by Lydia Sharp
Jack runs one fingertip along the latitude and another along the longitude, then stops in the mountains north of Fairbanks and marks the point of intersection with the pencil. “This is Ukiuk, the town I came to at the bottom of our mountain. So we’re …” He draws an X not far from the town. Maybe a quarter inch? How far is that in real life? “Here,” he finishes. “This is a public cabin we’re in. They know exactly where it is. But no one thought you’d be this far up, so no one was even searching out here.”
He pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket, the one Kai gave him with his dad’s cabin’s coordinates on it, and runs one fingertip along the latitude and one along the longitude, until they meet, then marks a new X on the map. It’s almost the same distance from our current location as Ukiuk is, but only a fraction of the distance we’ve covered already. “This is your final destination,” he says. “That’s less than a day away on foot, if the river isn’t too deep to cross. If it is, you’ll have to find a way around, and that could add days to your travel. I packed you some extra stuff, just in case that happens.”
I lift my gaze from the map and lock it on Kai. “We have to cross a river? In this cold? Isn’t getting wet what messed up Hunter?”
“Are you changing your mind?” He looks offended, as if he didn’t change his mind more than once in the last few days. Now that he’s firmly set on going, anything less won’t do. Like Hunter said, tunnel vision.
And I wouldn’t want him any other way.
“No,” I say, “I’m just … trying to process this.” We’re really going out there, only the two of us. Me and Kai against the wild. Less than a week ago, I was at home, safe, unaware that he was even missing. Now I’m halfway across the state and about to risk my life to help him. And if we don’t find his dad’s cabin or another one before dark, I’ll be sleeping in snow.
Dad’s never going to let me outside to do so much as take out the garbage after this. I can’t imagine how worried he is. Mom is probably just annoyed by the inconvenience of having a “runaway child.” She had to be the one who tipped everyone off that something was wrong after seeing those charges at the lodge. But she would have never guessed how far I’ve come.
Too far to not see it through.
Jack traces a bumpy path from X to X, through the mountains, then hands the map to Kai. “Good luck.”
Kai studies the map for a second, then adds it to his pack, zips it all up, and hefts it onto his back. “We’re not leaving without saying good-bye to Hunter.”
“And we’re not leaving without a plan B.” I turn to Jack. “Can you stick around Ukiuk until we’re done? If we’re not back at this cabin in three days, send someone out to find us. Three days. Okay? But don’t say where we’re going before then.”
“Ay, ay, princess.” He gives me a mock salute.
I follow Kai into the bedroom, and he kneels beside the bed, nudges Hunter awake. “Hey,” he says, giving his shoulder another shake. “Hunter, wake up. We’re leaving.”
Hunter grumbles and rolls slowly onto his side. “Where are we going?”
“Not we—No. You’re right. We’re all leaving. But you’re going home. Me and Gabi are going to Dad’s cabin. We have to go now, though. There’s some people on their way to take care of you, okay? You’re gonna be all right. But me and Gabi won’t be with you. Vicki and Jack will be. If we don’t get out of here right now, the police will force us to go back home. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“You’re going to see Dad. I’m not.” Hunter’s lips are cracked and peeling. He licks them and swallows, changing nothing about their appearance. Even his tongue is dry. His whole body jerks with a coughing fit for a few moments.
“Yeah,” Kai says after Hunter quiets. “I’m going to see Dad. I wish you could come with me.”
“He wouldn’t want to see me,” Hunter rasps. “I pushed him away on purpose … and got exactly what I asked for in return—nothing.”
His words hit me hard in the chest. That’s exactly what I did to Mom, pushed her away on purpose. And I thought I wanted nothing in return, but now I’m not so sure. It’s not that I don’t want her at all. It’s that I don’t want the person she is now. If there were a way I could have the mami back that I had when I was little …
Hunter coughs again, pulling me out of my thoughts. “I pushed him away so you could have him, Kai. Why didn’t you go on that trip with him? He wanted you to go. Why did you tell him no?”
Kai drops his head. He can’t avoid this now. Hunter may be slightly delirious from the fever, but even so, Kai won’t ignore a direct question from him. “The same reason you pushed him away. For you.” His voice cracks and he lifts his head. “I love Dad, but I was tired of him coming between us. I miss being your brother. I miss the fun we used to have, whenever we were together, with or without Dad.”
“Me, too. And I miss him, too.” Hunter struggles to keep his focus on Kai, but that doesn’t keep a tear from spilling down his cheek. “I miss him every day.”
“I’m going to set this right when I see him, okay? I’m going to fix this.” He runs both hands up his forehead and into his hair. “You just take care of yourself and get better.”
“That’s an order, Dr. Locklear,” I tease, though I can’t keep my tone from wavering. I think Hunter tries for a smile, but it looks more like a grimace.
Kai gives him a quick hug, and then he grabs my hand. “Ready?”
Holding Kai’s hand, his warm confidence surging from his fingers into mine, I feel like I could take on anything. “Ready,” I say. “Let’s do this.”
We say our good-byes to Jack and Vicki, and they tell us we’re crazy but wish us luck anyway. When Kai opens the front door, cold air blasts me in the face. It doesn’t lock me up this time, though. It energizes me.
As soon as we get outside, we see a big black truck with blue flashers spinning on its roof. And it’s driving straight for us.
We make a mad dash for the trees.
The roar of the truck’s engine thunders over me like an ocean wave, gears grinding as it attacks the incline. They’re probably fifty yards from the cabin, close enough to easily catch us even after they stop in to get the others, but these trees are too close together. They can’t drive through here. They’ll have to go by foot, like us, and I can only hope we’ve got enough of a head start to lose them.
“No way they didn’t see us,” I say through panting breaths. “We are in so much trouble.”
“Then we might as well have fun with it, right?” There’s laughter in his voice, begging for release.
“Just tell me you know where we’re going, that we’re not running blind.”
He lets the laugh out this time. “I know where we’re going.”
We dart through a maze of naked trees and spindly evergreens. Many of them have been chopped, evidence of our stay here the past few days.
“Hey!” a gruff voice shouts. “Stop!”
I dare a glance over my shoulder. Two people—men, I assume, by their size and builds—are chasing us at a dead run, maneuvering through the trees as well as we are.
“We can’t run forever,” I say. Well, Kai probably could. But I’m already lagging behind. Kai tugs me along, urging me to go faster. “I need to catch my breath.”
“We’re almost there,” he says.
“Almost where?”
“At something I found yesterday when I came out to get wood.”
The trees break away suddenly, revealing a sheer drop. The bottom is pure white—who knows what that snow is hiding? Rocks? Another ice-covered lake? Straight ahead of us is open air. Behind us, the men are closing the gap. We’re trapped. Unless—
“We’re jumping,” Kai says, grinning wide. I know that grin. It’s the same one I see before he does something sure to give him an adrenaline rush. It’s the same one I see when he kisses me, like doing that is just as much of a thrill for him as soaring into a freezing lake, or zip-lining through the mountains, or snowboarding
.
Kai is as excited about this jump as I am scared.
“Are you insane?”
“A little late to be asking me that, isn’t it?” He’s still smiling. If this jump doesn’t kill him, he is so dead. “This is the only way to keep them from following us.”
“That’s because no one in their right mind jumps off a cliff!”
“You came with me this far; don’t quit now. You can do this, Gabi. I know you can.”
Shouts crescendo behind us. How easy it would be to just let myself be caught. To quit.
You can do this, Gabi.
“There’s a good blanket of snow on the ground,” Kai says, sliding the pack off his shoulders. “It’ll cushion your fall, but this is still gonna hurt. The incline can work in your favor, though. Don’t try to land on your feet; you could break a leg or force a knee into your face. Tuck and roll.” He demonstrates quickly. That stupid grin hasn’t left his face.
He pulls two full-head masks out of his pack, hands me one, and then tosses his pack over the edge, throwing it hard to the left so we don’t land on it. I count how long it takes to hit the ground. One-Mississippi—splat. One second. That’s all the time I’ll have to get properly tucked before I have to roll.
He pulls the mask down over his head, leaving only his eyes exposed. There’s a flap over the mouth hole. I put mine on, too. The inside of the mask is soft and warm, and the outside feels like a Windbreaker. Already, my face is heating up from my own breath. Kai lays a palm on my back. “You ready?” His voice is muffled by the mask.
I could pretend I didn’t hear him, but I nod instead. Kai needs me. And Hunter’s counting on me to see this through for him.
“Don’t do it!” the guy behind us yells.
“Together, on the count of three,” Kai says. “One …”
Wherever you go, let your heart lead your feet.
“Two …”
If you have a really good reason for wanting it, your heart will make you do it.
“Three!”
Oh god oh god oh god oh god—
We leap into nothingness. As soon as I register I’m in a free fall, my heart and stomach somersaulting over and around each other—tuck!—I shoulder-butt the ground. All the air leaves my lungs in one big grunt. I’m rolling downhill but not on purpose. Bright white stars flash behind my eyes. My teeth clang hard against one another.
Finally, my body stops, and I’m lying on my back, staring up at the sky.
Everything is still and quiet; the whole world is at peace. Then the men appear at the top edge of the cliff, gesturing wildly and shouting. I hear Kai groan somewhere behind me, followed by the sound of boots shuffling through snow. And the wind returns with a vengeance. It scratches my eyes with icicle blades. I don’t know where on the mountain we are exactly, but it feels like we jumped through a portal and came out at the North Pole. On Pluto. I push up to a sitting position. Nothing on me seems broken or unusable. It just hurts everywhere, like a full-body bruise.
Kai opens the mouth flap on his mask and helps me to stand. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just achy.” I rotate my right arm and wince, then open my mouth flap, too. “I landed on my shoulder. But I should be okay.”
“Let me know if it gets worse or if you lose feeling anywhere.” He pulls a couple of pairs of ski goggles out of the pack. “Remind me to thank Jack later for getting all this stuff for us.” After handing me a pair, he straps on his, hiding his eyes behind their reflective shading.
I snap on my goggles. Everything darkens but sharpens focus, and blocking the wind from my eyes is a miracle cure. We get as close to the cliff face as we can, taking cover, and then walk briskly alongside it for a few minutes.
“I think they turned back,” Kai says, head tilted upward. “We can stop now. Catch your breath.”
I lean against the rock wall, panting. “That was awesome, right? I mean, I don’t feel awesome right now, but I’m sure I’ll look back on this later and be like, you know what? In retrospect, that was pretty freaking awesome. How many people do you think can say they jumped off a cliff and survived? I bet Jase never did. I bet he never would, either. I’d win back everything he won from betting against me and then some.”
He laughs at that. “I’m glad you came after me and we took the rest of this trip together. It’s so much more fun when you have someone to share it with.”
Facing off with Death at every turn is fun? Okay. If that’s what he wants to call it. “I’m glad we took this trip together, too, Kai.” The truth of that catches me off guard—I just admitted to liking a wilderness hike in Alaska—and it takes me a moment to shake off my surprise. Focus on what we’re doing. “But it isn’t over yet. Which way do we go from here?”
He takes the map out and studies it. “That little jump veered us off the path—”
Little jump?
“—but we should get back onto it okay.” He looks between the map and the horizon a few times, changing direction. “This way.”
I follow alongside him, putting my complete trust in his survival instincts. Something itches by my eye, so I take my shaded goggles off for a second to rub it. The sudden cold and brightness make me gasp.
“Keep those on unless it’s an emergency,” Kai says. “Not just to protect your eyes from the wind but also from the sun’s UV rays. Even when it’s cloudy, those get through. Just like at the beach. Ironic, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” I snap them back on. I won’t make that mistake again. “Any other tips?”
“You know that saying, If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em?” I nod, and he says, “Don’t try to fight Alaska. She always wins. Work with her instead.”
I’m not sure how, but okay. “Is that something your dad told you?”
“No. It’s something I learned on my own.”
“Recently?”
“Yes and no. Like everything else in my life, it’s been a process, and the process is longer for some things than others. Learning how to survive in the wild is constant trial and error.”
Learning how to survive anything is constant trial and error. Life in the city. Life in the wild. Life with my mother. Life without my mother. None of it has been easy to navigate.
The clouds have parted and the sun is high in the sky, marking the hours we’ve been walking, but the wind gets stronger the higher we climb. Fierce. Making it feel even colder.
Kai stops at a boulder jutting up from the snow. There’s slightly less snow here but more ice and rock. I don’t know why anyone would build a house way up here. But it’s not even as high as we can go, not even close. The top of this mountain is in outer space.
I plant my tired butt on the chairlike rock next to Kai, huddling close. My fingers are throbbing, my legs are mush, and my neck is tied up in tight knots.
“How are you holding up?” Kai says.
“We’ve been hiking for hours. How do you think I’m doing?”
“I’m guessing you’re hungry.” He unzips a side pocket of his pack.
He isn’t wrong, but the grumble in my stomach pales in comparison to the rest of what I’m feeling. Still, I take the strip of moose meat from him greedily. It’s cold and chewy, like refrigerated leftovers that haven’t been reheated, but it might as well be succulent prime rib for all the praises my body sings to it.
Amazing how little a person actually needs to survive. We rest for a minute to let our food settle and our muscles recover, and I think about all the excess I took for granted in SoCal. There was always an overabundance of food at parties, and at home, so much that it often had to be thrown away. And that’s just one part of it. Mom rarely wore the same outfit twice. She has a regular bathroom, a sauna bathroom, a vanity bathroom that houses all of her makeup and styling products, complete with a personal stylist at her beck and call. Guest houses, gardeners, maids, chauffeurs, fancy cars, personal assistants, social media specialists, a state-of-the-art espresso machine, top-of-the-line tutors, a laundry service, a
personal shopper, a movie theater and a popcorn machine in the basement, swimming pools and hot tubs, the list never ends.
I had all of that, for years, and I didn’t need any of it.
A little bit of food. A few articles of clothing. A safe place to sleep. And good health.
That’s it. That’s all I need.
Kai clasps his gloved fingers around mine. “I like this,” he says. “Just you and me out in the middle of nowhere. I can see why Dad kept coming back here, it’s … indescribable. But I don’t think I would like it as much if I were alone, like he preferred.” He pauses to take a deep breath in, his body relaxing on the exhale. “Happiness is real only when shared.”
“Sounds like another quote,” I say. “But that couldn’t have been from your dad.”
“It is a quote, and you’re right. My dad never said it. Alexander Supertramp did.”
“Who?”
“Chris McCandless was his real name.”
“The guy they made that movie about?” The one Vicki mentioned, I think. I know movies, but I’m not a Hollywood encyclopedia. And movies about Alaska never interested me—before. I’m going to watch more of them now.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” Kai says. “He came to Alaska alone only to realize that the joy he got out of his adventure was bittersweet. Me and Chris aren’t so different. And me and my dad aren’t as alike as Hunter thought we were.” He laughs, but it sounds sad. “He’s still my dad, though. A difference of opinion doesn’t change that.”
No, there’s one more thing I need, something I didn’t have in SoCal, because it isn’t something you can buy, but I didn’t realize it was lacking there until I came to Alaska. Because Kai gave it to me.