Chapter 13
A miya was pissed.
What had begun as a perfectly charming jaunt in the country, complete with a tour of a fully operational rustic home, had devolved into some off-the-beaten-path nightmare.
Grandpa Lee was sick, possibly dying, and wandering alone through the woods.
She had been in a vehicle accident and was shaken up.
To top it off, she was stuck with Nick, who was responsible for their entire predicament and had no clue how to return to the house.
If they didn’t have a pressing need to get moving, she would have cussed him out, and she wasn’t one to use foul language.
She had grown up in a chaotic house with a domineering mother who often exploded into screaming fits over even trivial matters, and she had determined that she wouldn’t follow in her mom’s footsteps. She strived to avoid drama.
Still, she was angry. But she channeled that emotion toward action.
When she suggested doing an inventory of the items in the truck, Nick, predictably, demurred.
“Is it really necessary to go through all of this stuff?” He stood beside the pickup, hands on his waist. “We’ll be at the house within half an hour.”
“I want to take the rifle.” She climbed over the truck’s rear lift gate and onto the flatbed. The bottom was so clean it gleamed in the sunshine, the metal simmering underneath her flats.
The Remington 700 was secured within a metal rack bolted at the edge of the rear windshield. Carefully, she lifted it out. The rifle was warm in her hands.
“You don’t know how to use a gun,” Nick said.
Amiya checked the chamber and found it was already loaded. She positioned the nylon strap across her shoulders, the rifle hanging across her back.
Nick stared at her, lips parted in surprise.
“Why are you shocked?” she asked. “Please, get up here and help me look through this tool box.”
“When did you learn about guns?” He clambered onto the flatbed.
“I did have a life before you came along. One of my brothers is a firearms enthusiast. He taught me some things, took me to firing ranges.”
Distantly, thunder rumbled. Amiya looked to the sky and noticed that dark storm clouds were forming into a thick tapestry.
“I still don’t think this is necessary.” Nick stood beside her on the truck. “We could already be on our way back, or could have found my granddad.”
“I want to be prepared for anything. Nothing today has gone according to plan.”
“Right.” Nick winced as if poked with a hot iron. “You think all of this is my fault?”
“I didn’t say that.” She snapped open the latches of the aluminum Kobalt tool box bolted to the front of the flatbed. “But it is what it is.”
“My fault then, huh? Everything is on me.”
“You seem determined to pin the blame on yourself. Guess what? If the shoe fits, wear it. I don’t have the inclination to join your little pity party.”
She heard him suck in a breath, and she thought he was going to erupt.
Regardless, she was determined to ignore him.
Searching through the tool box—which was meticulously organized, as she had come to expect from Grandpa Lee—she found a miscellaneous collection of items. Duct tape.
A coil of heavy rope. A pack of waterproof matches.
A first-aid kit. An umbrella. A box of ammunition for the Remington rifle.
Nick knelt next to her and began searching through the tool box, too. He didn’t meet her gaze and he didn’t speak, and that was okay by her.
They took several things out of the bin that might prove useful if they were delayed on their journey back to the house.
They were limited by the capacity of their pockets, and her purse.
She had a large collection of hand bags and wished she hadn’t brought one of her smallest ones with her for this visit, but it was well past the time to worry about such things.
One of the items they took with them was a steel canteen already full of water.
She cracked open the first-aid kit and found a sealed packet of aspirin.
She put the tablet on her tongue and chased it down with a couple of small sips of water; the water was cool and tasted fresh.
It was only mid-April, but the morning was humid and hot, and though it looked as if it might rain, the heat might only get worse as the day progressed.
“Take a drink, and take an aspirin.” She offered the canteen and medicine to Nick. “You got banged up when we crashed and you don’t want to get dehydrated out here, either.”
“Thanks. Looks like Grandpa Lee was prepared for all sorts of situations, huh?” He laughed, but it was an anxious sound, devoid of amusement.
Amiya pressed her lips together. She felt terrible for Nick. If Grandpa Lee didn’t make it home on his own, if he collapsed somewhere in the woods and they couldn’t find him . . . she couldn’t dwell on the idea. It was an outcome too awful to contemplate.
They got out of the truck. Thunder boomed, shaking the ground. A strong, cool breeze pushed through the foliage. Amiya felt the first cold drops of rain on her bare arms.
She opened the umbrella they had taken from the truck. Nick joined her underneath the protective canopy.
“Where to now?” Nick asked. “Since I’ve apparently been fired as the navigator.”
She ignored the dig. “We stick to the road and retrace our steps. I think only one or two wrong turns put us in our current location here.”
“What about my granddad? If he’s wandered off the trail, we won’t find him if we’re staying on the road.”
“We can keep an eye out for him, but honestly we need to stay the course. We’re no help to him if we get lost, too, Nick.”
Nick nodded tightly. She could surmise that he didn’t like her plan, but that he would go along with it, albeit reluctantly.
They started off, walking side by side in the middle of the narrow dirt path, keeping underneath the umbrella.
They advanced at a brisk pace, and Amiya was grateful that she had worn comfortable, flat-soled shoes.
If she’d slipped on the cute open-toe sandals that she had originally considered, her feet would’ve begun paying the price.
The truck’s tires had left behind a clear trail in the dirt.
But as the rainfall strengthened to a torrential downpour, the dirt evolved to mud, forcing them to the grass at the edge of the lane.
The tire tracks dissolved in the bubbling stew of raw earth and grit, and Amiya got a sinking feeling in her stomach.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, is going our way , she thought.
Lightning flashed through the forest. The day had been so crazy, she half-expected a lightning bolt to strike a tree and send smoking shards across their way.
Avoiding the mud in favor of the foliage that skirted the path slowed them down. By the time they reached a juncture of the roads, whatever tire tracks she had hoped to follow had been completely obliterated.
There were four intersecting lanes, all of them winding away in different directions, all of them so crowded by trees and flora it was impossible to get any sense of where they led.
“Which way did we turn?” she asked. “Do you remember?”
“Left?” He put his fingers against his forehead as if to massage forth the memory. “Yeah, left. So, to retrace our steps, we need to go that way.” He gestured with his head.
Amiya had her own tattered recollection of the route they had taken and was relieved that his assessment matched hers. She adjusted the strap of the rifle hanging from her back.
“Let’s go,” she said, and started in the direction they had agreed upon.
But Nick didn’t move. He stood rooted to the ground, staring along one of the other paths as rain bulleted over him.
“Nick? What’s wrong?”
“This is crazy, but I think I saw someone.”
“Grandpa Lee?”
Shaking his head, Nick swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He looked at her. His eyes were wide with fear.
“I don’t think we’re alone out here.”