One Was Lost(28)

Emily slips in next with zero reaction to the potpourri of sweat and puke that’s about to make my eyes bleed. It must not bother her the way it does us. After a fleeting glance at the mess on the sleeping bag, she moves much closer.

“That bottle wasn’t here,” she says simply, indicating an empty water bottle next to him. “I zipped his tent closed last night. It wasn’t in here, unless it was stuffed down inside his sleeping bag.”

“Seems more likely someone decided to pay another visit,” I say.

Emily holds up the bottle and frowns, trying to examine the dregs of water left.

“So they drugged him again and just left?” I ask. “In the middle of a bear visit? What is the point of this?”

My hands are shaking, and I have too much saliva in my mouth. The smell is getting to me. I tip my head up, but there’s no fresh air to be found, just the cool musty tent smell.

“We should look for bottles or pill casings,” Emily says. “Maybe we can figure out what he’s taking or what they’re giving him. And we obviously can’t leave him alone again.”

“Right. OK.”

Emily nods and goes right for the sleeping bag to search. She doesn’t even flinch. God, I don’t know what that girl is used to cleaning, but it’s got to be bad if she can handle this. Maybe she’s got a future in medicine.

I wimp out, checking around the edges of the tent closest to the door. I’m grateful for something to do though. Panicking isn’t helping. I find parchment-dry leaves, his boots, and—gross—a dead daddy longlegs.

“I’m going to check outside,” I say, hoping Lucas is back so he can…I don’t really know. I’d just feel a little better knowing he hadn’t wandered off a cliff. Or been eaten.

Emily doesn’t call me on my quick exit, but one more second in there, and I would have added to Mr. Walker’s mess. Jude wanders off to his tent, so I’m not the only wimp. Outside, dawn is finally breaking in full, turning everything pink-yellow happy and burning the mist from the sky.

Lucas still isn’t back. What the hell is he looking for? Should I try to find him?

Jude emerges from his tent with his T-shirt on and something slim and white in his mouth. I pull in a sharp breath.

“What’s in your mouth?” I ask.

“What?”

“What is that?” I point at the white thing. “There were bears in the camp, Jude! They can smell food, and you’ve had that in your tent the whole time?”

“It’s not food!”

I cock my head. “Then what is it?”

“It’s…” Jude sighs and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small Ziploc bag of—glory Jesus hallelujah. Are those toothbrushes?

“Are those what I think they are?”

Jude wrinkles his nose. “Practically worthless travel brushes? Yes.”

“Worthless?” I laugh a little breathlessly, already imagining the idea of slick, minty teeth. I think I’d give a kidney for anything resembling a toothbrush. “Can I please have one?” He looks at me like he has to think it over, and I scoff. “Really? You have, like, a dozen.”

“Eight,” he corrects, handing me two. My heart soars at the tiny dot of blue in the center of the white brush. “I have eight. Six now.”

I laugh. “I can’t believe you have any. I mean, who has these?”

“Pop’s a dentist.” He cuts his gaze to Mr. Walker’s tent. “Is she finding anything in there?”

I shake my head, bringing myself back. “Don’t think so. I’m still looking for some sort of evidence of what they’re putting in the water.”

He shrugs. “Roofies probably.” He opens his mouth again but doesn’t say anything more. Instead, his eyes drag over the camp with purpose. “Where’s Lucas?”

“Bathroom,” I say because I know Lucas doesn’t trust Jude. Everything about Jude’s narrowed eyes tells me he’s not buying it, even if it’s the only thing I’m selling. I relent with a sigh. “I think he’s trying to find out what the bears were after. He thinks somebody might have left food to lure them, so he’s looking for whatever was left, hoping to find some sort of clue as to what the hell is happening to us.”

Jude’s nod comes a second too late, but he doesn’t ask more questions, and when I resume my search, he looks too. The only thing I find is bear tracks. It’s hard to miss the claw punctures in the muddy ground around the back side of the tent.

“I found something,” Emily says inside the tent. She emerges, and the three of us convene at the entrance. Her word arm is outstretched. I notice the Damaged before I see that she’s cupping something in her hand. It’s tiny. Like a bit of bone or a chipped tooth. Please let it not be either of those.

“What is it?” I ask.

She tilts her palm so I can see better. Not a bone. Thank God. The chip is flat and bluish and sort of oval on one side—definitely a pill. So that settles the drug question once and for all.

“Do you recognize it?” she asks.

Recognize it? The extent of my medicinal experimentation would be trying three Advil on a brutal headache day. I shrug and look at Jude, who’s studying the pill carefully. His eyes narrow as he leans closer.