Drinking Life (Keeper of the Water Book 1) (17 page)

My eyes snap open to the deep boom of nearby snoring. I’m so suddenly wide awake that it’s confusing for me to tell if this is real or part of my dream. It’s dark and stuffy and I hear the distant sound of a rushing river and
hooting
owls. But all I have to do is turn to my side and I see Cassie dead asleep, her mouth hanging open, a small line of drool dripping down the side of her cheek, her snoring so resounding that I can almost feel the vibrations.

The details of my dream are clear on my mind. Unlike the other times, not a single detail fades from my memory and there are even things I remember from the dream that I hadn’t noticed while experiencing it—like the large gnarled tree near the women’s landing spot. This realization rocks my brain, as does the strong tingling sensation that surges in waves throughout my body. It feels as strong as the day I was in John’s backyard. I can’t stay where I’m at so I climb out of my sleeping bag and carefully step over Celeste, who sleeps in front of the tent’s exit. I expect her to wake up when I step over her but she remains sleeping while I slowly pull up the tent’s zipper.

A blast of chilly nighttime air hits my face. It feels good after breathing stagnant air inside the tent but I don’t want to be cold. I much prefer hot weather. My bag of clothes is on the other side of the tent and I don’t want to take the risk of making any more noise. Cassie’s bright orange vest is the only piece of clothing laying around so I grab it on my way out. It doesn’t exactly provide much protection from the cold but it’s better than nothing.

The night sky is clear, thousands of twinkling stars dotting the blackness above. But they provide little light on the ground; I suddenly wish for the burning torch from my dream. This thought leads me to some investigating and I head toward the river. I study the ground near the water and see a few rocks scattered about but none of them are in the positioned in the shape of a cross. I shake my head at myself.

“Did you really think your dreams were
real
?” I say aloud.

I head back toward our camp but keep imagining this place from my dream, the way the old keeper led us on this same path. Instead of going back to my tent, I continue along the same path taken by the tribe of women. The path the old keeper followed seems much more overgrown now, as I have to climb over several downed trees along the way, not so easy to do in complete darkness. But the slight tingle I felt earlier grows stronger with every step I walk, leading me toward some great discovery that will finally prove a link between my dreams and reality.

Or maybe it will just prove how irrational I am for thinking my dreams are anything but that: just dreams. Regardless of doubts I have, I soon hear the
babbling
of a tiny creek. My heart leaps at the sound but then sinks just as quickly. I thought the women in my dreams appeared to just be passing through the area but I hear the distant sounds of footsteps and whispering.

I stop, my heart beating quicker. Is this still part of my dream? Am I really still asleep? This certainly
feels
real but so had everything else from my dream. I try to look ahead but the night is dark and the trees block most of the moonlight. The whispers grow louder but I can’t hear what they’re saying. Instead of being frightened, I think of the tribe and how I seemed to fit in so well. I suddenly want nothing more than to join them, to learn about them.

“Hello?” I call out. The whispers come to a sudden stop. “I am one of you.”

I feel silly for saying this but when I don’t receive an answer, I worry that I’ve driven them away. I start to rush forward, hoping to catch the women before they disappear, pray that I find the keeper or the nicer ones instead of the women that clearly don’t like me. A burst of strength courses through me as I move like a blur; this is feeling more and more like a dream.

I slow when I reach the creek. The keeper and tribeswomen and nowhere to be found; there is no evidence that they’ve been here recently. Just before I think I’m totally crazy for thinking the dreams could be real, I see a faint sparkle of blue coming from the creek. The water isn’t nearly as blindingly blue as from my dream but the blue sparkle in the same spot can’t be coincidence, can it? I walk to the area where the old keeper entered the creek. The tingling sensation feels stronger than ever. I kneel and place my hand on the ground, a surge of life and energy exploding within my chest. I can’t quite explain the sensation but it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. The air smells fresher, the blue sparkles brighter, the
trickling
of running water is more pronounced against the silent background.

So are the sounds of rushing footsteps, which seem to shake the ground beneath me…

I turn around just in time to see a hulking figure clad in all black. None of the women from my dreams were
this
big. The figure takes a swing at me and I barely roll out of the way. My improved senses allow me to hear the
whoosh
of air just in front of my face, which narrowly avoids being smashed. My attacker swings again but I’m able to defend myself better once I pop up to my feet.

My suddenly improved senses let me see better in the dark and I transition from a defensive position to an attacking one. The attacker blends into the surrounding darkness—while my stupid orange vest undoubtedly makes me easy to spot—but I throw a kick that crushes into his shin and a punch to the face that drops him to the ground. He howls in pain but won’t be stopped so easily.

In one smooth move, the attacker pulls a knife out of his pocket and slashes at me with it. I put my hands up to defend myself and the sharp blade slices into my palm. My hand rips open and blood shoots out but adrenaline pumps through me, blocking the pain. The way he swings the knife rather than stabbing with it makes me wonder if he’s not trying to seriously injure me. Either way, I dodge the next attack and hit him with a combination of kicks and punches, dropping my bigger opponent to the ground. He swings his legs out and trips me but I land right near a stick, which I swing at him to knock him back down.

This time, he stays down, groaning in pain. I stand over him, raising the stick above my head, ready to strike him down if he tries anything else.

“What do you want with me?” I ask the hooded figure, who doesn’t answer. “Take off the hood.”

My attacker reaches for his black ski mask and starts to raise it.

“She’s not the one,” a second voice suddenly says just behind me.

In the split second before I turn, a single thought crosses my mind: I heard whispering in the woods earlier, of course it would be just
one
voice. I start to swing my stick around but never hit my intended target. Instead,
I’m
the one who can’t avoid the stick swung at my head. I barely feel pain as an explosion of light erupts just in front of my eyes. My body goes numb and I lose complete use of my legs. For a moment I black out but am jolted back to reality when my body jars against the ground.

Everything feels like it’s stuck in glue: my arms, my legs, my head, even my ability to think. I know something bad is happening but I can’t quite figure it out. My eyes have trouble focusing but my head is turned to the side anyway so there’s not much to see. Two distinct voices speak in the distance but I can’t recognize them or quite make out what they say. Consciousness is fleeting and as much as I want to protect myself, I know I’m at the mercy of the two attackers. I hope they aren’t about to finish me off…

Just before I pass out, my eyes focus for just a moment. I look over at my sliced hand, which still gushes blood. I’m lying just beside the creek and my hand falls into the water, my blood mixing amongst the lightly-sparkling blue. An intense tingling envelops my hand as my world goes completely black…

-
- - - - - - - - - - -

I’m standing guard just beyond the creek. I sense my fellow tribeswomen in the dark forest around me but they remain hidden in the shadows, just like me. God help anyone foolish enough to try attacking us. In my vision, I feel myself on edge, on high alert. Guard duty is usually boring and uneventful but I think someone is out there, despite my earlier claim that nobody lives around and we aren’t being followed.

I worry that someone is watching me. I can feel it in my bones. But I don’t see anyone out there—no movement, no sound. Whoever may be watching is as quiet—and probably as deadly—as us. I raise my bow and aim it toward the trees, ready to shoot at the first sign of danger. I wait tensely, ready to protect my keeper at whatever cost…

My vision of the dark forest begins to fade as my head pounds in pain. Something beneath me starts to vibrate lightly—more running footsteps. As I slowly return to consciousness, I once again hear the sounds of voices in the far distance, though they’re probably much closer to me than they sound. It’s hard to hear anything but the pounding of my heart and the ringing in my ears. I can’t muster the strength to move or talk or do anything but breathe in and out, in and out. The pain sends a wave of nausea crashing over me but I fight back the sickness.

The only thing I recognize about the voices is the harshness to them, the anger in them.

“You are making a mistake,” says one of the gruff voices. “She is one of
them
.”

This is the first and last thing I hear clearly. A rush of liquid suddenly runs down the back of my head. I worry that it’s blood—losing that much
can’t
be healthy—but I don’t think blood would feel that cool. My brain gives in to the pain and my grip on consciousness quickly fades. The last thing my mind registers before total blackness shrouds me is a pair of strong arms lifting me up, my body jostling as I’m carried away…

Someone shakes my shoulder light enough so I ignore it and continue sleeping. When I’m shaken harder, I snap awake, suddenly defensive. I don’t exactly recall what happened the night before but I remember the grave danger. That’s why I’m even more confused to be snuggled tightly in my sleeping bag, looking up at Celeste and the pre-dawn sky.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Dreaming, I suppose,” I answer groggily.

“Outside?” she asks. “I didn’t even hear you leave the tent last night. I guess it’s a good thing it was you that escaped, not Cassie. Though without Cassie’s snoring, I would’ve been able to hear better.”

“I…I…,” I start to say as I sit up. But I don’t know what else to add to that. My mind is in a fog. I
thought
I’d just been dreaming but now I’m not so sure. Either way, I have no idea how I ended up outside with my sleeping bag. I’m only a few feet from where our fire had been the night before.

I expect to feel an explosion of pain in my head from where I was hit—where I was
maybe
hit—but I rub the back of my head and feel no bump. I then remember my hand being sliced by the attacker. But when I check my palm, I find no cut. There
might
be a faint scar there or maybe that’s just a normal palm line. I’m convinced I’m going crazy until my body feels bulkier than usual—I’m still wearing Cassie’s bright orange life jacket, the sleeves of which are slightly damp.

“You really shouldn’t have slept out here, though,” Celeste says. “When I woke up and saw you gone, I was worried that you wandered off. I told you I had a bad feeling about choosing this camp site.”

“It’s okay, a lot of people camp around here,” I say before smirking. “They always have.”

“This is no place for a girl to go off on her own in the middle of the night. You never know what kind of dangers you could run into,” Celeste says.

If only she knew how right she is…

Celeste starts another fire to get breakfast ready. I climb out of the sleeping bag, fully expecting to be sore from a night sleeping outside as well as
whatever else
may have happened to me. But nothing could be further from the truth. Not only do I feel totally awake and refreshed, my muscles feel stronger than ever. I search around for more clues about what might have happened. I think I see tracks in the dirt leading away from our camp and toward the forest. I slowly walk toward the tree line and spot footsteps in my approximate size heading in the opposite direction. I scan the ground for any
other
footsteps but see none. I do, however, see a line of dirt next to my footprints that appears freshly swept.

“What are you looking for?” Celeste asks suspiciously.

Again I feel a strong urge to tell Celeste everything. I’ve had this feeling several times and in the back of my mind, I know a day will come when I spill my guts to her. But with Dad and Cassie and John nearby, I know that time isn’t now. Though last night is a mystery I might never solve, I’m apparently safe for the time being and nothing in camp appears out of place.

“Nothing,” I lie. “Just wondering if that trail leads anywhere.”

“I’m going to guess it leads somewhere into the woods,” Celeste says. She’s testy this morning; I’m sure she can’t wait for this tour to be over and for Cassie’s boyfriend to be out of her hair. I just hope she won’t always be so snippy toward me because of the almost-kiss she witnessed between John and me.

“Never thought I’d see you wear one of those,” Dad says as he emerges from his tent.

I immediately take off the orange jacket but it’s not soon enough. Surprisingly, Cassie wakes up as the sun rises and spots me wearing her life jacket.

“Why are you taking my stuff?” she snaps.

“Sorry, I was cold and didn’t want to wake you up last night by rifling through my stuff. I didn’t think you would care since the life jacket isn’t really
yours
,” I say.

I hold out the hideous jacket and she snatches it out of my hands; of
course
it makes her mad that I borrowed it. I swear she looks for any excuse to be annoyed with me. That was the first time I ever wore the orange jacket and I’m sure it’ll be my last.

“I doubt you looked as cute as me in it anyway,” she says. Cassie inspects the jacket more closely and her face puckers in disgust. “Eww! It’s all wet. What the hell were you doing in it? And is that
blood
on the sleeve?”

My heart sinks but when I look back down at my hand, I still see no evidence of being cut. I shrug and play dumb until Cassie leaves me alone. John is the last person to wake up. He stumbles out of his tent, looking totally exhausted. He might’ve passed all of my wilderness tests yesterday but he’s obviously not an early riser. Cassie is down by the river, avoiding the work of breaking down the tents and carrying supplies back to the raft and canoe. I’m excited to have a rare moment alone with John, even though my mind is still completely preoccupied with last night’s unknown events.

“How did you sleep?” I ask.

John is distracted; he looks around at everything but me. He doesn’t even answer the question until I repeat myself.

“Good, fine,” he says hurriedly. “You?”

I’m disappointed that he’s not as excited to have this free moment with me. I doubt he even notices my frown.

“Not too well,” I answer. “I ended up sleeping outside though I don’t remember how I ended up getting there.”

His searching eyes suddenly stop moving and glance toward the ground. Now I’m getting suspicious about why he won’t look at me.

John shrugs. “Maybe you’re just one of those… uhh… walking sleepers.”

His word choice makes me smile. He’s usually so smooth with everything he says that sometimes I forget English isn’t his first language.

“You mean sleep walkers?” I ask, affectionately touching his arm. I’m surprised by my flirtation but embarrassed when he recoils from my touch. “You wouldn’t happen to know how I got there, would you? I had the strangest dream last night that – ”

“That’s all very interesting,” John interrupts. The way he acts so dismissive causes me to blush; at least he doesn’t pay enough attention to me to notice. “Where is Cassie?”

It’s not just those three words that crush me, it’s how John says them. His voice is full of concern and need. It’s
not
the way one person would talk about someone that annoyed him. I point toward the river and his eyes go wide.

“Is she alone?” he asks.

But he doesn’t wait for my answer before taking off in that direction. I don’t know what to think, what to make of his sudden desire to be near her. Regardless of what he sometimes says or the way he acts towards me when we’re alone, it’s obvious now who he’s chosen. Maybe he
wasn’t
going to kiss me when Celeste interrupted yesterday. Maybe I just made the whole thing up in my mind. He knows how close Cassie’s mother is to my family so maybe he’s just been nice to me to win some points with Celeste. Either way, I feel like a total fool for thinking he would choose me over Cassie. I’m not going to let that happen again, though I probably take too much pleasure in the fact that Celeste spots John and Cassie together and hovers close enough so they can’t be alone.

“Stop doing this to yourself,” I whisper and force my eyes away from them.

“Who are you talking to?” Dad asks.

“Nobody,” I say and start to help him break down the tents.

John remains near Cassie until everything is packed and ready to go. When it comes time to board the raft and canoe, John joins Cassie and Celeste in the canoe. He still looks upset about something so Celeste doesn’t complain about the canoe being too crowded. As much as she dislikes John, she probably doesn’t want to deal with a day full of complaints as well as doing all the rowing by herself. I can’t blame her. It’s disappointing that John will go to such extremes to avoid me but I need that to help me move on.

“Time to heave off,” Dad says as we push back into the river. “We have another full day of activities planned, stops to make, hikes to – ”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ammo, but I’m not feeling well,” John interrupts. “I think it would be best if we just headed back.”

Dad frowns but nods in understanding. John has obviously felt ill since waking up; maybe
that’s
why he was so short with me. Still, it doesn’t make sense that he would go to Cassie instead of me. Does he think she would be more sympathetic than me about it? Do I give off such a ‘tough’ vibe that he didn’t want to appear weak in front of me?

For someone feeling so ill, John sure does a lot rowing. If Celeste had a rough time yesterday from going so slowly, she has the exact opposite problem today. John rows with the same intensity he and I had yesterday when we distanced the raft from the canoe. I try to keep the same pace but Dad struggles and the raft lags farther and farther behind. I don’t want to be angry with Dad but John seems to be challenging me to keep up and I
hate
losing.

At this speed, it’s only a few hours before we reach a familiar part of the river. In the distance, I see John and Celeste drag the canoe onto the shore just beyond the ‘Adventure Guides’ trailer. Cassie disappears with John heading toward our houses. Dad and I are only a few minutes behind. He is tired and out of breath once the raft touches ground but I don’t hang around long enough to help him carry stuff. I know I should just leave Cassie and John alone—it’s barely been a few hours since I vowed to move on from him—but he might not have been thinking clearly if he’s sick.

By the time I run through the woods and reach the parking area, the motorcycle
roars
away, the only thing left of John being a cloud of dust. Cassie stands there with her arms crossed. She’s clearly not pleased—even less so when she spots me—but I want to make sure nothing’s seriously wrong.

“Is everything okay with him?”

“Why do
you
care?” Cassie snaps. “He’s not
your
boyfriend so mind your own damn business.”

She spins and walks away, fully expecting to have the last word. But my emotions have run the gamut the last few days and I’m on edge as much as she is.

“And you really think he’s
yours
?” I snap back.

Cassie stops and turns back toward me. At first she looks surprised by my unexpected reaction—I’m a bit surprised, too. But that quickly turns to a look of utter scorn, as if she was looking at a mere peon who dared challenge her throne.

“You continue to prove how big of a moron you really are,” she says. “John and I are meant to be together. I thought you would’ve gotten that through your thick skull by now.”

I give the most scornful chuckle I can muster. “Do you really think he likes your whole cutesy, dumb girl routine?”

Though I’m taller than her by a head, Cassie doesn’t back down from me and walks threateningly toward me.

“And do you really think he likes your
manly
routine?” Cassie spits at me, her voice high-pitched and maniacal. “A girl who goes around beating up other guys?”

Cassie lowers her shoulder and bumps into me. Had I thought earlier about her doing this, I probably would’ve cracked up laughing. But Cassie is constantly full of surprises and she’s so strong that I stumble, nearly falling to the ground. Every instinct I’ve ever had was to protect her; right now, I ignore those instincts.

I scramble to my feet and rush toward her, fully intent on wiping that smirk from her face. But I didn’t notice Celeste nearby and she jumps between us before any punches are thrown. I expect Celeste to side with me—she knows better than anyone that Cassie is a terror, plus
she
knocked
me
down—but she holds
me
back like I’m the dangerous one. This angers me even more. I try to wiggle away but her grip is tight as a vice.

“Cassie, go inside,” Celeste orders.

Cassie storms off but of course she doesn’t go quietly.

“You’re going to regret trying to steal my boyfriend!” she yells.

“You know where to find me, little girl!” I yell back.

A part of me feels bad for arguing but my blood boils and I’m so sick of her attitude. Celeste doesn’t let go of me until Cassie storms into her house and slams the front door.

“I know she’s your daughter but she’s crazy. I can’t deal with her anymore,” I say once I calm down enough to talk. I expect a certain degree of empathy from Celeste but she’s more furious than I’ve ever seen.

“Don’t you
ever
threaten her again,” Celeste seethes. “If you know what’s best for you, then you will never lay a finger on her.”

Her threat leaves me speechless. I can’t believe I ever thought this woman could be my mother. Celeste must sense that she was too harsh because the tension in her face eases and she backs away a few steps.

“It’s important that you two girls get along,” she adds, her voice much softer.

But I don’t want to hear another word from her. I say nothing before turning and rushing into my house.