by Lydia Sharp
Hunter grabs the hatchet. “I’m going with you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“We can carry twice as much back if I do.”
Kai eyes him for a moment and then opens the door. A blast of cold air and snow hurries inside. “Be careful,” I say.
“We’re not going far.” They both hustle out the door, slamming it shut behind them.
When the boys come back, Vicki and I are practically comatose. Wrapped in our plush blanket and with our bellies full, we didn’t stand a chance against the built-up exhaustion of the day. We pulled the mattress closer to the fire and had to squish together for us both to fit on it. This is the warmest, most relaxed I’ve felt since we left the lodge. Kai brushes a chilled thumb across my cheek, stirring me awake.
“I still can’t believe you’re here,” he says. “I just needed to touch you, make sure you’re really real.”
“I’m really real.” My lips stretch with a sleepy smile.
He and Hunter drop their armloads of sticks and logs into the corner, and Vicki sits up. Kai adds more logs to the fire, then strips off his coat and boots. Hunter does the same. And then they both huddle in on either side of us, Kai next to me and Hunter next to Vicki. We have to all sleep together to stay warm, and I don’t mind, but I wonder if Hunter does. He made it clear that getting close to someone, physically or otherwise, is nowhere on his agenda. Tonight, though, he doesn’t have a choice.
I lean against Kai and goose bumps prickle me everywhere. He’s cold from outside. This is the first time I’ve ever had to warm him up, and I like that he needs me. Even just for this one small thing, in this one small moment.
Vicki strikes up a one-sided conversation with Hunter, to which he gives her nods and “mm-hms” the few times she pauses. The air is much more relaxed now than it was before. We can’t go anywhere until the storm passes, and with our new plan in place, there’s nothing left to debate. I turn to face Kai so my back is toward Vicki, letting her words fall into the background.
I pull the rock necklace out from under my collar and rub my thumb over our etched initials. “I haven’t taken it off since you gave it to me.”
“I still got mine on, too,” he says, smiling. “That’s how it works. My dad always wore his whenever he left. My mom still wears hers.”
“I noticed.” The necklace is doing its job. It’s been a constant reminder of him.
“You know what I missed the most while we were apart?” he asks. “Talking to you.”
“Then talk to me now. What have you been doing the last three days? Did you see anything interesting?”
“Yeah. Every time I saw something cool, I wanted tell you about it … Where do I even start?” He tells me about birds and other creatures, how awesome it is to see and hear them up close, and about sleeping under the stars one night, how small it made his day-to-day problems seem. He tells me about being the most exhausted he’s ever been, but at the same time feeling the best he’s ever felt. Every step is both tiring and energizing. And stopping at the lodge was harder than he’d thought it would be, because he saw that picture of him and his dad and Hunter when they were so happy together, but it reminded him that not all his memories are bad, and that’s what he needs to focus on, the good.
“I’ve been thinking about you, too,” he says. “Always. You’re constantly there, floating in my mind. That first night away from you I thought my chest would explode. Missing you caused physical pain. And I kept reaching for my phone, but it wasn’t there. I almost turned around and went home.”
Wow. I hadn’t even realized he was gone at that point. “Why didn’t you?”
“Being out here, doing what my dad enjoyed doing—it’s almost like he’s with me again, you know? With me the way we used to be, before … It hurts, but it’s also a relief. And that probably makes no sense, but it pushed me to keep going.”
Before I can respond, his lips find mine, and it takes all my willpower not to get lost in the kiss, urge him to continue all night, forget we’re not alone. This is what I missed most since he left, this feeling of utter contentment between us, of wanting only what’s best for each other. In his arms, lips locked in a molten embrace, I feel like I can do anything, be anything, like this whole trip will be a cakewalk, because being with him is worth whatever hardship I might face. Like we can face anything together and come out victorious in the end.
Even the wilds of Alaska.
I wake up shivering. Kai is gone, and Vicki is curled up against Hunter. They’re both breathing deep and steady, keeping each other warm—the fire has been reduced to ash—but only Vicki’s eyes are closed. Hunter catches my gaze and puts a finger to his lips. Shh. I nod, but I have to pee. Where am I supposed to pee? Maybe that’s where Kai went, outside, to nature’s bathroom.
I put on my boots, coat, hat, gloves, and snowpants as quietly as I can and then open the door. Snow as high as my knees has been pushed aside to allow access in and out of the shelter. The morning sun is just starting to rise, and where the light touches, everything sparkles. The storm is long gone, and it left a work of art behind. Cold sucks the air out of my lungs and heat out of the rest of me, reminding me that I don’t have the luxury of getting mesmerized by the picturesque view.
Taylor Swift suddenly breaks the silence, the beat and lyrics of her newest hit single even more out of place here than I am. Shock lasts only a second before I realize what I’m actually hearing. My phone is ringing!
How am I even getting a signal? It takes me three rings to get my hand into the zippered pocket of my snowpants and pull the phone out. And it’s Dad’s cell on the line—which means it could be an emergency, or he just thought of something he needed to tell me on the way to work. Or … maybe he’s noticed I’m not there? I have to think for a second to remember what day it is and how long I’ve been gone. Seems like weeks, but it’s only been since yesterday morning.
One more ring and the call will get sent to voice mail. I tap the green dot to pick up. “Hello?”
“Gabi—” His voice crackles, pieces of it breaking off and scattering between here and Anchorage. I can’t make sense of what he’s saying. The bits I do catch sound alien and garbled.
“Papi?”
Nothing.
Still, I try. “If you can hear me, I’m okay. I’ll be home soon. Okay? I’ll be home soon.”
Silence.
I check the screen: no signal. Dad won’t think anything of a dropped call. Alaska drops our calls, and our internet signal, on a regular basis. He won’t worry. He isn’t worried.
I shove the phone back into my pocket and follow Kai’s tracks, stepping into his deep footsteps as quickly as I can without toppling, and find him zipping up his pants behind a tree.
He turns and smiles, releasing a flock of butterflies in my gut. “Good morning.”
“It is for you; you don’t have to hold it anymore.” I smile anyway, despite my frustration, because I can’t not when I see him. “I can’t just pull down my pants and squat in the woods. I’ll literally freeze my butt off.”
“Right. We should go to this Jack guy’s house first thing. Can you hold it until then?”
“Yeah, I think so.” I run my tongue over my teeth and try to swallow the pasty feeling inside my mouth. “What are the chances Jack has a spare toothbrush?”
“We don’t need toothbrushes out here.” Kai scoops up a handful of snow and then rubs it over his teeth, swishes it around, and spits. “There. Clean.”
I copy what he did, only because I don’t have another choice. The shock of cold stings as the snow hits my gums. It doesn’t leave me feeling minty fresh, but it does help a little.
Kai turns me gently by the shoulders until I’m facing the tangerine sunrise spilling over and between the mountain peaks, then he comes up close behind me and wraps his arms around my middle. The landscape is so pure I don’t feel worthy of laying eyes on it, like I accidentally peeked behind a holy curtain meant only for angels to pull
back.
This is Alaska, dangerously beautiful, luring people into death traps like a Siren’s song.
“Remember this,” he says. “Remember how it takes your breath away—remember that this is how I felt the first time I saw you, and how I’ve felt every day since then, whenever I’m with you. This is my version of heaven, Gabi, and so are you.”
Kai’s rucksack is firmly secured to the back of our snowmobile. After a breakfast consisting solely of the protein bars Kai packed for an emergency, there’s thankfully nothing left to do but go. Vicki says it’ll take us about a half hour to get to Jack’s house from here, another hour or so before the plane is prepped and we’re in the air, and then at least a couple of hours of flying. I’m looking forward to that, just sitting there with nothing to do, while the dangers are far below us.
Hunter returns from the woods after relieving himself. This is the only situation I’ve ever been in where I’ve wished I were a boy.
“Finally.” Vicki shoots an exasperated look at Hunter, who was indisposed for all of twenty seconds. “Can we go now? Before me and Gabi burst?”
“Okay, hang on,” Kai says. “Let’s take a selfie together.” He’s been taking pictures of the scenery with my phone for the past ten minutes. He also took one of me standing by the river with the mountains behind me and the blue sky above me, white snow glistening all around. Then he added a caption: Sun shines upon those strong enough to part the clouds.
Another one of his dad’s sayings. I hope he is still alive, so I can meet him. He seems like the type of person I would like, full of optimism and life. He seems a lot like Kai.
He holds the phone out in front of us, then taps the camera shutter icon, capturing three bright smiles and one wrinkled brow. I notice something large and dark lumber into the background, near the river. By the time I turn and see that it’s a brown bear, Kai is already ushering me toward the snowmobiles. “Looks like somebody’s squeezing in one more meal before hibernation,” he says. “Perfect time to go. Don’t make any noise, just get on. Maybe it won’t notice us.”
There’s a stretch of open land between us, but still, I’ve never been this close to a bear that wasn’t enclosed in a zoo, close enough to hear its paws crunching the snow. My brain is suddenly struck with indecision: fear or awe? That thing can kill me if it wants to.
Kai straddles the snowmobile in front of me, and I get situated behind him but keep my eyes on the bear. It dunks its snout into the river and the sound of a splash hits my ears crisp and clear, as if I were standing right beside it. Both snowmobiles’ engines start with a growl and then settle into a low rumble. The bear’s head pops up and turns to face us. No hiding from it now. A bright coral fish hangs in its mouth, tail flopping with the final twitches of its life.
Maybe it’s my imagination, but I think the bear is looking right at me. Right into me. My heart thumps hard in my chest, my head, my ears, my throat; I feel it everywhere. But this thing I’m feeling isn’t “scared.” I don’t know what it is. Exposed, maybe. Vulnerable. Or … trust? I’m putting my absolute trust in this creature not to charge and attack me. That has to be it—trust in its purest form—and the realization calms me. Tension falls away like I’m shedding a heavy coat. For the first time ever I let go of my control of a situation without feeling out of control.
Total serenity. From a bear.
It lazily turns its head back to the river, and soon we’re riding off, every second giving us more and more distance from a possible threat. The moment is gone, but the impact of it stays with me all the way to Jack Randy’s house.
Even if I had been paying attention to how we got here instead of contemplating whether the brown bear is my spirit animal, I couldn’t find this place again if I had to. Jack has taken great care in keeping himself hidden away. The little log-and-stone house is nestled among the evergreens, like not even one tree was razed to make room for the structure, and lies far from any signs of civilization. The forest opens up behind the house into a vast flat land. Piles of random junk cover the yard. Everything from a tire-free truck propped up on cinder blocks to stacks of plastic buckets to rusted pieces and parts of I-can’t-even-guess-what are scattered and stacked in no particular order.
The front door opens slowly, hinges screaming like they’re in pain, and I see the end of what I assume is a shotgun pointed at us before the person holding it comes into view. He’s thin, pale, and wiry, wearing a sleeveless T-shirt, soot-smudged jeans, and intent to harm. Curly tufts of blond hair stick out from under his backward baseball cap. Shotgun aside, I could knock him over with a whisper, but the tendons of his arms are wound tight, ready to spring into action. One wrong move and I don’t doubt he’ll pull that trigger.
Vicki removes her helmet and hops off the snowmobile from her position behind Hunter, but he thrusts an arm out to hold her back.
“It’s okay, he won’t shoot me.” She weaves a path through the junkyard, walks right up to Jack, and pushes the tip of his shotgun down until it’s pointed at the ground. “We need a fly to Fairbanks.”
Jack’s stern expression falters. His lips twitch like he might laugh. “Well, I guess hell must have actually frozen over. Isn’t that what you said the last time you dumped me—less than a month ago?” He adds a twang to his voice and heightens the pitch, mimicking her. “‘The day I come back to you for anything, Jack-hole, is the day hell freezes over.’”
“This is Alaska,” Vicki says. “Doesn’t take long for anything to freeze here.”
“Including my plane’s engine. And the airstrip. You know I don’t fly in winter, and you never go that far north, not even for your daddy. Why’re you headed there now?”
“How about you let us in so we can talk about it before we freeze? Or are you just going to keep standing there in your stupid cutoff shirt and your stupid backward hat, looking at us all stupid like that?”
This guy must be a real snake if he makes innocent, cheerful Vicki let loose a string of stupids. That’s the harshest word I’ve ever heard come out of her mouth, and she just fired three of them at him—bing, bang, boom—with barely a breath between them.
Jack eyes her up and down. A wicked grin slithers from cheek to cheek. “Missed you, too, babe.”
Kai hasn’t let go of my hand since I stepped out of the bathroom. Jack’s house is surprisingly tidy and simple and smells like freshly chopped wood. A fireplace crackles in the main room, making it so hot in here we have to remove our coats and snowpants. Books line the shelves on either side of the mantel, but I have a hard time imagining Jack indulging in nightly pleasure reads. I’d sooner believe he uses the pages for kindling.
There are only two chairs, one a rocker and the other a lounger with sunken cushions barely held together by threads, and the guys insisted Vicki and I take them. Even with me sitting and Kai standing, he keeps a firm grip on my hand. Being around Jack has awakened some primal protective instinct within him that’s too strong to fight. Not that I really need protecting; I could send Jack to the floor with one well-placed kick. But some primal instinct within me likes that Kai is playing bodyguard.
“Nice boots, princess,” Jack says to me with a smirk. “Where’d you get those, overpricedoutfitters.com?”
I unlace them and pull them off my feet, one at a time. Kai helps me nudge my chair closer, so I can prop my feet up on the hearth. They prickle as heat wraps around them, bakes my toes. “What’s wrong with my boots?”
“Nothing. Not one thing. They’re perfect. The best money could buy, I bet.”
“Save it,” Vicki says. “We’re not here to listen to you whine about the economy.”
Jack shoots her a side-eye, then clears his throat. “So let me get this straight. You three need a ride to one of the dry cabins outside of Fairbanks.”
“Dry cabins?” I say. “What are those?”
“That means they have no plumbing,” Kai says. “But don’t worry. They usually have an outhouse close by.” He hands Jack a slip of paper.
“Get us as close to those coordinates as you can. And as soon as possible. Like, right now.” Then he turns to me. “If we’re away too long, your dad will start to worry.”
I pull out my phone to see if Dad tried calling again, but there’s no signal here, either. Kai goes on, “If we don’t find my dad within a day or two, we’ll hike into the nearest town and get you a ride back home. Okay?”
“Yeah.” I shove the phone back into my pocket. “What about you and Hunter?”
“Depends on what we do find.”
Jack points at Vicki. “And you’re doing what, then?”
“Going home,” Vicki says, at the same time Hunter says, “Not your concern. Can you take us, or should we go find someone else? There’s only so much daylight, it’s a long ride, and we still have to hike up the mountain from wherever you drop us off. We’d rather not have to do that in the dark.”
Jack levels his gaze on Hunter. Which actually requires him to lift his chin a bit. And when Hunter doesn’t cow under his pitiful attempt at staring him down, Jack turns to me and Kai. “That’ll be a thousand bucks. Half now, half when we get there.”
Kai tightens his grip on my hand. “You’d better be serving caviar for that price—”
“No problem.” I reach for my credit card.
“Cash only,” Jack clarifies.
“Oh.” Hm. Okay, that is a problem. “Hunter, you said you have cash, right?”
“Not that much, are you kidding?” he says. “I got maybe thirty bucks.”
“Kai? Vicki?”
Headshakes all around.
Except Jack, who just grins. “Well, it looks like you’re grounded. Unless you can offer something worth the same. Or … someone.” His grin slides from me to Vicki. “Whaddaya say, Vicks? Just like old times?”
“You can’t take her as payment, you vile swine,” I snap. No, he’s lower than swine for suggesting such a thing. He’s swine dung. He looks up at swine from the mud and wishes he were that clean.