“Wasting water would be foolish. We have no idea how long we’ll be stuck out here for, or how long it will take before we find another water source. I felt heat when I grabbed the handle, but the pain didn’t kick in until a few minutes ago, probably due to high adrenaline.” He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. He was trying to hide how much it hurt, but Kara wasn’t buying it. She’d had a bad burn before, and it could be excruciating.
“That’s going to need to be cleaned and bound up. In a few hours, you might have sacs of fluid all over your hand and you’re not going to be able to move it. If the wound bursts out here, you’ll be at risk of infection.”
“You’re not making this better.”
“I’m not trying to. I’m letting you know what the stakes are.” She searched the surrounding foliage as she thought through their options. Leaving a burn like this untreated or unprotected wouldn’t bode well for his recovery, and the pain would definitely get worse before it got better. “How good are you at recognizing certain types of plants? We need to find broadleaf plantain.”
“Plantain? Like a banana?”
“No, it’s a weed. An invasive species, actually. It has green leaves shaped like lances that grow in a rosette shape. The stems are thick, with tiny little white or green flowers growing from the base. The flowers have seed pods in the center.”
Sam closed his fist and pulled it back against his stomach. “I’m good at recognizing landscape, not individual plants. I wouldn’t know it unless you showed it to me, and even then I doubt I’d have a clue what its actual name is. Why do you want to find a weed?”
“It’s a painkiller.” She shrugged at his incredulous stare. “I’m serious. Look, I work out in the field all the time on archaeological contracts, which means I’m always encountering various types of North American plants. I’ve had to learn to recognize the dangerous ones and decided to educate myself on which ones were beneficial, too. It’s been useful. Sometimes the dig team forgets to designate someone to bring a first aid kit, or a team member finds some wild berries and wants to know if they’ll make a tasty snack.”
“And this plantain weed? It will help?”
“It might. And if it does, it will only be a mild assist—but hopefully it’ll be enough to help you push through the pain until it subsides. And not, you know, pass out instead.”
He grimaced. “I’ll be fine.”
“Sure, and I know exactly how to get back to Fort Mason.” He eyed her with obvious, mounting frustration. “Be honest with me, Sam. We’re in this together, so pretending you’re perfectly healthy when you’re not isn’t going to help either of us.”
He sighed, shoulders slumping. “Got it. You’re right, of course. But I can’t help you find this plant. I don’t have a clue what it looks like.”
“That’s all right. Can you keep moving, or do you want to rest while I search for it? We might need to find a more open area. It doesn’t usually grow right under trees like this.”
Sam stood and rolled his shoulders, his complexion somewhat paler than usual. “I think we should keep moving. If I need to stop, I’ll say so.”
Did she believe him? “You promise?”
“Promise.”
* * *
Sam hung back as Kara took the lead. She scanned the ground in front and around them as they moved, and he kept an eye out for a clearing or a meadow-like patch of forest. She’d insisted that broadleaf plantain commonly grew in open areas or around wasteland, and though he didn’t put much stock in the search’s success as a result, she refused to give up.
And she was right—now that the adrenaline of the fire and their escape had worn off, the pain in his hand had steadily increased with each passing minute. Light-headedness crawled in around the edges of his consciousness as the burn pulsed with searing, agony-inducing heat.
Sunlight streamed through the trees a short distance away, and he paused. “Kara? Look over there! That might be a clearer area. It’s hard to tell from here, though.”
She glanced at him and smiled, and his insides flip-flopped—and not from pain this time. The more he tried to convince himself that he didn’t care for her in “that way” anymore, the more he couldn’t help but recall what his life was like when she’d been a part of it. Even her earlier outburst had brought forth a surge of memories. He missed the feeling of her arms wrapped around his torso, the way her head fit neatly into the space between his collarbone and shoulder. The way he’d placed delicate kisses along her smooth lids and told her how beautiful she was. Had she ever come to terms with her own beauty, he wondered? Or had she also gone through college being asked ignorant questions about her cultural heritage? He’d been so protective of her in their small, isolated, rural high school, but she’d always been stalwart in the face of teasing and bad jokes at her expense. Even the thought of someone making a negative comment about her raised his hackles.
“Everything okay?”
He glanced over to see Kara frowning at him. They’d reached the clearing he’d seen through the trees—but it was more than that. “The river? We’ve found the river!”
“Does this mean you know where we are?”
“Not exactly. But it means we can find our way to a place where I’ll know where we are. If we follow this downstream, the river will eventually take us a few clicks from Fort Mason and into territory I’ll recognize. There’s a decent stretch of river that I know how to navigate around, so if we can get there before the pain kicks in much harder and I pass out—”
Kara narrowed her eyes. “I hope you’re joking. But I also hope you’re not, because that’s not funny.”
“Sorry. Trying to stay realistic. Do you see any of the weeds you’re looking for?”
She stepped away from him, leaning over to search the ground. Every time she bent closer to examine a leaf or a flower, his skepticism gave way to hope, but the hope weakened each time she stood up with a small shake of her head. After a few minutes, she pointed to the river.
“Why don’t you dip your hands in there? The water is probably cold and will feel refreshing. It might even reduce the pain for a bit.”
“On it.” He carefully made his way to the edge and crouched on the bank. The water wasn’t running very fast here and was easily accessible, unlike a little farther down where he thought he made out the white foam of rapids. The river was long and moody, shifting as often as the landscape changed. He plunged his hands into the stream and instantly appreciated Kara’s suggestion. The burning sensation cooled and eased, clearing his head. “This is wonderful. Thank you for—”
“I found it!”
He whipped his head around to see an elated Kara running toward him with her hands full of greenery. She plunked down next to him, shoved an entire leaf in her mouth and began slipping off her shoes.
“What on earth? You’re not...eating that? Should I eat some?” She shook her head as she slid off one of her socks, grabbed the opening with both hands, and tore the sock right down the middle. Then she gestured for Sam’s burned palm. He offered it to her, wondering suddenly if perhaps she’d had too much sun and too little water. “Kara. Seriously.”
She lowered her mouth to his palm and spit, dropping a green, fibrous paste onto his burn. Then she dipped her free hand into the river, cleaning it off before using her fingers to spread the chewed-up leaf across his skin. “You know how an aloe vera leaf has to be cracked open to get the gel inside to treat sunburns? Same idea. To activate the medicinal properties of most plants, they need to be crushed or liquefied. Chewing them up before application is common and necessary in the field.”
He found his eyes traveling up the back of her hand to the dip of her elbow, the curve of her shoulder, the pout of her lips as she concentrated on smearing the leaf goop. Then she took the strips of her socks and laid the cleanest parts across the surface of his burn, winding them around his hand and ty
ing them off like a gauze bandage.
“There,” she said, sitting back to inspect her handiwork. “It’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do. I don’t know how much that will help the pain, but I know it can be used for minor burns and mosquito bites, so it’s better than nothing. If the bandage starts to come undone, let me know and I’ll tighten it up. Or use my other sock. But for now we might as well save it in case this one gets dirty. Hang on a second. I’m going to gather a few more leaves so we can quickly reapply the poultice later without having to search for the plant.”
How was this woman so incredible? She looked up and blinked, and he realized he’d been staring.
“Sam? Are you all right? Did I make it worse?” Worry flashed across her face, and she immediately leaned toward him, bending once again to inspect his bandage.
She was so close that he could smell her faint, barely there strawberry scent, still present after all this time outdoors. It mingled with the smell of smoke, and instead of repelling his senses, it filled him with an overwhelming urge.
The instant she looked up at him again, waiting for confirmation that he was all right, he surged forward into the miniscule space between them.
And pressed his lips against hers.
ELEVEN
What is he doing? Kara’s mind screamed at her to stop, to pull away and end this unexpected turn of events—but her heart said otherwise. She melted into the familiarity of his mouth, the softness of his skin, the way his nose brushed against her cheek. The tension of the past few days threatened to slide away and tear down the walls she’d built up year after year. With every second that ticked by, each breath that filled her lungs, another brick toppled.
She couldn’t have that. He couldn’t have that. They were bad for each other, something they’d already proved nearly two decades ago.
Despite his claim that he didn’t hate or blame her and that he was in fact grateful that she’d called him on his behavior all those years ago, the truth was that he’d ended up with the exact life he’d never wanted. Her words had diminished his adventurous spirit, guilting him into choosing a career path he’d vehemently rejected as a teenager. He could have done anything, gone anywhere. Her admonishment had been delivered thoughtlessly and harshly.
She placed her hand on his firm chest and pushed. He broke away and regarded her with wide, questioning eyes. There was no mistaking the hurt—was there no end to the amount of times she’d push this man away? He’d thank her for this later, too.
“We need to keep moving,” she said, but her voice came out thin and choked.
“It’s important to take breaks to rest,” he replied, words thick with emotion. “But you’re probably right.”
He rose to his feet and spun around, then took off downriver with wide, loping strides. Too fast. He’d tire himself out too quickly, especially with that burn on his hand.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words dissipating quickly amid the gentle breeze and the chattering river. “God, please give me strength. He deserves to be with someone more like him, someone who can be there for him. Geographically and emotionally.”
She quickened her steps and hurried after him, carefully skirting the riverbank but staying as close to it as possible. Keeping close to the water was a smart move, not only because it’d eventually bring them back to familiar territory but also because it meant that anyone following them would have a harder time tracking their steps—especially if they crossed to the other side of the river, which she planned to suggest to Sam as soon as he cooled off.
But by the time she caught up to him, the river had widened and deepened. She paused at the edge and leaned over, trying to get a better look at its depth. The entire river seemed to be flowing high and fast in this section, likely due to the amount of rain that had dropped during the storm two nights back.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She heard the crunch of grass and weeds as Sam rushed up to join her. “Look at how fast the water is moving here! Stay back, Kara.”
“I’ve been thinking about how it might be smart for us to cross and traverse the bank on the other side,” she suggested. “That way if Mike and his gang try to ambush us up here, they’ll have to cross the river to get to us. That’ll give us a head start to disappear into the woods. Walking along this side, on the other hand, corners us. They could set up a semicircle perimeter and trap us against the river at a spot like this, where crossing could be dangerous. I thought of it farther upstream where it was really wide and shallow, but then...” She allowed her words to trail off rather than place undue blame on Sam—but she saw the shadow cross his face regardless.
“I ruined it. Got it.” His hands found his hips as he gazed over the water. “It’s not like that was the only good spot to cross, though. It’s a solid idea and I’m up for it, but keep in mind that we may end up slightly off course if we follow the other bank. I’m not sure if it splits off at any point, so we’d have to be careful to follow the main river and not end up chasing a tributary blindly hoping they reconnect someplace. Better than being cornered and tied against a tree or burned alive, though.”
She nodded and stood up—but the edge of bank had weakened from the damp weather and the high water levels. The earth sloughed away under her feet.
She plunged into the river as frigid waters closed around her body, the rapid flow shoving her head underneath its foaming churn.
* * *
“Kara!” Sam reached for her as she fell backward, but his fist closed on air. He leaped forward and slammed onto his stomach against the bank, reaching into the depths with an urgent prayer. Please, God. Let me grab her hand, her shirt, anything. Help us!
When he didn’t find her, he knelt and prepared to jump in, though his common sense told him that Kara was better equipped to save herself than he was to go in after her. He had one good hand and nothing to anchor them to the bank. He needed to find a branch or a stick, something he could stretch out to her that she could grab—but where was she?
He frantically scanned the riverbank and the waters. Had she come up for air? Had she hit her head when she fell? Should I jump in, Lord? What am I supposed to do? I shouldn’t have responded to her in anger, I should have let her explain—
Shouting from the river changed his focus. He scanned the water again and saw her downriver at least thirty meters away, clinging to a rock in the middle of the stream. Heart in his throat, he raced toward her, still keeping his eyes open for something he could use to help her to safety.
“Are you all right?” he hollered as he reached her, knowing full well that if their enemies had figured out they’d escaped the fire and started searching for them again, he’d just given away their location. Time was not on their side, and their evasive efforts might have just been negated.
They’d deal with that after Kara was safe.
Her arms wrapped around the peak of a rock in the center of the river, water splashing up around her as it rushed past. Her hair clung to her face and neck, but she appeared calm—calmer than he thought he’d be in the same situation.
He pointed to himself and then to the river. “Do you need me to come in?”
“My toes are touching the bottom!” she yelled back. “I think it gets shallower up ahead. Go down!”
He stared at her, trying to comprehend. Go down? Down where?
And then she let go of the rock and vanished under the water again—only to resurface moments later about ten meters farther downstream. Her head and shoulders peeked out and she clung to a branch that extended into the river from the other bank. She looked back and found him staring, then waved him over.
Part of him wondered if she’d hit her head hard enough to become delusional, but when he reached the spot directly across from her, it became clear that she was right. If anything, he felt a sudden rush of gratitude. Maybe God had listened to his prayers after all. She l
ooked unharmed and had found a path across the river—which they definitely needed now.
He watched as she pulled herself out of the water and onto the bank on the other side, then stood. She waved him over.
“Come on, Sam. If you want, go down a little farther. Looks like it’ll only go up to your waist over there, but be careful. Bend your knees into the current so it doesn’t push you over.”
“Here goes nothing,” he murmured, then slid off the bank and into its flow. The shove against him was sudden and he almost lost his balance, but Kara’s encouragement helped him to find his footing and carefully pick his way across.
After a few minutes, he joined her on the bank in a patch of sunlight. Water poured off their clothes, and their shoes made squishing noises, but at least the warmth of the sun helped to ease their shivering.
“How’s your bandage?” Kara asked as he attempted to wring out his pant leg. “I lost the extra leaves and we don’t have dry fabric anymore, so it’s going to be a while before we can rewrap it. The cans of water are gone, too.”
“My bandage? How’s your entire body? You fell into a river and got pushed downstream into rocks.” He leaned forward as a wave of horror churned his stomach. A trickle of crimson slid down the side of her temple, and he pushed her wet hair back to take a closer look. He sighed in relief at seeing only a shallow cut. “You’ve got a small gash here, but does it hurt anywhere else?”
She shook her head and then shrugged, the very definition of noncommittal. “It hurts everywhere, Sam. It has since I got bashed in the head yesterday. Or was it the day before yesterday? I... I can’t keep track anymore. It feels like we’ve been out here on the run forever.”
“I know. I feel the same way, but—” He paused at a strange noise. Electronic, maybe. “Did you hear that?”
Kara’s eyes flicked back toward the river and she pressed her lips together, then slinked backward into the shade of the trees. He followed and they crouched in the bushes—a habit that seemed almost normal now. They remained silent, listening for the noise, and when it came again it sounded a little farther way. Sam scanned the riverbank on the other side, wishing he could see more from where they hid. There was no mistaking the movement at the edge, near to where Kara had first clung onto the rock.
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