Anyone? (22 page)

Callie clawed her way up my chest and poked her head out through
the opening of my jacket. Her head rested below my chin. She seemed content to
stay right there, looking around, and I was grateful I didn’t have to fight
her.

Streaks of sunlight danced across the ground, peeking
between bent trees and damaged homes. I stuck to the shadows, moving from one
dark spot to another, not daring to test out the sun’s strength. Not yet. My
arm ached, but in the scheme of things, it meant nothing. It actually felt good
to focus on the physical pain, because my mental pain threatened to tear me
apart.

I picked up the pace, skipping between buildings, dodging
the light.

The very moment the sun slipped beyond the horizon, casting everything
in darkness, I held onto the straps of my backpack and started running down the
middle of the road. My feet hit the cracked pavement, beating out a painful
rhythm that matched my heart. Warm air whipped my hair around my face, and
loose strands hung in my eyes.

Tears screwed with my vision, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t
know where I was going, but that didn’t matter either. Not now.

After miles of intense sprinting, carrying a heavy backpack
on my aching shoulders and with a cat clinging to my shirt for dear life, I
dropped to my knees under an elm tree. Lightning had split the large trunk in
two and the branches fell in the shape of an M, touching the ground on either
side.

Sobs tangled with my jagged breath, and I hit the dead trunk
with my fists before pressing my face against the rough surface.
Damn it!
I wiped at my tears, but only succeeded in smearing Dylan’s blood across my
cheeks.

I’d only known of his existence for a little more than a
day, and yet, his impact had been huge. His words, his illness... left me
reeling.

I allowed the bag to fall from my shoulders, and leaned my
back against the trunk of the tree, hugging Callie’s warm little body to me.
She didn’t fight me, and I rubbed my wet cheeks against her furry head while I
continued to cry. Maybe she’d sensed my need. Whatever caused her to allow my
affection, I appreciated it.

Had she rebuked me, I wasn’t sure I could have handled it.

Being alone and afraid really
really
sucked.

I shuffled along, putting one foot in front of the other. My
thoughts rolled around inside my head without latching onto anything for more
than a few seconds at a time, which might have been a good thing. The moon lit
my way for most of the night, but when it disappeared completely behind dark
clouds, I took my first break in hours, and searched through the pockets of my
backpack. I knew I’d put a flashlight in there somewhere, but I couldn’t find
it. I could have sworn I’d packed it in the same spot as my first-aid kit and
knife.

My fingers wrapped around a thick elastic band, something unrecognizable,
and I removed the odd item—a headlamp.
Ok-ay.
I switched the buttons on
top and the bright LED lights came to life, forcing me to blink and look away
to let my eyes adjust.
I don’t remember packing this.

Cole had insisted a headlamp would be the way to go, freeing
my hands, but I’d wanted the mini-flashlight instead because the headlamp
squeezed my skull. I turned it over several times. No, I hadn’t packed it, but I
slipped it on my head anyway and tweaked the beams. Light was light.

The six-foot area around me brightened as I turned my head
from one side to the other, taking in my surroundings. Everything looked a lot
better in the dark—less depressing. I sighed, but kept the lamp on, the desire
to see outweighing the desire to hide from the destruction around me. I’d have
to keep in mind the battery life, because this sucker had to get me to Rockport
Lodge, and I didn’t know if Cole had packed fresh batteries in his haste to
steal my flashlight and replace it with the headlamp.

The tiny beam of light fell on my backpack, hitting it just
right, and a brown bottle in the mesh side-pocket gave me pause.
What the
heck?
I knew for a fact I hadn’t put it there. First the headlamp, now this?

Cole had administered the antibiotics for my infection since
I had a canny way of forgetting to take my medications. Even though I felt
better, he insisted I needed to finish out the regimen to be safe. For once, he’d
actually taken the adult approach.

Several pills rattled inside the plastic container, and I
whipped my head around, casting light into the darkness.

The reflection made it impossible to see too far into the
distance, so I reached up and switched the light off. A few bushes down the
block swayed, and my breath caught in my throat. “Cole?”

Both my heart and expectations fell when the light breeze
stopped and the bushes stilled. They only moved when the wind blew.
Damn.

I wasn’t nuts. He had to have followed me, at least part of
the time, because the headlamp and the bottle of antibiotics weren’t in my bag
when I’d left him back at the mall. I’d been in such a hurry to get away from
him, I hadn’t thought far enough ahead to realize we had split the heavier
items—he had the tent, I carried the camp stove; he had the ax, I had the tarp
in my pack; he had my antibiotics, I carried his gum. We’d planned to hike to
Rockport together, a team, but I’d ruined that by being a stupid teenage girl, determined
to prove how right I was.

I wasn’t right and knew it now.

Nothing good had come from leaving him. Nothing at all.

I slipped my leg through the loop of Callie’s leash, giving
her a bit of freedom, then turned the headlamp back on and decided to take a
closer look at my backpack. Each unzipped pocket produced something new—a cigarette
lighter, a package of M&Ms, a bag of granola, and a piece of paper folded
into a tiny square—none of which I had placed there.

He must have shoved stuff into my pack when it sat outside
the garage door, but how? The sun had fried me; it would have blistered and
boiled him. Despite the logistics of it being impossible, I was grateful to
know he’d been close by.

It also saddened me. Had we been together, we might have
been able to help Dylan.

No more crying.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes for a
moment, pushing aside thoughts of my reckless decisions leading to reckless
results. Knowing there might have been a chance, however slim, would always
haunt me.

I hadn’t eaten anything since my meal with Dylan, but didn’t
feel like stomaching any of the snacks Cole had snuck into my bag. I shoved the
food items and cigarette lighter back in my pack, but held onto the folded
piece of paper. It drew my interest more than any of the other things he’d
given me.

I carefully opened it, making sure not to rip the paper, and
aimed the beams on the headlamp to make out his scrawled handwriting.

Tess,

I’m sorry.

I’m nearby if you need anything. I’m nearby if you don’t.

I’ll leave it up to you to let me know.

-Cole

I undid Callie’s leash from my ankle, hooked her to my
backpack, and scrambled to my feet. White light from my headlamp swiveled as I
turned in a circle, searching the darkness for any signs of him. What did he
mean by nearby? How nearby was he?
Please be really nearby.

He could say insensitive stuff to me. He could call me a
kid, and do dumb things like push me around in a cart and throw chocolate bars in
my direction. I no longer cared. I just wanted him here with me.

“Cole!” My voice carried in the cool air. I waited and
listened for his response, expecting him to clamber from the shadows at any
moment. Bushes and trash rattled around with the breeze, and I turned my head
with each movement, ready to have him back... wanting him back.

But every noise left me disappointed.

I snapped off the headlamp and strained to catch any sound indicating
he had heard me. “This is me letting you know!”

Still nothing.

Where is he?

Callie meowed and rubbed against my ankles, but I ignored
her. I held the letter in my tight fist and called his name again. He’d given
me a lifeline I didn’t deserve—childish behavior he had every right to ignore—and
I wouldn’t abuse it this time.
Please don’t ignore me.

I thought I could leave him, leave Dylan, and do this all on
my own. How had I ever thought I could find Dad without anyone’s help? Dylan’s
death had destroyed my resolve, and shattered my false bravado. At one time, I
may have been able to do it all—climb the mountain, save Dad and Toby—but now,
I doubted it.

My anger and ego seemed to get me into unnecessary trouble.

I waited and watched. Seconds turned into minutes and
minutes started piling on top of one another, ticking by. Callie scratched at
my leg, demanding attention. She meowed and clawed at me until I gave in.

I sighed. “He’s not coming back, is he?”

She stood on her back legs and stretched up. I scooped her
into my arms, dug a piece of dried meat out of my pack, and then tucked her and
the treat inside my jacket.

I’d stood there long enough, knowing I should go, but still looked
around one final time. “Please, Cole,” I whispered. Tears rimmed my eyes, but I
bit my lip and refused to cry.

I’d made this stupid choice, leaving him behind. Now I had
to live with it.

I grabbed my pack and slipped my arms through the straps. It
felt so much heavier than when I had carried it before, but I shifted it to a
more comfortable spot on my shoulders, and started walking.

The sun would rise soon, and I needed to find a place to
stay until I knew the rays wouldn’t burn me like before.

Callie snuggled inside my coat, my backpack hung from my
shoulders, and Cole’s note remained crumbled in my hand.

I couldn’t let go of it.

Over half the derailed train lay toppled on its side. A
large portion of the connected cars slid down the hill and the first few in
line disappeared into the ravine below—a domino effect that only seemed to end
when the engine hit the river’s bottom. Maybe broken train cars wasn’t the
safest place to hole up, but given my options—which were none—I chose to call
it home for the day.

A few cars remained upright on the tracks, and I refused to
think about how little it would take for the boxcars below to shift and tug the
others off the rail. Yeah, I tried not to think about that at all.

The sun revealed itself over the top of the distant
mountains, and its rays highlighted everything to the west, crawling toward me
as it grew higher in the sky. The rickety train would have to shelter me, so I
removed my pack and tossed it in through one of the open doors before gripping
the ladder.

Callie screeched from inside my jacket, the lucky feline
riding in comfort as I walked all night, and I shushed her. “It’s okay. I’ve
got you.” I gave her a reassuring pat.

My shoulders ached from carrying the backpack, and when I
reached from one ladder rung to another, a burning sensation rocketed across my
shoulder blades. In shape people, who worked out in gyms lifting weights and
drinking protein shakes, should be the doomsday survivors. They had it going
on. Not people like me, who enjoyed TV marathons and used sweatpants for
pajamas. Somehow this was all backward, but despite the pain, I managed to work
my tired body into the empty train car.

The left side doors slid closed easy enough, but the ones on
the right side wouldn’t budge, which was probably for the best since it allowed
some light to enter, instead of casting me into stifling darkness. I dragged my
bag to one end, as far from the doors as possible, and flopped down with my
back against the wall. I’d never been so tired.

Callie poked her head out through the top of my jacket,
meowed, and then licked my chin.
So sweet.
I kissed the top of her furry
head. “As long as we’ve got each other, we’ll be okay.”

I had to believe that.

“You’re not sleepy anymore, are you?” I unzipped my jacket
and placed Callie on her feet. She arched her back and stretched out the kinks
in her limbs, then took a few tentative steps, exploring the confines of the
train car. “I know you want to play, but I’ve got to get some sleep.” As if on
cue, I yawned, proving the depths of my exhaustion.

I kicked off the boots from my aching feet and set them to
the side. Marin Peterson wouldn’t want them back, not in this shape, but she’d
be impressed with how well they’d held together. My feet were thankful for the
release, and I wiggled my toes inside my dirty socks. I removed those as well,
made a ball with them, and tossed it to my cat. She attacked it and batted it
around. A sad smile curved my lips. She’d be fine.

Sleep pulled at my eyelids, so I rummaged through my pack, yanked
out my sleeping bag, a bottle of water, and a packet of cat food. After setting
Callie up with the essentials, I tied her leash to the pack good and tight and
placed some newspaper in the corner.

“Sorry, girl, but if I don’t get some sleep, I won’t be any
good for either of us.” I shook out the sleeping bag and crawled inside. No
matter that the wooden floor wasn’t comfortable at all, because the very act of
stretching out my body and being off my feet drew a contented sigh from my lips
and I closed my eyes.

I hoped for dreams to come and carry me away from reality, but
didn’t fully expect them to.

I hadn’t dreamt in a long time, and began to wonder if I remembered
how.