Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Trinity
My mouth feels like someone stuffed it full of cotton. I sit up, my arms aching with the effort of supporting my weight.
“Hey,” a deep male voice says from nearby.
Lincoln. I’m so groggy it took me a second to register where we are and how we got here.
Plane crash. Chris. Long, freezing walk. Cabin.
“How long was I asleep?” My voice cracks, my throat so dry it hurts.
“Twelve hours. I was out for about ten.” He brings me a clear plastic cup full of water and I take it, drinking the entire thing. “You want more?”
I nod, passing him the cup. “Thanks.”
There’s light coming in through two small windows, one near the front door and one on the back wall of the cabin. Both windows have heavy wood shutters that bolt closed from the inside, and it looks like Lincoln opened them.
It’s a cozy little cabin, other than the wall of weaponry. A fire crackles in the fireplace and several throw rugs cover the rustic wood floor. There’s a tiny wood table with a chair on either side of it next to the kitchen area. A beautiful white claw-foot bathtub sits alone in one corner, a little shelf on the wall holding some bubble bath and a few stacked bars of soap.
“Are you hungry?” Lincoln asks as he walks back over to the bed.
I cringe as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my ankle throbbing with pain. “How many bars do we have left?”
“You won’t believe our luck.” He passes me the cup. “The room with the firewood has built-in floor-to-ceiling shelves with canned food and there are two big metal barrels full of rice. And also a bunch of five-gallon containers of water. I think we might have found a prepper’s place.”
I blink, stunned by the news. “Do you think the owner will mind if we eat some of their food?”
“I’ll pay them back several times over for whatever we use.”
My body relaxes as I realize for the first time since the crash that we aren’t going to die out here.
Lincoln continues. “I took a quick look outside after I woke up earlier and I didn’t see any other signs of life. We need to stay here for now so you can rest your ankle.”
I slide onto my feet, whimpering as a bolt of pain shoots through my foot and leg. Lincoln is beside me in an instant, putting his arm around my waist so I can take the weight off my left foot.
I feel his solid, muscled body through the fabric of the long underwear. He’s warm. As he looks down at me, I suddenly feel self-conscious about not buttoning the one-piece garment all the way up. He’s probably getting an unsolicited view of my breasts right now.
“You should stay in bed,” he says.
“I have to pee.”
He furrows his brow as he realizes he can’t argue with me about that. “There’s an outhouse around back. I’ll help you get out there.”
When I cringe, he arches his brows in a look of annoyance. “Would you rather squat in the snow?”
He’s such a man. I glare at him. “I can’t just whip it out and pee wherever. Is there a seat in the...outhouse?”
Even the word is gross. Might as well just call it a shitter.
“I don’t remember. Want to just piss your pants just in case there’s no seat?”
“I’d bet my Savings account that you’re single,” I say lightly as he helps me get into a standing position. “Your looks are canceled out by your personality.”
“So you think I’m good-looking?” His voice is loaded with arrogant satisfaction.
“That’s what you got out of that?”
“You have been giving me some thirsty looks. Bet you were secretly thrilled to see there’s just one bed in here.”
I roll my eyes. “This conversation is over.”
The cabin has a back door that opens to a wide, mostly enclosed walkway made of concrete blocks. About a foot of it is open at the top of the walls, snowflakes floating in on one side.
This cabin can’t be the only one.
“Do you think we’re on the edge of a town?” I ask hopefully.
“Hope so.”
Walking proves too painful, so I switch to hopping on my good foot. After a single hop, Lincoln sweeps me into his arms, making me gasp with surprise. I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off with a grin.
“I know. You’re incredibly turned on right now.”
“Fuck you. Put me down.”
His expression turns serious. “You should be resting your ankle, not walking on it. It’s easier this way.”
My ankle is in a lot of pain and I have to pee so badly that I don’t argue with him.
I’m forced to put my arm around his neck, my heart racing at the intimacy of being carried by him. I have a closeup view of the dark scruff on his face and one of my breasts rests against his chest.
When he opens the door to the outhouse, the butterflies in my stomach come to an immediate halt. The smell in here isn’t strong, but there is a stale, unmistakable outhouse odor. He sets me down.
“I’ll wait outside the door.”
I nod, silently cursing myself for jumping out of that plane. This is a vulnerable position I’m in, needing his help. If not for my injury, we could rest up and push on in search of another cabin, maybe one with other people in it who could call for help.
The deep hole in the ground with a plastic toilet seat on top is better than peeing outside. It even has toilet paper, which is thin, scratchy and, according to the unopened packages stacked by the door, biodegradable.
Lincoln picks me up again, carries me back into the cabin and sets me on the bed.
“Maybe if I take some Tylenol from the first aid kit, my ankle will be good enough to keep walking until we find another cabin.”
He scoffs and shakes his head. “Absolutely not. You’re staying right here. We were damn lucky to find this place.”
I don’t like the way he always assumes he’s in charge. I started my idea with “maybe if” and, not surprisingly, got shut down with “absolutely not.” I take a firmer approach.
“We can’t just stay here forever, Lincoln.”
His eyes widen with disbelief. “I’m not saying that, but we’d be fools to assume there’s a cabin like this just waiting for us every five miles we walk. I don’t even know how you made it here on that ankle.”
“I had no choice.” I glare at him. “And if we want to get home, I still don’t.”
“Bullshit. We’re going to stay here where we’re out of the cold. It’s fucking January in Alaska.”
“I know, but--”
He puts up a hand to stop me. “Look, I’m planning to go out and see if I can find help. I can walk a lot faster by myself. You’re staying here.”
My pulse pounds with worry. “You’re leaving me here alone?”
“How else can I go get help? It’s not like I’m not coming back.”
I fight back tears, hating the way I cry so easily. “I think we should stay together.”
I sound so helpless. But then again, I kind of am the definition of helpless right now.
“We are staying together.” He gives me the annoyed look an adult would give a misbehaving toddler. “But I’m the better choice to go for help.”
I look at the quilt on the bed, forcing myself to stay silent. Though I’d like to tell him to leave right this second, the truth is that I’m scared to be left here alone. He could die out there by himself, and then what?
“You know I’m right,” he says.
“I know you want to be the big hero who ventured out in the cold to save our lives. But whatever, it’s not like I’m in any position to make you stay. We can go our separate ways.”
I move back onto the bed and gingerly lift my foot onto the mattress.
“For fuck’s sake, Trinity. It would be a dumbass move for us to both go off walking in different directions.”
Even after sleeping for twelve hours, my eyelids still feel heavy. “Look, I’m not in the mood to argue with you. If you’re still here when I wake up, I’ll talk to you then.”
“You need to eat something.”
“And you need to stop being such a dick.”
I pull the covers up over myself, pain radiating from my ankle. It’s hard to keep track of days here with how dark it is most of the time, but I know whatever day it is, everyone is considering the possibility that we’re dead.
My mom and Dalton have to be frantic. Someone new will be tasked with leading the Allura launch at work. I know I should be grateful to be alive, and I am, but that launch meant so much to me.
How long will they search for us? When will they give up and hold funerals? The thought of my mom and Dalton at my funeral when I’m not even dead makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.
And I have no one to voice these worries to. My anxiety means I have a constant running dialogue of worst-case scenarios, and now I don’t have my daily medication or my supplemental one for when I’m having an anxiety spike.
It’s such irony not having my medications when I’ve never needed them more.
Is someone feeding my cat Karma? Will the new Allura team leader figure out my system for organizing the materials for each individual product? Will anyone at work even be able to log onto my computer since no one but me knows my password? Is Dalton racked with guilt over putting us on that plane? Does my mom know how sorry I am that I worked instead of coming to see her for her last birthday?
I squeeze my eyes shut as questions fly through my mind at a rapid-fire pace. The only upside to the near-death exhaustion I felt when we got here was that it silenced my nonurgent worries. Now my anxiety has all the energy it needs to run at full capacity.
And I have to hide it from Lincoln. There’s no way he’ll understand how different my mind is from his. If he knew I was worried about my work computer password, I’m sure I’d get a scowl and a question like, “Are you fucking serious?”
Dealing with my anxiety is hard enough. I don’t need his caveman bullshit about it.