Chapter 25 The Present
THE PRESENT
AMELIA
A raw wind whipped through the trees, its icy breath raising goosebumps on my arms as I pushed through the dense undergrowth; the mud clung to my shoes, each step a sucking squelch.
Caiden walked a few paces ahead, his jaw set and shoulders tense.
“Can you at least try to not walk so loudly?” I snapped, irritation bubbling beneath the surface as a branch snapped under his foot, sending a shower of leaves cascading to the ground. “We’re trying to avoid attracting attention, remember?”
He turned slightly, shooting me a look that was equal parts annoyance and amusement. “What, you think the bears are going to come running just because I stepped on a twig?”
His voice held a hint of sarcasm but was softened by an underlying warmth that had developed over the years.
“Maybe not bears, but who knows what else is out there?” I shot back, my own frustration spilling over. “We’ve been wandering for hours, and you’re acting like this is a game.”
“Welcome to the wilderness, Amelia,” he replied, his tone light but with an edge of seriousness. “You wanted an adventure, remember? This is it.”
“Oh, right. Because getting chased by a mountain lion is exactly what I had in mind when I agreed to this retreat.” I rolled my eyes, but a small part of me appreciated his attempt at optimism.
“Look, we’ll find our way out,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ve been trained for this kind of stuff. Trust me.”
I could see the flicker of confidence in his eyes, the same determination that had likely driven him through the challenges of military life. “You’ve been trained?” I asked, attempting to keep the skepticism out of my voice. “What, did you get a badge for surviving the wilderness?”
“Actually, yes,” he shot back, a hint of pride creeping into his tone. “We learned survival tactics during boot camp. I was in some pretty tough environments, and if I can survive those, I can get us out of here.”
“Right, because dodging bullets is the same as avoiding getting lost in the woods,” I replied dryly, but a part of me acknowledged the strength he had gained from those experiences.
“Hey, it’s not just about dodging bullets,” he continued, his tone earnest. “It’s about staying calm, assessing the situation, and finding a way out. I can do that, Amelia. Just give me a little credit.”
I paused, crossing my arms as I considered his words. “I get that you’ve been through a lot, Caiden. But this isn’t boot camp. We don’t have a drill sergeant yelling at us to keep moving.” My voice softened. “We’re alone out here, and it’s terrifying.”
He turned to me fully, the sunlight filtering through the trees casting a halo around his features. “I know it’s scary, but we’re stronger than we think. Just remember what I said about staying calm. We’ll figure this out.”
A silence settled between us. But before I could respond, a sudden rustle in the underbrush caught our attention, making both of us jump.
“What was that?” I whispered, instinctively stepping closer to him.
“Probably just a squirrel or something,” he replied, but I could see the tension in his jaw. “Or maybe a bear. You know, since you’ve been so loud.”
“Very funny,” I muttered, my heart racing as I scanned the trees, half-expecting something to leap out at us. “This isn’t helping.”
“Relax. I’m just trying to lighten the mood.” He stepped forward, and as he did, he tripped over a hidden root, stumbling and nearly falling into a thicket of brambles. “See? Just nature trying to keep us on our toes.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, despite the situation. “Well, at least you’re good for a laugh. If we make it out of here, I’m going to make sure you sign up for wilderness survival classes.”
“And if we don’t make it out, at least I’ll have a great story about how I was taken down by an angry bush.” He grinned, and for a moment, the tension between us felt lighter.
As we continued walking, the terrain began to change. The path narrowed, and the trees closed in around us, creating an almost claustrophobic atmosphere.
Just then, we came upon a section of the forest where the ground was covered in thick, tangled vines and underbrush, the path completely obscured.
“Great,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now we have a jungle to contend with. Just what I needed.”
Caiden scanned the area, his expression serious. “It looks like this might lead us toward the river if we can get through. But it’s going to be messy.”
“Messy sounds about right,” I replied, eyeing the thicket warily. “Do you really think we can push through this?”
“Sure, why not? It’ll be an adventure,” he said, his tone teasing but with an undercurrent of determination. “I’ll go first. Just follow my lead.”
“Of course you will,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “What do I look like, your sidekick?”
“Hey, sidekick or not, I’m still leading the way.” He stepped forward and began to push aside the thick vines. They snapped back, slapping against his arms, and he winced, but he pressed on, determination etched across his features.
“Okay, but if you get stuck, I’m not pulling you out,” I called after him, a hint of sarcasm masking my concern.
“Only if you promise to take a mental picture of my glorious demise,” he replied, his voice muffled by the tangle of foliage.
I followed close behind, trying to navigate the snaking vines that seemed intent on tripping me.
As I moved, I caught my foot in a particularly stubborn root, and before I knew it, I was tumbling forward, crashing into the dense underbrush.
“Fuck,” Caiden turned, his expression was a mix of alarm and amusement. “You good?”
“Just peachy!” I shouted back, struggling to untangle myself from the vines that had ensnared my legs like a trap. “You know, this is exactly what I signed up for.”
“Need a hand?” he asked, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Only if you plan on pulling me out without getting stuck yourself!” I retorted, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.
“Alright, alright, let me see what I can do.” He stepped forward, crouching down as he reached for me, careful to avoid getting caught in the vines himself.
“Just be careful,” I warned, a flash of concern crossing my mind. “These things are like living creatures.”
“I’m not afraid of a little greenery,” he said, and with a swift tug, he pulled me free.
I stumbled forward, regaining my balance as I turned to face him.
“See? Easy peasy,” he said, brushing off his hands as if nothing had happened.
“Yeah, if by ‘easy peasy’ you mean nearly face-planting into a bush, then sure,” I replied, shaking my head. “You’re a real pro at this.”
“Just wait until we find the river,” he said, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “That’ll really be something to see.”
“I’m sure it’ll be breathtaking,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Especially if we end up as bear bait on the way there.”
“Optimism isn’t your strong suit, is it?” he quipped, nudging me with his elbow as he stepped ahead again.
“Optimism doesn’t come naturally when you’re navigating through a jungle of doom,” I shot back, feeling my irritation simmer beneath the surface. “But I guess I should thank you for the guided tour.”
“Anytime, Amelia. Just think of this as character building.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes again.
“Character building? More like a crash course in how to get lost and potentially die,” I said, glancing around at the impenetrable thicket. “What’s next? An obstacle course of angry wildlife?”
“Now that sounds fun.” he replied with mock enthusiasm. “Let’s add some fire-breathing dragons while we’re at it.”
“Perfect. I’ll bring the marshmallows,” I said dryly, pushing through another thick patch of vines that seemed to reach out and grab at my clothes.
Caiden rolled his eyes and shook his head as we continued to push through the tangled underbrush, our banter a temporary reprieve from the reality of our situation.
We pressed on until the underbrush relented and the woods yawned open, exposing a clearing bruised with sunlight and trailing mist.
Here, the wilderness felt less like a deathtrap and more like a sick joke. An endless stage for our misery.
Caiden stopped at the clearing’s edge, scanning the tree line with a narrowed gaze. I caught up, shoving past a curtain of wet leaves, my shoes squelching their disapproval.
He pointed to the right. “See that? Looks like a trail.”
It looked like nothing. A faint rut in the grass, half-swallowed by new growth and the detritus of storms. I wanted to tell him this was pointless, that wilderness didn’t yield to willpower.
But I was too exhausted to argue, so I just followed him, each step a silent dare to the universe to try harder.
We moved in a daze, careful not to make the pain of hunger and thirst the center of conversation, though it gnawed at us with every step.
I began to fixate on the brutality of it: the ache in my temples, the gritty burn in my throat, the way every tree looked like the last, and how the world had shrunk to the space between my back and Caiden’s.
I hated how much I needed him out here. I hated that I couldn’t even hate him fully, not anymore, not after he’d dragged me from the river, hauled me through panic attacks, and caught me when I nearly flung myself to a rocky death.
But I still despised him, and I could sense that he despised me too despite our briefness of bickering and teasing earlier.
Dusk arrived with no fanfare, only the gradual suffocation of light as the sky bruised itself from blue to black.
We finally broke free from the grasp of the thick brush, stumbling into a clearing where the ground sloped downward in a shallow bowl.
For a moment, we just stood there, staring at the emptiness as if the earth had finally given up and caved in on itself.
“We’ll camp here,” Caiden muttered, not even bothering to ask for my input.
I watched him work, the way his arms flexed, and shoulders hunched, the deliberate menace in every movement. I wondered if he would ever tire of playing the martyr, the soldier.
The silence was absolute save for the crackling of twigs and Caiden’s occasional muttered curses.
At some point, he managed to get a small fire going.
Still, it drew my eyes like a beacon.
He sat opposite me, knees drawn up, the fire a tiny no-man’s-land keeping us from tearing each other apart.
The fire spat a cinder into my lap, and I brushed it away, hissing. “Nice campground, Rambo.”
He barked a harsh laugh. “You want to sleep in a mud pit, or you want to freeze to death? Not a lot of options, unless you want to try your luck with the wolves.”
I stared into the flames for a while, not trusting myself to speak. I could feel the old bitterness pooling in my chest, threatening to spill out if I wasn’t careful. All the unresolved shit between us rose up with the smoke, making me dizzy.
I watched Caiden’s face through the haze of heat, the way his lips pressed thin with concentration, eyes darting every so often to my hands, my knees, my face.
“Well?” he finally said, voice low and unsteady. “You gonna stare at me all night, or should I build a fucking shelter, so you don’t whine about the dew?”
I didn’t answer. I was busy trying not to think about my body, or the way my mind kept circling back to the same thought: we’d been out here for a few days, and no one was coming for us.
I wondered if Caiden had figured it out, too. He looked as ragged as I felt. He was a dying campfire, smoldering with just enough rage to keep himself moving forward.
He started stacking branches around the fire, forming a crude shelter. Each stick he jammed into the ground was a little more violent than it needed to be, as if he could punish the world into giving us better odds.
I watched him work, unable to help myself: the way he’d sweat through the armpits of his t-shirt, the way mud streaked his jaw, the way his hands shook a little when he thought I wasn’t looking.
A clump of wet ash collapsed, sending sparks spiraling up. For a while, neither of us spoke. The sky was ink, punctured by the faintest scattering of stars. Every so often an animal shrieked in the distance. A fox, a night bird, something dying.
At last, I broke. “You hate me, don’t you?” I asked, and the firelight made my face feel raw, exposed.
He didn’t answer right away. He poked at the fire with a stick, sending up a shower of sparks. “Does it matter?”
“It does to me.” The air between us seemed to contract, heavy with everything we’d never said. “You could have just left me back there. Why didn’t you?”
Caiden stared into the fire so long I thought he hadn’t heard. “Because I don’t want to be like him,” he said, barely louder than the wind. “I don’t ever want to be like him.”
The “him” hung between us, a specter that made me shiver more than the cold.
The words landed like a stone in a pond, sending out silent ripples. I opened my mouth to argue, but it was useless. We’d spent so much energy fighting the people who made us that we’d forgotten who we were.
Maybe there was nothing left.