Page 112 of Hunted By Fae

“You stayed on the highway too long,” Bee tells me. “You’re headed to the west side of the lake. Get off at the next turn and walk the east side up the lake. I’m passing it now.”

I stayed on the highway because the earlier turns were impassable, all rubble and debris from armies been and gone. But I only say, “How far are you from the brewery?”

“Maybe a half-hour.”

Emily folds her arms around herself. “How long until we get there?”

The corners of my mouth tuck into my cheeks. “Another hour.”

And some minutes more, probably.

That’s the length of the lake.

Highway or not, an hour to walk the length of it, then more to reach the brewery through the holiday park.

Before Emily can plead her case, the predictable ‘can we just stop here for a rest, I only need a lie-down, we can hide out in one of these cars’, I fold the map and give her a steady stare. “Let’s go.”

Her face tightens.

“We’ll rest at the brewery.”

With a huff, she slips off the edge of the car. Her boots thud on landing.

And we do as Bee suggested, veer off the highway at the next turn, then cut left when we can, and start up the lake.

It gives me solace that she’s on this path, far ahead, sure, but straight through the dark.

The radio stays on between us, but with the faint crackling, neither of us are reaching out in the silence, until that static softens with Bee’s voice, “I’m coming up on something. Caravans, I think.”

“You mean RVs?” Emily says.

I ignore her and bring the radio to my cold lips. “The holiday park.” Bee must be closing in on the end of the lake. “Go through the park and follow the dirt road to the right—it’ll lead you to the brewery.”

The pause that comes is thick.

The radio is solid in my grip, weighty, and I hold it to my face as we trek. Nothing but trees on our right, frozen water to our left—and silence from the radio.

I press my thumb to the speaker button. “Bee? Did you hear me?”

Silence.

“Bee? Do you read me?”

Heartbeats pass,one, two, three, then—

“Is that you?” Bee’s voice is a pitched whisper through the radio.

Emily throws a frown at me, walking at my side now, but my stare is aimed only at the CB. “Is what me?”

Bee’s uneasy voice breaks through the static. “How far up the lake are you?”

I shake my head. But that’s pointless, since she can’t see me. “We’re not even halfway up the lake.”

Emily huffs.

I ignore it.

“You’re not—” Bee’s voice falters for a beat, then returns in a hushed panic, “Someone’s here.”