by Claire Kent
A stylized wolf—exactly like the drawing on the message.
The wolf.
These men must be part of the drove heading to Fort Knox.
Maybe we’re already too late.
“You ain’t gonna get her,” Travis says. I don’t know if he’s noticed the tattoo or not.
“You sure ’bout that, boy? I never finished school, but I can count to five. Five of us. Two of you. How ’bout we let you and the dog go. Just leave us the girl and your stuff.”
“Never gonna happen.” I’ve never heard Travis sound so hard. “I can count to five too. And here’s what I count. I can kill at least two of you before you get to me. She’s good with her gun. She’ll shoot at least one of you. That just leaves two. And the dog’ll be at the throat of one of you before you can get a shot off. So that’ll just leave one. Not a real good deal for the four of you who’re dead.”
“And I’ll kill myself before any of you can touch me,” I say, trying to sound as fierce as Travis.
I’m terrified.
I can’t remember ever being this scared, not even when the guys accosted me at that farmhouse. My whole body has gone cold. My gun hand is shaking slightly. I’m gripping the fur at the back of the dog’s neck with my other hand so he doesn’t make a lunge for one of the men surrounding us.
He’s growling constantly now.
“She will too,” Travis says. “So none of you will ever get her. Four of you dead. And for nothin’ but a vehicle you don’t need, a few towels, and some bottles of water. Is it really worth it to you?”
We have more provisions than that in our Jeep, but the men don’t know it and we’re not about to tell them.
They continue circling us on their motorcycles for a minute, but then the leader says, “Don’t show your faces round here again. Next time you won’t be gettin’ out alive.” Then he makes a gesture with his hand, and they all ride off with a few nasty comments.
I’m so relieved that they’re leaving that I barely notice what they say.
I was crouched on my haunches like Travis, but I collapse back into the seat when they’re out of sight.
Travis sits down more slowly, his shotgun still positioned against his shoulder.
I try to make my voice work. “Should we—”
“Not yet.”
I wait since Travis is still tense and alert. After a few minutes, when we hear nothing but the silence of the pastureland around us, he puts down his gun and starts the engine. “We’re getting off this road.”
“Yes. Please.”
I’m shaking uncontrollably. I can’t help it. My body still feels ice-cold.
I was absolutely sure I was going to die a few minutes ago.
I’m not sure how Travis managed to talk those men down. Maybe they weren’t as violent as they looked. Or maybe they weren’t in the mood for a fight.
Either way, I should have died. Both of us should have. And the dog too.
I keep stroking the dog at my feet. His hair is still standing straight up on the back of his neck, his dark eyes darting around warily.
Travis doesn’t say anything as he drives for almost an hour over hills and broad fields until we finally reach the woods we’ve been heading for.
We check the perimeter until we find an old dirt trail. It’s mostly overgrown, but Travis pushes through anyway. It’s clearer as we go deeper.
We’re surrounded by nothing but trees now. No one can see us unless they’re right on top of us.
I feel Travis finally relax beside me.
He finds a clearing near a small creek—enough to fill our bottles and splash water onto our faces—and he puts the Jeep into park.
I stumble out onto the ground, taking deep breaths and trying to relax.
The dog gives a little yap and bounds into the trees. He’s happy now. He feels safe.
I don’t know what I feel.
I stand in place until Travis comes up right in front of me. “Hey. Y’okay?”
I nod. I’m still shaking a little.
He makes a rough sound in his throat and pulls me into his arms. “It’s okay, darlin’. We’re okay.”
I bury my face in his shirt. He smells really strong right now after three long days and a lot of effort. But I’m glad. He’s Travis. He’s vibrant and solid and alive.
He’s good.
I can feel him against me, surrounding me. I can breathe him in.
He’s still murmuring that we’re okay, that we’re safe, that he’s got me, and it’s making me feel even better.
It’s a long time before I loosen my arms and look up at him. “I was scared.”
His eyes are so deep. Still fierce from what he was feeling before, but also something else. Something tender. “I know.” He swallows. “Me too.”
“Did you see his tattoo?”
“Yeah. One of the other guys had the same one. Hopefully they’re scouts going ahead of the drove. That would mean we’re not too late.”
“I hope so. You were amazing.”
“So were you. Even the dog was pretty damn impressive.”
“He was amazing too.” I fist my fingers in his shirt. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
He tilts his head down and rubs his cheek against mine. His bristles are scratchy. “I thought I was gonna lose everythin’.”
Something in his words—in the rasp of his voice—triggers a need in me that can’t be denied, can’t be ignored.
The urgency of my fear transforms into a different sort of urgency. I slide my hands down his chest and then around to his back, tucking my fingers under the waistband of his jeans. I sway forward enough to press a kiss on his shoulder. Then another at the base of his neck.
His pulse is throbbing. I feel it against my lips. His heart is beating so fast.
Like mine.
“Layne.” He’s holding himself very still.
I kiss his pulse point again. “Travis, please.”
He makes a choked sound and grabs me hard.
It’s like something has snapped inside him. Whatever was holding him back has now broken.
With a low, guttural sound, he pushes me until my back is against a large tree. Then he lifts me by my bottom and stares at my face hotly for a few seconds until he tilts his head down and sucks hard on my neck.
I’ve wrapped my legs and my arms around him, off-balance and overwhelmed by the force of my need. I grind against him as much as I can in this position, clawing at his shirt, the back of his neck, his scalp through his messy hair.
It happens so fast I can barely process it. He reaches into my neckline and pulls one breast out of my tank top, taking the nipple into his mouth. Teasing and nipping until I’m whimpering loudly.
“Travis, please,” I gasp, squeezing his abdomen between my thighs. “I can’t wait. I need it now. Now!”
He lowers me back to the ground and works on the button and zipper of his jeans while I yank mine off all the way. Then he lifts me up again, fitting himself inside me as he does.
It’s not comfortable. At all. I’m wet but not as wet as usual, and he feels bigger than I remember. The bark of the tree claws at my back through my shirt, and my bare skin beneath it gets all scratched up. I feel like I’m barely hanging on. He’s completely in control of my body.
But I need it.
I need him.
He fucks me like that against the tree, his hips pumping hard and fast. He’s barely pulling out. He can’t in this position. But he’s pushing like his life depends on it, and his mouth is only a breath away from mine.
His eyes are just as desperately needy as the clench in my heart.
He’s grunting as he takes me. Loud. Primitive.
I’m grunting too. Just wordless, helpless sounds. I can barely recognize my own voice.
The sensations intensify until my eyes blur, my throat closes. I hadn’t expected to come, but I do. In a hard rush, shaking through the release.
He makes a weird sound in his throat as
he rolls his hips. My inner muscles have clamped down around him, and his face contorts in response.
He’s going to come. I suddenly realize he’s about to. He’s lost control completely.
He’s not pulling out.
Part of me doesn’t want him to.
It sounds and looks like he’s in pain when he suddenly yanks back his hips, letting his erection slip out of me before he pushes again, his shaft now trapped between our bodies.
I squeeze hard with my legs, and he rocks against me as he comes with a hoarse bellow.
He holds me against the tree for a long time, panting against my neck.
I can’t let him go.
I don’t want to.
Finally he takes a step back and gently lowers my feet to the ground. My knees buckle. I cling to him for support, and he keeps his arms around me.
“Y’okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah. You?”
“I’m okay too.” He sighs and loosens his arms, his eyes running up and down my body. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” I can stand on my own now, so I reach down for my jeans and panties on the ground. I give him a wobbly smile. “I didn’t know you could really do it standing up.”
His face has relaxed. He’s flushed and sweating with a little dirt smeared on one side of his jaw. “Course we can. Just kinda hard on the back.” He winces as he rubs his lower back.
“You’re telling me.” I glance behind me as I zip up my jeans. “That bark is painful on the skin.”
“Shit. Should’ve thought of that. Got carried away.” He turns me around and peers at my back, pulling my tank top away from my skin so he can see beneath it.
“Am I bleeding?”
“No. Looks raw though. Sorry ’bout that.”
“I’m not complaining.” I glance down and see that I have his semen all over the front of my top. “You can make up for it by getting me another shirt from my bag.”
He does, and I feel better when I’ve changed shirts and washed my hands and face in the creek. We eat a quiet dinner, feed the dog, and get ready for the night.
I spread out the sleeping bag but don’t get into it. I just stand and stare down at Travis, who has propped himself up against a tree, his legs outstretched and his gun beside him.
He meets my eyes for a minute. Then he extends a hand. “Come here.”
I go to him immediately, sitting down and leaning against him as he wraps an arm around me.
“Y’okay?” he asks, nuzzling my messy hair.
“Yeah.”
“Not sure painful tree sex is really what you needed after that scare.”
“It is what I needed.” I rub my cheek against his dirty shirt. “It was exactly what I needed.”
“Not sure why I lost control like that.” I can hear in his voice how much it bothers him—that he wasn’t as strong as he wants to be.
“Because you’re human. And humans lose it sometimes. I was glad. I wanted it.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah.”
He nuzzles me again. It’s almost a kiss against my hair. “Okay.”
I relax against his warm body.
We almost got killed today, but the day is still ending better than it started.
AT LUNCHTIME THE NEXT day, we’re on our final approach to Fort Knox.
It’s almost unbelievable, but we’re nearly there.
If we could drive straight to the front entrance, we’d reach it in less than an hour, but it’s not that easy.
Travis is sure that the main roads leading into it will be blocked by nasty groups looking to take advantage of desperate people. I’m certain he’s right about that. So we’ve got to find a way to get there without encountering danger.
As we eat lunch, we both study the map.
“The main gates are here and here,” Travis says, pointing to the places on the map. “But we got no way of knowin’ which gate to use. Don’t know whether they’re holdin’ the whole base or just part of it or where they’re lettin’ folks in.”
“Shit, this place is huge.”
“Yep.”
“What we need is to get somewhere we can scope it out. Is there any higher ground we could go to get a look at it?”
Travis is frowning down at the map. “Maybe. Couldn’t see the whole thing, but maybe we could see part of it and get a look at one of the gates.” He traces his finger along one side. “This should be higher ground here. We could drive through here—no roads but should be passable—and end up ’bout here. Maybe we can see better there.”
“Sounds good to me. I’d rather have some sense of what we’re coming up on rather than just plowing ahead blindly.”
“Let’s do it then.”
It takes all afternoon to get around, avoiding the roads and nearby occupied towns. It’s sunset by the time we’re in the right general area.
By then it’s too dark to see very far, even if we go to the top of the highest hill and look, so instead we search until we find an out-of-the-way cabin.
It’s empty. Just one room with a small bed and a built-in cabinet. That’s all. There’s no piece of furniture to move in front of the door, although there’s a large board to brace it with. The windows aren’t broken, but they’re unprotected.
It’s better than camping in the open air, but we have to sleep in shifts.
I go to bed first, my stomach all twisty about what’s going to happen tomorrow. The dog curls up on the floor beside the bed. I’ve slept for a couple of hours when I’m jarred awake by Travis saying my name.
He bites it out in a low, urgent voice.
I sit up straight in the bed, my crisis instincts triggered.
“Headlights.” He’s standing at the window, his gun held at the ready.
“Coming here?”
“Yep. Parking now.”
“Oh shit.” I stumble out of bed, grabbing my pistol and moving to the second window.
“Stand to the side of it,” Travis says. “Don’t know who this is. Might shoot right through the window.”
I do as he says, peeking out as much as I can without making myself a target. I can’t see anything but the headlights. The dog has woken up too and is now at my feet, growling softly.
I almost jump out of my skin when a loud shot cracks through the darkness. A male voice calls out, “Whoever you are in there, that cabin doesn’t belong to you.”
Despite the rough authority of the voice, the words actually relieve me. It doesn’t sound like someone who’s looking to hurt others for the sake of it.
Travis calls back, “It was empty. We didn’t know it was taken. We’re not lookin’ for trouble.”
“Then get the fuck out of there!”
“Not until we know who’s outside waitin’ for us.”
I hear the unknown man speaking in a lower voice. It sounds like he might be cursing to himself. Then he calls out, “Tell us who’s in there first.”
Travis doesn’t answer immediately.
I know why he’s hesitating. Admitting it’s just two people might give the strangers an advantage. But I’m absolutely positive now that the man who’s been speaking isn’t out to get us. He reminds me of Travis. Protecting himself. The people with him.
Doing the best he can.
I can hear it in his voice.
This standoff will go on forever if someone doesn’t force the issue.
So I follow my instincts and call out, “It’s just me and him. Two of us. We’re not looking for trouble. But we’re not going to come out until we know it’s safe.”
There’s a pause from outside. Then, “Layne? Is that you?”
The voice is new. Female. Familiar.
I know exactly who it is. I used to hear it speaking nearly every day. “Miss Jenson?”
“Yes! Oh my God, Layne, I can’t believe it’s you. Who’s with you in there?”
Travis has turned to me, giving me a questioning frown.
“It’s Miss Jenson! My ninth grade English teach
er. She was with the group who left from Meadows.” I call out the window. “Is there anyone else from Meadows out there?”
“No! It’s just four of us. Can you please let us inside?”
I have no more doubts about the people outside, so I run to the door. I do shoot a glance at Travis first, and he gives a reluctant nod.
I swing open the door and step out into the darkness.
Miss Jenson, the teacher who taught me to love poetry, runs over to hug me.
She’d just been teaching for two years when I was her student, so she’s only in her late twenties now. She’s medium height with curly auburn hair and a bright smile. I can see her smiling in the glow of the headlights.
There’s a man just behind her. He must be the one who was talking. He’s a big black man with broad shoulders and a shaved head, and he’s wearing Army fatigues. He’s got a gun still poised against his shoulder.
So does Travis when he steps out with the dog.
I roll my eyes at him. “Would you guys stop? No one means any harm here. You can put the guns down.”
“Who else is with you?” Travis asks, looking at the other man.
“Just me,” the man says. He nods at Miss Jenson. “Anna there. And we got two more women in the pickup. They’ll come out when you put down the gun.”
“Travis? Please?”
He meets my eyes and then finally lowers his shotgun.
The other man does too. He steps into the cabin, obviously making sure it’s empty. Then he gestures with his arm.
Two other women step out of the pickup.
“I’m Mack,” the man says. He doesn’t sound particularly friendly, but he doesn’t sound as hostile as he did before. “Guess you know Anna. That’s Maisey and Jenna back there.”
“Travis.” He steps over beside me, putting a hand on my back in a protective gesture. “This is Layne. And that’s the dog.”
“Travis Farrell?” Anna asks, turning to him. “I hardly recognized you.”
“Been a while.”
“Can we go inside now?” I ask. “I don’t like being out in the dark. Maybe we can share the cabin for the night.”
That seems like an agreeable plan to everyone, and we all crowd into the one small room.
Maisey and Jenna look like sisters. They’re in their thirties and don’t say much. They huddle together on the bed.