Love Without a Compass

by Lindy Zart

  “I have a hard time picturing you writing poetry.” It doesn’t mesh with her narcissistic image. Poetry is for ones who speak from their soul. I was positive she didn’t have one.

  Avery’s voice is soft when she answers. “That’s because you don’t really know me. Everyone has endless sides to them, Ben, and a lot of the time, we only get to know a few. You said our coworkers are nice to me because they’ve only been shown one side of me. I guess you’re right. I didn’t want to show them more.”

  I look at her, finding Avery’s gaze fixated to me. My breaths cuts off before I can exhale, and I quickly turn from the silent words shouting from her eyes. I don’t want to know whatever it is she’s trying to tell me. Avery can either say what she means, or not bother telling me anything. I’m done playing her games.

  “Try to get some rest,” I tell her roughly as I settle in the opening to the cave. “I’ll be on lookout.”

  8

  AVERY

  Something wet slides along my face.

  I mumble and swipe at it. “Stop licking me, Ben.”

  The cold wetness comes again, and I swat it away, rolling to my other side, away from the tongue. “Ben. Stop.”

  I’m huddled in a ball. There is a crick in my neck, and consciousness brings coldness and body aches. Sleep sounds way better than wakefulness. I’m about to settle back into the darkness, but then I hear Ben’s voice.

  “That isn’t me, Avery.”

  My eyes snap open and I vault upright, screaming at the sight of the four-legged creature. It makes its own cry and staggers back, unease widening its eyes. I scramble back as far as I can, the back of my head knocking against the rock wall and forcing me to stop. The animal hops and trots around before going still. I rub the throbbing spot on my scalp as we stare at each other, woman and beast.

  “How did that thing get in here?”

  “I’m assuming it walked in on its legs.”

  “Why did you let it?” I demand.

  “Because I needed to take a piss and had my back to the cave, is that all right?” Ben snaps.

  The animal tilts its head and lets out a sound that sends a shudder down my spine. “Did I mention I also hate animals?”

  “Why is that?”

  “They’re smelly and they drool, and they have no manners.”

  Ben chuckles. “You know, for hating everything that has to do with outside, nature doesn’t appear to reciprocate the feeling. Maybe that crow really just wanted to be close to you, give you a big kiss like our friend here.”

  My eyes cut to Ben. He stands in the doorway of the cave, arms crossed, leaning against the rock. For someone caked in dirt, sporting a sprained ankle, partially blind, not to mention lost in the wilderness with his nemesis, he appears especially chipper. I narrow my eyes. Sunrays silhouette his frame, letting me know the storm has passed.

  “How long was I out for?”

  “Not long enough,” Ben mutters.

  My eyes go into slits. “What was that?”

  “I said, a couple hours.”

  “What is it?” I demand as I turn my gaze back to the white creature.

  “That, my dear Avery, is a goat. A rare animal, indeed. Found only in all fifty states. It’s no wonder you have no idea what it is.”

  I scowl at the mocking quality of his voice. “I thought they had horns.”

  He cocks his head, saying with disbelief, “It’s a baby. Can’t you tell by how small it is?”

  “What’s that have to do with it not having horns?”

  “Well, they aren’t born with them, you know. Unlike you.”

  “Are you insinuating that I’m the devil?”

  Ben’s all innocent-looking when he replies, “Would I do that?”

  The goat, white and skinny and not especially cute in appearance, takes a step toward me.

  I try to take a step back and hit a rock wall. “Make it go away.”

  “It won’t hurt you.”

  I shoot a glare toward Ben. “I don’t care. Make it go away.”

  Ben straightens from the wall, annoyance taking over his features. “Sure, I’ll just get out my leash I keep here in my back pocket for situations such as this, you know, along with my wand, and snap it around its collar and walk it back to its home. How’s that sound?”

  “Maybe if I leave the cave, it will stay.” I eye the goat and it blinks.

  “Go for it.” I pretend his words don’t ooze amusement.

  When it opens its mouth, showing off nubby yellow teeth, I shudder. Thinking fast, I reach down and grab a small rock, tossing it toward the back of the cave. The sound of it making contact distracts the goat, and I sprint toward Ben. He jumps to the side before I reach him. I wasn’t going to run into him again. Probably.

  Instantly blinded by the sun, I squint my eyes and whirl around, hoping to see nothing behind me. Instead, there is the goat, mere feet from me. A squeak leaves me at its proximity. It snuffs or sneezes and looks at me expectantly.

  I back up another step, careful to keep my footing balanced as the incline deepens.

  It waits a beat and follows.

  “I can smell you from here,” I tell it, wrinkling my nose. It has a musky, wet fur and dried manure scent. Flies appear around it as I watch.

  “Sure that’s not you?”

  “Shut up, Ben.”

  The goat makes that terrible bleating sound again, and inches nearer.

  I tense. “Why won’t it leave? What does it want from me?”

  Ben stands off to the side, watching us like this is the best entertainment he’s seen in a while. “Why don’t you ask it?”

  I sweep at the air with my hands. “Shoo. Shoo. Go on now. Go home.”

  It lowers its head and paws at the ground, its nostrils flaring as it exhales.

  “Why is it doing that?” I ask curiously.

  It does that sneezing, snuffing sound, only louder this time.

  “Avery.”

  Ben’s tone sends alarms through my head and my eyes snap to his. “What?”

  “Run.”

  I frown. “Why—”

  Head bent, evil dancing in its eyes, the goat charges me. With a shriek, I spin forward and race down the mountainside, shouting unintelligibly. I trip over my own feet, almost pitching forward to land on my face, but somehow manage to straighten and keep going. By sheer will, I’m thinking.

  I run until I find a body of water, and I run right into that, hoping the goat won’t follow. The iciness freezes my lungs as the water swallows me. I kick my feet and shoot up, coughing from water that went down my throat and nose. I try not to think about how deep the water is, or how dirty, or what’s in it with me.

  The goat stands near the edge of the water, bleating at me.

  “Get out of here!” I splash water at it and it scoots back when it gets hit by the cold droplets.

  The goat growls, or makes some other equally unpleasant sound.

  “You are not allowed to eat me,” I shout at it, jabbing a finger in the direction of its angular face.

  Its eyes are yellow and bulgy. Ominous and evil. I shudder when it stares at me head-on. It looks like an alien. Maybe that’s what goats really are.

  “It might just eat your hair.”

  I whip my head toward Ben’s voice. He stands with a foot propped on a fallen tree, elbow resting nonchalantly on his thigh, a satisfied smirk curving his mouth.

  “That alien-goat-thing is not coming near this hair.”

  “Alien-goat-thing?”

  “Never mind. The point is, I’ve spent way too much money on my hair to let an animal feast on it.”

  Ben eyes me with a dubious expression. “I can tell. It’s very stylish. I especially like the part up front that’s sticking out sideways from your head.”

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I unsuccessfully attempt to tame my tangled hair, but it’s no use.

  The water ripples around me and I go still. Don’t think about what you’re stand
ing in. You’re fine. Nothing is around you.

  Ben straightens, not even trying to mask his amusement. “Of course I am.”

  I glare at Ben before shifting the look to the mangy animal watching me. We stare into each other’s eyes, me seeing nothing but dark, soulless, black. I narrow my eyes and give it a death stare. The goat sneezes, trots backward, and spins and sprints away.

  I look at Ben, mirroring the satisfied smirk he recently wore.

  He snaps his mouth shut, blinks, and scowls. “How the hell did you do that?”

  “Voodoo.”

  “I don’t doubt that.”

  “Careful, or I’ll think you’re scared of me,” I taunt.

  Ben looks directly into my eyes. “Terrified.”

  With a shake of my head, I turn from him. He sounded serious. Like anything about me is threatening. If Ben knew me before I came to Illinois, he’d know how plain I truly am. I never thought I’d want him to know that person, but I do.

  Spine straight and lethalness in my eyes, I march farther into the water with the intent to wash myself up. There’s no reason to be unclean, along with everything else going on. My heartrate escalates as I imagine invisible creepy-crawly things finding homes in my skin, but I take deep breaths, telling myself I’m safe.

  I grudgingly concede that we’re lost, but we won’t be for long. They will find us, and soon. We’ll be back at the lodge, clean and sated, by tonight. That’s what I choose to believe, and that is what is going to happen. And nothing in—or out of—the water is going to eat me.

  I nod to myself, just before I step on a drop-off and directly into a bottomless pool of icy water. I’m completely covered before I have a chance to do anything. A gurgling sound fills my ears as I inhale water. Panicking, I propel myself up, breaking the surface with a gasp. My lungs are on fire. Something from behind grabs at me. Alarm sets in, quick and overwhelming. The goat fear is too fresh, and I instinctively fight back, elbowing whatever has me with all my might.

  “Damn it, Avery! Quit that!”

  I spin around, treading water as I focus on Ben.

  Ben’s eyes are like dark lasers on my face. “What was the point of attacking me?”

  Teeth chattering, I say, “You scared me.”

  “I’m beginning to think everything scares you.”

  I blink as the urge to cry comes forth. It’s not true. I’m out of my element here. Normal things don’t scare me, like when I’m inside. At Sanders and Sisters, I seamlessly go about my day with minor worries.

  “There’s a drop-off there,” Ben informs me dryly when I remain quiet.

  “Thanks for the warning,” I reply stiffly.

  His hair is plastered to his forehead, water dripping down his face. The cuts and planes of his features are sharp at this proximity; his firm lips are within kissing distance. My pulse quickens; my lips tingle. Somehow, we’re closer than we were a second ago. Somehow, the water is warmer, or maybe that’s me. Ben stares at me, his gaze dropping to my mouth. Heat dances in the depths of his brown eyes. His eyes meet mine.

  “Don’t forget we are not friends, Avery,” Ben says warningly.

  The water turns cold again.

  The distance from him to me expands.

  I sniff as I turn, doggy paddling toward land.

  Not wanting to be in the unknown watery depths any longer than I have to be, I vault from the water and throw myself to the grass. I don’t know why, but the moment I catch my bearings, hunger strikes, vicious and undeniable. It twists up my guts and makes me feel faint. I go to my elbows and gulp air into my lungs, the sun fierce against my back.

  “You know,” Ben says conversationally. “I kind of feel like you have a thing for catastrophe.”

  I flip hair from my face and look up at Ben. Or rather, I glare. “A thing?”

  “Yeah.” His expression turns heated, his mouth supple as his eyes trail over my features. Ben lowers his voice and says, “Do you get turned on by danger, Avery?”

  Maybe if “danger” is synonymous for Ben. Too bad I know his loathing for me is greater than his attraction to me. I shift my eyes from his, not wanting him to see the clash of longing and sorrow I am presently feeling.

  “Somehow, you look worse than you did before you went in the water.” He unlaces his boots, tugging them off, along with his socks.

  “What are you doing?” I ask suspiciously when he reaches for his shirt.

  “Gettin’ naked.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.

  “Don’t you dare take off your clothes.”

  “Funny, I remember a night when you wanted them off.”

  My face burns. I twist onto my back, my eyes trained skyward to keep from traveling toward Ben as he undresses down to his boxers. “Are you always going to bring that up?”

  “Strange, isn’t it? That you wanted someone like me, someone you apparently don’t even find attractive—”

  I don’t know why I do it. I guess because I’m so sick of hearing Ben tell me about all the stupid things I say. Believe me, I already know. I jump to my feet, grab his face, and pull his head forward until my lips touch his, and then I kiss him. His mouth is unresponsive, so I press my lips more fully to his.

  Ben’s hands clamp to my waist, his fingers dig into my sides, and he kisses me for one blazing hot instant where the world tilts. It makes my hunger for anything but him vanish. He tastes like everything I could ever need to survive the elements. Ben’s lips are luscious, and commanding, and oh my, I want it to never end.

  But then it does end.

  Tearing his mouth from mine, Ben lifts me and firmly sets me aside. I watch the rise and fall of his chest before lifting my gaze. His eyes snap with passion and recrimination. He points a shaking finger at me, and in a voice I don’t recognize, says, “Don’t do that again.”

  “Or what? What’s big bad Ben going to do?” I taunt, hands on my hips. My pulse thrums with anticipation. If we’re going to be stuck in this hellhole of nature, I might as well make it interesting.

  His eyes lower to my thrust-out chest; my skin hums under his gaze. “Don’t push me, Avery, or you’ll find out, and you won’t like it.”

  “Promises, promises.”

  I don’t know what we’re doing, but we both keep doing it. It is a dance of control and willpower, a chaotic storm of want and need, loathing and lust, and we spin and dip and fall into each other, over and over. It’s maddening, and exhilarating. Ben makes me feel alive in a way I haven’t for a long time.

  Ben steps closer and I forget to breathe. I tremble when his brown eyes light into me. They have so much energy to them. Instead of kissing me, like I want, he hauls me over his shoulder and marches into the water. I open my mouth to scream just as my face meets water.

  Accidentally inhaling, I get a mouthful of water. I come up screaming, punching, and gagging, all at once. “Get me out of here!” comes out sounding like Chewbacca overtook my vocal chords.

  Vices have my wrists hostage. “No way.”

  “I mean it!” I wrestle Ben, ineffectively trying to get away from him and out of the water.

  Brown eyes drill into mine. “You started this, Avery.”

  “And now I’m ending it!” I fight harder. I can’t breathe the longer I stand where I don’t want to be.

  “Hey!” Ben grapples with me, grabbing my wrists and squeezing to halt my attack. “It’s just water. It’s not going to hurt you.”

  “How do you know that?” I shriek, wrenching my hands from his to shove him.

  Ben falls back before steadying himself. He blinks at me, confusion filtering over his face. “I was just trying to get some of the mud off you, okay?”

  “You made me drink parasites!”

  Ben laughs. “What?”

  I hit his shoulder and his laughter cuts off. “You heard me! There are probably microscopic worms crawling around inside me right now.”

  “You went in the water on your own a second ago, but since I put you in the water this time, it
’s not okay?”

  I nod vehemently. “Yes. Correct.”

  “You’re overreacting.”

  I stare steel at Ben. My blood boils and a red film descends over my vision. “Stop…saying…that.”

  Ben frowns. “Avery, come on, you’re fine.”

  “I do not want to be in this water,” I screech in a voice I don’t recognize. The longer I think about it, the more I cannot stand not knowing what is around me, behind me, beneath me. Even now, I wonder what mutated beings are swarming me, ready to attack.

  Ben looks quite calm considering my outburst. “Why?”

  “I don’t know how deep it is, and I don’t know what’s around me, and I want…to…get…out…of…it—and I want to stay out of it,” I state around a taut jaw.

  He pauses, and then slowly nods. Not saying another word, he takes my hand and turns, tugging me along to dry ground. Once there, I stand with crossed arms, shivering as cool air collides with my wet skin and clothes. I don’t look at Ben, ashamed and angry at myself and him. I can’t control my freak-outs or what’s going to set them off. I can’t control anything. My throat tightens, and I swallow hard.

  “Are you all right?” Ben asks after a moment. He actually sounds as if he means it.

  “No. I’m not all right. I want to go home. I hate this place. I hate not knowing where we are, or when we’ll be found. I hate it all.” I turn my face from his searing eyes.

  “It’s not exactly your idea of a vacation, is it?”

  I wordlessly shake my head. The distant caw of a crow causes me to flinch. I don’t know how much longer I can handle this. I want to be where I feel secure, where I have some form of control, even if it’s an illusion.

  Turning from Ben, I drop to the prickly grass, lift my knees to my chin, and close my eyes. I feel exposed. He’s finally seeing the real me, the part I try to hide, and she isn’t too impressive.

  The air shifts as Ben sits beside me, his body heat warming my side. His arm touches mine, and his closeness lessens the ache in my chest, just a tad, just enough. I’m surprised when he doesn’t immediately move to put distance between us, and I’m grateful that he doesn’t. I don’t think I could take that right now. It helps to know I am not completely alone, even though I know I’m the last person Ben wants to be around.