” I flick the safety off. “Just point it in the air and shoot. We’ll come running.”
Tentatively, she reaches out for the gun and puts it in her pack, using only her forefinger and thumb. “Good luck.” And with that, she turns and walks off in the opposite direction toward the stream.
I’m alone by the low fire, thinking about what I’m going to say. Cara’s right, because I’ve wanted to say something for a while, but I haven’t been able to figure out what. It sounds awful to say that what happened with Harvey made me realize my feelings are real, but it’s true. Not the act of killing him—that was awful. That’s something I don’t ever want to experience again. But protecting Andrew is something I would do in a heartbeat. I would do anything for him.
I hear his footsteps behind me and my stomach tightens. I stare into the tiny fire, trying to figure out where to start.
As his footsteps get closer to me, I pick at the hairs on my leg. I’m so focused on trying to figure out what I’m going to say I don’t realize something sounds off with his footsteps until he’s a few feet away; and then I hear his muffled yells.
I stand and spin around to find a man holding Andrew’s hands behind his back and a gun to his head.
“Don’t move,” the man says. Andrew’s eyes are wide with fear and there’s a shirt or some fabric stuffed in his mouth. Behind him there is a group of four other men, all of them with weapons.
I put my hands up, not that it matters. Cara has the only weapon useful to us now. I gave her the gun so she could shoot it into the air if she needed help, not realizing Andrew and I would be the ones needingherhelp.
“Get back down on your knees,” the man says. I do as he tells me, trying to focus my thoughts on Andrew and telepathically tell him everything is going to be okay.
I don’t know how, but it will.
One of the men behind him emerges from the shadows and my stomach drops. It’s Grover Denton.
He kneels next to me and I can hear plastic straps clicking as he tightens them around each of my wrists, then together.
“Lower the gun, Steve,” Grover says.
Steve, the man holding Andrew captive, kicks the backs of Andrew’s knees and Andrew falls in front of me. Instinctively, I try to reach forward, attempting to catch him, and the plastic ties cut into my wrists.
Andrew stumbles onto the gravel, grunting in pain, and fury rages through me, hot and venomous. I wish I had the gun on me so I could make them all pay.
“Goddammit!” Grover shouts. He moves around me, pulling Andrew up by the plastic ties at his wrists. “You don’t have to be such a dick about it, Steve.”
