Anyone? (17 page)

Warm artificial blueberry slid down my throat, but I kept
drinking, not realizing how thirsty I’d been. “So... where do we begin?”

He tossed his empty bottle in a trash receptacle and took a
moment to look around the store that sold everything from shotguns, fishing
gear, and yoga mats to dart boards, athletic cups, and sport shoes.
“That
would be a very good question.”

During the small amount of time it took me to loop Callie’s
leash around a clothing rack, Cole managed to get distracted. A familiar dribbling
and bouncing came from the back of the store, and I sighed in frustration. He
was supposed to check out the sleeping bags, not play basketball.

“I need one of these!” he said when he spotted me watching
him shoot hoops. He dribbled the ball to the painted free-throw line, turned,
and made a fast break to the basket. One long stride into his run, he leapt
into the air and slammed the ball through the hoop. The glass backboard
trembled.

“Seriously, this is coming back with me to the hanger.” He
grabbed the ball and spun it around on his finger. “You ever play?”

“I’ve played a little.” I knew more about basketball than I
did camping. Having a dad and an older brother who were into sports gave me an
advantage over other girls my age.

“Show me.” He tossed the ball in my direction.

I barely had time to catch it—thank heavens for quick
reflexes—or it would’ve hit me square in the chest. “It’s been awhile. I might
be rusty.” A lie. I positioned my hands on the ball, just as Dad taught me, and
arched it from my angled position near some golf clubs. With a
whoosh
,
it went straight through without hitting the rim. All net, baby!

“Nice!” Cole ran after the ball before it knocked over a
table stacked with discounted Nikes and water bottles. He tucked it under his
arm and approached me. “You have officially earned my respect with that shot.” He
patted the top of my head.

I narrowed my eyes and moved away to get him to stop
touching me like a pet. “You didn’t respect me before?”

He shrugged. “No, not really.”

“Wow
, I had no idea. That’s kind of hurtful.”

“Hey, I didn’t say I didn’t like you, because I do, sort of,
but respect has to be earned. Now, you’ve sunk a basketball. You have my
respect.”

“That’s all it takes, huh?” I smiled, batted the ball out of
his hands, and dribbled it past him. I went for a layup and he jumped to block
it, but I curved my body and made the basket easy enough.

“You’re good. I can honestly say I didn’t expect that.” He
winked and placed the basketball back in the bin with the others. “Should we
check out the tents? Start there?”

He could be so exasperating but I nodded. We needed to
start
somewhere, do something. “We’ll need a light one, easy to carry, but also heavy
duty in case of bad weather.”

“True.” He unzipped one of the large tents on display,
getting distracted again before climbing inside. “So I guess this one is out of
the question?” He poked his head out the door. “I like the built-in awning.”

He had to be joking, but the look on his face kept me
guessing. “It’s nice.” I treaded slowly in case he was actually serious. “But
it’s a lot bigger than we need and it will be way too heavy to carry.” A three-room
tent on a hiking trip? And I was hoping Cole would help me to get to Rockport
Lodge alive? What was I thinking?

“I’m not an idiot, Tess. I was messing with you. It sure is
nice though, isn’t it?” He grabbed my hand before I could protest, and jerked
me inside. The plastic bottom caught one of my boots and I tumbled forward. He
reached out to catch me, but we fell over and ended up in a pile of tangled limbs.

There really wasn’t anything too funny about the whole
thing, just a stupid mishap, yet I started laughing, a little at first, but
then it grew into something I couldn’t stop, something that began to scare me. The
look on Cole’s face didn’t help, and the more I tried to curb it, the worse my
laughter became.

“You’re really weird.” He shifted out from under me, scooted
a little ways off, and stared at me as though I’d lost my damn mind.

Maybe I had.

My laughter became maniacal and I rolled to my side, so he
couldn’t look at me while I tried to get myself under control.
What is going
on?
Another panic attack?
Really?
But I was doing okay. Everything
was fine!
I
was fine. We were making plans, moving forward, which was a
good thing. So why this now?

My second panic attack in less than a week, two since
meeting Cole—but only one of many since Mom died.

“Are you... okay?”

I couldn’t talk and my attempt to nod looked like a seizure.
I had never laughed so hard—and over nothing.
Nothing.
My stomach hurt
so bad! My chest burned. My eyes blurred.

“You’re kind of freaking me out here.”

Yeah, well, I was kind of freaking myself out.

Another round of uncontrollable giggles took over my body,
shaking my shoulders and squeezing my belly to the point I thought I might pee
or throw-up. I pinched my inner thigh, trying to trick my mind into focusing on
the pain, but it didn’t seem to make a difference. I didn’t understand what was
happening or even
why
it was happening now. Nothing had triggered it. I
pinched harder.
Stop it! Stop it!

“Jeez, you’re not okay, are you?” He placed his hand over
mine, stopping me from inflicting more pain to myself. “It’s okay. I’ve got
you.” He lifted my convulsing body into his arms and pressed my head against
his shoulder. “It’s been a rough couple of days, I get that.”

A rough couple of days?
It had been a rough couple of...
years.

Yes, I had survived a catastrophic meteor shower and two
months living underground. Yes, I had outlived a deathly tornado and bowling ball-sized
hail that ripped everything apart in its path. And yes, I was planning to climb
a freakin’ huge mountain and live in a tent!
A tent!
But all of that, as
crazy and huge as each of those things was, none of them compared to everything
else I had survived to this point. All those memories came rushing over me,
hitting me one right after another, unexpected.

The crazy apocalyptic disaster may have only been a few months
old, but my life had been spiraling out of control long before the first meteor
struck—ever since the police came to the door and told us they had found Mom’s
body.

There was nothing funny about remembering her death, or the
fact that Dad took a shovel that same night and started digging a hole in the
backyard, or Toby punching several holes in the walls, breaking multiple bones
in his hand. Nothing at all, but I couldn’t freakin’ stop laughing! Only it
wasn’t laughter, not really.

“Tess”—he cupped my face and forced me to look at him—”we’re
gonna be fine. Yeah, we might have to eat bugs and wade through poison oak, but
we can handle it.
We can.
We’ll be together, slapping mosquitoes off
each other’s backs and hunting rabbit and picking wild berries.”

Hunting rabbit?

“And we have all this awesome stuff to make it a whole lot
easier.” He waved his arm around to indicate the store, but cupped my face again
as if my head might explode if he didn’t. “Sure, it won’t be like staying in a
five-star hotel, but we’ll make it work. They have thermal socks that keep feet
dry. We’ll have dry feet!” His eyes widened, showing his excitement. “Won’t
that be great?”

Was I supposed to stop my hysterical laughter over socks? His
attempt to calm me had the opposite effect and I blubbered and chuckled until
hiccups gripped my body. I had no idea what to make of myself, so how in the
world was he supposed to understand that my laughter, my tears, my craziness,
only had a small part to do with tackling a mountain and everything that went
with it?

He held my face between his hands, and looked at me,
really
looked at me. “That’s not what you’re worried about is it?”

A little snort slipped through my lips despite my effort to
force it back. It began to bud into more giggling and laughing. Could he see my
pain in my eyes? Could he?
Help me.

His mouth captured my own, colliding without warning, and my
laughter and hiccups vanished as surprise and disbelief rushed in to take their
place. My breath hitched in my throat, but I found I didn’t mind. Not at all.

A wonderful unexpectedness.

Maybe I should have pushed him away, slapped him, stopped
the very thing we’d told each other couldn’t happen, but I didn’t. I didn’t
want it to stop. My fingers weaved themselves through his dark curls, trying to
take from him as much as he was trying to take from me.

His hands framed my face, held my neck, and the back of my
head as our kiss heated and intensified—his hands always moving to hold me
closer. His whiskers tickled the sensitive skin around my mouth, pleasurable
and strange all at once, and the sensation of it held me captive as his hungry lips
played with mine, teasing and commanding—straining, tugging, and drawing me
closer and closer with his mouth, until my chest slumped against his, melding
into him. Natural and effortless.

Sensations ignited my body, heightening my senses. The world
faded away, and nothing else mattered, not empty malls or looming mountains or
vanishing people or haunting memories. His heart thumping against mine and his
breath giving air to my lungs became my only need. Yes, I wanted this. Yes, I
needed this. Right now. Right here.

I didn’t want to lose myself again.

But his hands slipped from my face and wrapped around mine,
drawing them away from his hair. He brought our clasped hands between us,
kissed my fingers, and then eased himself from me. My lips had never felt so light,
as though they might float away like a single balloon released into the air.

When he let go of my hands, I knew it was over. Whatever it
was we’d started had come to an end, and that frightened me more than knowing
where it could have gone.

He avoided my eyes, and a crushing awareness crept through
my veins and settled in my chest. A battle of morality wreaked havoc inside me,
and as I watched him, the struggle was apparent on his sober face, too. We both
felt it—a need, a want, a taboo.

If kissing was wrong, I didn’t care. I didn’t! But I had no
idea how to explain that to him. He wasn’t a bad person, if that’s what he
thought, for kissing me, and I wasn’t some stupid teen girl for wanting it, but
somehow it felt exactly like that.

He lifted me from his lap and sat me at his side. He bent
his legs, rested his arms across his knees, and stared at the unzipped opening,
his breathing labored but slowing with each intake and release. His face said
it all—he wanted me, but knew he couldn’t have me, and he was mentally beating
himself up for it.

I kept my eyes on him, not breathing, as I struggled to find
the right words to explain it was okay, but a small hiccup pressed through my
lips instead, breaking the lengthy silence.

“Well”—he glanced in my direction, but didn’t really look at
me—”I knew I had to do something to get you to stop being so weird.”

Huh?

“Glad it worked.” He stood and pushed the tent opening wide.
“I think I’m going to go check out the sleeping bags now. Maybe while I’m doing
that, when you’re up to it, you could look into getting us a camp stove and
some water purifying tablets.”

The tent flaps dropped into place as he disappeared from
view.

What is going on? Shouldn’t we talk or something?

I continued to sit there, staring after him, baffled and
perplexed by his words.

Because there was no way, even if he wanted to pretend it
didn’t happen, that he hadn’t felt it too.

Cole dropped his pants in the middle of the aisle and stood
there, wearing only his underwear while he flicked through a rack of athletic
shorts. He grabbed one off a hanger, held it up, then tossed it to the side
before looking again.

It took every ounce of will power not to ask what he was
doing, though my eyes kept wandering to him, betraying my curiosity. I wanted
to talk, to ease the tension between us, but if he wanted to act as though nothing
had happened, pretend the kiss had been nothing more than a ploy to get me to calm
down, what else could I do?

“Going for a run. Be back in a bit.” He slipped a pair of
black shorts over his hips, grabbed a pair of running shoes off the display,
and headed out into the main part of the mall. After a few minutes, the sound
of his feet hitting the floor echoed along the corridor, growing more intense
with each lap.

“What am I going to do, Callie?” I held the kitten in my
arms and rubbed her orange and white head. I debated whether to leave and go
about finding my family on my own—it would be a lot less weird without Cole—but
it would be terrifying to be alone. Not to mention a lot more dangerous.

The pros and cons of each choice equaled out. The best
solution was to go back to how things had been before—but was that even
possible?

My backpack stood ready—sleeping bag and pad, tent,
synthetic clothing, water pump, camping stove, matches, first aid kit, rifle,
knife, compass, map, ready-to-eat meals, flashlight, headlamp, coat, gloves,
thermal underwear, and of course, socks to keep my feet dry. I had nothing left
to do but wait until morning to be on my way.

It was too early to sleep, but too late to do much of
anything else. Since I didn’t relish meandering around a darkened building on
my own, exploring the mall was out of the question, but sitting on my butt and
listening to Cole run lap after lap around the place left much to be desired.

Ten metal darts poked out from a dartboard on display,
beckoning to me, and after I left Callie with a bowl of water and food, I
removed the darts and turned them over in my hands. I pressed one sharp point
to my palm, drawing a bead of blood, satisfied that they would serve my purpose.

The intended target hung on the wall, round and waiting, but
I had another target in mind. I chucked the darts, one at a time, at a stupid
mannequin, aiming for its shiny faceless head. The bridge of the nose, between
the eyes—perfect.

Several stuck and a few others missed the mark altogether,
but the very act of throwing sharp pointy things at an inanimate object
released a lot of pent-up frustration.

Take that!

The mannequin began to resemble a porcupine, and I couldn’t have
been happier. I’d finally found a way to deal with my feelings for Cole.
Strange, but cathartic.

I picked up the scattered darts from the floor, yanked a few
others free, leaving the mannequin dotted with my precision, and decided to
increase the distance to test my skill. Several steps back, I reared my arm, but
just before launching another round, I caught sight of a wide-eyed figure
stared through the store window. I dropped the darts, barely missing my toes.

I stumbled backward, bumping into a table, but kept my eyes
on the lanky boy, certain I had to be seeing things.

He inched closer to the store’s opening, slowly and
methodically, glancing down the mall corridor before returning his gaze to me. He
didn’t come inside, but remained at the edge.

Holy crap!

Tufts of black hair poked out from under the rim of the skater
cap he wore. His clothes hung from his thin frame, loose and baggy. Deep-set
circles encased the whites of his eyes, darkening his already mocha-colored
complexion. He couldn’t have been much older than I was, but he looked worn out
enough to out-age me.

I wished I could speak, scream, move,
something,
but
Cole’s name barely passed through my lips at a whisper.
Cole, Cole, Cole!

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He peered down the breezeway in
both directions as Cole’s running grew louder, his return closer with each
step. “I promise.”

“Okay.” I managed to answer.

He nodded toward our backpacks, leaning against the checkout
counter. “Where are you going?”

“I... we’re heading to Rockport Canyon in the morning.” Why
I revealed anything to him, I had no idea.

“Why?” Hope, more than curiosity, clung to his one word. He
leaned forward, waiting my response.

“Because that’s where my dad said he’d be.” More answers I
probably shouldn’t have been offering, but I couldn’t help myself. “I’m hoping
he’s still there anyway.”

His face fell, his glance turned from me, and I knew I hadn’t
answered him in the way he’d hoped. “Oh.”

“He’s coming back,” I said as Cole’s steps hit the final
stretch.

The boy glanced behind him before shifting and blending into
the shadows, disappearing. My shoulders tensed and I took a small step. I
couldn’t see him, and almost wondered if he’d left, but when I made out his
faint outline, relief enveloped me. He wasn’t gone, and there was something
rather comforting in knowing that.

He didn’t say anything, and I didn’t either, not even when a
shirtless Cole flew past, running at an incredible speed. Cole’s footsteps
faded again, and I worried I’d made a mistake not calling after him. This boy
said he wouldn’t hurt me, but still...

His arrival was huge, and Cole should be involved, but for the
moment, I wanted to keep this secret to myself. While he continued to stay
hidden, I bent, grabbed a dart, and quickly returned to my regular stance with
the mini-weapon tucked behind my back.

Several seconds ticked by before he eased into the dim
light, scanning the area, and watching Cole’s retreating back. “Are there any others?”

“People?”

He nodded.

“No, it’s just the two of us. You?”

He hesitated. “No. I haven’t seen anyone else.”

“You’re all alone?”

He pulled his cap a little lower on his head. “Yeah, it’s
just me.”

“Do you... do want something to eat?” What do people say or
do in these kinds of situations? Offering food seemed like a good place to
start since he looked so thin and gangly. We were strangers, but we were also
part of an even stranger dilemma—me, him, Cole. “We don’t have much, but I
could make you something.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m not hungry. Thanks anyway.” He
snapped his head to the side. Cole’s running grew louder. He looked at me, then
back over his shoulder again.

“It’s okay. He’s nice, well, sometimes he is. Most of the
time he’s a jerk, but I—”

He didn’t wait for me to finish, but sprinted toward our
backpacks, snatched Cole’s, swung it onto his shoulder, and took off,
disappearing around the corner. His footsteps hopped the stairs several at a
time, skipping whole sections.

I ran out of the store, the dart still in my hand, and
leaned against the railing that looked over the first floor. The shadows
swallowed him up, and I couldn’t see him anywhere. “Don’t go! Please!”
Why
would he do that? Take Cole’s bag and leave? Why leave at all?

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere.” Cole swiped a hand towel
across his forehead before draping it over one shoulder. “I’m here.”

“No, not you!” I pointed over the railing below us. “Him!
The boy! He... he took your bag!”

“What?” Cole leaned over the railing too. “Where? Are you
sure?”

I nodded. “I swear!”

“Which way?”

I waved my arm, and he sprinted to the stairs, chasing after
the only other person I’d seen in several months. The railing pressed into my
belly as I leaned over it and strained to see or hear anything happening below.

Come on, find him!

I couldn’t make out anything in the dimness and tiny noises
seemed to ricochet off the walls, sounding louder than they actually were. I
had no idea what was happening.

When Cole returned a short while later—minus a boy and a
bag—my stomach coiled and melancholy settled over me.
Shoot!

He walked toward me with a look a parent gives a child caught
in a lie.

I shook my head before he could say anything. “No, I’m not
making this up! You’ve got to believe me! He was right here! I’m not kidding!”

“Tess—”

“He had baggy clothes and a skater hat. You know the ones?
They wear them all the time, even in the summer, though they look like winter
hats? He seemed tired and hungry. We talked!”

This time Cole shook his head. “Did he look like that?” He
pointed to a life-sized poster of a teen boy modeling the latest rue21 clothing
line. The model wore a knitted hat and baggy pants, and looked a lot like my
description, except for the fact the teen on the poster was Caucasian!

“I know the difference between a poster and a real person,
Cole!
Give me some credit here.”

“I didn’t see anyone, Tess. Not a soul. It’s lonely and scary,
living like this, and I can see where you might mistake a picture as a real
person. The mind can be a tricky bastard sometimes, especially after the giggling
fit you had. You may be experiencing some sort of residual effect here, and
that’s okay. I’m not judging you.”

No. Way.
“For the last time, I saw a
real
person!
He stood right here!” I marched over to the exact spot the boy had been
standing when we spoke, and I used both hands to indicate the floor and make my
point. “He took your bag. Go check for yourself!” How would he explain that?
Residual
effect, my behind!

I followed him inside all the while getting the feeling he
was only humoring me. Sure enough, only one bag leaned against the checkout
counter.

“There! See? I told you! No poster could’ve made that
happen.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before giving me
a stern look which reminded me a bit like my father.
Yikes!
“This isn’t
a game, Tess. What did you do with my things?”

My eyes widened. “What? I didn’t... are you accusing me?” I
threw my hands in the air. “I didn’t do this!”

“And I suppose you didn’t do that either, right?” He nodded
toward the mannequin with a few darts still lodged in its head.

“That
I admit to, yes, but I didn’t take your bag!” I
exaggerated each word as though he were hard of hearing, because apparently he
was!

“Okay, I get it. I get you’re mad at me, but now you’re
being childish, and I don’t appreciate it.”

“Childish?”

“Yeah.” He stepped closer to me. “You’re a
kid
and
you’re acting an awful lot like one. And that is why, this”—he moved his hand
between us—”can never happen. You get it?”

So he
had
felt it? But I didn’t have time to think
about it, because he had everything wrong. I didn’t take his bag. I wasn’t a crazy
person who talked to posters!

“I’m going to go get ready for bed, because this has been a
very
weird day and I’m tired. While I’m doing that, you’re going to get my bag and
put it back next to yours.” He started walking toward the clothing racks, but
turned and looked at me as he shrugged. “Unless you don’t want me helping you
anymore. Just let me know, because I’m good either way.”