Chapter 50
RUE
“Noah, it’s freezing.” I shiver next to him, the concrete cold against my body.
Noah’s head is resting in his hands, his broad shoulders tremoring every so often in a way that has nothing to do with the mountain wind, I don’t think. The temperature is plummeting, though, and neither one of us has the right gear for this weather.
“Noah,” I whisper again, my teeth chattering so hard my jaw aches. “Noah, we can’t stay out here. It’s fucking freezing.”
He lifts his head, his eyes glassy and unfocused in the pale moonlight. He looks around the desolate graveyard of Black Jack Campground. I follow his gaze as he stills, and through the skeletal silhouettes of the Ponderosa pines, a dull glint of white catches my eye, too.
It’s an old, sun-bleached hunting camper, parked off the gravel in a patch of overgrown weeds. It looks like it hasn’t been moved since the nineties.
Noah doesn’t say a word. He just stands up, swaying for a second, and then pulls me with him. This is probably a horrible idea, but we stumble through the brush until we reach the door anyway. Noah pulls a knife from his boot, jamming the blade into the cheap aluminum lock.
My heart jumps. “There could be someone in there…”
Noah doesn’t answer me. He just twists the knife with a brutal, desperate grunt, and the metal snaps.
“Problem solved,” he mutters.
The door swings open, releasing a wave of stale, musty air smelling of old cedar and dust. But at least it’s out of the wind.
Noah steps up inside and then turns back to me. “It’s clear. Whoever normally stays here isn’t here tonight. Or at least for now.”
I glance around us, and then grab my backpack and the duffel bag from the bike.
I climb inside the camper trailer and then shut the door behind me.
It’s pitch black, but my hands find the edge of a small kitchenette, and past that, the sagging mattress of a built-in bed.
Noah practically collapses onto it, dragging me down with him.
“You didn’t have to get all that stuff,” Noah numbles, as it crashes to the floor beside us.
“Someone could’ve taken it,” I say, feeling Noah shiver beneath me. Worry funnels into my chest as I lift myself up and then place a hand on his forehead. “You feel… feverish.”
“I’m just fucking exhausted, Rue,” his voice strains.
I can’t see his eyes in the dark, but I find his jacket, unzipping it. “I have to look at your arm.”
He lets out a pained sigh, but then manages to pull off his hoodie. I pull the curtain back and stare at the bullet wound and the blackened bandage.
“Have you been taking those antibiotics?” I can’t remember the last time he did.
He nods, grimacing as I graze my fingers over the gauze. “Yeah, like I said, I’m just tired, Rue. This is exhausting. Everything about this is fucking exhausting.”
“I guess it’s a good thing, I’ve got you,” I choke out the words, leaning down and brushing my lips against his. He kisses me gently but doesn’t deepen it.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes, his voice a gravelly rasp. “I shouldn’t have brought you this far. I should have...”
“Don’t,” I cut him off, my chest tightening.
I don’t want to hear what he should have done.
I don’t want to think about the news report I saw on the TV in that gas station—the fact that they know my name, that they found Bill's body.
If I say it out loud in this tiny space, it will shatter the only thing we have left.
I have to protect him from that.
He reaches up, his calloused fingers wrapping around the back of my neck, pulling me into the heat of his chest. The adrenaline of the day hasn’t faded; it’s just mutated, turning into something completely exhausting.
We’re locked in a rusted box with the whole world hunting us, and the only thing that feels real is the pressure of his hands on my skin.
I reach up and kiss his lips gently, but it doesn’t go any further than that, both of us falling into a messy slumber.
I wake to the sound of what I think is the wind howling against the thin aluminum walls. Noah is asleep beside me, his chest rising and falling in deep, long breaths.
But as my mind clears of sleep, the wind morphs to a rumble—the kind that comes from a vehicle.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I quickly untangle myself from Noah, lunging for the bag on the floor. I sift through it, but never reach the cold metal of the gun before the door of the camper gives way. It creaks as it opens, and I hold my breath.
Oh my God.
I need to wake up Noah, but as the shadow eases into the camper, I can’t fucking move, my heart thumping against my ribcage.
“What the hell?” a deep scratchy voice explodes through the silence.
I open my mouth to speak, but then stop as Noah shoots upward, immediately awake. Though he doesn’t make a sound.
“Who the fuck do you think you are, breaking into my house?” the man snips again, this time, reaching over and hitting some sort of light.
The LED light illuminates the camper, and I squint into the bright light, as a man, not much older than us, stares back.
“It’s cold out there,” my voice sounds distant. “We thought this place was abandoned.” I don’t know where the hell I’m finding my story, but it’s working, because the man with reddish blonde hair and a beard to his chest nods.
“It is, but that doesn’t mean you go breaking into other people’s shit,” he snaps, though his expression softens.
I glance back at Noah then, who’s already in his hoodie, the hood pulled up and mostly shielding his face. He looks like he’s been sleeping more than trying to be sneaky, but all I can hope is that this guy doesn’t watch the freaking news.
“What time is it?” Noah’s voice comes out rough with sleep.
The guy shrugs. “Almost daylight.”
Noah nods. “Perfect, then we’ll get out of your hair. We were just trying to avoid the cold, like my wife said.”
Wife?
“Hmm,” the man’s eyes jump to me and then back to Noah. “That’s a hell of a bike you got out there. Tough ride out here though.”
“Yeah, we’re learning that the hard way,” Noah’s voice is clearer now. “I don’t think we’ll be doing it again.”
The guy laughs, his shoulders relaxing. “Want some coffee and breakfast before you go? I think I got some good shit. I’ll start a fire outside.”
I eye Noah, who looks like he’s on the verge of losing it, but then he surprises me.
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Cool. I’m Kirk.” The man nods, and then goes about rummaging through the cabinets, and what I realize is a fridge.
I stay seated at the edge of the mattress and slowly ease my hand out of the bag, watching the guy as he pulls out some sort of portable charger. He then fishes a phone out of his pocket, plugs it in, and then tosses both off to the side.
Noah lets out a sigh, and the guy, Kirk, turns to him.
“You guys like bacon and eggs?”
“Yeah,” Noah answers, his voice a little brighter. “You want some help with the fire?”
“Sure,” Kirk answers him, and then hands Noah the bacon and eggs, while he grabs the pan and utensils. I watch from a distance, and then the two of them disappear from the camper together.
My heart stays in my throat as I quickly gather our things and make sure we’re completely ready to go. Because, as nice as Kirk appears…
I don’t fucking trust him.