Page 12 of Wandering Wild

I’m not sure if it’s because I’m starving, or because the fish are as fresh as they can possibly be, but our dinner ends up being one of the tastiest meals I’ve eaten in a long time. It wasn’t even awful having to descale and debone them beforehand, following Hawke’s easy instructions, just like with the possum—though much less nausea-inducing. If there’s one thing I’ve learned today, it’s that I don’t have the stomach to live in the wild indefinitely. Neither does Charlie, if the gagging noises she made with both animals are any indication.

After we finish eating, we all sit back on our logs and relax around the fire. Bentley has put his cameras away for the night, so even though the nano drones are still recording us from some hidden place, it’s easier not being able to see them, and my guard drops the longer we unwind after our arduous day. I should have expected Hawke’s sneak attack given that he already launched his subtle interrogation earlier, but I still startle when he begins questioning me again.

“So, Zander, you’ve done a lot of interviews in your life, but you’re usually focused on promoting movies, and there’s always a kind of... I guess a mask that you’re wearing. Would you say that’s true?”

My mask, as he calls it, is carefully in place as I answer, “I try to be as genuine as possible, but yes, when I’m promoting a film, there’s a level of professionalism I like to keep. I’m not chatting casually with friends—I’m sharing about my work, so that remains at the forefront of my mind.”

“I’m the same when people interview me, especially when it’s to talk about my camps,” Hawke agrees, watching Bentley throw more kindling into the fire. “But right now, you are among friends, so I want to know the real Zander Rune. What made you you ? We’ve all heard the rags-to-riches story, how you accepted a dare for an audition and it skyrocketed you to fame, but what about before that? And even after that? What was your childhood like? Did you get along with your family? Your friends? How much did your rise to stardom change your life? Tell us everything.”

I can practically hear Gabe in these questions, and I’m certain he must have had a hand in them being asked. I shift on my log as I consider my answers, aware of Charlie watching me, her small smirk indicating she can see right through the charade.

“My childhood was...” I search for the right word, and settle on, “challenging. I took it pretty hard when my parents died, and then my whole life was uprooted when I had to move across the country.”

I’m about to hurry on, wanting to keep Hawke from probing deeper into my most difficult years, but I’m surprised when it’s Charlie who stops me from continuing.

“Wait, your parents—” She cuts herself off, like she’s unsure how to ask what she wants to know. “It’s just... I thought I saw photos of you at all four Lost Heirs premieres with... with your parents?”

“Adoptive parents,” I tell her, understanding her confusion, since they’ve been in my life for so long now that I refer to them simply as “my parents.” I try not to advertise my tragic past—I don’t hide it, but I also don’t go out of my way to use the orphan card, and I always decline any interviews that want to focus on my time in foster care and the whole adoption process. “My birth parents died when I was seven.”

Her face floods with too many emotions for me to catch them all—though I do see shock, empathy, and sorrow before she turns to stare into the fire, a muscle ticking in her jaw.

“That’s why you moved to California?” Hawke asks.

“Yeah.” I look away from Charlie and back to him. “It was hard to adjust at first, but my parents—my adoptive parents—have always been my biggest supporters, even when they took on the mammoth task of caring for a lonely, grieving boy.”

I cast my mind back to those dark days, everything I felt back then rising swiftly to the surface: the pain, the isolation, the devastation. It’s not surprising that I can feel it so acutely now—it’s been bubbling away at me all day, ever since we arrived at the first stream for lunch, and then this very river before us, gleaming under the moonlight. I know Charlie saw it in my expression earlier; I couldn’t hide it fast enough, and in turn, she didn’t hide her concern. But she didn’t press me, and for that, I’m grateful, since there are some things I don’t want the world to know—things that are private and should stay that way.

Like how the very last day I saw my parents alive was the day we went camping, and the very last photograph ever taken of us is the one I carry with me everywhere I go—the same photo that has been used by the media for years, and everyone thinks is just a cute anecdote from my childhood, when really, it’s the day my life changed forever.

I knew coming on this trip was going to be difficult, because I knew it would dredge up these memories. Summer knew, too, which was why she was so worried about me. She and Maddox are two of the only people who know the full truth of what happened that mournful day, though there are others like Gabe who are aware that my birth parents died sometime around then. Since I’m not eager to share the details with whoever might be watching this episode when it airs, I quickly, and pointedly, move on.

“It took some time for me to get used to California. LA is so different from the small town I grew up in, and everything seemed so big, and so... busy,” I say, recalling the difficult transition from forests and mountains to traffic and skyscrapers. “It didn’t help that I was a scrawny kid, and new to school, so I got picked on a lot. I was nerdy, too, and even though I enjoyed sports, I preferred to be reading books or playing video games.” I shrug. “It’s a cliché, but all that made me a target.”

“You were bullied?” Bentley asks softly, beating Hawke to the question.

“Relentlessly.”

Compassion fills Bentley’s features, while Hawke’s expression turns thoughtful as he notes, “You don’t seem too torn up about that.”

I take a sip of the eucalyptus tea Charlie made us using leaves from the surrounding trees. It’s bitter, but has a fresh, almost minty aftertaste. “Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t pleasant,” I say. “But compared to the grief I was dealing with, it didn’t really penetrate. My demons were bigger than any school kids. When I didn’t react, they lost interest in trying to torment me. And then I met Maddox and?—”

I cut myself off, but it’s too late.

“Maddox?” Hawke asks.

I’m careful, so very careful, when I answer, “My best friend.” I don’t mention how I’m unsure if that title still holds true. “We were paired up for a homework project when we were ten—I don’t think we’d spoken to each other before then, but we became fast friends and were soon inseparable.” I look at Charlie. “Much like you and Ember, without the next-door-neighbors part.” I swirl my tea and continue, “He’s actually the one who dared me to audition for The Lost Heirs , since we were both obsessed with the books, and he thought it would be a laugh if we went to try out, him for Sir Archer and me for Prince Tyron.”

Hawke tilts his head to the side. “Was he upset that you were cast and he wasn’t?”

“No—he didn’t even audition in the end.” My lips quirk upward in memory. “He got so nervous that he ran straight for the bathroom when they called his name, but when I told him we should just go home, he refused to let me ‘chicken out’—the little hypocrite.” I smile as I think about my best friend, but despair quickly follows, so I clear my throat and hurry to finish, “You know what happened next, so I guess you could say I have him to thank for where I am today.”

It’s not a lie—in so many more ways than I would ever publicly say. Not even my mission to improve my image would have me throwing my best friend under the bus, regardless of all the reasons why that would help me. It’s a line I can’t—and won’t—cross.

“What about your other childhood friends?” Hawke asks. “I hear you’re close with your co-stars, especially Summer West. Have you two ever been more than?—”

A startled laugh leaves me, and I interrupt, “No, absolutely not. I love Summer like a sister, but the key word there is sister . We met when we were twelve, so we basically grew up together, through all those awkward puberty years and everything that came with them. It’s weird to think of her in any way that’s not platonic, and I know she feels the same about me.”

“But you have so much on-screen chemistry,” Charlie says, sounding shocked.

“She’s a phenomenal actress,” I say. “She makes it easy.”

Charlie opens her mouth before snapping it shut again, a blush rising to her cheeks. I’m curious what she was going to say, whether she was going to insult my acting skills again—or perhaps the opposite, given her embarrassment—but Hawke speaks before I can coax it out of her.

“It must have been hard, everything that happened with Summer last year. But you stood by her side and even defended her, at great cost to your own career. Can you tell us about that from your perspective?”

The fish I ate turns sour in my stomach. I wonder if Gabe put Hawke up to this line of questioning as well, before realizing that of course he did. Anything to help warm the viewers—and the studio—toward me.

I swallow the last of my tea to stall as I think of a way to answer. Summer won’t care if I speak about it, since she’s encouraged me to do so, many times. But in my mind, it’s her story, and I never want to misrepresent what happened based on my own limited viewpoint. Because of that, my words are hesitant when I reply, “You’re right, it was hard, but that’s because my friend was hurting and no one was listening to her. It was her word against one of the biggest directors in the industry. No one wanted to believe the things she claimed he did to her, so they brushed it off, saying she was exaggerating, that he was just ‘having some fun,’ that she should be ‘grateful’ he paid her that kind of attention.”

My voice turns as dark as my mood. “It was her first lead role outside of The Lost Heirs and it should have been something special. Instead, it broke her. He broke her. And now, because she had the courage to stand up to him and warn others about his nature, she’s been blacklisted. She hasn’t even been able to get an audition since she went public, let alone an actual role.”

“And you?” Hawke asks, making me jolt. “You went to bat for Summer when the industry turned on her. You shared loudly how she’s not a liar and she would never risk damaging someone else’s career for the sake of attention, as many were claiming at the time. Have you had any blowback from defending her?”

“Nothing like what she’s faced.” I choose not to reveal how hard it’s also been for me to get an audition, since there are other factors that led to my own difficulties. “But, yes, it’s been challenging. We’ve both been labeled problematic, even by those who believe her but won’t risk supporting her. Regardless of our success with The Lost Heirs , we’re tainted by association now.”

“That hardly seems fair,” Charlie says, holding her camping mug in a white-knuckled grip.

“Hollywood is anything but fair,” I say, before remembering the nano drones and cursing inwardly. But I spoke the truth, and I’m unsure if I would take it back even if I could.

“Do you regret it?” she asks, her eyes locked on mine. “Standing up for her?”

“I didn’t stand up for her—she stood up for herself, I just stood beside her,” I correct. “And no, not for one minute. I could never regret that. No matter the cost.”

Charlie leans backward, seemingly surprised. Then again, she knows all about my public image problem—and she’s smart enough to realize it began with Summer’s so-called scandal and only grew from there.

I lift my hands toward the fire, relishing the warmth as I say, leaving no room for doubt, “If my options are to support one of my closest friends when she needs me the most, or abandon her in order to protect my own career, then it’s a no-brainer for me. I love what I do, my career is everything, but the people I care about will always come first. Always. ”

Charlie holds my gaze for a long moment, emotions swirling across her features. She doesn’t seem to know how to respond, but I don’t expect her to. I also desperately want everyone’s focus to leave me, since I feel as if I’ve given enough of myself tonight— more than enough—so I turn back to Hawke and look between him and Bentley as I ask, “Speaking of people we care about, I’d love to hear how you two met.”

It’s Bentley who answers, “I saved his life.”

My eyebrows shoot upward. Even Charlie is visibly stunned.

“What happened?” she asks.

Bentley pulls his glasses off to clean them as he shares in his lulling English accent, “I was visiting a rural village in Somalia while filming a documentary for the British Red Cross, when this one”—he bumps Hawke affectionately with his shoulder—“comes crawling out of nowhere, covered in blood, and rambling feverishly about how he’d found ‘the perfect place’ to open a new camp for troubled youths. I had some field medic training, so while all the doctors were busy helping the locals with a viral outbreak, I was stuck nursing him back to health.” Bentley grins and shakes his head. “He was a terrible patient, kept saying he was perfectly fine despite having his insides nearly ripped out by a lion. Such a fool.”

The fondness in Bentley’s expression is returned by Hawke, who chuckles and says, “I was perfectly fine. Fully stitched up and ready to go.”

He raises the hem of his thermal shirt to reveal four scarred claw marks slashed across his lower abdomen. I noticed them when we were fishing in the river, but I wince now that I know how he got them.

“You were attacked by a lion?” Charlie breathes, her violet eyes wide.

“A lioness. And it was a freak accident.” Hawke waves it away like it was nothing. “I was scouting the area for my next camp location, and I made the rookie mistake of not paying attention to my surroundings. She was with her cubs, so she perceived me as a threat and acted to protect them.”

Charlie grimaces, and I do the same.

“It worked out for the best, since I never would have met this one otherwise,” Hawke says, returning Bentley’s earlier shoulder bump. “I remained at the Red Cross camp with him until I was fully healed, and by then, he was done with his documentary, so I asked if he wanted to come with me to finish exploring the area, then continue on to see more of East Africa. He said yes, and he had all his camera gear with him, so he filmed a lot of what we did and saw—and the rest is, as they say, history.”

“That was the start of Hawke’s Wild World , even if we didn’t know it at the time.” Bentley smiles tenderly at his husband before finishing, “Everything that’s happened since then is all thanks to that lion.”

A gentle silence descends upon us in the wake of his words.

“That’s such a beautiful story,” Charlie says quietly. “I’ve never heard it before.”

“Your mother didn’t tell you?” Hawke asks, before adding, “You mentioned before we left that she’s a big fan of the show.”

The look on Charlie’s face—I can’t describe it, but it has me sitting up straighter, my forehead creasing with concern.

“No,” Charlie says slowly, hoarsely, as if that word is dredged from somewhere deep within her. “She—She didn’t tell me.”

Hawke seems to be waiting for her to say more, but her face is pale and her lips are pressed tightly together. She’s avoided almost all questions about her family today, even during the promo clips, so I jump in to change the topic, asking, “Do we want to know what’s ahead for us tomorrow, or is it better for our chances of sleep if we’re kept in the dark?”

The survivalist barks out a laugh. “You’ll have to wait and see.” He empties the dregs of his tea on the ground, before standing up and stretching. “I know it’s early, but we had a long day, and tomorrow will be even longer, so it’s a good idea to turn in soon.” With a playful grin, he warns, “We have a big ravine to cross in the morning, so rest up, because you’ll need all your energy.”

So much for him not telling us what’s ahead.

“When you say ‘cross,’ you mean we’re walking it, right?” Charlie asks. Silence meets her question, so she presses, “ Right? ”

Hawke stokes the fire, placing a few more thick logs on it before stepping back again. “Whatever you need to hear to help you sleep tonight, Charlie.”

“Like that’s going to happen now,” she mumbles.

I repress a smile, and watch as Hawke and Bentley pack up and say goodnight to us, retreating into their parachute.

The air between Charlie and me becomes uneasy, and it takes me a moment to realize why, but when I do, I quickly say, “You can have the tent. I’ll sleep out here tonight.”

She frowns. “That’s not—I mean—We can... we can share.”

Despite her words, she’s clearly uncomfortable, her eyes darting to the second parachute and back again, her features pinched. She’s already done so much for me just by being here; the last thing I want is to make it even harder on her.

“You can’t get a view like this back where I’m from,” I say, indicating the moonlit river, then pointing upward at the cloudless sky with its unending starry expanse. The timing is perfect, because she follows my finger right as a meteor streaks across the horizon. “It’s been a long time since I’ve slept under the stars,” I continue, “so I’m looking forward to this. Go, the shelter is all yours.”

She still hesitates, and I know why. The air is cold enough that our breaths are visible, even with the fire, and the ground is rough and pebbled. It won’t be the most pleasant sleeping experience, but this way Charlie doesn’t have to worry about us waking up tangled in each other’s arms.

That image sends an unexpected bolt of warmth through me. I can’t deny that I’m attracted to her—not just physically, but what I’m coming to know on a deeper level as well. However, I’m also aware those thoughts aren’t reciprocated, and the smartest thing I can do is ignore whatever I feel growing toward her. We have three days left together, and then we’ll part ways, hopefully not as enemies, but we also won’t be friends. She’s made that perfectly clear, and I’ll respect her wishes, even if I still don’t understand them.

“Well, I guess goodnight, then,” she says, rubbing her arms self-consciously.

I make sure my smile is genuine as I return the words. “Goodnight, Charlie. Don’t let the forest bugs bite.” My smile falls. “No, but seriously, don’t. They’ll probably kill you.”

She chuckles lightly—filling me with yet more warmth that I ignore—and then repeats, “’Night, Zander. I’ll see you in the morning. Assuming we’re both still alive.”

On that special note of dark humor, she disappears inside the parachute, leaving me with the crackling fire, gurgling river, and chirping crickets. The unfamiliar sounds of nature are so loud that I’m sure it’ll take me hours to fall asleep, but I couldn’t be more wrong.

Because as soon as I close my eyes, the day catches up to me—and I’m out like a light.

* * *

The first thing I hear when I wake in the morning is a female voice—but it’s not Charlie’s.

I crack my eyes open to see Scarlett and a group of black-clothed crew members bustling around our campsite, the former talking with Hawke while the latter help Bentley swap out his camera equipment.

A groan leaves me as I sit up, my body one big ache after the physical challenges of yesterday combined with sleeping like the dead on the hard earth. I work the kinks out of my neck and stretch my muscles before slowly rising to my feet.

“Morning, Zander,” Scarlett says when I stumble over to her and Hawke. “Sleep well?”

The cracking sounds my joints make as I approach give her all the answer she needs. “Please tell me you brought some of that for the rest of us?” I beg, looking longingly at her insulated travel mug while inhaling the heavenly scent of coffee.

“There’s some waiting for you back at the hotel.” Her hazel eyes shine devilishly as she takes a long sip. “You can have it when you return on Friday.”

“Cruel,” I tell her, though I hardly expected a different answer.

She laughs. “Charlie said the same thing.”

“She’s up already?” I peer through the dawn light toward her parachute-tent.

“You’re the only one who managed to sleep through this racket,” Hawke says, indicating the Hawke’s Wild World team all around us. Before I can ask, he adds, “She’s downstream, taking a quick bath. Hopefully emphasizing the ‘quick,’ or she’ll end up with hypothermia.”

As someone who was in the river up to my knees yesterday, I know Hawke isn’t exaggerating. It’s only a few weeks past winter, so the water isn’t just cold, it’s cold . But like Charlie, I’m eager to freshen up, so I ask Hawke which direction she went in, and I head the other way. I’m not daring enough to wade all the way in, but I use a spare sock as a washcloth and clean as much of my body as I can.

When I return to camp, Charlie is already back, and she slides over on her log to make room for me while holding out a bunch of pink lilly pilly berries and saying, “Breakfast.”

It’s not coffee, but it’s also not another dead animal, so I thank her and toss them in my mouth. The fire is low, almost out, but we sit in front of it munching quietly together, until I glance around and ask, “Do you know why the support team is here?”

She follows my gaze to where Scarlett is still standing with Hawke, but now Bentley has joined them, along with another woman. All four of them are examining the map Hawke showed us yesterday, their faces thoughtful as they murmur among themselves.

“Apparently they planned to meet us last night after dinner, but their vehicles had a harder time with the terrain than they expected,” Charlie answers. “From what I gather, they’re meant to check in throughout the day to make sure we don’t have any injuries or equipment issues, plus they do things like resupply the rope that we had to leave on the mountain yesterday. Ropes,” she amends, with neither of us mentioning why a second rope was needed. “All stuff that’s never included on-screen when the show airs, since they want it to look as survival-y as possible. Keep the magic alive, and all that.”

I eye her closely. “You don’t seem surprised.”

She shrugs. “It’s no secret that reality television is fake. It’s more about drama than any real truth.” She stretches her shoulders and winces. “That said, there’s nothing fake about how much I’m hurting today. I’d kill for some anti-inflammatories and a hot water bottle.”

“Same here,” I agree. “I feel like I aged fifty years overnight.”

Hawke and Scarlett approach as I’m saying the words, and both of them try—and fail—to hide their amusement.

“Buck up, Prince Charming,” Hawke says, his lips twitching. “You’ll both feel better once we get moving.”

“I have serious doubts about that,” Charlie grumbles under her breath.

“You’re all doing so well,” Scarlett jumps in. “One day down, three to go. Are you enjoying yourselves so far?” Both Charlie and I look at her flatly until she clears her throat and continues, “We’ll get out of your hair now so you can continue on, but we’ll check in again later today. Our location scouts didn’t realize how tricky it would be to get our wheels through the scrub—they did the journey on foot, same as you—so we’re having some trouble finding safe routes, but you’re in good hands with Hawke here, regardless.”

A huge bald man walks over to us before she can say more, his eyes on Hawke as he reports, “The rope is set on the ravine and we’ve done a full safety check, so you’re all sorted there. I’ve also told Erik and his crew to drive on ahead of us to secure the bridge near your extraction point, even if you won’t reach it until Friday. It’s early, but I want it done today, in case the weather turns so bad that we don’t get another chance.”

Without context, I only understand part of what he said, but all of it has Charlie and me sharing nervous looks.

“Thanks, Hux,” Hawke says. To Scarlett, he asks, “What’s this about weather?”

“Nothing to worry about yet,” she replies, though the bald man, Hux, raises his eyebrows. “There’s some rain developing off the coast that we’re keeping an eye on, but it’ll hopefully stay offshore. If it begins to track inland, I’ll let you know.”

I glance upward and see nothing but clear blue sky above our heads.

“What happens if it rains?” Charlie asks, peering up as well.

“We get wet,” Hawke says, straight-faced.

Scarlett elbows him, before answering Charlie, “Nothing happens, it just means you might have to change your route to avoid flash floods. Or if it becomes too dangerous for us to navigate with the vehicles, we might need to pull our crew back until it passes. But as I said, right now, there’s nothing to worry about, so put it from your mind.”

With that, Scarlett whistles to her team and makes a circling motion with her hand, indicating for them to get moving. They disperse impressively fast into the trees and, after telling us to take care and reminding us she’ll see us later, Scarlett vanishes with them.

I’m still blinking at how swiftly they all managed to leave when I realize it’s just Hawke, Bentley, Charlie, and me again.

“Can you two be ready in five minutes?” Hawke asks, glancing at his watch. “We have a big hiking day, so the sooner we go, the better.”

It’s not a question, more an order, so we quickly finish our berries before helping dismantle the parachute-tents and grabbing our gear. I hiss out a curse when I lift my backpack, but once we leave the camp and start moving, my muscles warm up and the pain eases, as Hawke said it would.

We hike through the forest for hours on an upward trajectory, the ground mostly keeping to a slight incline, with some steeper sections that leave us panting and needing regular breaks. None of us talk much, aside from Hawke occasionally sharing about the native flora and fauna we see—a blue-tongued lizard that crosses our path, different kinds of poisonous fungi, the nine-hundred-odd species of gum trees, a web-covered hole that houses a deadly funnel-web spider—but thankfully there are no deeper conversations. I’m guessing he’s leaving those for when we’re unguarded, so there’s likely a round two coming for me tonight. I already know what it will be about, since I’m certain Gabe will have asked Hawke to make sure I share one important thing with the world:

My DUI and rehab experience.

I’m not looking forward to talking about it, mostly because I’m going to have to lie through my teeth, and yet still somehow come across as repentant.

But that’s a worry for later. Right now, I need to get through this endless hike.

Just as I have that thought, the incline finally levels out, and the trees we’re zigzagging through begin to thin. A few steps later, we arrive atop a rocky slab similar to the cliff we had to rappel down yesterday. But instead of us being partway up a mountain, there’s a massive crack in the ground before us, like an ancient giant came and cleaved the land in two. The far side has to be over a hundred feet away, and the vertical drop between us at least triple that, full of jutting boulders and lethal, jagged edges.

This must be the ravine Hawke mentioned.

And at the sight of the rope stretching across the daunting gap, I know we won’t be finding our way around it.

We’ll be going straight across it.