Uncharted

by Adriana Anders

  There was something hopeful about all that beauty, ancient, but fresh. The birth of a new day. Like snowflakes and human faces, no two sunrises were the same, and this one was hers. Just hers.

  A cloud skittered across the rising sun, forever changing the view. She swallowed back a wave of premature nostalgia, already missing this bittersweet moment, this time and place, with this man to whom she’d already given too much of herself.

  “Oh, shut up,” she whispered, rolling her eyes at her excessive sentimentality.

  She took a bolstering breath and let herself look down at Elias. And then, it seemed wiser to wake him than to stare at the trail-worn lines of his face. Each one of them hard-earned. Each one deep and beautiful.

  “Elias.” She spoke louder than she’d meant to, pushing every shred of longing from her voice. Hopefully. “Got to move.” The words puffed hot vapor into the cold air, and she shivered at the prospect of moving away from his warm body.

  Her words pushed him deeper into sleep, into his firm pillow. Which was actually her lap. He’d wake up if she shook him or rolled out from under him, but that would dump him on the ground.

  He made a low, sleepy noise, gripped the blankets, and pulled them up around his head, leaving only his eyes and his thick, wavy hair visible.

  She gripped her hands together to stop herself from tunneling her fingers into it.

  “Elias.” If she made her voice firm, she wouldn’t have to touch him…or pull away. “We need to get going.”

  His eyes opened, focused on her, and then creased at the corners. He was smiling—a sweet, intimate expression—and she almost died from it. It put an actual pain in her chest while she did her best to catch her breath.

  Better get some distance. She shifted out of the blankets and got up in a rush, immediately regretting it when dizziness overwhelmed her. With an undignified oof, she flopped down again, practically on top of this man she barely knew.

  Except she knew him now, didn’t she? She knew the smell and the feel of him, the taste of his skin under her tongue, and most importantly, she knew how it hurt to be him.

  “Got water?” His eyes narrowed, as if he had seen her thoughts and didn’t like them. Or was trying to get a read on her and couldn’t. Or maybe he thought she’d—

  Shut it down, Eddowes.

  “Okay?” The two syllables rumbled from his chest.

  For a few seconds, she didn’t move, didn’t respond, just let herself be close to him.

  “Sure.”

  Slowly, he twisted the top, put the canteen to his mouth, and drank, gasping at the cold. When he returned it, she was disquieted to see that her hand—her whole arm—shook from the weight of the light plastic bottle.

  “Feeling okay?”

  “Fantastic.” She gave him her biggest, smartassiest smile. “You?”

  “Million times better now that I slept.” He stretched, reminding her of a big, sleepy bear waking up from hibernation. Or of what she imagined a bear to look like, since she’d been lucky enough to avoid them so far.

  He eyed her and finally sat up. “Let me look at your head.”

  With closed eyes, she sat through his examination, half-sad and half-relieved when he patted her shoulder. “Looks good. Let me rebandage it and we can take off.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I should…” He pointed awkwardly in the distance. “You know. Take a leak.”

  “Oh. Right.” She shifted away from him, mortified to realize that their legs had been entwined—hers on top. Of course he needed her to move. Otherwise, he’d have been up and moving minutes ago.

  He stood and quickly turned his back to her, but not before she got a look at the prominent erection tenting his pants. Her mouth tightened into a perfect, silent O, and her skin went all hot and dry. Much like her mouth, actually.

  “Sorry,” she whispered, though it wasn’t clear if he heard.

  When he returned, she considered saying something but then let it go. Morning wood was a thing. She knew that, given that she’d worked alongside men for much of her life, though she’d never experienced it quite so closely before.

  “Other side of this mountain, there’s a place where we can clean up.” He was all business now. “Get a better night’s rest before heading into the easy part.”

  “Oh. The end’s the easy part?”

  “Well, it’s not this crappy broken shale. And we move to lower altitudes, so that’s easier. Flatter, too, and hopefully not quite so badly flooded as up here.”

  “So, better.”

  “Unless we’re being hunted by helicopters, of course.”

  Her nerves pricked. “Why’s that?”

  “Well, we’ve got the mountains here and…more mountains. We can call ’em foothills farther west.”

  “Right.”

  “And what’s past that? You flew here. Remember?”

  She closed her eyes, going back over the area around Schink’s Station and her flight here.

  “The river feeds into the lake at Schink’s Station.”

  “Exactly.” He nodded. “Mountains, mostly bare, and the taiga’s a lot sparser there. Just that and the river.” His shrug was apologetic. “No place to hide.”

  “Well, crap.”

  “That’s about right.”

  ***

  It was a long, hard hike west, over treacherous, half-frozen ground. They walked throughout the day without a hitch, which Elias was just paranoid enough to find worrisome.

  Where was the search party? The reinforcements? Why weren’t they back out, tearing up the sky with their helicopter?

  He glanced over his shoulder and forced his gaze past Leo to scour the landscape. Was there someone out there, right now, following in their footsteps?

  Something tickled at the nape of his neck and, without hesitation, he pointed to the side, pleased when she continued to follow precisely in his footsteps—using rocks and branches and dry ground whenever available—veering slightly south from their direct westerly path.

  Something wasn’t right. He had no idea what it was or how he knew it, but one of his senses was sounding the alarm.

  When he paused to scope out their surroundings again, Leo watched him closely, eyes wide. She lifted her eyebrows and shoulders in a silent query.

  He gave his head a little shake and continued to search.

  She drew close and whispered, “Hear something?”

  “No.”

  “See something? What is it?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Though her nod looked a little hesitant, she joined in his search. The problem was that, even after five minutes spent in perfect silence and stillness, watching and waiting, there was no physical sign of what he sought.

  Dark clouds had gathered in the sky by the time they started moving again, and still he wasn’t confident. A good tracker wouldn’t show themselves. They could be out there, biding their time, waiting for the opportunity to strike. To come for the virus.

  That he and Leo didn’t have.

  At first, the rain was so gentle it was almost undetectable. A cold mist seeping into hoods and under gloves, covering his beard so subtly he didn’t notice until he ran his hand over it and found it dripping water.

  He didn’t want to stop, couldn’t shake the feeling that something was out there, slowly and inexorably tracking them.

  Then there was the constant burning in his side and, worst of all, the worry that he’d drawn Leo into something she wouldn’t survive.

  She whistled low and he turned, adrenaline spiking.

  “Can’t go much farther with the rain.”

  “Call this rain?” He leaned his head back and got a frigid face full, then shook himself like a dog, pleased when she smiled in response.

  “Even if it’s just a drizzle, it’s a cold drizz
le.”

  “Yeah.” He searched the darkening shadows again, not happy with the roiling clouds or the quickly cooling air and really not happy with the itch at the nape of his neck. “Let’s find a place out of the wind to pitch the tent.”

  “We done for the day?”

  Gaze bouncing left to right and back, tension ticking a muscle in his cheek, he replied quietly, “We keep going, we risk exposure.” His attention flicked up at the darkening sky. “It’s about to come down.”

  “And if we stay?”

  “Don’t know, Leo. There’s something...” He blew air out his mouth. “There’s something.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, her eyes big and skittish. Maybe she felt it, too. “I need a few minutes of privacy.”

  Stay close, he wanted to say, but she knew what she was doing. Instead, he nodded and forced himself not to watch her walk away, despite an overwhelming desire to stop her.

  Chapter 27

  Leo had spent enough time in life-or-death situations to understand a few important things.

  Food mattered, though not as much as water. And shelter mattered more than both. In this case, with the two of them in not quite pristine condition and the sky looking like another squall was about to hit, they needed to hunker down and get better.

  Turning a three sixty in the quickly fading light, she saw no obvious stopping place.

  Oh, they could use the tent, or maybe dig into the underbrush and find some drier layers to call a nest for the night. But it wouldn’t offer any help against this freaking wind, especially if the rain got serious. Given the drops falling on her face, she’d take that possibility as a fait accompli.

  After peeing, she moved a bit farther into the underbrush, as quietly as she could manage, hoping she’d find the perfect place to ride out the coming weather. The light was seeping out of the sky, though it wasn’t yet night. They’d walked maybe eight hours? Ten? Visibility was down to a few feet in any direction, movement just as hampered by the slippery sliminess of mud. If it got any darker, they’d have to search with a flashlight, but that would be pretty much begging someone to see them in this forest. And, though the helicopter hadn’t shown up at all today, she had to trust Elias’s gut.

  You couldn’t argue with a man who’d survived such an enemy for this long.

  Besides, she felt it too, whatever it was. She couldn’t describe the feeling, couldn’t quite capture it herself, but it was there—a disquiet that made no sense on its own but couldn’t be ignored when coupled with his.

  They needed to find a camping spot or they’d be back to hypothermic within hours. Less.

  Not here! every one of her instincts screamed. This wide-open location, on the steep slope of the mountain, was too unprotected.

  She spun again, seeing nothing—absolutely nothing—to help hide them for the night.

  Just a hole was all they needed. Big enough to crawl into, out of the rain.

  She blinked into the patchwork of shadows at the base of a tree. Was that a cave?

  A raindrop plunked onto her hood with a dull sound, followed by another.

  Everything was two-dimensional without light—no difference between logs and shadows. It might not be a good idea to examine dark hollows or caves without any visibility. Time to get back.

  A stink hit her, so hard she backed up a step. Good God, what was that? Like the gorilla pen in the zoo or the frat house next door to where she’d lived in college.

  Oh, shit.

  She went very still, didn’t breathe, didn’t move a muscle. Not an eyelash or a hair.

  Something shifted close by, the sound awkward, heavy. Was that breathing? Snoring?

  She pressed her lips together and backed slowly away.

  Don’t be a bear. Please don’t be a bear.

  Later, she’d hit herself for thinking she’d been lucky not to run into one. Jinxing herself again.

  A quick inventory told her she’d left the rifle with Elias. Because, apparently, she’d lost her will to live since she met the man. Or at least her sense of self-preservation. What kind of a moron walks off on her own without protection?

  An exhausted one, sick and wounded and cold and ready to eat a hot meal. That would be nice. A hot meal. Truffle fries. Her mouth literally watered.

  Just please don’t be a bear.

  With mayo. Eurotrash, the guys called her, but she knew they liked it too. She’d seen them sneak fries…

  Something snorted.

  It is. It’s a fucking bear.

  Her inner monologue stopped short. It only offered comfort when she could pretend things were fine, but in this case, she’d need something a whole lot more concrete to lean on than mental distraction.

  It moved.

  And she hadn’t even brought the damn bear spray with her. Although the locals scoffed at the idea of that stuff anyway. Get close enough to spray her, Daisy had said with a laugh, better have already put a hole in her hide.

  Or preferably, left it the hell alone.

  Well, that was all great advice, really. Useless out here in the real, honest-to-goodness wilderness, without a solitary way to defend herself, but great in theory. Just great, she mouthed.

  With a slow, careful step away from the fallen log, she took stock—three knives. Waist, pocket, and boot.

  A lot of good they would do against claws and jaws that could rip her open and snap her bones.

  Another careful step back and another. She’d made it maybe six feet from the den when it chuffed, the noise exactly like a sneeze.

  Oddly, that gave her hope. It was sleeping. Please be sleeping.

  Another step, another prayer that her foot wouldn’t break a twig or slide in a fresh vat of mud.

  Don’t wake up. Don’t wake up. Please, please, don’t wake up.

  Funny how she’d thought the worst had happened today, with the long hike and, oh, being chased by killers over deadly terrain. Just proved, didn’t it, that she was right to be superstitious. She was right to think the worst was always to come.

  Whenever she thought she could slow down or relax or—hey, stop to maybe kiss a stranger in the woods—it all came crashing down.

  Please don’t wake up.

  The animal shifted and snuffled, the sound so much like a man waking up that she had a quick moment of panic someone else was here after all. But then it emerged fully from the cave. A grizzly, slow and sleepy and probably hungry as hell. Maybe even mad that someone had awakened it this late in the day.

  She stopped moving. It was big, but not fat, the way she’d imagined. It was all muscle and bone and sinew, with a thick, wooly coat that hung loose on its frame, its gait slow and rolling. Though she knew for a fact it could run if it wanted. It could chase her down, shove her to the ground and tear her open in the blink of an eye.

  She tightened her hand on the knife hilt, keeping it low.

  “Hey.” Her voice was so reedy she hardly recognized it. No way. If she was gonna die against this animal today, she would at least take a real stand first. She spent a long, slow inhale searching hard for her inner badass.

  “How’s it going there…bear?”

  Its big head turned, shiny eyes finding her in the eerie light.

  When it took its first step in her direction, Leo ignored every one of her instincts and held her ground.

  ***

  Elias smelled it first.

  Bear. No doubt about it. A growl just confirmed it. He’d heard that sound more times than he could count, and it was close. Too damn close.

  Bo stopped eating, tail down, ears up.

  “Stay,” he muttered, then hefted the Guide Gun, checked the chamber, and started moving, knees bent, eyes slowly scanning the woods.

  He nearly stepped on a branch, held his weight off so it didn’t crack, lifted his foot over it, and carried
on, afraid of what he’d find.

  And hell if it wasn’t worse than he’d imagined.

  Leo stood utterly still with both hands hanging loose at her sides, one clenching what looked like a KA-BAR knife. Its straight, partially serrated steel blade might as well have been a toothpick for all the good it would do.

  He heard something through the rain’s light patter and the buzzing in his brain. Leo’s voice. Low and melodious.

  Wait. Was she singing?

  The bear—just a silhouette in the half-light—shifted forward, its body deceptively lumbering and slow. These guys were fast when speed was needed.

  His hands tightened on his rifle, his breath left his body, he looked for a clear shot, and—

  Leo moved, unintentionally putting herself right in his line of fire. Didn’t she realize he was here? Get down, he wanted to yell, fear clawing at his throat. Out of my way.

  She didn’t budge, didn’t respond at all, just kept up that low, melodious rhythm until the animal settled back on its haunches, cocked its head at a curious angle…and watched her.

  All the while, Leo sang.

  Elias couldn’t feel a thing. Not the wet or the cold or his damp clothes clinging to his skin. Everything he had was geared toward the exchange between the two creatures, every sense focused on keeping the animal in his sights, every muscle there to hold up his rifle, to tighten his finger to fire if need be.

  “All right?” Leo asked conversationally. Having a goddamn chat with the beast. Her hands were up, moving slowly, gesticulating as if she were talking to any old person in the world. He was having a heart attack, and she was yammering away like this was a tea party.

  She took a step back, slow and careful.

  “Don’t!” he called, his voice as light as he could make it. “Drop your head but don’t back up. Stand your ground, and no more eye contact. Head down.” He wasn’t even sure the bear could see Leo’s eyes in this light. “And keep talking. Keep talking to me.”

  “I was looking for a place to, uh, camp for the night, Elias. Just wanted to find us a place where we could get warm. Maybe dry off a little.”