“We’re heading up to the ledge after this,” Jake told them. “We’ll be back after sundown.”
Chris nodded. “Have fun.”
“See you in a couple hours,” Harper said, and they both continued toward camp.
I glanced behind us toward the canyon below and then back to Jake. “Excuse me…the ledge? Are you going to throw me over?”
Jake took my hand in his, a gesture I hadn’t quite expected, and we walked toward the mass of boulders at the southwest edge of camp. “Not exactly.”
“Umm…”
Jake stopped. “Are you afraid of heights now?”
“Why? I wasn’t before?” That was surprising.
Jake shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“Oh.”
Smiling, he squeezed my hand tighter in his. “It’s not as bad as it sounds, I promise. Come on, Coop!”
I bit at the inside of my cheek. Jake wanted to do something special with me today, alone, and I wasn’t about to complain. “Alright. But remember, Harper and Chris know I’m going to this ledge with you, so if anything happens to me…”
Jake laughed softly, and we fell into step beside one another.
After a few minutes of walking hand in hand, I lost sight of camp, but I didn’t mind. We really were completely alone, and I felt strangely at ease about it. Something was different about us this time; whether it was the fact that I was adamant to step out of my comfort zone or the fact that this seemed the closest thing to a date I could ever remember having, I wasn’t sure. But I was both comfortable and content.
“I found this place last night during my rounds,” Jake said, leading me up onto a large, lichen-covered boulder. He stepped up and reached down to help pull me up, too. He was squinting even though his back was to the lowering sun. “I thought you might like it.”
“I’m excited,” I said truthfully. He guided me up onto another large rock, but this time my foot slipped, and I flailed forward. Jake caught me, his hands gripping mine with a firm, reassuring hold.
“Are you alright?” His hands were rough and warm and strong around mine, one small detail to add the list of things I’d been noticing about him the more time we spent together.
I let out a disgruntled grumble. “Yeah, thanks. I guess I’m not very good at this hiking stuff.”
“You’ve never been very agile,” Jake teased and helped me step onto the next rock. “It’s just over here.” He nodded toward the tallest boulder as his fingers tightened around mine, trying to keep me from toppling over.
As if they were carried on the gentle breeze, a stream of memories filled my mind, and I couldn’t shut them out.
I saw myself on the ground, struggling beneath a very aggressive and determined soldier as he straddled me, grinning.
I was sobbing and screaming.
A little ways off, Cooper stood beside Jake at the edge of the woods; Jake’s attention snapped between the soldier and me.
In a blink, I watched another, older military man fall to the ground, a bullet between his eyes, and Jake leaned against a tree, bleeding and in pain.
Jake had saved me. I could feel his disgust and astonishment acutely. There was something about physically touching each other that made our connection stronger.
Another memory flickered to life.
Jake was holding me against his chest. I was unconscious as we rushed toward a truck, Harper and Sanchez hobbling along nearby.
“How many Crazies was that?” Sanchez groaned, limping as she leaned against Harper. Blood covered the front of her shirt and was all over Harper’s hands and clothes, as well. “The bastards came out of nowhere…” She cringed. “Ah! Shit!”
“Stop talking and concentrate on getting back to the truck,” Harper said.
Sanchez retorted with something sarcastic, but I was distracted by Jake’s perpetual glances down at me, cradled in his arms as I was, and the way he absently stroked the side of my face, resting against his chest.
“Here,” he said, stirring me from his memories. “Put your foot right here.”
I smiled at how careful he was with me. I could imagine how being around him had made me feel. His hands tightened reassuringly around mine, and I had no doubt that he’d made me feel safe.
Without warning, another memory assaulted me.
I saw myself, crumpled on a cement floor in what appeared to be a cafeteria, my face blue and bile and sweat covering my body. But Jake didn’t seem to mind any of that as he gathered me into his arms. I could feel his fear, anger, and self-loathing as he called for help and rushed me away to find Harper.
And then another…
I was lying on a hospital table, unconscious, with IVs in my arms and tubes up my nose and down my throat. Jake paced back and forth, desperately waiting.
“It was your blood,” I whispered, resisting as he pulled on my hands, urging me forward.
Jake let up. “What?”
I shook my head, amazed every time I learned something new about him…about us. “Do you ever get tired of saving my life?” Though the question was little more than a whisper, it was still a question I needed him to answer.
With the exception of Dani and how much we’d relied on each other growing up, I was suddenly certain that no one had ever done as much for me in my entire lifetime as Jake had done in the few months we’d known each other. “Do you?” I persisted.
He furrowed his brow.
“Even after Dr. Wesley found me, you tried the transfusion again—you tried to help me. It seems I’m always getting myself into trouble, and you’re always having to get me out of it. Do you ever get tired of saving my life?” I repeated, barely noticing Cooper chasing a lizard in the crevasses in the rocks beneath our feet.
Jake stared at me a moment longer before looking away. “It’s just the way it is.” I could feel a hint of irritation coming from him.
“But it can’t be easy for you…”
His eyes found mine again, an unsettling disquiet burning within them, scorching any remaining questions off my tongue. “No,” he said carefully. “It’s not. But I’m glad I can be there when you need me, regardless of how much it bothers you.”
“It bothers me?” I asked, more than a little curious. It seemed unlikely that I would be annoyed at having my own knight in shining armor.
“I could be wrong, but I don’t think you’re used to relying on other people.”
“It makes sense, I guess.” I stepped up to stand on the rock beside him. “And what about you?” I asked more playfully. “Are you a habitual hero, or am I just one lucky girl?”
Jake’s expression hardened, and he stared down at our joined hands. “I’m still getting used to having someone I”—he paused and let go of my hand—“someone I want to take care of.”
I barely heard the words as the wind whooshed past my ears, but I had heard him, and my heart skittered in my chest. “I—” I cleared my throat. “I see.”
We continued our climb to the ledge.
“Well, whatever’s happened in our past,” I ventured. “I hope I’ve told you that I appreciate all that you’ve done for me.”
Finally, he smiled again, and my heart felt a little lighter. “I know you do,” he said, pulling me toward him. “This has been a learning curve for both of us.”
We stood there quietly for a long moment, staring at one another.
“I’d probably be dead right now if it weren’t for you,” I said. After all I’d seen, it was obvious.
Jake narrowed his eyes the barest amount, no doubt gauging what my reaction to his answer might be. “Probably,” he said. “But then, I don’t think you would’ve had so many close calls if it weren’t for me, either.” Jake peered out at the view and reached for my hand once more. “Stop distracting me, would you?” I was relieved by his lighthearted tone. “I promise, you’re going to like this.”
Stepping up onto a flat rock, I froze beside him, gripping his arm to steady myself, and gaped in awe.
I didn’t care how high up we were, the desert was the most picturesque, undisturbed landscape I’d ever seen. It stretched on as far as I could see, eroded sandstone towers standing vigil over the valley floor, casting protective shadows over every fissure etched in its basin. Fuchsia cactus flowers edged down the mountain we stood atop of, meeting a valley floor with bursts of yellow and purple wildflowers. The reddish hue of the late afternoon created an almost alien glow over the horizon, and I felt like I was on another planet. It was amazingly beautiful, and standing there, looking up at Jake, his eyes glowing golden brown, I never wanted to leave. This place was ours.
“It’s so beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here.” I took both of his hands in mine. The urge to kiss him, to create new memories between us, was almost too intense to resist. So I didn’t.
Leaning forward, I appreciated the soft smile that pulled at his lips and lost myself in his asking eyes, and my excitement trumped my lingering uncertainties.
But with another surfacing memory, I hesitated.
We stood in an old house, blood covering me as I peered up at him with a pained expression on my face. Moving tentatively in to kiss me, Jake yearned for forgiveness and a sense of familiarity. His kiss was controlled, but desperate and full of more emotion than he knew what to do with. He needed me—her. He wanted her…he loved her.
My mind filled with emotional vomit I couldn’t process, and I took a step back, unable to bring myself to follow through—to try to be her. Feeling something cool on my cheek, I blinked and wiped a lone tear away. I couldn’t do this; I couldn’t take the chance—not right now, not yet.
“What’s wrong?” Jake asked, concern creasing his brow and an expression of longing on his face.
Reaching out to hold his hand was the most I could offer him. I flashed him a weak smile and turned toward the sunset. “The sun’s setting,” I said hoarsely. “Let’s get comfortable.”
APRIL
1AE
10
DANI
APRIL 20, 1AE
Great Basin Desert, Nevada
For almost three weeks, we traveled across Utah and into Nevada in relative peace. We encountered no Crazies, no megalomaniacal dictators, no mind-controlling cult leaders. No human enemies crossed our path, which seemed almost miraculous. But in a wasteland as expansive as the Great Basin Desert, there was no need for human enemies. The desert itself was enemy enough.
The first horse fell before the sun even reached its zenith. It didn’t matter that it was early spring and the days never reached blisteringly hot temperatures; what mattered was that we hadn’t encountered freshwater in two days, and our reserve supply was dangerously low—too low for a caravan of over two dozen horses, nineteen people, a few goats, and two dogs. The last “town” we’d passed—it was really little more than a cluster of farms—we actually had to circumvent widely due to a large population of Crazies who, according to Zoe, were exceedingly bloodthirsty, and the last three bodies of water we’d come across were saltwater, not fresh. The Fates, it seemed, had turned against us.
I was riding beside Jason and his as-yet-unnamed horse at the front of our column when Sarah shrieked. Jason and I exchanged wide-eyed glances and quickly guided our horses back down the length of the caravan to find out the cause of Sarah’s shriek. If she was going into labor…now…
Near the back, just ahead of the covered wagon, Houdini, an older palomino thoroughbred who’d been with us since leaving Bodega Bay months ago—who I’d befriended years ago, when I worked at the Bodega Bay Riders’ Ranch—lay on the gravel shoulder. He was partially on his side, his legs slightly curled and his head resting limp on the ground, and some of the stuff sacks and a duffel bag that had been strapped to his pack saddle were strewn around him on the gravel. His sides heaved with each too-quick breath.
“Oh God, no!” I swung my leg over Wings’s rump and jumped down, not caring that the sharp movement jarred my broken arm. I lunged toward Houdini, dropping to my knees by his head. “Dini…” My fingers brushed over his forehead, moving his blond bangs away from his eyes so he could see. Those brown eyes were wide and filled with terror.
I strengthened the telepathic link between us automatically, needing to comfort him, to ease his mounting panic. “It’s okay, Houdini…it’s okay,” I murmured in his mind. “I’m here. You’ll be fine. Just breathe, old friend. Just breathe, and you’ll be okay. I’ll take care of you.”
Lies. All lies. He wouldn’t be okay. And the worst part was that he knew it.
I reached for the nearest buckle on his pack saddle, the one over his shoulder, but my fingers were trembling too badly to be effective. I balled my hand into a fist and glanced up at the humans standing in a loose circle around us. I didn’t understand why they were just standing there.
“Help me!” I said, tugging ineffectively at the buckle once more. “Get this damn thing off him.” The words came out broken, an almost sob. “Please!”
Jason was suddenly there, and Zoe and Carlos and Mase. Everyone moved closer, wanting to help. But they couldn’t help, not in any way that really mattered.
I scooted closer, lifting Houdini’s heavy head up onto my knees awkwardly with only one arm, and huddled over him. I hugged his neck and whispered empty reassurances in his mind.
As his pain increased, so did his panic, and he started fading in and out of coherency.
“Red? Dani?” Jason touched my shoulder. “We did what we could with the saddle, but he’s lying on part of it, so…”
It didn’t matter anyway. I raised my head and met Jason’s eyes. He knew. Or at least, he suspected.
“Dehydration?”
I nodded. I couldn’t speak; anything I attempted to say would come out garbled and incomprehensible.
“What else can we do?”
I stroked my hand along the length of Houdini’s neck and took several deep breaths. Clearing my throat, I said, “Give the horses the rest of the water.”
Jason stared at me for a few seconds, blinking but not speaking. Finally, he shook his head. “We’ll give each of them a drink, but we have to save some…”
I felt my expression harden, but I didn’t argue.
Again, he stared and didn’t respond for long seconds. “What do you want to do now?”
I swallowed. Talking about water was making my throat feel painfully parched. “Tell the others to keep moving until they can’t see us anymore…and to take Wings and Nameless with them.” I wiped my cheek on my shoulder. “And nobody gets back in the saddle. We’re walking until we find freshwater.”
Jason nodded before standing and striding toward our other companions, who were clustered behind the wagon. I couldn’t spare much attention for them, not with Houdini growing more and more afraid with each passing minute. I did what I could for him, reminding him that I was still there, that I wouldn’t leave him, that I loved him and would always be there with him. That I would never abandon him, not while he still breathed.
I was vaguely aware of someone, possibly multiple someones, gathering the items that had been on Houdini’s pack saddle.
“Dani?” It was Zoe.
I continued to stare into Houdini’s wild eye, continued to murmur nonsensical things, impossible things, aloud and in his mind.
Zoe touched my shoulder. “Do you want to give him some water, too?”
I sniffled and shook my head. There was no point, and we couldn’t afford to waste it.
Crunching gravel, receding footsteps, and then Houdini and I were alone again.
I wasn’t sure how long it took—maybe fifteen minutes, maybe more—but the caravan started to move west again, leaving Jason, Houdini, and me behind on the shoulder of the highway.
“Where’s the best place to do it?” Jason asked softly as he knelt behind Houdini’s head.
I touched my fingers to a spot on the palomino’s forehead, then leaned over and pressed my lips against his bristly hair. “I love you, old friend,” I whispered. Maintaining
the telepathic connection, I continued to soothe Houdini, even as I stood and took several steps backward.
“You don’t have to watch,” Jason said.
“Yes, Jason, I do.”
On his exhale, Jason nodded and pulled the pistol from his shoulder holster. His aim was true, and Houdini was gone almost as soon as the bullet entered his skull.
“Goodbye, old friend.”
~~~~~
By the time we caught up to the caravan, the sun was directly overhead. Our companions were clustered on the side of the road, talking over one another. Jason and I didn’t notice it at first. Maybe because we didn’t want to, and maybe because it didn’t seem possible after what we’d just been through. It wasn’t until we were just several dozen yards away and I was in the process of checking in with the rest of the horses that I felt it: panic—pain—terror.
Two more horses were down.
It was one of the driving teams, which explained why the humans were clustered beside one of the carts. One of the cart horses had collapsed, and she’d dragged her companion down with her, fracturing the other mare’s leg in the process. Carlos and Jake were working on freeing the healthier horse, not that it mattered, while the others were arguing about what to do next.
Jason’s hold tightened on my hand.
“—that lake we passed a couple miles ago,” Ben said.
“Yeah,” Ky agreed. “Couldn’t we, I don’t know, boil it and capture the vapor or something. That would be freshwater…”
Grayson shook his head. “The amount of wood required to boil enough water…it’s too inefficient. It won’t produce enough drinkable water fast enough.”
“So we go to this next town,” Sanchez said, holding up a partially folded map and shaking it. “No matter what, we go here, clear out any Crazies—”
“But what if there are other people?” Sarah said.
Sanchez pressed her lips into a thin line and took a deep breath. “If there are other people, we’ll make them see reason.” She raised her eyebrows. “This is the only option. We didn’t survive this long just to die of dehydration in the middle of a fucking desert.”
Out Of The Ashes (The Ending Series, #3) Page 12