“Maybe, maybe not,” I said, my tone purposefully no-nonsense. “You can play the what-if game all day, but it won’t change what happened. You aren’t responsible for Rory’s death. You tried to save him, in more ways than one. And you tried to protect the City. No one blames you, so stop blaming yourself.”
Thad didn’t reply. I could tell he didn’t expect me to say anything, which was good since I had no clue what else to say. The waterfall echoed like rain through the silence.
“Do you know that he didn’t use any of the knives that he took?” Thad said finally. “Not one. He didn’t even try to fight back.”
“But you did,” I said, refusing to let him wallow in self-doubt or, worse, self-hate. “Don’t you see? You fought for him, and that means something. And you could’ve gotten killed. Wild hogs can be really mean.”
Now Thad looked over, one eyebrow raised. “Do you run into lots of wild hogs in Georgia?”
My face felt hot. “Well, I haven’t, but they’ve made the papers. There was this one, named Hogzilla. It was huge, like, a thousand pounds.” Knowing I sounded Southern crazy, I got back on track. “My point is, wild hogs can be dangerous, especially when they’re protecting their babies. And if you want to play what-if, what if the hog had gored you, too? When you came back, covered in blood, I thought—”
I broke off, remembering Thad staggering down the trail, drenched in red. My voice shook. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”
“Me too.” He sounded choked. “Thanks.”
Thad’s eyes dropped to my lips.
Finally, I thought. I felt guilty for wanting Thad so much, especially right now, but heaven help me, I did. My lips tingled in anticipation. As I leaned closer, I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
Reaching over, he took my hand. With his thumb, Thad rubbed the inside of my wrist, then my palm, making me shiver—until I realized he was rubbing away blood. Dried blood, staining my skin like a macabre tattoo, from the few seconds I’d held Thad’s arm.
My skin burned; he was rubbing too hard.
“It’s okay,” I said, covering his hand with mine. “It’s okay.”
Thad jerked his hand back, and my hands fell together, empty. As I tucked them in my lap, Thad put his hands on his knees and closed his eyes, like he was fighting something—maybe himself. “Charley, I—”
Thad broke off, listening. As Thad stood, I heard the sounds of people. Moments later, Miguel, Johan, and Rives came into view.
“What’s up?” Thad asked.
“Just getting dinner,” Rives said. “Julio wants to get the pig on the coals ASAP.”
Thad nodded, then turned to me. “Charley, thanks for the shorts and towel. And—for what you said. I’ll catch you later, okay?” The distance was back.
Rives spoke up. “Thad, we’ve got this, bro. You don’t have to come.”
“Yes, I do.” Thad’s jaw was hard.
He looked back at me, but he was already gone, withdrawn to a place I couldn’t reach and wasn’t sure I wanted to. Then, without another word, Thad took off, striding down the trail alone. Miguel and Rives exchanged a long glance, then jogged after Thad. Johan lagged a few yards behind.
Ten quick steps later, the group was gone.
Thad’s bloody clothes lay by the bank. Using a stick, I flicked them into the Cove, into the same spot where Thad and I had washed Kevin’s clothes. I swished and rinsed, repulsed by the blood seeping from the cloth, and grateful I’d thought to bring soap. When the cloth finally rinsed clean, I wrung out the shorts and tucked them in my bag along with Thad’s towel. Then I wondered what to do next.
Oddly enough, I didn’t feel like company.
I headed west, winding through thick foliage. Eventually the path shifted north, and as the ground rose, I came to a junction. One route cut hard left, toward the ocean, I guessed; the other veered slightly east.Inland, I thought. I thought of the prehistoric roars—roars I hadn’t heard since I’d come to the City—and without hesitation, I hooked left.
I’d just spied the ocean through the trees when a boy popped into sight, his back to me. He lunged toward the beach, like a sprinter bursting from the blocks, and recognition hit me like a rock.
At the same moment I said, “Bart?” a burst of noise cut the quiet; it was a girl, barking commands like a Spanish general.
Bart spun toward me, startled. “Charley! You scared the crap out of me!” Color flooded his pale face as he waved for me to follow. “C’mon, let’s go!”
Three more commands, then a shout. More like a whoop.
Bart broke through the trees. A few steps behind, so did I, and I nearly ran smack into a dark-haired girl.
