One Was Lost(72)

There is a woman with me though. She has dark skin and close-cropped hair. Her hands brush over me, warm and dry and so beautifully clean that it’s hard not to press them to my nose and breathe deep.

She tells me the park rangers found the rest of us shortly after, and they’re getting the help they need. They’ve been looking for us all day because our parents worried after the rain and when the signal check-in didn’t follow the right path. I nod along, only hearing half of what she says.

Things happen, and I let them. I’m lost in a blur of dark pants and simple questions and warm blankets and trees moving overhead as they take me through the forest. Then, quite suddenly, a patch of gray sky grows between the trees. The branches crisscrossing over my head are gone, and there are misty clouds marching in my vision. I blink, and there are still more clouds, and after that, the phantom strobe of red emergency lights that grows stronger with every heartbeat. I take a breath that tastes like rain and diesel fuel.

Like a road.

I open my eyes wide as someone clicks down the wheels on the stretcher. When did they put me on this thing? Where is Lucas? I want to ask, but they roll me swiftly across the two-lane road, and the words get lost in the noise.

So many noises. Voices, engines, and the groan of doors opening. It’s been a thousand years since I’ve heard these sounds. I want to cry and laugh at the same time, but I only manage to lift my head, searching for Lucas, wondering if he hears them too.

The doors on his ambulance are closed. The taillights move down the ribbon of black, and I hold my breath until they dip below the next hill and out of sight.





Chapter 35


It’s all very anticlimactic at the fire station. Hayley was airlifted all the way to Columbus for emergency surgery, and Madison and Lucas were transported to our hospital back in Marietta. Jude, Emily, and I were lucky enough to score the fire station evaluation and treatment center while we wait for more ambulances to arrive. Madison was moved to mine. Apparently, emergency vehicles aren’t falling from the sky here in the middle of godforsaken nowhere.

They’re making calls, they’ve assured us. Two ambulances within reasonable distance, nine parents on the way to various meeting points. The three of us are all stable, so who will go first when the cavalry arrives? It feels like a real-world math problem, and I can’t help but wonder what Mr. Walker would think.

Mr. Walker wouldn’t think anything. Not anymore.

My grip tightens on my musty fold-out cot. The rest of the room smells like stale coffee and sweat—a mix of odors that zaps my appetite. But I sip at my plastic cup of Gatorade and keep my head ducked so I won’t be tempted to ask questions. The last time I asked a question, I found out Mr. Walker didn’t make it. They carried me out on a stretcher. They carried him out in a bag.

My gut clenches, and I look right, where the same woman who helped me turns Emily’s wrist over when she checks her pulse. Her gaze trails over the word on her wrist—police officers took dozens of pictures of us already—but stops on the finger-length bruises that are fading to gray-green on her upper arms.

When she releases Emily’s hand, her eyes stay warm, but her smile is tight. “Your vitals look very strong,” she says to Emily. “Now you hold tight. I’ll be back soon.”

Emily nods, two spots of pink high on her cheeks. As soon as the woman is away, Emily utters a word that makes my head snap in her direction. I can’t believe it came out of her mouth, but it did. My eyes drift to her bruises, and by the burn in her stare, I know she catches me.

I look to the other side, where I hope Jude will say something. He’s the one who’s talked to her most since we’ve gotten here. Whatever happened with all of us bonded the two of them. But Jude’s got a man in a flannel shirt asking him to follow a flashlight with his eyes. So I guess I have to say something.

“I’m so sorry,” I say softly. It’s the first thing I’ve said in a long while, and it feels wrong. Maybe I should keep pretending I don’t see the bruises.

Or maybe I should stop pretending we haven’t seen the ugliest things imaginable in the last three days. I want her to know I can handle whatever is behind those bruises.

I try to pore through my brain for her family situation. It’s a small school. I should know her. I should know more. My mind finds an image. A tiny woman—much older—behind the wheel of a large SUV. A thin man with big hands and a hard face. He has Emily’s eyes.

Her father? Did her father do this to her?

I force a smile for Emily. It won’t pass any tests, so I let it fade. “So, who’s coming to take you home?”

“My dad.”

“Oh.” I can’t pick the right expression fast enough, so my face falls. Emily’s eyes narrow, and my chest goes tight with panic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You’re wrong,” she says. “You’re wrong about him.”

“I…” My gaze drifts to the bruises. Her father’s the one I pegged as dangerous. I think of the word on Lucas’s arm, and my breath catches. Things aren’t always what they seem.

“Your grandmother,” I say.

It’s a guess, but she stiffens as soon as my words are out, her face going tight and her hands balled at her sides. I can’t imagine it—that tiny, stern woman. It’s hard to believe she’d be capable of leaving bruises like that.