Perry had spent half the night dreaming up ways he could make the morning special, but Nadia and Lincoln had ruined it with their self-indulgent antics. He could not believe Nadia thought Lincoln had stormed off because he had not given some sentimental speech about needing him. He felt that they were abandoning ship because they both lacked the fortitude to finish the training course, and that was their problem, not his.
He sank deeper in the pool and let the steamy mineral water swirl around him. But the surrounding peace felt more like a silent accusation.
Perry growled in frustration and got out of the hot springs. “I should seriously charge more for the headache of putting up with these two,” he complained to nobody in particular. He shrugged into his shirt and pulled on his pants. He thought of alternative, way more pleasant, ways the morning could have ended.
“Nadia, get back here!” he shouted. He trudged through the shrubs and found the familiar path to the clearing he always used for the second-week base camp. Ignoring thorns that snagged at his fatigues, he crashed through the underbrush. Within minutes, he came upon the round lodge, expecting to see Nadia and Lincoln’s sheepish faces.
“Nadia? Lincoln?” Perry spun around. They were nowhere in sight. His heart rate rapidly accelerated as he realized he had placed the wrong bet. He rushed into the lodge where he discovered both had taken their belongings with them. Neither had taken any food.
The meager training he had given them probably increased their confidence in their ability to survive alone, but it was a false confidence. Any number of things could go wrong without Perry there to keep them safe. Worse, Clyde was not home to radio for help.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Perry dove on his pack and felt around for his cellphone to call up a search party, but someone had beat him to it. “No, no, no!” he whispered in horror. “Nadia! Lincoln! Get back here! It’s not safe!”
He ran to the edge of the clearing and paused to see if he could hear them. He quickly dealt with the fire, covering it with dirt to make sure it was out completely. Then, he snatched up his pack and searched for signs of the direction or directions they had taken.
He swore in despair. He prayed to God he found them both before it was too late.
Chapter 11
Nadia stared at the base of the tree, trying to figure out the pattern of moss crawling up its trunk. She remembered that moss always grew on the north side of a tree. Unfortunately, the past few trees she had come upon had not gotten the memo. The pale green plants grew all around the tree trunks.
She gnawed on her bottom lip and took off walking again. Nadia convinced herself the route looked familiar, and she kept up a running pep talk in her head. I’m not lost. I’m a Marson. I’m rising to the occasion. She desperately wanted to be right. It had taken the three of them half a day to arrive at the second-week basecamp. If she wanted to make it back to Clyde’s cabin before nightfall, she could not afford to get lost.
Nadia stumbled through the underbrush in search of the right pathway. When thorns cut into the exposed skin of her wrists and hands, she ignored the sting. She swatted at gnats and bugs, wondering why they were still so prevalent in late autumn.
“Damn it!” she swore as she killed another mosquito. “This isn’t going according to plan. Where the hell is Lincoln? And why hasn’t Perry come looking for me, yet?” She knew the answer to that one. She had pushed him away the same way she had pushed Lincoln away. Nadia hated to think she was the bad guy, but, in this case, she probably was.
A chilly droplet of perspiration rolled down her spine, and she squirmed. Then, she felt another. And another. Nadia realized it was not sweat, but rain. She stared up at the grey sky with dreary resolve. So be it, she thought.
She pulled her hunting knife from its sheath and assembled a lean-to for shelter. If she sat still, maybe Perry would stumble upon her. She did not want to crash around through the woods in the rain. Nadia huddled in her makeshift hut and waited for the bad weather to pass over. She thought about the disagreement she had had with each of them back at the hot springs.
Lincoln and Perry had only said what she refused to say to herself. The notebook full of letters to Maria all said the same thing. She wanted to rebel. She wanted to tell her father that he was ruining her life by attempting to take away her autonomy. Wilson Marson made her feel weak and inadequate, even when meaning to empower her.
Her entire life had been about making her father proud. Whether that meant being a goody-two-shoes teacher’s pet in high school or studying her way through what was supposed to be her wild college years. At every point, she had put what her father wanted ahead of her own needs.
Nadia wondered if she was afraid to pursue anything serious with Lincoln or Perry because she knew that her father would insert himself into her romantic life, as he had with everything else. At what point would she stand up for herself, if not now? When he was picking her wedding dress and arranging her marriage?
She sighed and crossed her arms to insulate herself as best she could. The rain, was now coming down in thick sheets. She was also getting hungry.
“Alright, Mr. Man Upstairs. Are we back to the bargaining table?” she whispered. She wanted to be back at camp. She wanted Perry to find her so she could apologize for flying off the handle. She wanted Lincoln to come back, as well. The three of them belonged together. At least for the next two weeks. She sucked in a deep breath. “Perry! Perry, if you can hear me, I’m over here!”
She closed her eyes and rested her head on her folded arms, thinking shouting was useless. The rain nearly drowned out the sound, and Perry was probably warm and cozy in the round lodge, letting them brave the wilds to their hearts’ content. A tear beaded at the corner of her eye. The wind picked up as the raindrops turned to icy slush. She scooted away from a puddle that threatened to spill into her lean-to.
“Perry, I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I’m cold, and I’m scared. I made a mistake. Please, find me.”
“Nadia!” The voice was faint and far off, but it was very real. Nadia sat up excitedly.
“Perry? Perry! Over here!” she shrieked.
“Keep talking to me! Nadia, I’m coming!”
“This way! Oh, my God! I’m so glad you heard me! Perry!”
Suddenly, he sprinted through the threes. Nadia had never been so happy to see a wild man in the woods in her life. She launched into his arms, and he hugged her tightly. Both laughed with relief as the rain fell around them. He cupped her face and kissed her hard.
“What in the hell were you trying to prove? Were you trying to kill me with worry?” he whispered against her lips. She giggled and nuzzled closer, raising a brow at the fact he had worried about her.
“I didn’t think it would be this bad,” she admitted. “I thought I would run into Lincoln.”
“You went west, Nadia. He went north. You’re not even going down the mountain. You’re climbing.”
“Oh, my gosh!”
“’Oh, my gosh’ is right. Come on. Let me get you back to camp and get you warm and dry. Then, I have to go back out and find Lincoln.”
“You mean, you haven’t found him yet?”
Perry shook his head glumly. “Let’s hope he accidentally circled back like you did. You’re only about fifteen minutes from where you started. If he didn’t, I guess I can kiss that good review goodbye, right?”
Lincoln shielded his head with his extra shirt, but cold rain battered him anyway. As he jogged through the storm, mud puddles soaked through his sturdy combat boots, making the trip almost unbearable. But, according to the compass on Perry’s cellphone, he was going in the right direction. He would be back at Clyde’s cabin in a few hours.
Just in case he was off the mark, Lincoln tore another drawing from his sketchbook. The sheet of paper fluttered out of his hand, and the slushy rain dampened it and anchored it to the ground. He still worried the gusty wind would carry it off any second. Lincoln squinted behind him and saw similar sheets litterin
g the path he had taken. If Perry found it within himself to come looking for him, the paper trail would help.
And, if not, Lincoln had to find his own way. He pressed the cellphone between his cheek and his shoulder and tried to talk over the thunderous downpour when his call connected. “Hello? Hello, this is Lincoln Easley! I’m looking for my agent, Dominic. Is he there?”
“I’m sorry. He’s out of the office,” said the woman who answered. “Lincoln? It’s Carmen! Remember me?”
Carmen, Carmen…He rolled the name around in his head until he put a face to the name. While trying to puzzle it out, he stepped into a hole and sank to the shin in ice cold water. He yelped involuntarily, but the bracing shock did the trick, and he remembered her. “Carmen, from Vengeance with a Vengeance? Hi! What are you doing in Dominic’s office?”
“It’s kind of embarrassing. He needed a new personal assistant, and my dad thought I needed the—Lincoln? I can hardly hear myself over the noise in the background. What is that? Are you there?”
“Yes, don’t hang up! I’m sorry for the noise. I’m just—I’m stuck outside in a rainstorm. Who should be more embarrassed?” He tried to laugh.
“Oh, my goodness! Are you okay?”
“Well, I hate to be pessimistic, but I think I might be lost. Hopefully, I’m not too far off the beaten path.” Why am I making small talk at a time like this? Lincoln squinted up at the relentless deluge, unsure how much more rain he could take. He dropped the charming self-deprecation and got straight to the point. “Listen, I need Dominic to call me back at this number as soon as possible. It’s an emergency. Tell him have a car sent out to get me to the airport.”
“A car? Let’s see,” Carmen hummed speculatively and rustled papers around. Lincoln bit his inner cheek to keep from losing patience. There should have been nothing to ‘let’s see’ about. He needed a car. Pronto. “No, Dominic didn’t leave any instructions about sending a car for you. I’m looking at your schedule right here, and he has you down for a survival training course for another two weeks.”
“Yes, I know, but there’s been a change of plans. I’m not staying—Ow! Shit!” He yowled as he stepped in another hidden pitfall. His ankle rolled beneath him, sending shards of pain shooting up his leg. Agony took him to the soggy ground where he sat and stared at his throbbing lower extremity with a grimace.
“Are-Are you okay?”
“Please stop asking me that. Carmen, get in touch with Dominic. I don’t care how you get it done. I just need you to get me connected to him.”
“I can’t! He’s out of reach for the next few days. Holiday with one of his girlfriends. And I’ve only been working here for a week. I don’t know how—Wait, just give me an address. I’ll put a car on the company account. Hopefully, he won’t mind.”
Lincoln’s spirits sank even further. “I don’t have the address; Dominic has it.”
“I feel terrible about this, Lincoln. I want to help. Should I call nine-one-one? You said it was an emergency.”
“No! No, don’t do that. My instructor is somewhere around here. I guess I’ll have to go back,” he sighed. “Me and my goddamned ego! I got upset about something he said, and I stormed off, but I don’t think the situation is dire. At least, not yet.”
“I hope you’re not putting on a brave face for my account. I need to know for certain that when I hang up this phone, I’m not signing your death warrant.”
Lincoln chuckled. “You have my word. When I end this call, I’m turning right around and finding Perry.”
“And, if you don’t find him, you’ll call me back, right?”
“Absolutely, Carmen. Good luck with your acting, by the way. Don’t let a little setback keep you down.”
“Oh, it’s not what you think! My dad is Herschel Wilde. You know, the reality TV producer? I can get back in front of a camera anytime, but he seems to think holding down a day job builds character. And, anyway, he’s friends with Dominic, so…”
“Got it. Well, I better get going. Tell Dom to call me when he can.” He smiled and ended the call, coming back to reality. He had channeled confidence into the phone call, but it was the false kind. He was still on the ground in the rain with a rolled ankle. “Take your own advice, Lincoln. Don’t let a little setback keep you—” He tried to rise, but his foot would not support his weight. “Down,” he groaned.
He scooted to the nearest tree and drew his wet shirt around him, shivering and miserable. But he knew he could not wait for the storm to pass. Not if he intended to return to Perry and Nadia near the hot springs. Lincoln painstakingly ripped his saturated shirt into strips of fabric and hobbled over to a broken tree branch. Using sticks to splint his foot, he padded it with what was left of the tattered shirt and used the strips to bind it in place.
Then, he grabbed his hunting knife and cut a branch to use as a walking stick. With his makeshift crutch in place, Lincoln consulted the compass on Perry’s phone and turned south. He was grateful that the ascent was easy. He was cold, wet and hungry, and it was getting late.
During the grueling trek, Lincoln had no choice but to examine himself and figure out how he had gotten into this mess. He wanted to blame it on Nadia and Perry for goading him into leaving the safety of camp, but it was not their fault. Nadia correctly assessed his reasons for being on the trip—self-serving reasons that had everything to do with his own oversized ego and with cultivating his image in Hollywood.
Like the character in Landon Ashville’s screenplay—a character written expressly for Lincoln—he should have faced the wilderness and come out a better man. Instead, he had undergone the training solely for his career. When his ego and self-righteousness had been checked, Lincoln had thrown his toys and stormed off like a petulant child.
Lincoln sneezed and sniffed, hoping he was not catching a cold. He had miles left to go in an uncertain direction. He wanted to show Nadia and Perry he was ready to drop the act. He might have been there to prepare for a role before, but now he was going back to find himself.
Chapter 12
Rolling thunder rumbled through the forest. “Give me a break, will you?” Perry growled at the sky as he ran. The rain had eased off, but the continuing cold drizzle made the journey tough. His heart was ready to burst, and his panted breaths wheezed from his chest. He ignored the strain. This was life or death. He had to find Lincoln.
A potent sense of déjà vu assailed him. He was back on the battlefield. The mission had gone wrong. His best friend had been taken by enemy forces. The same heart-rending despair clouded his senses this time—with Lincoln captive to only the fickle elements and his own underappreciation for what nature could do—but Perry prayed for a better ending to this story, because he could not bear to lose someone else he cared about.
Lincoln had asked him why he left the military and he’d used his injury as an excuse. Truth be told, it was this one failed mission that destroyed him. The scar tissue that burned under his shoulder blade from where hot shrapnel had done its worst was of no real consequence. The mental scar from failing to save his friend was a different matter entirely, that one would never heal.
Perry had been honorably discharged. The official reason was PTSD. Unofficially, depression and grief had rendered him incapable of doing his job. He had returned to civilian life, determined to keep people out, never wanting to experience loss again. But somehow Nadia and Lincoln had gotten under his skin and into his soul. If he lost them, he did not know what he would do.
His eyes zoomed in on a fluttering piece of paper whipped along by the wind, and he slowed his mad dash to examine it. As he snatched it from the tree branch it was hooked upon, his hands trembled. It was one of Lincoln’s sketches.
“I’m on the right track,” he whispered. “Lincoln!” he shouted. His booming voice echoed for miles. He had to be close, but he had no idea which way to go. “Lincoln, goddamn it! Where are you?”
Perry heard a sneeze and sniffle somewhere up ahead. Then, he heard his name calle
d out weakly. He dropped the sketch and sprinted in the direction of the sound. Something was wrong. He sensed it. His mind conjured a million bad endings. Anything could have happened to Lincoln in the hours they had been separated. He forced his legs to keep pumping.
When he finally saw him, his heart dropped. “Lincoln,” he gasped. His haggard-looking student and lover huddled in the freezing cold rain with a rough cast encircling his lower leg.
“I knew you would find me.” Lincoln smiled wanly as he slumped against a nearby fallen log to rest.
Perry kneeled before him, gingerly running his fingers along his injured leg. “What happened?”
“I think I twisted my ankle. Mmph!” Lincoln grimaced and bit back a whimper as Perry ran his ankle through a range of motion.
“I’m sorry to hurt you, but I have to check. It’s not broken. Looks like a bad sprain.” Perry swore softly at the dilemma. The ankle was tender and swollen and walking on it had to be excruciating. Lincoln sneezed several times in a row, and Perry stroked his forehead to check for fever. “We’ve gotta get you out of the rain.”
“I can’t make it,” Lincoln moaned, shaking his head.
“Yes, you can. You’re just hungry and tired. Here, eat this.”
Praying he was right, Perry rummaged through his pack and found the last of the jerky. He pressed some to Lincoln’s lips as he uncorked the canteen, urging him to drink. Some of the color returned to Lincoln’s face, and Perry breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
“Fuck, it’s c-cold,” Lincoln stuttered, trying to laugh it off. A surge of affection poured through Perry as he stroked his face again.
“I know. I know.”
Perry decided protection from the rain was the first order of business. Working against the clock, he quickly constructed a sturdy lean-to with evergreen branches, piling on the pine needles until all but the most determined raindrops were kept out.
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