Love Without a Compass

by Lindy Zart

  Her smile fades as I say, “I see you did your research on me. Like to know your competition, huh?”

  “You know, everyone at Sanders and Sisters has always been really nice to me—except for you.” Avery says it thoughtfully, like it’s a puzzle she’s wants to solve, but so far, cannot.

  “I was nice, at first.”

  Her expression says otherwise. “Even then you were aloof. Polite, but aloof.”

  There could be some truth to that, but although I had reservations about her character, I was willing to give her a chance. Until she began to usurp my work, and eventually, deceived me. The muscles in my neck tighten. What pisses me off the most is that she couldn’t understand my reaction to her duplicity. Avery acted as if she did me a favor, when really all she did was advance her own worth in the company.

  Now I know why too. She has a thing for Duke. Somehow, that makes it all twenty times worse. She didn’t even do it for herself, but for him.

  Duke Renner is an attractive guy. Even I can see that. True, he’s overly tan and his teeth are cosmetically straight and white, but he works hard on being fit, and he’s aged well, looking younger than his fifty years. Even so, he’s still twice the age as Avery.

  I grind my teeth together. I swear she exudes invisible magic that has the power to reorganize my memories to her benefit. Because when I’m around Avery, I start to forget what she did, and that makes me angry. I forget that she’s the kind of person who would contemplate seducing her boss to get ahead in her career.

  As if to mimic my mood, darkness descends quickly and unapologetically. Clouds take over the sky, blocking the sun as the wind picks up and dusk falls upon us. Night is coming, possibly bringing another storm with it.

  “We need to find a place to sleep before it’s dark.” I stride past her, not waiting to see if she follows.

  It is long moments before Avery speaks, her voice close but soft. “You’re hard to figure out, Ben. Most of the time, I think you hate me…but other times, I think you might like me more than you want to.”

  “Trust me, Avery…” I swing around to confront her, to tell her that I despise her, completely and unconditionally, but I can’t spit out the words.

  She waits, already looking crestfallen.

  “When I say that if we don’t find shelter soon, we’re going to regret it,” I slowly answer.

  Avery looks down, hiding a small smile. “Right. Let’s find a hotel.”

  “A hotel?”

  “I think I saw one over there.” She points toward the highest mountain in the far distance, glancing at me as her smile grows. “Do you think they have any vacancies? Maybe we can get a drink at the bar.”

  “Are you delirious?”

  Avery continues on as if I never spoke. “Oh! Do you think they’ll have room service? I’d kill for a big, fat juicy cheeseburger and fries.”

  I glower at her because I really want to smile. “Stop being…cheeky.”

  Avery blinks up at me. “Why? Would you rather I collapsed to the ground again and refused to move?”

  “No,” I answer cautiously, not positive what is the right response to that.

  “At least this way, it’s harder for me to want to sink into a deep, dark depression where I’m positive my life is about to end. You should be glad about that. Right?”

  “Right,” I reply, again wondering if I should agree with her.

  “Glad that’s settled. Race you to the hotel.” She sticks out her tongue and marches ahead of me, swinging her arms as she goes.

  I tilt my head, staring after Avery for a moment, wondering if she’s had some kind of mental breakdown. Maybe the lack of water, combined with the heat of the sun, has somehow dehydrated her brain, if such a thing can even happen.

  12

  AVERY

  I look at Ben. “Now what?”

  Ben gestures to an area to the left of us that is clear of bushes and trees. “Now we make a fire and settle in for the night.”

  “Do you know how? Because I don’t.”

  “I haven’t started a fire since I went camping with some buddies when I was eighteen.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lighter. He flicks his thumb across it and a small flame appears. Ben looks at me, the tiny fire casting wicked shadows across his lean features. “But I’m sure going to try.”

  “Also illegal.” I’m jealous of the gadgets Ben seems to produce from nowhere. Does he have secret pockets in those shorts or what? Why didn’t I think of sneaking things?

  Annoyance flickers across his face. “What are you, the Extreme Retreat police?”

  I don’t respond. If I were the Extreme retreat police, I might handcuff him just because. Carnal images follow that thought and I clear my throat, turning my attention to anything but Ben.

  We are bunked beneath a gang of trees, surrounding shrubs and high grass forming somewhat of a barrier from the elements, and whatever beasts are about. Of course, if the beasts are in the grass with us, it isn’t really doing its job. I glance behind me, seeing nothing but plants. I guess this is as good as any place to sleep. Not that we have options. That cave we found is somewhere we will most likely never see again. I wish we would have stayed there. It’s my fault; I wanted to move.

  “Eat the rest of this.” Ben shoves the sad-looking bag of trail mix at me.

  I shake my head. I’m so hungry that the thought of eating food actually makes me nauseous.

  “Take small amounts, chew slowly, make it last until morning,” he instructs, not moving his hand away.

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Ben says shortly, turning back to the fire.

  “No. I’m not eating the last of the food.”

  “You don’t have a choice.” He doesn’t look up. “Eat it.”

  “Are there mountain cats out here?” I whisper, as if loud noises attract the animal in question. Which, they might, I don’t know. I pop a nut in my mouth, sucking the salt from it. My stomach revolts and I take deep breaths until it steadies.

  Ben mutters to himself as he tries, unsuccessfully, to start a fire with whatever earthly things he can find. Gathered in a pile are twigs, dead leaves, and other miscellaneous items. He’s been working on it for what seems like forever, but I’m sure has really only been about five minutes. Fantasies about my king-size bed, with clean sheets and warm blankets, torment me as I watch.

  “Ben?”

  “What?” His focus shoots to me.

  “I asked—never mind. Why hasn’t anyone come for us?” The question pierces the silence, demanding an answer. Once I chew the nut for a minute, I move on to a raisin.

  “You mean Duke?”

  I glare at him, not responding. Let him think what he likes.

  Ben partially turns my way before going back to his present task. “Do you really want to know the answer?”

  “Yes, I want to know. Why are we still out here?” And what is out here with us?

  I sit huddled against a large tree that scrapes my back with each violent jerk of my shivering body, eating the trail mix at the rate of a snail. My skin that burned earlier is now startlingly chilled. The night sky is dark gray streaked through with midnight blue. As soon as the sun started to go down, the temperature dropped.

  I wonder how cold it will get when it’s fully night. On the plus side, I have yet to see another crow—and it’s cool enough out that the bugs are staying away. Although, I can hear them, and they seem closer than I like.

  Ben sighs and drops a pile of twigs, frustration adding lines to his face. “Because we aren’t where we are supposed to be anymore. No one knows where we are—I don’t even know where we are—and the chances of them finding us at all are pretty slim. The longer we’re out here, the less likely it is we’ll be rescued.”

  I begin to hum over his voice near the end of his declaration, refusing to register Ben’s dismal words. I can’t accept the possibility of our demise in the wilderness. I won’t. Okay, so we weren’t found toda
y. That’s understandable. They probably just now realized we’re missing. Someone is looking for us. Someone will find us.

  “What are you doing?” Ben looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind as I continue to make magic with my vocal chords.

  “Humming.”

  “Why?”

  We’ll probably wake up at exactly the moment they stumble upon us. Everything will be fine. I will not freeze out here, or starve, or become a pecking post to ferocious birds or a meal to mountain lions. I will not die, definitely not. No way. Panic squeezes my chest and I keep humming, louder and faster.

  “Avery?”

  I finally look at Ben, take in the quizzical look he’s got set on me, and abruptly stop.

  “Now are you having a meltdown?” he asks.

  “No. I was humming because I don’t like your attitude.” I watch Ben work, the brush catching fire almost instantly. Smoke fills the air and my nostrils. It’s a welcome smell.

  As soon as it starts, the fire dies. Ben curses loudly and harshly.

  I get up and move toward him. “Can I try?”

  His expression is full of derision as he gestures for me to take over. “Have at it.”

  “It’s weird.”

  “What’s weird?” He hands me the lighter.

  “You. You always seem so by the books, but you’re not. You do things you aren’t supposed to.”

  Ben snorts. “Because I brought a pocketknife and a lighter?”

  “I didn’t bring anything,” I point out grumpily.

  He begins to gather more broken twigs and dead leaves, adding them to a growing pile. After a brief pause, Ben adds, “I wanted to be as prepared as I could be, but it still wasn’t enough.”

  I run my thumb across the wheel and a flame appears. I set it against the brush as a flame forms and watch it expand. “I like it.”

  Ben wipes his hands on what remains of his shirt and focuses on me. “Like what?”

  “That you don’t follow the rules all the time.”

  “Glad you approve.” Ben haunches down and gets to work on helping me. He rearranges the sticks, making a teepee.

  I ask curiously, “How do you know how to do that?”

  “I don’t. Most likely, it’ll smoke out again.”

  “Way to be positive.”

  “I’m trying to be realistic.”

  “There’s a difference between being pessimistic and being realistic,” I mumble, watching as the fire crackles and pops and grows.

  “I’ll be whatever it takes to keep us safe while we’re in this shit-pile of existence, for however long it takes,” Ben retorts hotly.

  “Are you saying there’s a chance we’re going to be stuck in the wilderness forever?” I purposely lighten my tone and concentrate on the snapping flames.

  “God, I hope not.”

  I laugh at the revulsion I catch in his voice. “I’m not that bad, Ben, I promise.”

  When he doesn’t say anything, I look up, going still at the unusual expression on his face. It isn’t horrified. It’s contemplative. And watchful. Maybe a twinge sad. Ben studies me, his eyes holding mine captive. I can’t look away. He finally does, briefly lowering his head.

  “Take this,” he murmurs as he lifts his hand, offering the pocketknife. It looks ancient, possibly something handed down through the adolescent Stitzer line. It probably doesn’t have a lot of monetary value, but to his family, is priceless. I have a couple things like that from my mom, nothing at all from my dad.

  I take the knife warmed by his body heat and look at the fiery pile of tinder and brush. “What do I do with it? Stab the kindling a couple times and hope it stays lit?”

  Ben’s breath fans my hair as he quietly chuckles. “I’m not going to tell you no if that’s really what you want to do. Or you could hold it for me while I show you some magic.”

  I twist my head, bringing my face close to his. My lips tingle with longing for a taste of his. Ben’s eyelids become hooded, his face split by shadows.

  Ben nods toward the ground, breaking the spell. “Do you want me to show you or not?”

  “Um…yeah. Please.” I swallow hard and turn my back to him, but that’s worse, because now his front is flush with my spine, and his heat scorches me as he leans over me, his arms on either side of mine.

  “My dad insisted I do Boy Scouts when I was a kid, said it would come in handy one day.” Ben pauses. “I wish I’d listened to him.”

  I glance over my shoulder, daring to look directly into his eyes for a millisecond that alters my whole concept of him. Ben is ever-changing eyes under dark, swooping eyebrows with blades for cheekbones. He’s gorgeous. “You’re winging this, is that what you’re saying?”

  Ben offers a self-deprecating grin. “Yep. But don’t worry, I did play baseball all through school and college. It’s basically the same thing.”

  We share a smile, and I swear the sky lights up from the power of it. Or it’s lightning. I wait, eyes to the sky, looking for another bolt. None come. I look back at Ben. It’s just him, and how I feel when I’m around him.

  Ignoring the thunderous beat of my heart, I turn my attention back to the task at hand. We need a better fire, and fast. My fingers and toes are slowly turning to ice. The only frozen feeling I like is the kind you get from ice in a cocktail.

  “Okay, mountain man, show me what you got,” I encourage.

  “Abracadabra!” Ben wiggles his fingers at the fire.

  I stare.

  Ben looks at me and laughs. “Just kidding.”

  “Are you going to be serious now?” I deadpan.

  He nods solemnly, looking adorably sweet. “As serious as a fire.”

  It takes way more concentration than I’m equipped to handle right now, to the point that my head starts to pound as we work the twigs and leaves and brush just so to stabilize the fire. Soon, my arms and hands are tired and don’t cooperate like I want. But after countless attempts, all while being cocooned by Ben’s arms, the fire holds.

  I shriek and hop up without thought, knocking the back of my head against Ben’s chin. He grunts and falls back. I swing around and hug him, overjoyed that we got the fire to hold steady. It will be a spectacular fire, of course, when it’s at its full potential. It will keep the cold away, and hopefully, animals.

  “We did it, Ben! We did it!” I grab his shoulders and shake him,and fling my arms around him once more. My voice is muffled when I say, “This hug would work way better if you participated.”

  “I might be more inclined to hug you if I could move my arms.”

  “Would you really?” I ask hesitantly, breathless with hope. I pull back to peer at his face, disappointed to find the answer in his expression. He wouldn’t. It makes me angry. We have no idea what’s going to happen to us out here and he’s holding grudges. “Admit you hate me a little less than before we got here.”

  Ben’s eyes darken. “Why? Would admitting that somehow benefit your career with Sanders and Sisters?”

  “Not everything is about my career.” It never was about my career.

  “Could have fooled me. I’m sure you’ll use this whole unwanted experience against me in some way too, right?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You figure it out.”

  I settle back against the tree, eyes forward. I’d rather freeze to death at this point than be near Ben. I tuck my hands under my crossed arms and pray for sleep to come quickly. My breaths are visible poofs of air and the tip of my nose is cold. I’m done trying to figure things out for the day.

  I think Ben realizes it. With a sigh, he shakes his head and situates himself before the fire. It’s going to be a long night.

  BEN

  I wake up with a crick in my neck. The fire is dead with not even a trail of smoke left. I squint as I search the area not yet touched by the sun. It takes me another moment to realize my arms and legs are wrapped around Avery. I blink, vaguely remembering getting up in the middle of the night when I couldn’t stand
to watch her shiver another second.

  Her face was softened by the glow of fire, her hair like golden silk around her shoulders and face. It was odd to watch her through the flames; she was part of them, possibly the bringer of them. She certainly produces sparks when she’s near. But not enough to keep her from shivering in her sleep.

  Avery’s face is buried in my neck, her body contorted into a ball. My throat bobs as I try to swallow. Without a conscious thought to do so, I smooth hair from her face.

  “Avery.” My voice comes out thin and quiet.

  A small sound leaves her.

  My arms tighten around her a second before I disentangle our limbs roughly enough to jar her awake. She shoots upright, her eyes wild and wide. “Where are we? What’s going on?”

  I don’t say anything, wishing I could tell her this is all a bad dream and that as soon as she wakes up for real, she’ll be back home.

  “Ben?”

  I get to my feet, wincing as my muscles and joints protest. I glance at Avery, unease stabbing through me. I don’t know how much longer Avery can do this. “Are you ready to get moving?”

  Avery looks at me, disillusionment dulling her eyes.

  “Come on,” I tell her gently but firmly. “We should get some water to drink and try to find something edible to eat. Then we’ll try to retrace our steps from yesterday.”

  We were lucky not to be visited by any animals during the night, but I feel them. I know they’re nearby. At times, I feel as if we’re being watched. By man or animal, I don’t know. I haven’t told Avery. God only knows how she’d react to that.

  “Avery,” I say in a harsher tone when she doesn’t move. “Let’s go. We aren’t going to be found if we aren’t in the open.”

  Avery finally stands, weariness casting shadows on her face.

  Sheer willpower and the need to keep Avery moving are all I have to rely on. My muscles are overtaxed, my sprained ankle twinging with every other step. My stomach is painfully empty. Keep going, just keep going. I backtrack to the nearby creek we drank from yesterday.