Page 16

chapter fifteen

Emily

My lungs burned and my thigh muscles ached as I practically jogged to keep up with Tuck. Next to me, Charlie looked winded too, although he was clearly struggling less as his legs were as long as Tuck’s.

Tuck hadn’t managed to retrieve all of our luggage from the plane, but he’d tossed out two of my pieces, and two of Charlie’s as well. We’d both condensed those into one small rolling suitcase each. However, the “rolling” part didn’t exactly work in our current terrain. So, while Charlie was strong enough to hold his piece of luggage in one hand—while switching it back and forth—I was carrying mine in two arms against my stomach, making sure to avoid the spot on my hip that still burned. When I’d put on my jacket and then removed my shorts, I’d noticed that blood had seeped through the material at my flank where the seat belt had cut into my skin. I’d used a pair of my undies as a makeshift bandage to stop the bleeding. It would work for now and then I’d have it looked at when we got back to civilization.

Please let that be soon. An hour, hopefully less. I didn’t think I could take any more than that.

Ahead of us, Tuck stopped suddenly. For a moment, we did too, then with a burst of hopeful excitement, rushed ahead. Had he spotted something? We came to stand on either side of him, looking out to the valley below, bathed in a magnificent sunset.

The peachy waves stretched over…absolutely nothing.

“It’s…woods,” Charlie said.

“Fuck,” Tuck swore.

“Oh,” I breathed in disappointment.

Tuck glanced over at me, his eyes moving from my face to the suitcase in my arms, his lips thinning. Instead of commenting, he turned around, stepped forward and looked in each direction from our higher vantage point.

“Well, this is fucking great,” Charlie muttered. He dropped his suitcase and sat on it before removing the water bottle from his pocket that he’d been drinking as we walked. He downed the rest of it before setting it on the ground and then leaning his elbows on his knees and letting out a long-suffering sigh. I felt a burst of annoyance. But that wasn’t fair. This was just a really shitty situation.

Beyond shitty.

The shittiest.

For a moment, my mind spun. How had I ended up here, standing in the middle of nowhere in a pair of leather pants and slippers, holding a carry-on suitcase like it was my baby? It felt surreal. Maybe I’d fallen asleep on the plane and the combination of altitude and the turbulent emotions from the fight we’d had with Tuck had tossed me into a strange dream I was finding it hard to wake from.

I set my own suitcase down and then pinched my wrist. Ouch. No, it was real. We had survived a plane crash. How? I couldn’t say. I knew I should feel thankful, but I was still shocked and terrified. And cold, so, so cold.

“Look,” Tuck said, and the hopeful tone in his voice made me whip my head his way. He was pointing off into the distance. “I see smoke. Do you see that?”

I jutted my head forward and squinted my eyes. “Um… I think so! Yes!” I said excitedly. It was definitely a trail of smoke coming from what looked like a few miles away past a thick forest. “Let’s go,” I said. Whoever’s home it was would have heat and a phone and a bathroom with a door.

Tuck’s arm jutted out, stopping me in my tracks. “In the morning,” he said.

“The morning?” My mouth fell open. “Why spend the night out here in the dark and the cold when there’s a house right there?” I pointed at the wispy trail of smoke.

“Because for one, it’s not right there. It’ll probably take us a couple of days to travel that distance. It’ll be slow going through those woods and it’s not safe when we can’t see. It’ll be dark any minute now.”

“A couple days ?” Oh God. Then my estimation of a few miles was definitely off. This nightmare just kept getting worse.

“And for another,” he went on, “if it is a house, we have no idea who lives there. It seems like a strange place for a singular home with nothing else around. It could be dangerous. But at least we have a place to shoot for. We’ll bed down here tonight and get up with the sun.”

“ Bed down? ” Charlie asked, his tone as incredulous as mine had been. “What exactly should we bed down on?”

“The ground,” Tuck said. He glanced at the suitcase Charlie was sitting on. “With all the clothes you brought along, you can drape them over yourselves and be nice and toasty. There’s a tree right there that will provide some shelter from the wind. We’ll be fine.”

I didn’t like the thought of sleeping on the cold ground under a tree either, but Tuck mentioning sleep made me realize how exhausted I was. It wasn’t just the hours of walking while carrying a heavy suitcase with improper footwear. It was the toll from the adrenaline that had been bursting through my body as our plane went down. I suddenly felt so tired I wanted to drop to the ground right there, press my cheek to the dirt and close my eyes.

Tuck adjusted his duffel bag and started walking toward the tree. Its leaves were gone, but it was massive, and its branches alone provided cover.

“Come on,” I said to Charlie, pointing over to the tree, which was only about three hundred feet away.

“Can we just sit here another couple of minutes? My feet are killing me.”

We? We weren’t sitting anywhere. I was standing. In my slippers. “If I sit down here, I won’t be able to move again, Charlie,” I said.

Charlie glanced at Tuck and then away. He obviously didn’t want to allow him to be in charge. Part of me didn’t blame Charlie after what we’d discovered about Tuck. I was still in shock over all that, if I was honest. The Tuck I’d known as a kid would never get involved with that stuff. He’d changed. But I had to do my best to put that aside and simply trust in Tuck for the moment. He was more qualified when it came to “roughing it,” and so for now, it was wisest to follow his lead. Soon we’d be back in civilization. Soon everything would be back to normal. Soon everything would make sense again.

Charlie huffed but then nodded. “Come on. You’re right. We all need to rest.” He stood and picked up both his suitcase and mine and walked with me toward the protection—meager though it might be—of the massive tree.

* * *

There was no quiet like the quiet of a winter night outside in the middle of nowhere. And there was nothing that made you feel smaller than staring up at a star-studded sky, your back against the earth before you drifted to sleep.

I’d dozed a little, but the cold, and the sting of the wound on my hip, had roused me fully awake, and I was having a hard time falling back to sleep even though I hadn’t gotten nearly enough. An hour? Maybe less. I had no way to tell. I pulled the pile of clothing I’d draped over my shoulders tighter, turning away from Charlie, who lay next to me snoring softly. At least he was managing to sleep.

A small sound made my eyes fly open, and I saw Tuck, sitting up, leaned against the wide tree trunk, his knees bent, feet flat on the ground. I blinked though my vision needed little time to adjust to the brightly moonlit night as I tried to figure out what he was doing. Was he…sharpening a stick?

I leaned up on my elbow, and his head lifted. His eyes glittered in the silvery light, the angles of his face more sharply defined. A strange shiver tightened my stomach muscles. “What are you doing?” I whispered.

“Making a weapon.”

“A…stick?”

“A spear,” he said. “Not ideal. But better than nothing.”

I glanced around. “What are you anticipating?”

“Nothing specific at the moment but it’s always best to be prepared.”

“I guess you’re right,” I murmured. He flicked his wrist, and a small piece of wood went flying off the stick, landing somewhere next to him. “What are you using to sharpen it?”

“The knife on a wine opener,” he said. His voice was quiet, sullen. A wine opener. He must have snagged that from the plane with the other things he’d collected. We were lucky he had. Because of him we’d had water to drink and a bag of crackers each for dinner. Not exactly a feast, but better than the nothing we’d have had if we’d simply sat and watched the plane be incinerated.

“You didn’t happen to snag any wine with that opener, did you?”

“The liquor was locked up. I didn’t think it was worth breaking the glass.”

I’d put a teasing note into my tone, but Tuck had responded with flat coolness. He was obviously still angry that I’d fired him. But what choice did I have? And he was the one who had not only engaged in something criminal but had flung hurtful words at me because of my completely justified reaction. I wasn’t going to think about those words, however, because frankly, I had enough on my plate at the moment without also dwelling on Tuck’s unfair opinion. Also… I knew his words had been spoken out of anger, a reaction to being exposed. And I would give him some leeway—and try to put myself in his shoes as much as possible—because he was helping us find our way back to civilization.

I bit at my lip for a second. “Tuck…listen. I… I understand why you might have done what you did. It must be hard, not having any money. No direction…” Was that how he felt? I didn’t want to put words in his mouth, but I also wanted to let him know that despite what I had learned about him, I appreciated that he was helping us now. “But you understand why I can’t have you working for me anymore, right?”

His expression didn’t shift, but I felt the weight of his stare, and for some reason, I felt guilty. I dismissed the feeling. How many chances did one person get? I wasn’t the one who’d messed up. “Sure, Emily.”

I stared, a heavy sinking feeling in my stomach. He didn’t care at all. Who had he become?

I suddenly wondered if he’d taken a moment to hunt for those little baggies among the mess inside the plane. Were they in his duffel bag now? He’d need the money they’d bring in more than ever now, wouldn’t he? Well. That was no longer my business.

He went back to sharpening the stick, obviously not inter ested in any further conversation. I sighed, glancing up at the glowing orb overhead. The sky was streaked in shades of gray, from dark to platinum, and though it was somewhat eerie, it was also incredibly beautiful and made our surroundings surprisingly light. Had the moon always been this luminous? Had the city lights dimmed it so much for me in recent years? I started lying back down, but pressure on the wound on my flank almost made me yelp. I pressed my lips together to hold it back as I sat up. Tuck’s head rose, his gaze meeting mine. “I have to use the bathroom,” I squeaked, rising stiffly but quietly, careful not to wake Charlie.

I noticed Tuck’s hands halt in their task as I moved past him toward the denser section of trees and brush off to the right. “Don’t go far,” he said.

I didn’t answer. I’d go as far as I wanted. Yes, he was helping us. But he wasn’t the boss of me. Truthfully though, I had no interest in going far anyway. I was creeped out and had this odd weight sitting on my chest that felt like it was about more than just the fact that we were basically lost in the wintery wilderness. I just needed to privately investigate this wound that was getting more painful by the hour.

I stepped behind a section of brambly bushes that hid me from view and lowered my pajama bottoms and then unbuttoned my pants, hissing as I peeled them down slightly and the leather scraped over my skin. I’d stuck a pair of ankle socks in my jacket pocket to wear on my hands and I took one out and dabbed at my wound which was now oozing and angry red around the border. Great. And ick.

The edge of the seat belt had obviously sliced into me pretty deeply in this spot, but it’d also abraded and burned from my waist to halfway down my ass. I hadn’t gotten a good look at the gash as it was in a spot that was difficult to see unless I simultaneously twisted and bent. But even in this dimmer section of woods and from my awkward vantage point, it didn’t look good. And dabbing it with a sock was doing nothing except getting small fibers stuck to the open flesh.

Tears pricked my eyes, frustration and fear and sadness and a slew of other emotions hit me all at once as I stood there alone in those cold woods, uselessly attempting to treat my own wound. I straightened as I dropped the sock and brought my hands to my face, giving in to the quiet sobs that racked my body. Maybe I just needed a release. I’d been doing my best to hold my emotions at bay and do what needed to be done since the crash and they simply wouldn’t be contained any longer. The sight of that angry wound across my skin had opened the floodgates, in a sense representing some inner part of me as well. Ripped open. Exposed.

“Emily.” I jolted, letting out a tiny shriek as I dropped my hands from my face and whipped my head around. Tuck was standing behind me as though he’d materialized out of thin air. His gaze moved from my tear-streaked face down to my rear. “Are you okay?”

“Obviously not! God, you scared me! What the hell? What if I was doing my business?” I said, attempting to calm my racing heart after he’d practically given me a stroke.

He stepped forward, his jaw set. “I could hear you crying. And I could tell you were injured by the way you were moving.” He nodded toward my wound. “That doesn’t look good.”

“No kidding?” I sputtered, swiping at my tears and starting to bring my pants up. “It’s the least of my problems right now.”

“Not if it gets infected,” he said. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back with something to treat that with.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, aware that I was standing still in the woods with my pants pulled down because Tuck had told me to. But the promise of something that might lessen the pain was too tempting to pass up. Tuck was back in thirty seconds with a small first aid kit in his hands, one he’d obviously tossed in that magical duffel bag of his. He set the kit on the ground and knelt down, leaning in and examining me. “It’s not so bad you need to cry about it,” he murmured as he opened the kit and took out a few items.

“I’m not crying because I’m injured,” I snapped, annoyed by his suggestion that I was still a dramatic baby. What I’d said was honest, but I hadn’t necessarily planned on admitting it. What did I care if he thought I was crying over my injury? I didn’t want to expose myself further to someone who thought I was a sellout.

Tuck leaned closer and used a cotton ball soaked in alcohol to clean my wound. I grit my teeth, squeezing my fists as he tossed one cotton ball back in the box and then soaked another.

“Then why? Why the tears?” he asked, and I swore his voice had gentled. I felt Tuck pause in his dabbing as though waiting for my answer and I again wished I’d lied. I wasn’t even exactly sure why I was crying and wasn’t prepared to discuss it with Tuck of all people. But the woods were dim, the night folded in around us. I was too spent to spin falsehoods.

“It’s just…everything. I’m cold and scared and I keep picturing Russell’s dead body under those rocks in the middle of nowhere.” A shudder moved through me. “His family doesn’t even know he’s dead.” I held back another torrent of tears. I’d been trying so hard not to think of the man who’d welcomed us onto the plane earlier that day, likely expecting to be home for dinner. How could I cry over a cut in my skin when he’d lost his life? When right that moment, someone might be waiting for him and didn’t yet know he’d never be home.

Tuck was quiet for a few moments, his hands continuing to attend to my gash. “I know,” he finally said. “It’s a lot to handle. When we get to a phone, we’ll notify the authorities about Russell and send someone to pick up his body. It’s the best we can do for him, Em.”

Em. “So you’re sure we can find our way to civilization?”

“Yes. I am.”

My shoulders lowered, that invisible weight lessening just a little at the confidence in his voice. I believed him, not only because he’d sounded sure, but because he’d known enough to collect food and water and medical supplies while Charlie and I had stood there watching him with our mouths hanging open. Useless.

He turned me slightly with light pressure on my hip as he assessed the abraded skin, and I took in a shaky breath. Despite the issues between us, just being cared for was making me feel better, and I appreciated that he’d been willing to put that stuff aside, at least temporarily. He let out a small grunt as though satisfied that the gash he was cleaning was the worst of it.

“So, I guess this makes you the resident medic now, huh?” I asked, shooting him a small smile to let him know I appreciated what he was doing. And also, to distract myself from the weird bubbles popping between my ribs at the feel of his warm, calloused fingertips running over my hip.

“Hardly,” he said, looking back down and giving the wound one more swipe. “Although I did used to read lots of veterinary medicine books when I was a kid,” he said, his gaze rising to meet mine again.

I let out a surprised laugh when I saw a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Are you comparing me to a horse now too?”

He gave me a small tilt of his lips and his fingertips exerted the barest bit of increased pressure. “Not even close,” he murmured. The moment stretched as our gazes held, one of his hands still on my lower back where he’d held me steady as he’d treated the wound. He released a breath, looking away as his hand dropped. My smile faded. I immediately missed the warmth of his palm on my skin and the way that, for a moment, I’d felt held together by his touch in some way I couldn’t describe. And I felt strangely rejected too. I gave my head a miniscule shake. That, however, was a ridiculous thought. There was no rejecting going on because there was no offer. Quite the opposite, in fact. “You always did have a book,” I said. You and your damn books.

“Some things never change.” He reached for a tube of ointment or cream or whatever was contained in the emergency kit.

Some things never change.

But others alter drastically. Like you.

So why did I suddenly feel unsure of that? Why did he confuse me so much? Still?

Because everything is on shaky ground right now. Nothing is certain. Of course you’re confused and off-kilter.

And the moon is strange, its pearly glow filtering through the trees and making this moment feel like the vestige of a dream.

As though he’d heard my inner turmoil, or maybe felt it too, he glanced up quickly before focusing back on dabbing the cream on my wound and spreading it over the red outer portion. I watched his hand as it moved over that small section of my body and a shiver went down my spine. I tried not to react physically but saw his eyelids flutter as goose bumps broke out on my skin. The skin he was currently up close and personal with. “Does it hurt?” he asked, and I released a silent breath of relief that he’d assumed my reaction had to do with pain and not… What, Emily? What did that reaction have to do with?

“No,” I said, the word emerging in a rush, the volume not quite appropriate for the lack of distance between us and the quiet of the night. I pulled in a deep breath and let it out. “I mean, a little. But it’s manageable.”

He tipped his head back and our eyes met again, and for a moment, he looked confused too and…almost vulnerable. My breath caught. What are you thinking? I wanted to know. I’d always wanted to know, and with Tuck, I’d never figured out how to ask so that he’d answer me honestly. He’d always been so secretive, held his emotions so close to the vest whereas I’d worn mine on my sleeve—and belted them out using the songs I sang. The ones that were usually about him. God. I hated thinking about that. I hated it. Especially now when I had to rely on him in so many ways.

Especially now, after he’d disappointed me so deeply. All those drugs…

And yet still, our eyes held.

“Emily—” Charlie suddenly appeared over Tuck’s shoulder, and I gave a small jolt as Tuck turned his way. Charlie’s gaze went from Tuck to me, down to the exposed wound. “What’s going on?” he asked, his tone suspicious.

I started to pull my pants up as though we’d been caught doing something salacious but halted before I got antibiotic cream all over my clothes. But I did hold my hand in front of the sore, so Charlie didn’t have a good view. “Tuck was helping me treat my wound,” I said. “It might be infected.”

“You should have told me,” Charlie said. “Does it hurt?”

“No. It’s fine.”

Tuck picked up a bandage and stood. He started to turn to Charlie to, I assumed, give him the bandage so he could finish the job, but I stopped him before he did. “I’ll take that,” I said. Truthfully, I didn’t want Charlie to see it, because I could just picture the way his face would scrunch up with distaste like it’d done as he’d glanced at Russell’s dead body.

Or the way I’d seen it do when he got any small injury.

Charlie wasn’t good at keeping his reactions at bay. Part of his job was using his face to express his emotions, and so maybe he had a hard time turning that off. In any case, I preferred to keep my oozing sores away from him.

Tuck turned back toward me, hesitated, but then put the bandage in my outstretched hand. He seemed careful not to touch me. “Make sure to cover the whole thing,” he said. “And reapply the cream and change the dressing every few hours.” He nodded down to the medical kit.

“What do we owe you, doc?” Charlie asked as I unwrapped the bandage and removed the surgical tape.

Tuck gave Charlie that unimpressed, thin-lipped look again, obviously choosing to ignore the rhetorical question.

I quickly secured the bandage with two pieces of tape and then gingerly pulled my bottoms back up before Charlie and I followed Tuck to the tree where we were camping. I lay down next to Charlie and Tuck retook his position against the tree trunk. My wound felt better, but my inner turmoil increased. I scooted closer to Charlie, my brain buzzing with questions of what the next day would bring. And the day after that… The moon shimmered, the hoot of an owl sounded, wind whistled, and eventually, the soft sound of Tuck’s carving lulled me into a restless sleep.

Day Two

The morning dawned clear and crisp, a few snowflakes swirling in the air, but not sticking to the ground. Just like the evening before, Charlie and I trekked behind Tuck, holding our respective baggage.

Unlike the day before, however, we had a goal, a destination, and that gave me a renewed burst of energy. The smoke had been visible again this morning, which meant there was warmth ahead. And electricity. We would use their phone and call for help. I could be in a hotel room basking in a hot bath with a glass of wine in my hand…well, soon. It was going to be the best bath of my entire life.

The forest became dense, but I could still catch glimpses of the sunrise, the sky painted in shades of orange, from deep pumpkin to pale tangerine, all bleeding together. It was magnificent, even under the cover of trees, and made the woods around us glow with this ethereal light.

The woods grew ever thicker, and though the sun was still rising in the sky, the farther we walked into the forest, the dimmer it got. There was no way to track time now without either a working phone or the ability to see the position of the sun. The only measure that we’d walked for hours and hours was the pain of my muscles, and the number of blisters I could feel forming on my feet. And we could no longer see the smoke from this lower ground. “Are you sure we’re going in the right direction?” I whispered to Tuck, not exactly certain why I’d lowered my voice. He’d begun walking much more slowly since the visibility had decreased, so it was easier to keep up with him. I realized how right he’d been about waiting until we had at least a little light to travel through these woods.

“Yeah,” he said. “Pretty sure.”

Pretty sure. “What are you basing that on?” I asked. Because I was all turned around, and it definitely seemed like we’d passed that exact tree an hour before.

“Emily. If you want to head in a different direction, no one’s stopping you.”

Charlie swung his suitcase to his other hand, and it hit the side of my thigh for the ten millionth time, and I barely held back a hissed curse. He was going to treat me to the biggest and most expensive steak dinner to make up for what had to be a massive bruise as soon as we got back to civilization. Champagne too. And a flaming Baked Alaska for dessert. We’d laugh as we fed spoonfuls to each other. I’d try my best not to choke him with it.

“You should ditch those,” Tuck said, stepping over a rotting log.

I snapped back to reality. “Ditch what? Our suitcases?” Charlie and I exchanged a wide-eyed look.

“Yeah,” Tuck said. “Keep a few warm pieces of clothing around your neck and ditch the rest of it. I doubt there’s anything useful in there, even if we end up having to spend the night in the woods again.”

“My shoes are in here,” I sputtered. Did he have any clue how expensive a pair of Louboutins were? “And some jewelry too. I can’t just ditch it all in the woods.”

He was quiet a moment. “Put the jewelry in your pockets, then. Leave the rest.”

“You’re talking like we’re going to be walking for days. There’s help up ahead. We saw it,” I said, and even I heard the plea in my tone.

“It’s hard to say how far ahead that smoke was. But even if we make it there before the sun sets, what’s the point of struggling for a few pairs of shoes?”

“Maybe Tuck has a point,” Charlie said, surprising me. I whipped my head toward him as he set his suitcase down. “I can easily replace all of this,” Charlie said, nodding at his luggage. I didn’t miss the small glance he then aimed at Tuck’s worn duffel bag, the message clear: unlike him. “Why waste the effort over some clothes and shoes I can just buy again? Let’s leave this stuff here.”

“But…this is a Louis Vuitton suitcase,” I said, tightening my arms around the designer luggage I was carrying, the one that seemed to get heavier by the footstep. I realized how materialistic I sounded, but the suitcase was one of the first things I’d bought after signing my record deal. I’d been so proud to walk into that store on Rodeo Drive. The luggage purchase was a tangible sign of my hard work and success. Every time I looked at it, it reminded me that I’d made it. I’d already left several of my other hard-earned designer items behind, and now I was being asked to abandon the last of them in a cold forest where rodents would probably come to nest?

Charlie had opened his suitcase and was removing several items of clothes and draping them around his neck. “Babe, you know I can buy you another Louis,” Charlie said, kicking his suitcase aside and giving me a charming smile. “Heck, I’ll buy you the whole store. We’ll go on a shopping spree to celebrate this ordeal being over. We’ll sip Champagne and give my credit card a workout.”

“I’m suddenly glad I don’t have anything in my stomach,” Tuck said, beginning to turn.

Charlie’s head snapped up and he glared at Tuck. “Watch your tone when you talk to us.”

Tuck stopped, turning back, a muscle tightening in his jaw. “I’ll use any tone I damn well please,” he said, his voice low and even, locking eyes with Charlie.

My heart doubled in speed at the look on his face right before he turned again and began walking. That was a side of Tuck I hadn’t seen. That was the don’t fuck with me Tuck, maybe the one he’d developed while locked in a cage with other more dangerous men. And why it made me slightly breathless I didn’t know and didn’t want to think about. “Cut it out, guys,” I said, clutching my suitcase and moving past Charlie. “Let’s just find that house, or campground, or whatever and—”

“There it is,” Tuck said, stopping. “Right through the trees.”

Excitement made me want to run toward the house and the muted light it was casting through the thick wall of pines. Was that the sound of…chickens? Yes, I thought it was. If there were chickens, there were people who tended chickens. People who had eggs. And hopefully some cheese too. Coffee would be fantastic .

“Let’s go,” I whispered.

Tuck nodded but held his arm out. “We will,” he said. “But I want to check it out first. You stay here.”

“I’ll come with you,” Charlie whispered.

“I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“If there are people inside, and the light says there are, they’ll recognize me,” Charlie said. “I’m a ticket inside any door in America.”

Tuck was facing the other direction, so I couldn’t see his eye roll, but I swore I heard it. “You’re also a prime robbery victim if the people inside are so inclined,” Tuck pointed out. “I’ve been considering taking you for ransom myself.”

“What?”

Tuck ignored him, inching a few more steps forward. He’d been joking about the ransom. But he wasn’t wrong about Charlie—and me for that matter—being vulnerable to robbery should we stumble across the wrong people. Despite the strange combination of clothing I’d been forced to wear to keep warm, our attire was clearly expensive, and I was currently cradling a very high-end suitcase.

Charlie and I watched as Tuck carefully removed his duffel bag, set it on the ground, and then moved slowly and stealthily toward the break in the trees where the light was shining through.

He stopped, and then reached up slowly and moved a tree bough, before leaning forward. Through the larger gap, I could see the edge of concrete on the ground. A driveway?

Tuck let out a heavy exhale, dropping the branches back into place and turning toward us. “It’s not a house,” he said.

My heart plummeted, and I walked to join him. “What? No. What is it?” I’d take any kind of shelter at the moment. Any kind of civilization.

Charlie came up next to me and Tuck glanced at both of us before stepping through the trees. We followed, the flock of birds I’d made myself believe sounded like chickens rising into the sky in a sudden flap of wings. “It’s a substation,” Tuck murmured, walking forward. “Or it was.”

I blinked, looking around at the smoldering equipment that had been surrounded by a chain-link fence that now lay charred on the ground. “A substation?” I asked, a lump of deep disappointment settling in my gut. No house. No electricity. No shower. No chickens. No eggs or coffee. Just a smoldering pile of metal and concrete. I felt like crying.

“This was probably one of the fires we saw from the sky.” His eyes met mine. “There were lots of fires burning though,” he said, his expression deeply troubled. It startled me because Tuck rarely looked troubled. Even in extreme situations like running back into a plane to collect valuables, he’d appeared nothing but completely resolute.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“I don’t know exactly.” He paused. “Except that there’s no way this didn’t affect the electricity in this area. It must be down for miles around.” He moved forward. “The one silver lining,” he murmured, nodding to a dirt road, “is that that road has to lead somewhere.”