Page 22 of Wandering Wild

I’m running out of air.

I can feel it, the searing in my chest, the desperation to draw in a breath, the need for fresh oxygen to pump through my veins, but there’s nothing I can do, no way to relieve the agony building and building and building in me.

Because I’m trapped.

My foot is stuck, the laces of my left hiking boot caught between the rocks Zander warned me about.

I saw them as I was swimming, the glow of my wristwatch illuminating them rising from the unknown depths below, and I gave them a high berth, not even thinking about my trailing bootlaces. But now...

Panic grips me as I attempt to yank myself free. When that doesn’t work, I reach down to tear my shoe off, willing to sacrifice it to save my life, only to realize all my tugging has pulled the laces so tight that I can’t slip my foot out.

A bubble of air leaves me as my terror grows, and I brace my right leg against the rock, heaving my weight against it. I feel like I’m about to snap my own ankle off, but no matter how hard I try, it doesn’t give.

I tug and yank and pull and do everything I can to wrench myself loose, but it’s no use.

My vision begins dotting, my blood is pounding in my ears, my body shrieks for relief, and I realize I’m out of time. There’s no air left in my lungs and my strength is quickly fading; all I can do is kick helplessly at the rock, but I might as well be kicking a mountain.

The last of my precious air leaves me, and I know this is it. I want to cry and scream and rage because I only just found the courage to dream again, to see a future, to want a future, and now it’s being stolen from me. I’ll never get to explore the world and go on more adventures. I’ll never get to laugh with Ember again, or make sure my stepdad knows how much I love him, or tell Zander that I?—

Hands grab me, shocking me enough that I would gasp if I had any air left. But there’s nothing; it’s taking all of my remaining strength to keep my mouth shut and not inhale the water, though I know I only have seconds before I lose even that small control and my body surrenders against my will.

But seconds might be all I need.

Because Zander is here.

He sees the problem immediately, gives one firm tug to my leg, and when that yields no results, he pulls Hawke’s hunting knife from his belt. Without hesitating, he slices it straight through my bootlaces, then wraps an arm around my waist and hauls me backward through the water.

I’m all but limp in his arms as I fight to remain conscious, to ignore the stabbing torment I feel in every part of me.

I can’t hold on any longer.

I can’t ? —

My head breaks through the surface and I’m choking and choking and choking as Zander holds me against his body, keeping me from dropping back beneath the water, telling me to Breathe, Charlie. Just breathe. I barely hear him, unable to do anything but suck in burning, wheezing, painful breaths. Zander is panting with me, holding me so close that I can feel his heartbeat galloping in his chest, echoing my own, as he keeps saying those same words over and over.

Gradually, my agony begins to fade, and my breaths start to slow. I feel as if I’ve been in a battle, and it’s a struggle to open my eyes, but when I finally manage to do so, I want to slam them shut again straight away.

Because we’re still in the tunnel.

Back in the air pocket.

No , I think, unable to say the word aloud.

Zander must see it written on my face, because he rasps out, “I’m sorry—this was closer than the other end, and I didn’t know if—” He shudders against me. “I wasn’t sure how long you had.”

He’s still holding me, treading water for us both, and the enormity of what he just did hits me.

“You came back for me.” My voice is hoarse from both emotion and strain.

“Of course I did,” he whispers. He keeps one arm around my waist but moves the other up to frame my face, pushing my hair away before pressing his hand to my cheek. “At the risk of sounding like another Hallmark-quoted fortune cookie, I’ll always come back for you.”

A half laugh, half sob leaves me, and I lean forward until our foreheads touch. My words are tremulous when I say, “I d-don’t think I can do that again.”

“We’ll wait a minute, catch our breaths.” His voice is soft, encouraging. “We’re so close, Charlie.”

“I n-nearly drowned, Zander,” I say, the shock hitting me, causing me to shake all over. “I would have, if you hadn’t arrived when you did.”

His arm at my waist tightens. But when he speaks, he just says, “Don’t go stealing my thunder, Charlie Hart. Only one of us gets to drown on this trip. Those are the rules.”

His playful tone has me shifting back enough to see the teasing glint in his eyes, though I can also see the depth of fear it’s covering—fear for me .

He holds my gaze, his playfulness fading as he turns sober and says, “I won’t let anything happen to you—I promised, remember? And something to know about me: I never break my promises.” His eyes are locked on mine. “We’ll go together this time. I’ll be right beside you the whole way. You can do this, Charlie. We can do this.” He pauses. “Are you with me?”

I’m still trembling violently and every part of me wants to say no, but seeing the assurance in his gaze, the confidence, the promise , all I can do is whisper, “I’m with you, Zander.”

A weighty breath leaves him and, as if he can’t help himself, he presses his lips to my forehead, the move so quick that I would wonder if I imagined it if not for the tingling it leaves behind.

“Ready, then?” Zander asks, not giving me time to dwell on his tender action. “One last deep breath.”

I follow his lead and fill my lungs with as much air as possible, doing everything I can to ignore my fear of what we’re about to do— again .

But then Zander is releasing his hold on my waist, only to grab my hand, entwining our fingers as we dive under the surface and shoot forward through the water. It’s harder, joined as we are, but I’m not about to let him go, needing to feel him beside me, needing to know I’m not alone.

I see the rocks approaching, glowing blue under the light of our watches, and my stomach clenches as I think about what would have happened if Zander hadn’t returned for me. But he did, I remind myself. He came back for me, he saved me.

And now the rocks are behind us, our swim strokes steady and sure as we pass right over them.

There’s light up ahead, and seeing it makes me want to weep. My lungs are burning all over again, but we’re nearly there—nearly there?—

Nearly—

—there .

We break through the surface, coughing hard and sucking in fresh, clean air for the first time in what feels like years. I’m not sure if it’s water streaming down my face or tears, but when Zander guides me toward the shallows of the underground pool we’ve arrived in and I can finally touch the bottom, it’s definitely a sob of relief that leaves me.

“We did it,” I say disbelievingly, as I glance around the beautiful, open-roofed cavern. “We actually made it.”

The next second, I’m swept up in Zander’s arms, water flying all around us.

“Told you so,” he says into my ear.

A surprised laugh leaves me as I recall what he said earlier. “Guess you have an excuse to be a smug know-it-all after all.”

He draws away again so he can grin at me, his eyes dancing. “I’m only smug when I know I’m right.” He winks. “And for the record, I usually am.”

“Humble, too,” I say, grinning back at him. My relief that we’re clear of the tunnel, that we’re safe , has me feeling as light as a feather, like I could conquer anything. I shake my head and look in the direction from which we appeared, saying with awe clear in my voice, “That was incredible.”

Zander stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “If by incredible, you mean the opposite, then sure.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” I say, still looking toward the tunnel entrance. “I’m going to wake up with night sweats about this for the rest of my life, but...” I bite my lip and admit in a quiet voice, “It’s kind of amazing, what we did. Don’t you think?”

Zander just keeps staring at me, before pressing his hand to my brow, checking my temperature. “What I think is that you must have swallowed some of the bacteria-laced water and now you’re running a fever. The delirium has already set in.”

I shove his arm away, unsure whether to laugh or scowl. I settle on rolling my eyes. “You know what I mean. We’ll look back on this one day and be proud of ourselves for how we survived. For what we survived.”

“That’s not a ‘one day’ thing—I’m proud of us now,” Zander says. “But we’re not in the clear yet. We still have one of Hawke’s obstacles left, and we’re down to”—he checks his watch—“less than three hours to go.”

A whole new kind of fear fills me.

“We need to hustle.”

“We need to hustle,” he confirms.

Part of me wishes we could stay in the shallows of this ethereal cavern for longer, just to revel in its beauty. Another part of me—admittedly, a much larger part—wishes Zander would wrap me in his arms again, this time closing the distance between us in a way that I so desperately yearn for. From the looks he keeps giving me, I know he wants the same, even if I understand why he’s holding back: because if all goes to plan, in three hours we’ll be on our way back to civilization, and tomorrow we’ll be returning to our lives— separately . Starting anything now would only end in heartbreak.

But watching him as he exits the water and holds out his hand for me, I can’t help wondering if maybe it would be worth it.

“You coming?”

I startle at Zander’s question, realizing I haven’t moved, and he’s still waiting with his hand outstretched. At his arched eyebrow, I quickly wade forward to join him on dry land. I’m tempted to kiss the ground for how grateful I am to be standing upright again, but I resist the urge and instead hurry with him across the cavern, following the sunbeam spearing down from the open roof until it leads us through a gaping chasm in the rock wall. And then, suddenly, we’re outside again, the canyon behind us as if it never existed.

Zander halts as we’re about to step back into the encroaching forest and checks the compass on his watch. “Northwest is this way,” he says, gesturing to the left.

I pull the waterlogged map from my drenched pocket, grateful that its wax coating has kept it from becoming a pulpy mess after everything it’s endured over the last few days.

“I think we’re here.” I indicate the dotted line leading out of what I assume is the topographical mark for the canyon, before tapping the black circle. “And here’s where we need to be by five o’clock.”

Zander peers over my shoulder. “If the scale is right, we still have a few miles to go.” He squints at the map. “I can’t tell for sure, but it looks like we only have forest between us and the final river Hawke said we have to cross”—he presses his finger to the meandering waterway—“so hopefully it’ll be smooth sailing from here to?—”

I slap my hand over his mouth to stop him from finishing. “What did I say about not jinxing us?”

He smiles beneath my fingers, his eyes bright with mirth. “Sorry,” he says, the word muffled against my hand.

Feeling his lips move on my skin, electricity sparks all the way up my arm, causing me to shiver. Zander notes my reaction and his eyes change, a different, more heated light entering them as he looks knowingly back at me. I remain suspended for a moment, trapped in his gaze, until I remember where we are and how far we still need to go. I quickly—albeit reluctantly—lower my hand and clear my throat, before refolding the map and zipping it back into my pocket.

“Let’s hope you’re right and it’s just forest—and let’s also hope it’s all downhill,” I say, my voice slightly hoarse. I hate the effect he has on me, almost as much as I love it. It’s becoming impossible to deny how much I want to explore what’s building between us, but we’re on a rescue mission with the clock ticking down, and if ever there was a bad time to consider anything, it’d be now. Zander seems to realize this as well, since the heat leaves his eyes and his face turns serious as he glances in the direction we need to travel.

Together we venture back into the forest, our pace as quick as we can manage without risking tripping over rocks and roots, or slipping on moss and lichen. We’re so near to the end of our journey now, and neither of us can afford an injury. If we don’t get to the extraction point in time... if we miss the helicopter’s arrival... if we can’t tell anyone what happened and send help to Hawke and Bentley...

The fears spiral around in my mind as we hurry through the trees, our steps swift enough that we’re soon panting, sweaty messes and mutually agree to take a short break. We haven’t eaten anything since before we entered the slot canyon, and now that the adrenaline from the underwater tunnel has faded, I’m growing weak from hunger, so it comes as a relief when we find a small clearing with a fallen log we can sit on to catch our breath.

“Choose your poison,” Zander says, pointing to a lilly pilly bush and a vine full of wombat berries.

I go straight for the wombat berries, causing him to chuckle. I meant what I said earlier—as grateful as I am for the lilly pillies keeping us alive, I’ll be happy to never see another one after today.

We’re side by side on the log and munching in silence when Zander asks, “Do you remember when Ollie was filming his promo questions and he asked what we’re most looking forward to once we get back?”

I swallow my mouthful and nod, even though I can’t recall what answers we gave, just that we were in fake-it mode for the sake of the cameras. How far we’ve come since then.

Zander continues, “What would you say now, if Ollie were here and asking again?”

I think about it for a moment, unable to decide between clean clothes, a hot shower, washing my hair, a flushing toilet, a warm bed, food that we don’t have to forage or kill, and all the other basic comforts that I’ll never take for granted again. But I don’t think that’s what Zander’s really asking, so I give it deeper consideration, before finally answering, somewhat hesitantly, “I guess I’m most looking forward to figuring out what’s next for me, especially after everything I’ve come to realize about myself while on this trip.”

Zander pops another berry into his mouth. There’s a gravity to his expression that I don’t understand—or maybe I’m just too afraid to read into—when he asks, “Any thoughts on that yet?”

I offer a wry grin. “I’m still baby-stepping it here. All I know is that I want to see more of the world. I suppose that’s where I’ll start.”

“So you’ll travel?” Zander asks, reaching across to pull more fruit from the vine.

“I think so.” Nerves bubble in me at the idea, along with an excited thrill. “That was always the plan for this year before everything... happened. I doubt Ember will come now since she’s busy chasing her acting dreams, but as much as I’ll miss her, I’m not going to let that stop me. No more excuses or delays.” A thought hits me and I frown. “My passport is expired, though. I’ll have to get that renewed, or I won’t be going anywhere.”

“Well, look at that: you now have step one on your baby-stepping to-do list,” Zander says, smiling. “That means you’re one step closer to getting where you’re going.” He cocks his head to the side. “Where is that, by the way?”

“Where is what?” I ask, wiping sticky fingers on my hiking pants.

“Where you’re going,” Zander clarifies. “First stop is...?”

My mouth opens but no words come out, because I suddenly realize I don’t have an answer. All I know is the longing in my heart to explore the beauty this world has to offer, but nothing specific . Worry hits me, since how am I supposed to figure out my next steps if I can’t even settle on a starting destination?

Seeing my deer-in-the-headlights uncertainty, Zander senses my growing panic and says in a calming voice, “Do me a favor and close your eyes.”

My brow furrows. “What?”

“Just trust me.”

At his open, encouraging look, I follow his request.

“Good,” he says. “Now, I want you to imagine you’re at an airport. You’ve checked yourself in. You’re walking onto the plane. You’re flying through the sky. Hours pass, and you’re ready to climb the walls if they don’t let you out soon. But then, finally, the pilot says you’re beginning your descent, so you peek out the window and see?—”

“Iceland.”

The word leaves my lips without thought, and my eyes shoot back open.

“Iceland?” Zander asks, with gentle curiosity.

I’m unsure why I feel so shy as I answer, “Vatnajokull National Park. It’s about five hours from Reykjavík. I used to have photos on my walls of the blue ice caves—they’re like something straight out of a fairytale, and I promised myself I’d visit them in person one day. And the northern lights... I used to dream of seeing those as well. And of course Diamond Beach and the Blue Lagoon and the Strokkur Geyser and all the waterfalls and—” I cut myself off, before finishing, sheepishly, “Iceland is where I want to go first.”

“It sounds perfect,” Zander says softly.

“Have you ever been?”

He shakes his head. “No. We nearly filmed some of the second Lost Heirs movie there, but they decided on New Zealand instead.”

“Also on my list,” I murmur, remembering just how large the world is, and wondering how I’ll be able to see it all. Money, at least, isn’t a concern, since I’ve been saving ever since I was old enough to get a job, and I also have my mother’s life insurance payout. I haven’t wanted to touch it, hating that it even existed, but I know down to my bones that this is something she would want for me.

“What about you?” I ask Zander. “If Ollie re-asked what you’re looking forward to, what would you say? What are your next steps?”

Zander twists the now-fruitless vine between his fingers. “It all depends on whether the studio lets me stay on for Titan’s War . If this trip does what it was supposed to and the limited footage we got helps boost my public image enough that I get to keep my role, then it shouldn’t be long before shooting begins, so that’ll be what’s next for me. On the other hand, if the producers aren’t satisfied and they decide to terminate my contract...” He shrugs, his gaze on his fiddling fingers. “I’m not sure what I’ll do, to be honest.”

“You won’t have to find out,” I say with as much confidence as I can. When he looks at me with doubt, even a little fear, I lower my voice and assure him, “Truly, Zander. If you could make me, your harshest critic, come to—to stop hating you”—I can’t believe the word that nearly slipped through my lips, and I quickly cover my stumble by continuing—“then you’ll have no trouble making the world fall back in love with you. We had entire days of footage before we lost the cameras; that’ll be more than enough for them to see who you really are.” My mouth curls upward as I add, “And don’t forget, you caught a fish with your bare hands, while shirtless. Emphasis on the shirtless . That alone will do the job of making sure no one cares about any perceived indiscretions of yours. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about.”

Zander’s lips twitch. “Are you objectifying me, Charlie Hart?”

I stand up from the log to stretch, tossing over my shoulder, “Have you seen your abs?”

A choked laugh leaves him and he rises to join me, both of us preparing to set out again now that we’ve recharged.

I’m not sure what comes over me, but before we can resume our journey, I turn serious and say, “You’re gorgeous, Zander—that’s no secret. But I hope you know it goes beyond your looks. What’s inside you here”—I press a finger to his chest, right over his heart—“is more beautiful than what’s here”—I move my hand up to his cheek, offering the gentlest of touches before lowering my arm again—“and if I can see that after just a few short days, then anyone who can’t is an idiot.” I hold his gaze as I finish, with quiet solemnity, “And they don’t deserve you.”

My breath hitches at the look on his face. There’s such raw emotion in his expression: gratitude, hope, and a storm of feelings that make me want to throw myself into his arms and never let go. It takes everything in me to resist the impulse, my self-control hanging by a thread.

“Thank you,” he finally says, his voice raspy. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time. Maybe ever.”

I try to come up with something light and witty to offer in return, if only to bring some levity to the moment, but my mind blanks on anything other than to reply with a heartfelt, “You’re welcome.”

There’s a long beat of silence between us, the air charged, but then a branch snaps off a distant tree and crashes to the ground, reminding us of where we are—and where we need to be.

“We should probably go,” I say, with reluctance.

“Yeah.” Despite his agreement, Zander only shuffles his feet, before asking, “Is it weird that part of me doesn’t want to return home? That I’m nervous about going back to reality? It’s not just Titan—everything with Maddox is still so up in the air, and I...” He trails off, blowing out a weighty breath.

“Maddox will come back to you,” I tell him, full of reassurance. “He’s your Ember. That kind of friendship can never stay broken for long. He just needs?—”

“—time,” Zander finishes for me, sighing. “I know. You’re right.”

Eager to pull him from the darkness that has gripped him, I offer a jaunty grin and say, “I’m always right. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

His mouth tips upward and some of the heaviness leaves his shoulders. “Now who’s being a smug know-it-all?”

“I learned from the best,” I say, my grin still in place as I link my arm through his and drag him back into the forest. “For the record, I’ll be ready to say ‘I told you so’ once you’ve made up and your bromance is back on track.”

“Do people still say ‘bromance’?” Zander muses.

“Since I am people, and I just said it, the answer is yes,” I return.

And so we continue through the trees, conversing freely and living in the moment, while knowing that soon enough, everything will change. We steer clear of discussing what we’ll be to each other after today, or even if we’ll ever see each other again. It’s clear we’re both tiptoeing around it, wanting the other to say something first, but neither of us does, and then neither of us can , because we soon realize how quickly the time is passing, with less than an hour to go now until we’re due at the extraction point—and still one obstacle left between us and rescue.

By mutual agreement, we stop talking and start jogging, then running, then sprinting through the forest, throwing caution to the wind and praying we don’t trip over anything. I’m concerned that the land seems to be on an incline instead of traveling downward to meet the river, but when I point this out to Zander around my heaving breaths, he checks his compass and confirms we’re still going in the right direction.

Up and up we run, skirting trees and boulders and shrubs, the slope continuing ever higher until finally we reach the top and the ground plateaus. I can hear a distant roaring over the sound of my rapid heartbeat, and a bolt of giddy anticipation hits me as I recognize it as fast-moving water.

“The river,” I pant to Zander. “We must be close.”

But aside from the trees beginning to thin, there’s nothing in sight.

It’s only when they clear entirely that Zander and I stumble to a shocked halt, my stomach turning to mush at the view before us.

In an instant, I’m pulled back to our final conversation with Hawke before we left him and Bentley, how he pointed to the squiggle on the map that made Zander ask, Is that a river? and Hawke respond, Sort of.

In hindsight, I should have questioned his cagey tone.

Because it’s sort of a river all right, but it just happens to be raging far below us, at the bottom of a jagged, unscalable gorge. And in front of us?—

There’s a suspension bridge already in place , Hawke’s voice returns to me, but it’s old— really old . There’s no telling how long ago it was used.

“Sonofabitch,” I breathe as I stare at the dilapidated wooden bridge stretching from one side of the gorge to the other.

Fear slams into me, but then I remember how Hawke also said his team had already secured ropes for us, and I peer frantically around for them. I see nothing aside from the ancient, frayed ropes barely keeping the rotted planks aloft, so I ask Zander, “Can you see the safety ro?—”

I choke on my words, because I finally spot them.

It takes half a second for me to know we have a real problem.

Because they’re dangling uselessly down the opposite side of the gorge.

It takes me another half second to realize what that means:

If we want to make it to the extraction point, then we have to cross the decaying bridge without a safety net—and one wrong step will be the last we ever take.