I count to ten, then lift my head. My vision blurs for a second—tears, sweat, rain, whatever—but I blink until it clears.
No one is here anymore.
I focus on the trail and start moving again, albeit slower this time, making my own steps more careful.
“They always die,” slips from my lips, my voice foreign to myself, but the words evaporate, drowned by thunder and the slap of rain on my shoulders.
I keep walking, and finally the wind picks up, bringing with it the scent of moss and rotting fish.
That’s when I realize how close I am to the water’s edge.
Noah just walked this path twenty-four hours ago, trailed by dogs and marshals.
The trees thin out abruptly, replaced by a marshy stretch of reeds and black mud. The water’s higher than usual, whitecaps breaking on the stony shore. In the distance, some sort of lights from the dock cut through the sheets of rain, throwing long beams across the lake.
They didn’t completely desert the place.
I crouch low behind a fallen pine, keeping out of the floodlight’s reach. I shiver beneath my jacket, my body completely soaked.
Lightning bursts through the nights, and for a split second, the whole shoreline lights up electric blue.
And I freeze.
There’s a body-shaped lump on the shore, half-concealed by driftwood. My lungs seize up, and I almost break cover, charging down the slope to see if it’s him. My hands clutch at the hem of my jacket, and I dig my knees into the mud, feeling the water soak up through my jeans further.
“Don’t,” I hiss at myself, hearing my heart pounding in my ears now. “Don’t be fucking stupid.”
My eyes cut back to the thin haze of searchlights. Ithinkthey’re too far away to see me. But… I still wait until they’re pointed in the opposite direction.
Then I sprint down the slope.
The mud is worse here, sucking at my shoes, slowing every step. Rain slaps my face and slides down my back. My breath comes in rasps, and my side cramps.
I reach the driftwood heap and fall to my knees, scraping my hands and shins on the rough bark.
You have to be kidding me.
The lump is… just a pile of rotting lake weeds and some empty beer cans, probably from the last group of high school kids who got drunk out here before the world ended.
I could laugh at my own fucking audacity.
He’s not here.No oneis here.
I’m alone, and I’m fucking soaked, and every inch of me hurts. The tears that finally come are hot, and I rub them away with the sleeve of the raincoat, though it just smears lake slime across my cheek.
A fresh roll of thunder hits my ears, and I wish the fucking sky would open and just end me with one solid strike.
But then the searchers start panning back toward me.
Shit.I duck behind the heap of debris. My eyes peer over the top, and I watch for the lights. I wait for them to finish their scan.
I count to three, ready to rise and retreat.
But then a hand clamps around my mouth, yanking me off my feet and into the wet blackness.
3
NOAH
