“Hang on.” I dig into the satchel.
The map takes a moment too long to find. The compass is clipped to it.
I peel the bundle out… and my face pinches.
Nothing is wet.
Not the map, not the compass, not the interior fabric of the bag itself.
Even the torch.
The satchel is soaked on the outside—bone dry inside.
I could trip over that, let my mind run around in circles. But the map and compass are intact. And that’s all I need to worry about right now.
“Here.” I hand the folded parchment to Connie. “Hold it out.”
She does.
I lift the compass, aim the torch at the map, and study the paths.
Problem is, I don’t know where I am.
It takes me a while to figure out where the bay is. There’s more than one bay around here.
And maps aren’t my thing.
Not my generation—and I think I was battered around too much in the waves, because my brain is slower than I can afford it to be.
Samick will be looking for me.
I stand here, wasting time, as he searches the forest for me.
And Connie’s mate, too.
It’s a wonder they haven’t found us already.
But then, the water might have disorientated them just as it did me. Maybe it washed away our scents, and there are no tracks to trace, and that’s slowing them down.
I need Bee.
She would know what to do, where to go, and I would just follow her.
But then, doing all that led us into this mess in the first place, really. If she never went off to track the other unit back in Kelowna, if she just came with me to the hospital, Dare never would have seen her.
None of this would have happened if she’d just listened to me.
Even the whole trip to begin with.
I didn’t want to do this.
I didn’t want to accept the offer and visit my dad for his fucking vow renewals.
Didn’t care that he was paying for my flights, or that Bee saw that as an opportunity to have a holiday, and then it grew from there into a whole thing with the girls, and a whole entire caravan trip—
I just wanted to stay home.
I wanted Bee to come to the hospital at Kelowna, not go out and scout.
