Page 34 of Explorer’s Revenge

THIRTY-TWO

RICK

M aeve is pale, but at least she’s awake.

She slept all day and night, which makes sense considering what she went through.

Aiy’s head wound is bad but okay, and Wilder is fussing over them both.

With nothing else to do but take shelter, we pass the time slowly.

The storm doesn’t lessen, though, and I know it’s worrying Wilder, although he won’t admit it.

“We need to check her wound,” Wilder murmurs, and I help him. Maeve sighs, turning her head away, and we slowly peel off the blood-saturated dressing. It doesn’t look good at all. There’s no pus or odor, but the skin is a strange color. She whimpers but doesn’t wake as we touch near the wound.

Wilder and I share a look, knowing there’s a problem. She could have an infection or worse. She needs a hospital, and it’s clear this storm isn’t passing anytime soon. We could be stranded here forever, and we can’t let that happen. We need to move and find help.

Covering her up, we gather the others at the edge of the tent, so we aren’t in the rain. Wilder’s voice is low as he speaks so he doesn’t wake her. “She needs help and soon or she’ll lose the leg . . . or worse. We can’t stay here.”

Aiyaret frowns. “But the storm?—”

“We have to risk it,” Wilder says. “They won’t be able to get to us here anyway. We need to be near the water so they can drop in quickly. We’ll pack up and move this afternoon. If we can get down the mountain and a little ways away, that’s good with me, okay?”

There is a noise, and we turn to see Maeve sitting up.

“We’re leaving?” she murmurs, having overheard us.

Wilder nods. “It’s our best bet. If we stay here, then we can’t guarantee they will come for us or that our call will even get out. We need to find a way off this island or something that can help us. Your leg is only going to get worse. It’s now or never.” He looks concerned.

“I can do it.” She clambers to her feet using the tree, waving off our hands. “I got it. I’m stronger than I look.”

“We know,” I tease. “You survived a fucking crocodile attack and still got us the hell out of there. You’re one badass bitch, Maeve Carter.”

“Don’t forget it when we get back,” she teases, some color returning to her cheeks. “You’re right. The storm isn’t passing. We need to push on.”

“Then it’s decided.” Wilder nods. “Pack up. We’ll move as soon as we can.”

We’re quiet as we work, and I shoulder Maeve’s bag as Wilder puts her on his back despite his wound. We’re all rundown and wet, but we are determined as we head down the hill. The storm is wild again, lashing us. I walk to Logan’s side, link our arms, and start to sing loudly and off-key.

He soon joins in, and then Maeve, Way, and Aiy begin singing as well. Wilder doesn’t, and she smacks his shoulder. “Don’t be boring.” She starts singing again, while the rest of us wait for Wild.

With a sigh, he finally joins in, and we can’t help but laugh as we sing loudly to old-school party tunes the entire hike down.

The rain finally stops for a bit, and we make the most of the break to clear our path.

The forest is waterlogged, our boots sinking deep into the mud, and it slows us down, but Wilder is unwavering, setting a hard pace toward the outer shore of the island.

We don’t stop at all, eating and drinking as we walk, and as the sun starts to descend and the rain begins again, we know we need to find shelter.

We spread out in a line, close enough to see but able to cover more ground to find somewhere for us to spend the night.

None of us want to sleep in the dirt again and on the ground where that thing could get us, but we might not have any choice.

“I see something!” I call, breaking the line as I slog through the mud and trees to the glint that caught my eye. I stop when I realize what it is. My eyes bulge, and I hear the others join me.

“Holy shit, is that a truck?” Logan whispers. “How?”

“Someone before us must have dropped it here when they came to explore. Idiots, it clearly wasn’t going to get far,” I mutter as I turn to Wilder. “It will do the trick though, right?”

“It should.” He frowns, eyeing it. It’s only one or two years old, black, and meant for off-roading with an extended back.

“I’ll check it over,” I say, and Way follows me.

I yank on the door, finding it unlocked, and peek in the front seat.

It’s empty. There’s a chain with a cross dangling from the mirror and some wrappers shoved in the middle compartment, but not much else.

Looking between the seats, I find Way in the back.

“Nothing but some insects that we’ll clear out. ”

“All clean!” I call to Wilder, and he heads over.

He lets Maeve down at the door, and we help her onto the back bench seat.

We push it back as far as it can go so she can stretch her leg, and I climb in opposite her, sitting with my back to the passenger seat and propping her ankle on my knee.

Way and Aiy climb into the front, shutting doors against the storm, as Wilder and Logan climb into the back and close the door.

The engine is long since dead, so we hand out some lanterns that we spread out.

“At least we aren’t wet anymore,” I tease, shaking my head like a dog to wring out my hair. Maeve laughs and squeezes hers out as she looks around.

“This can’t have been here long. It isn’t even overtaken by nature yet. It seems we aren’t the first people here. You think that thing got them too?”

The question sobers us, and I look at my brother.

“Probably, or simple exposure.” Wilder shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll take shelter for the night.”

Logan climbs over Wilder, who grunts, and once in the back, we hear him rummaging around.

“What are you doing?” Wilder asks.

“There are some kits here. They must have left them because they were too much to carry,” he calls, and I climb over Wilder to help him.

There are several black boxes, and we search through them.

Many items are way too big to carry, the idiots, but others are helpful.

I put together a pile of flares, hoping they still work.

There’s a small camping stove and some rations that might not be expired.

Logan finds some medical supplies and hands them over to Wilder as we keep searching.

At the bottom of a box, my hand connects with a metal item, and I freeze.

Pulling it free, I hold it up, and Logan’s eyes widen. “Is that a gun?”

“A pistol,” I clarify, and Wilder and Maeve turn to see us.

“Put it back,” Wilder demands. “You idiots can’t be trusted with a gun. Besides, it’s probably empty.”

Maeve reaches over and grabs it. “Hey!” I protest, but we watch as she deftly checks it with sure fingers. “It’s loaded. Are there any more clips back there?”

“Uh . . .” I rifle through the box and retrieve two more, handing them over. “Just these.”

“It’s better than nothing.” She shrugs. “My dad taught me to shoot when I was younger. It might not kill that motherfucker, but it might help if it comes at us again.”

“We lost it,” Wilder says, “but keep it if it makes you feel better. Now, this is going to suck, but we need to redress your wound and stitch it properly.”

Her eyes widen, and she looks at us for help.

I wince for her. “Sorry, cupcake. Hope you like pain.”

“Not like that,” she says, but she nods. “You’re right. Let’s do it.”

Climbing over, I glance at Wilder, who appears anxious. “Maeve, just look at me, okay?” I tell her. “I’m much more beautiful.”

She smiles, and I give her one of my own as I take her hand and squeeze it, hoping like hell we get out of here soon so we can get her help.

This world would be a boring place without Maeve Carter, and the idea that she could die here terrifies me more than that creature we faced.