One Was Lost(22)

Lucas lowers his drink to his thigh when I get there. Condensation rolls down the side, right into a hole in his jeans, just above his knee. I have the ridiculous urge—

Stop it! Just…I have to stop this.

I raise my Coke. “The set was amazing, Lucas. You outdid yourself.”

“You didn’t give me much of an option, did you?”

I bite back a smile. “A good director gets what the show needs.”

“What about what you need?”

My chest and neck go from warm to hot. I look to my friends, who are too busy with an impromptu sing-along to look back. “I should go.”

Before I can, his hand is around mine, fingers at my wrist. I’ve been thinking of this more than I want to admit. His hands are even bigger and rougher than I thought. Better too.

“Sera?”

His look rises up through me like steam from a shower. He crooks his head toward the kitchen, toward the back door. And I follow because even I know what this means.

“We can just go back,” he says, dragging me back to the present. But we can’t go back. Not from that night at the party and not from this either.

I open my eyes and look up at him. He is not conventionally pretty, but I’m not the only girl who can’t seem to help looking.

“I’m sorry.” My voice cracks on both words.

Lucas sighs. “Let’s just head back. We can go up the path, maybe make double time.”

“No, we have to check on them,” I say. “If Ms. Brighton is dead, then they’re alone. Probably terrified. We have to try.”

“That river is still dangerous,” he says, voice low and gentle. “And those birds are telling us everything we need to know about what’s going on over there.”

My stomach constricts as I think about the stringy bit I saw dangling. “We can’t be sure unless we go. I’ll never forgive myself if—”

“Sera, be serious.”

“I am serious. If one of them is hurt, if they can’t talk and we just—we can’t just—” A sharp breath severs my words. Tears smear my vision, but I refuse to even acknowledge them with a swipe of my hand.

“Shit.” He swallows hard and throws up his hand, mouth going thin. “OK. We’ll try. Be heroes or whatever.”

Something swims up through my chest. I’m not sure if it’s relief or terror or something else. I swallow it down.

“But I don’t trust that current,” he says, “and the bridge is out of the question.”

“So what do we do?”

He looks around, hand at the back of his neck. “All right, I’ll loop my belt around that tree. I’m going to keep a hold on that, and you’re going to hold on to me. If the water goes over either of our knees, we’re done. If it’s freakishly shallow, we’ll…”

“Let go?”

He looks like he hates the idea but shrugs. “I guess that’s the only way to do it, yeah?”

I nod and try not to watch as he shucks his belt, briefly revealing one hipbone and the hollow in front of it. He finds a tree right on the edge of the river and secures the belt through the buckle around the trunk. One hand on the leather strap, he steps into the water.

“We’re not going to get close enough to the halfway point,” he says. “We’ll have to go back for the other two to help us.”

“Let’s just see how bad it is,” I say because I can’t leave here without doing something. Without trying. Maybe the water will be lower than it looks. I hope so because something tells me Emily won’t cross this again. I’m not sure Jude would do it either, not with the vultures hovering or that weird noise that’s drumming at my ears.

What is that anyway? I didn’t notice it before, a tinny droning that skates along the sound of the rushing water. The drone rises and falls a little, and when I look up, I see a black mist clinging above some of the underbrush.

Flies. It’s flies.

Don’t think about why they’re there. Don’t.

But it’s hard not to think about it when the smell suddenly hits me, so pungent, I cover my nose and eyes at once. The scent is unfamiliar and unmistakable at the same time. Death is on the other side of this river. I’m sure of it.

“Let’s head back,” Lucas says. “Let’s get the others.”

I want to go back more than anything, but if it were me over there, I’d want someone to try. I step farther into the water. It’s maybe ten inches deep here, but it’s dragging at my ankles. The current is a shock, and instinct sends my hands flailing. Lucas catches one, and I lock my gaze onto his.

“Don’t you dare let go,” he says.

I won’t. I inch my way deeper, the current rushing up my calves, not quite to my knees but close.

Really close.

“Too deep,” Lucas says. “You’re not even a fourth of the way across. Look.”

“It’s not that deep,” I say, and it’s not. Still below my knees. And all I can think is that they could be over there. Bears could eat them. Carry their parts away just like Madison’s story. “Just another couple of steps so I can get a good look up the ridge toward the tents.”

“Then switch with me. I’m taller.”