Page 25 of Trust

A tall chimney pierces the sky, luring me on. But the closer I get, the faster that hope drains. Weathered yellow boards peel in long, tired curls, and the roof sags in places, its shingles buckled like old scales. Dark windows stare out at me, the glass long gone or shattered. The doors are mismatched slabs of wood, nailed shut at crooked angles as though someone gave up halfway through trying to keep the wilderness out. Grass has swallowed the walkway, and the tracks beyond break apart and vanish into weeds.

Everything about it reeks of abandonment, a scent I’m all too familiar with.

My legs are so heavy I can hardly lift them anymore, and I lurch, slamming into the ground. The stones on the train tracks dig into my hands and knees, tearing new wounds into already battered skin. My will to live slowly slips away as I fold, my elbows sinking down, my head resting on my forearms.

I’d cry if crying was an option. Whatever energy I had left is gone.

My mind paints my own end in vivid colors. How long does it take to freeze to death? I picture the blackness overtaking my spirit. It’s like falling asleep, right? Mom could be waiting on the other side. I’d be with her again.

I’d love to see my father’s reaction when he gets the call. Would he care and blame himself, or would—crack.

I’m ripped from my imagination by a noise way too close for my liking. My self-preservation instinct kicks in, and my head shoots to the right meeting the gaze of a bear.

A fucking bear!

It’s massive, brown, and definitely real.

My breath snags.

The furry beast is no less surprised than me, and we end up locked in a weird staring contest.

I am not going to be eaten by a bear.

Slowly, I turn my body to face it and crawl backward. I can’t break eye contact, too afraid it’ll attack the second I look away. In slow motion, I rise to my aching feet.

And I run.

Faster than I thought I was capable of at this point.

My legs shake, lungs tear open. There’s no plan, only the need to get away. I don’t turn around to check where it is or whether it’s coming after me at all. I zigzag across the tracks, until I reach the ruins of the old station and haul myself onto the sagging platform.

This place isn’t a refuge. It isn’t anything. Just another relic devoured by the forest, another almost that isn’t enough.

I circle the building, barely registering a huge map slapped onto the wall, the word COLORADO glaring across the top.

I’m in Colorado?

That’s two states away from home.

Too terrified to linger and check my exact location, I sprint on.

A rickety wooden fence blocks my path through the bushes. I manage to scramble over it before losing my balance and spilling onto pavement. A real road with blacktop and yellow lines appears unreal after everything behind me. Headlights barrel right at me, horns blare. My voice doesn’t work.

And then—void.

DELIVERY

Cash

I nearly plow straight into her, barely seeing her in time. She’s a blur stumbling out of the mist and onto the road. I hit the brakes with force. The truck shudders. My heart flips hard and ugly. She goes down right in front of me.

By the time I throw the vehicle in park and jump out, she’s flat on her back, limbs splayed, eyes closed. Her skin’s drained of all color, lips cracked, and she’s barely moving. I crouch down and press two fingers to her neck. Her pulse is steady but fast, and she’s breathing. The truck didn’t make contact with her.

Thank fucking hell.

I scoop her up and carry her to the passenger side. She doesn’t stir. Her sneakers are soaked, leggings ripped like she lost a fight and barely crawled away. Blood has dried down her shin, and tiny cuts and scratches spread across her face.

What a mess.