by Charlie Hart
“What’s out there?” I ask, my eyes raking over the evergreens, cloaked in black. Being this far north means the nights come early.
Sadie shrugs. “No idea. But the land is all protected by some private group. Ray says the guys that live out here come to the shop sometimes to get their four-wheelers repaired.”
Before turning away, I see a lone wolf, standing on the edge of the forest. I point to it. “Do you–” But before I can even finish my thought, the wild animal darts back into the forest, out of sight.
Sadie places a lid on the cooked pasta. “Hey, while we wait for Ray, wanna see that box I have of yours?”
A few minutes later we settle on the carpeted floor of her living room with a shoebox between us. “I didn’t go through it, I mean, not too much at least,” Sadie says.
I pull off the lid, memories flooding my senses. The contents of the box smell like our last foster home—stale cigarettes and cheap beer. I pull out a strip of four frames, Sadie and me in a photo booth at a local arcade. We’re making funny faces and cracking up.
“How did we manage to smile like that?” I ask.
She wrinkles her nose. “Keep on, keeping’ on, right?”
I thumb through the other photos, a sum of my childhood—not in a single picture am I with an adult. No grown-ups were ever there with a hand on my shoulder on Christmas morning, or as I blew out birthday candles. It was always me against the world. Except for the years where I had Sadie by my side.
There’s an old keychain with a rabbit’s foot and a blue ribbon I got for my drawing in the school art show. “The story of my life, huh, all in this box?”
Sadie sighs, squeezing my knee. “You know, I saw my mom a few years back. She was still using, and living with the same guy who beat her.”
“The one who put her in the coma?”
Sadie nods. Her face written in sorrow as she remembers all she lost… all she never had. “I realized she’s never going to be there for me. But at least it was closure. Did you ever learn anything about—”
I cut her off. “No. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Sadie nods, as if remembering the girl I was when we were preteens. I was as closed off about my past then as I am now.
“The thing is,” I tell her, sifting through the box. “There isn’t anything to tell.” At the bottom of the box, I see a ring. It looks antique; with a tiny paw print stamped on the inside. I slip it on my middle finger, looking at it as I talk. “I was placed into foster care when I was a baby and was too much of a handful for anyone to adopt. That’s it.”
“But don’t you wonder?”
I roll my eyes. “Finding my deadbeat parents is the least of my concerns at the moment.”
Just then, Ray comes in the front door. He drops a toolbox on the floor and shrugs off a jacket. Sadie jumps up from the carpet and practically leaps into his arms.
“Hey, baby,” he greets Sadie with a long kiss. Long enough that I look away out of awkwardness. “You make me something good to eat?”
“Yes, it’s all ready.” Sadie looks down, seemingly smaller now that Ray is here, taking up more than his share of the space. “Rem, this is Ray, Ray, Rem.”
“It better be ready,” he says firmly, not acknowledging my presence.
I push my lips forward, wondering what the hell is with his tone. But I drop it as we move to the table and sit down to eat.
“Rem got here a few hours ago,” Sadie says, bringing the pot of pasta to the table and scooping it onto our plates.
“This looks so good,” I say appreciatively, reaching for a piece of the toasty warm garlic bread.
“Yeah, but Sadie should lay off,” he says, giving Sadie raised eyebrows as she reaches for a piece of bread. “You don’t need the extra carbs.”
I scoff in shock. Is Ray for reals right now? Sadie is gorgeous, but that’s beside the point. No man has the right to talk to her that way.
Before I can say something, though, Sadie drops the piece of bread and reaches for the green salad instead, using the tongs to dish some up on her plate. I bite my tongue, grateful for this place to stay and wanting to trust Sadie’s judgment. Besides, what do I know? Maybe Sadie’s wanting to cut back on her calories. I must be misunderstanding something.
Feeling especially proud of my verbal restraint, I reach for the salad bowl of and serve myself in solidarity.
“So, how long are you squatting?” Ray grunts my way.
“Ray,” Sadie says gently, with a shake of her head. “We talked about this.”
“Yeah, and I told you how I felt.”
I furrow my brows, twisting the new ring around my finger. “Look, I’m not here to impose.”
Ray snorts. “Then what are you here for?”
I look over at Sadie, and she shakes her head, nearly imperceptibly. She’s warning me.
She should remember I never listen to warnings. “What’s your problem?” I ask Ray. “Sadie invited me.”
“Sadie what?” he snarls shooting Sadie a hard glare. “You told me she invited herself.”
“Right, well, I mean…” Sadie looks swallowed up in fear. And it doesn’t take a nuclear physicist to figure out what the fuck is happening. Sadie’s mom lost custody of her child because she wouldn’t leave abusive situations. I hate the idea of the same thing happening to my oldest friend.
“Well it’s her home too,” I say in defense.
“She has no say in what happens here. She can barely help pay for things with her dead-end cashier job.”
I look at Sadie. Her eyes are downcast, and she brushes away a tear that falls down her round cheek. My heart breaks for her. But I’m not naïve enough to wear blinders . Maybe Sadie needed me here, to help her. Maybe that’s why she reached out in the first place. I can’t do a lot in terms of helping her, it’s not like I have much money--but I do know how to stand up for people. And I will always stand up for her.
“I saw the bruises on Sadie’s arm,” I say. “I know what kind of guy you are.”
“Rem, don’t,” Sadie pleads with me, but Ray is already set off.
“What the hell did you say to this little beggar?” he demands of Sadie, standing up from the table. “You tell her our personal business?”
Sadie shakes her head, reaching for him. “No, I didn’t say anything, I swear, Ray. You have to believe me.”
I’m sick to my stomach, but the anger that boils in my belly is stronger than any fear I might feel. “Sadie, listen to me. You need to get out of this situation.”
“Don’t tell my baby what she needs to do. That is my job.”
I hurl my disgust at him. “Your job?” I look at Sadie, who’s letting Ray wrap an arm around her. “Sadie, listen to me. If you need a safe— “
“Rem, stop,” she says softly. “It’s better for both of us if you just go.”
“Go? And leave you with this ass wipe?”
Sadie won’t meet my eye and Ray is ready to fight.
“Get out of here, you little bum,” he growls, reaching for my backpack on the couch. “Go back to the streets where you came from.” He walks to the front door, swinging it open.
“Sadie, you’ve gotta come with me,” I say, looking at her. But she has crumbled in on herself. She hardly looks strong enough to stand on her own two feet, let alone stand up to this man.
Ray tosses my bag out the apartment door, and my hands are fists, ready to pounce. “I’ll call the goddamn cops,” he says. He pulls out his phone and punches in 911. He speaks in a cool, calculated voice, daring me to stop him. “Yep, there’s an intruder in my home. We need backup. Now.”
My eyes shake with incredulity. “You’re seriously demented,” I hiss, stepping as close as I can to his personal space. “Sadie deserves a hell of a lot better than you.”
“Like you’re one to talk, Sadie told me all about you,” he growls. He pushes me against the wall, not backing down. “She told me how you got kicked out of home after home,” he mocks. “How no one
wanted you. How you’re nothing but a little skank.”
Ray is the kind of monster I know all too well. Sadie is his plaything and I hate it. I hate it so fucking bad. Sweet, kind, Sadie—she deserves more than the life she’s got.
More than a life with Ray.
The fire inside me rages, and I push back. Hard. My hands against his chest, refusing to let him win. Sadie screams as Ray is flung across the room, a loud crack from his neck as he hits the wall. I possess a strength I’ve never felt before—I just pushed a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound man across a room. With the force of my hands alone.
Ray slides down the wall, crashing into a lamp, and the apartment shakes as he slumps to the ground.
Ray doesn’t make a sound. No gasping for breath. No shouts of fury. The floor of the apartment shakes as I step toward him, Sadie and I silently taking in what just happened. The pictures on the walls fall to the floor glass shattering, and dishes clanking as I step to Ray, leaning closer—terrified that what just happened was permanent.
“You killed him,” she whispers.
With shaky hands, I check his pulse, terrified that her words are true. He may be a horrible man… but death?
“Oh my god, he’s really dead…” Sadie is on her knees, her hands on his face, trying to check for signs life.
There are none.
I killed him.
I just fucking killed a man. With my bare hands.
The anger that had fueled me has left me drained.
No. No. No.
I may be many things—but a killer?
“Rem, what are we going to do?” she asks, pulling my face toward hers, fear flaming in her eyes. Tears stream down her cheeks and I know she is on the verge of falling apart.
“Listen, Sadie, it’s okay.”
“It’s not… he’s gone… the cops are coming and…” She has her hands on Ray’s cheeks, trying to process the fact that he is gone. “I thought I loved him… but he was so cruel.”
“I know, Sadie,” I say looking down at my hands. “I don’t know how I did that. It was like I was possessed.”
“You always did take care of me.”
“And now I need to go in order to protect you.”
“Where? Sadie’s eyes meet mine. “Rem, you have no one else.”
“I’ll be okay,” I tell her, but I’m scared. Scared of staying around and getting charged with murder. Trying not to hyperventilate, I nod, returning to survival mode once more. Hell, it’s the place I know the best. “I’ll keep running,” I tell her. “I don’t need you to lie for me. Say whatever you need to say to protect yourself, okay?”
“Rem, I won’t tell the cops anything.”
I know it is sweet to think so, to believe she can say some stranger crept into her home and killed her lover, but police will look at the evidence. They will trace me to her home. They will pin this murder on me.
“Do you have a tent?” I ask Sadie as I grab my backpack from the front steps. She nods a yes, already moving to the hall closet. “And I’m going to need that spaghetti dinner to go.”
A few minutes later, I have what I need and am saying goodbye. “You are going to be okay, Sadie,” I say, so badly wanting to console her. “I’m just sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she says, wiping the tears from her face. “You were always so much stronger than me…”
“I’m not stronger. Just stupider.”
“You are not stupid, Remedy. You’re the bravest person I know.”
Chapter 3
Remedy
This is not my first rodeo—I’ve spent plenty of nights with less than a tent over my head. So really, I’m doing pretty good for myself.
I mean, if you gloss over the whole I-just-killed-a-man part.
Sitting cross-legged on my sleeping bag, inside a two-person tent, I pull out the Tupperware of spaghetti. Sadie scooped some up for me, gave me a Ziploc with the garlic bread, and kissed me on the cheek as she handed me a flashlight.
I ran with the tent under my arm and the backpack strapped to my back, into the trees behind the apartment complex.
Deep into the woods.
Where else could I go?
I guess if I’m going to be living on the run, Alaska is a pretty good place to disappear. And hell, I don’t need the conveniences of modern living. Just fresh spring water and a place to rest my head. Though a knife, or say, a gun, would help my not-starving-to-death plan. Because this serving of spaghetti is only gonna last one night.
As I pull out the fork Sadie shoved into my backpack, I smirk. Guess my only weapon is a four-pronged metal object.
Eating, with the flashlight propped up to light the tent; I can’t help reeling from what went down tonight. Not only am I now a fugitive, I also ruined Sadie’s life. Not that she had much of one. Looks like she followed in her mother’s footsteps. It breaks my heart, Sadie being with a man like Ray. She deserves better—everyone deserves better than that.
Part of me is glad I killed him—got him out of her life for good—but the other part of me wonders what snapped inside of me tonight. How did my hands control a man twice my size? How was I physically able to suppress him? The fury inside me was so intense it literally killed a man.
I close my eyes, savoring the taste of red sauce doused with fake parm. This might be my last meal for a while, so I’m going to enjoy it.
But outside the tent, the crack of a branch forces my eyes open. And as they open, I see shadows playing on the tent’s walls. I flick my flashlight toward the shadow and instead of retreating, it only grows.
Uncertainty courses through my veins. It’s been a helluva night, and I am not about to get mauled. I know a thing about survival—and the first lesson is to avoid wild creatures—humans, animals or otherwise— when you’re unarmed.
A low growl tells me what’s coming to get me.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I don’t want to just sit here waiting to be someone’s supper. I need to get out of this tent, now. With tense fingers I crawl forward, peeling back the front flap of the tent. My heart pounds, terrified to see what’s waiting for me.
It’s a grizzly bear, high on its haunches, paws raised, claws out. I stifle a scream, knowing terror has no place here. Right now, what I really need is to get the fuck away.
Tightly holding onto the fork, I push my way through the tent as the bear paws the thin fabric. If I can make it into the trees, maybe I can climb one… or else I will just keep running, all night. Forever. I just don’t want to die before my life has really begun.
I make a break for it, flashlight in hand, wishing as I run that I’d grabbed my backpack—or at least the fucking garlic bread. Right now, it’s just the fork and me against the world. It’s not looking good. I’m cornered within seconds, my back against a tree.
The bear faces me, the full moon dancing across his eyes, shining bright and beautiful— but I don’t fall for smoke and mirrors. He may be stunning in his absolute strength, but he is a wild beast and I am the prey.
I snarl at him as he approaches, knowing I can’t outrun this beast. He moves closer, his dark coat gleaming in the moonlight. My fists are tight, my chest constricting—this can’t be the end. I raise the fucking fork in the air and try to dart past him. But of course, it’s no use. He reaches out but I swing my fist hard against his outstretched paw.
Again, my fist is more powerful than I remember. When my knuckles graze the bear it backs away quickly, staring me down with intensity, as if shocked I touched him at all.
But this bear knows nothing about me, about what I’m capable of. I hold the fork, foolish and full of fire and desperate for some way out. The bear bellows, his angry claws swiping across my shoulder.
I grab hold of my shoulder and from the corner of my eye I see three wolves emerge from behind the bear. Their coats are silver and their eyes black and their intentions clear. They jump toward the bear. One wolf lands on his back, the other nipping at the bear’s heels, and the third on
his throat. Their howls pierce the night, and as the wolves attempt to stop the bear, I dive toward the tent, grabbing my backpack, desperate to get away.
But the bear crashes down on the top of the tent before I’m able to grab my things. The animals roll aggressively, and the bear must sense the wolves are out to get him, because he moves quickly from the ground, running back to the forest. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like it.
The bear retreats, looking over his shoulder, my blood thick as our eyes meet. But I don’t want to look at him. I scream, the ground shaking, and the bear pauses for a moment not breaking eye contact with me. But the earth’s floor rumbles low and the bear turns away, running fast.
I press my hand to my chest, scared and alone with three wolves. I step back gingerly, not wanting to call attention to myself. Thinking, naively, that maybe they’ll just leave. Of course, instead, they come closer.
Covering my face, I can see the writing on the wall. The police will find my body tomorrow, ripped to shreds, my tent disturbed and an empty container of Tupperware and know that Ray’s killer is dead.
A bear attack wasn’t my biggest worry. Three wolves with intense eyes, hungry and on the prowl—that’s what will be the end of me.
“Please, stop,” I scream, my face still covered, unable to watch as these beasts jump toward me. My words are meaningless to these wild animals, but my voice is desperate, wanting so badly to make it out of this night alive.
The forest seems to still, my words hanging heavy in the night air. I look through my fingers, and as I do, my breath catching, my throat suddenly dry.
There are no wolves here.
Only men.
Three of them. Eyes dark and faces turned toward the moon, letting it lead them.
They’re dressed in low-slung jeans and boots, shirtless and dripping with sweat, men so ruggedly sexy it’s as if they just stepped out of an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog.
They walk closer, close enough that I can see one’s chiseled jaw, and one’s thick beard and the other’s day old stubble. They move toward me as a pack, as if I’m the only woman they’ve ever seen. They want me, that I am certain. The look in their eyes is full of hunger and longing.