CHAPTER NINE #2
“All I know is I’d do anything to keep her safe.
She’s all that matters to me. If only one of us makes it out of this, it’s gotta be her.
” James’s voice softens. “You should’ve seen her face when I told her we were heading north, looking for that town.
She was excited, you know? Just excited about going somewhere real, someplace we might actually call home.
Not that she needs it. She can make even a cave feel cozy with her blankets. ”
I can’t argue with him about that. My blankets are pretty legendary.
“That’s what I like most about her. She doesn’t get hung up on the risks. She only thinks about the good things. Do you know how rare that is? How rare she is?”
I let out a quiet laugh. I must be either incredibly brave or totally na?ve. I hope it’s the first one.
Michael sighs. “She trusts us to protect her. But what if we’re not there? What if the moment comes and she has to pull the trigger? What would she do?”
The thought lingers uncomfortably in my mind.
What would I do?
James stays quiet after that, and I know why. Michael might not see it, but I do. James never wants me to kill. He won’t say it, but I can feel it in the way he steps in, shields me, keeps the worst of the world where I can’t see it.
And deep down…
I don’t want to kill either.
Not even to save my own life.
◆◆◆
Northern Lights. We finally have a destination. We’re not just hiding out in the woods anymore. We’ve got somewhere to go.
James leads the pack, or, as I like to joke, “the three musketeers.” He’s dripping sweat despite his cap, holding my dad’s old compass in his hand. He keeps glancing back, not just to check the path but to make sure we’re all sticking close.
His eyes stay on me. My white tank top clings to my skin, and my braids sway down my back. I’m lagging a bit, balancing on a fallen tree trunk like it’s a tightrope. Yeah, I know, sometimes I act like a big kid. And that’s usually when I end up getting hurt.
Michael’s a few paces behind me. His gaze darts everywhere, checking our trail. He brushes away our tracks with a leafy twig in hand, moving with obsessive focus. He knows better than anyone how even the smallest sign can bring trouble right to us.
Suddenly, there’s a noise up ahead, sharp enough to stop us cold.
Maybe we’re not as alone as we thought.
James reacts instantly. His hand goes to his gun, his whole body going tense.
My eyes are glued to him, tracking every move—how his fingers flex around the grip of his gun, how his chest rises and falls just a little too fast.
Michael inches forward beside me, his jaw tight. The noise around us grows louder and louder. My pulse pounds with it, matching the chaotic rhythm.
James takes careful steps ahead while I’m rooted to my spot. Then his shoulders drop slightly, and his grip on the gun loosens, though he doesn’t holster it. He pushes aside a tall bush with one arm, clearing our view.
A river. A colossal one.
I head down to the riverbank and dip my fingers in. It’s so cold it sends shivers up my arm.
“That’s just fucking perfect,” Michael grumbles, coming to a halt beside me.
James says nothing. He yanks off his cap and looks at the river like it’s an enemy.
I understand the sentiment. The river is a big problem.
I look back at the water, scanning the surface. The banks are lined with trees as tall as buildings, their branches drooping low enough to touch the water. But not far off, I spot a line on the horizon.
And if books taught me anything, it’s this: there are no straight lines in nature.
I take a couple of steps forward and squint, finally making out what looks like a bridge less than a mile away.
“Hey, boys, look!” I grab James and Michael by the shoulders and point them toward the bridge. Their moods flip like I just told them there’s a cold beer waiting for us on the other side.
James grabs my hand and pulls me closer, looking proud of my discovery. “Where there’s a bridge, there’s usually a town and supplies. We can look for the yellow tents for the trip north.”
I smile at him, but it fades quickly as we head toward the bridge.
Now that I’m up close, I wish I’d never seen it from far away.
The bridge barely looks like a bridge. It’s just an old wooden path held up by two ropes on either side, swaying over the raging water below. It’s as wobbly as pudding on a hot summer day.
“I can’t walk on this,” I blurt, staring at James and Michael, who both seem weirdly chill about it. Suddenly, I’m the voice of reason. That’s a first.
“Of course you can. You’ve walked rooftops, haven’t you? This is nothing,” Michael says with that annoying smirk of his, clearly missing the entire point.
I shoot him a glare. “A roof is solid. This thing’s barely hanging on. We need to find another way.”
Michael steps closer to the so-called bridge and eases a foot onto the worn planks, testing to see if it’ll hold.
“See, steady as a rock!”
By “rock,” I’m guessing he means one in an earthquake.
I step back from the bridge, one hand tugging at the hem of my shirt. James notices, his eyes flicking to my hand before meeting mine again, and he gives me that intense look, like he already knows what’s going through my head.
I’m scared. My eyes always give me away, even when I try my best to hide everything inside.
The river’s huge. There’s no end in sight. Getting around it could take days, maybe weeks. We’d run out of supplies way before that. The bridge is our only way.
He knows it, and so do I.
James squeezes my hand. “We’ll cross together.”
He takes off his backpack and sets it down by my feet. Michael does the same, and I watch as they both start repacking their gear: jackets, handguns, caps, flashlights, and knives, all tucked away with military precision.
I reach back and grab my pocketknife from the open side pouch of my backpack. It was a gift from my dad on my eleventh birthday. To some people, handing a kid a weapon might seem strange, but when you grow up on a ranch, surrounded by woods and wild animals, it just makes sense.
The knife used to belong to my mom, Sabrina. It’s the only thing I have left of hers. It means just as much to me as my favorite book, The Secret Garden, which I’ve carried with me since I was nine.
I slide the knife into my jeans pocket and zip it tight. Losing it to the river isn’t an option. You can never be too careful.
I watch as James pulls some rope from the bottom of his pack and ties it around his waist. My stomach twists while I try to figure out what he’s doing. Then he walks over, holding the rope by the middle, and it clicks. He’s making a tether so we don’t get separated.
James catches my nervous stare and lifts my chin until I’m looking into his big blue eyes. “If anyone can do this, it’s you.”
“You really believe that?”
“I do.”
Somehow, he thinks I’m stronger than I feel.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
His hand moves to my waist, fingers brushing me with that touch I know by heart. Then I feel the rope, still tied to him, wrap around me, tying us together.
It’s supposed to keep us safe, but as I look down at it and run my fingers over the coarse rope, I’m still not convinced.
Michael must notice my fear. He steps closer and checks the knot on my rope. Behind him, James silently ties the other end around Michael’s waist too.
“Remember that time at the ranch when you were scared to swim in the deep lake?” Michael asks.
“Yeah,” I say with a half-smile. “We went to the lake every day until it didn’t feel so scary anymore. You never let go of my hand.”
“Exactly.” He gives the rope a quick tug to make sure it’s secure, then meets my eyes. “This is the same thing. If you get scared, just take my hand.”
He winks at me, and somehow, that’s all the confidence I need. That wink’s like a secret handshake we’ve had since we were kids. It’s his way of saying that no matter what, he’s got my back.
James swings his backpack over one shoulder and steps up to the bridge, grabbing the ropes on either side. He gives me a small nod. “You can do this, Sarah.”
I follow, though my legs feel like jelly.
The first step is shaky. The second’s no better.
“I can do this,” I whisper.
James takes another step, the rope tugging me forward with him.
“I can do this,” I say again, louder this time.
We move slowly, one step at a time, the wood groaning beneath our boots. I focus on the rope between us, keep my eyes on James’s back, and try like hell not to look down.
Halfway across, a cold gust whips past me, chilling the sweat on my skin. The rope jerks at my waist, yanking me off balance. My grip tightens on the side rope of the bridge, knuckles white, fingers digging in.
I glance back and see Michael wobbling, trying not to fall as the bridge sways harder with every step. I bet he’s rethinking that whole “steady as a rock” thing.
Yeah, right. That was a stupid thing to say.
“Sarah, everything good back there?” James calls over his shoulder. He sounds calm, but I know he felt the rope jerk too.
I don’t have time to answer, though.
I feel it before I hear it.
The rope on my side, the same one I’m clinging to just to stay upright, just… snaps.
I stumble, heart pounding, and look straight at Michael.
“Big brother?” I choke on the words as I reach for him.
He lunges for me, our fingers brushing but not catching.
My breath catches as I fall backward, slamming into the water like it’s made of concrete. The impact knocks the air out of me, and suddenly, everything’s spinning. The river’s so strong it flips my whole world upside down. I can’t even tell which way is up anymore.
Through the blur of water, I see Michael’s wide eyes, his mouth open in a silent shout, and his hand still straining to reach mine.
Out of nowhere, something slams into my head, maybe a rock, and sharp pain crashes through me in waves. I try to scream, but the water swallows it whole, cutting me off.
I keep fighting to stay above water, but my mind… it’s slipping.
I’ve never been one for writing things down, not even in a diary. My memories are the only proof I’ve made it this far. And right now, they’re all I’m holding onto.
I can still hear the crackle of the campfire, Michael’s laugh beside me, still feel my dad’s gentle hands tucking me in at night, and still remember the thrill of climbing that tall oak behind the ranch.
And then I remember James.
His soft kiss on my forehead. The way he holds me close. That killer smile he always flashes in the morning.
But now, as my thoughts blur, I get this sinking feeling I can’t shake.
Maybe this time, I won’t make it back to those memories.