Wildwood Creek (31 page)

A
LLIE
K
IRKLAND
J
ULY
, P
RESENT
D
AY

O
utside, thunder exploded as I crept past the rockslide and into the chamber, trying to discern its edges in the dim glow cast by a larger passageway beyond.

I didn’t see him at first, in the shadows near the wall. My heart pitched in my chest when he stepped out, an unmistakable human form. He was tall, thin, slightly stooped over. Something dangled in his hand, pointing toward the floor.

A flashlight. He clicked it on, and the beam illuminated his dark, tight-fitting pants and a pair of combat boots that seemed comically oversized.

Something about that was familiar. . . .

He stepped forward. My mind registered his profile, the way he walked, and relief swelled inside me. Help had come, even if in a strange form. Thank God. Everyone we knew must be out looking for us.

How long had we been missing?

“S-stewart?” My voice was weak and hoarse, almost inaudible over the noise of the rain outside the cave. I rushed toward him as he turned. “Oh, th-thank God, Stewart. Thank God s-someone f-found us!”

He stumbled backward, surprised, the flashlight beam bouncing toward the ceiling, then turning my way, blinding me. I threw a hand up, peering through my fingers to adjust to the brightness.

“Allie.” He hurried to me, wrapping me awkwardly in his arms. “You’re okay.”

A sob pressed my throat, and I felt myself collapsing into him. Finally, I wasn’t alone. Help was here. He shifted, then something slipped around my shoulders, heavy, warm. A coat that smelled of rain and woodsmoke.

“What
happened
?” He patted my back awkwardly, bracing his feet apart to steady me as I swayed. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. I came as soon as I heard you’d gone missing. It was just pure luck that the map of these caves was in my research.” His voice was a welcome comfort. A promise of rescue.

“I d-don’t know . . .” I stammered, the words vibrating with my teeth, almost unintelligible. “I was asleep . . . in my b-bed . . . the last thing I remember . . . and then . . . I woke up here. How l-long . . .”

He tucked my head under his chin, his arms wrapping more tightly. “I have to get you out of here.” I felt him twisting to lift me from my feet. “The water’s coming up. This place could flood if the lake level rises any more. It isn’t safe.”

I pushed away, stumbling a couple steps toward the passageway and the pit. “Wait. Kim . . .” My head swam, and for a minute I lost my balance, then doubled over, catching the coat around my shoulders and letting the blood flow into my head again. “Kim’s . . . b-back there. She’s in bad shape. We . . . we have to g-get her out.” Clarity burned away the fog, and the floor came into focus beneath my feet, the shadows evaporating.

Stewart slipped a hand beneath the dangling coat, his fin
gers circling my arm, supporting me. Turning toward the light of the entrance, he guided me with him. “We’ll send more help. There’s a search team nearby. I need to get you out of here first. You’re in no condition to . . .”

We stumbled forward, Stewart half lifting and half dragging me. I thought of Kim, far back in the cave, the water possibly rising. “No!” His grip broke as I spun away, finally stumbling to a stop against the wall of the cave. “I’m not leaving Kim. We c-can get . . . get her out. I’ll help you. We can’t leave her here.” If Stewart was wrong about a rescue team nearby . . .

His body stiffened suddenly in silhouette, the line of his back straightening under the black T-shirt, his shoulder blades jutting against the fabric, his fists clenched.

“Stewart?” A strange, primal reaction ran through me, quick and sharp and visceral, burning away my dulled senses.

The growl started low and grew into the chamber, fierce, animalistic. I realized it was coming from Stewart. When he whirled around, his teeth caught the glow of the flashlight, his lips drawn back. “It’s
always
her, isn’t it? It’s always
her
, or your work, or some
guy
you met next door. You don’t think I knew about that? You don’t think I saw?”

I steadied myself against the wall, sidestepped away, but I was moving in the wrong direction, toward the interior of the cave, toward the pit. “Stewart, w-what are you . . .” I tried to find his eyes in the darkness, to understand what was happening.

He threw the flashlight my way, and I jumped as it struck the wall nearby, the sound echoing into the chamber, the beam shining on him, turning him into an actor on a strange, twisted stage.

His long, thin arms flailed crazily. “I
let
you go away for the summer, and this is how you
repay
me? Mess around
with some guy? Some man you just
met
? Throw it all away for
him
? You don’t think I
knew
? I was watching. I saw you with him by the lake and behind the cabin, sipping your little coffee cups in the morning.” He raised a finger, pointed it. “Cheating on me!” His voice grew and filled every corner of the chamber.

My mind raced backward. The nights I thought someone was in my bedroom . . . the times Alexis saw a lurker near Wildwood . . . the day things were moved around in my quarters, the chairs straightened, the flowers that were left behind the tinderbox . . .

“You were . . . you were there. . . . It was you.”

“You’re
just
like all the rest of them. Just like them. Just like them. No different.” His chin jerked downward, his face disappearing into the mop of curly hair. He advanced a step. I backed up another. “I would’ve let you save her, you know. I would’ve let you call and tell them where to find your friend, once we were away. But now it’s ruined. All ruined. And it’s
your
fault. It’s all your fault.”

Survival instinct scrambled inside me, looking for a toehold. He’d brought Kim here as a means of convincing me to leave with him? “Stewart, wait. I’m sorry. We can just go . . .” If I got out of here alive, I could send help for Kim. At least there would be some chance. There had to be people around the lake, people who really
were
looking for us. Was that why Stewart hadn’t gone forward with his plan? Was that why he was still here, pacing like a caged animal?

I had to calm him, to get him to take me outside. In here, he could do whatever he wanted, and nobody would know. I imagined myself and Kim, our bodies left to slowly fade, nothing remaining but a mystery.

“All lies.” His voice rose as he strode back and forth. “All lies, all lies, all lies. All you do is lie.”

“No, Stewart.” A movement behind him caught my eye. I recognized the bulk of a form sliding through the shadows near the wall. Andy . . . the blacksmith from Wildwood? He brought a finger to his lips, then circled it in the air, motioning for me to keep Stewart talking.

A glint of sunlight on metal flashed nearby. Someone else was here, too, passing along the opposite sidewall.

Stewart stopped pacing, froze and studied me, then swiveled to look over his shoulder.

“Stewart,” I said, trying to draw his attention. “Where? Where could we go? I mean, is there a plan? Someplace people won’t bother us? Where my family can’t find us? Because . . . b-because all they care about is turning me into an unpaid nanny.” I realized now how untrue that was, how broken my mother, my siblings, and even Lloyd would be if a police cruiser came to the house, disturbing a perfectly ordinary day with the most unthinkable news. Whatever differences we had with each other, we were still a family. I still wanted to see them—to be part of their lives and have them be part of mine. There were worse things than having a family that didn’t understand you. So many worse things.

Stewart rotated slowly toward me again, looking confused, pulling his hair away from his eyes, nodding frenetically. “I know places.” He stopped, leaned in, his face jutting close to mine, his breath thick and foul. “But I don’t think you can do it. You see, while your milquetoast parents were raising you on Starbucks and lobster tails, mine were teaching me how to survive in the woods. You don’t kill your food, you don’t eat. Isn’t that the natural order of things? Kill it before it kills you?
A thing that can’t survive on its own is worthless, isn’t it, Stewart?
” The last sentence came in an eerie, high-pitched voice, an imitation of someone else. His mother? His father? I couldn’t imagine what had been hiding
all this time inside the shy, withdrawn college student next door.

“I can do it. I can.” I forced as much volume as I could, not only to command his attention, but to cover any noise behind him. “The trainers taught me. I’ve learned everything in Wildwood. How to get by without electricity, what kinds of food we can gather, how to purify water, how to make a fire. It’s perfect, Stewart. They gave us everything we need to know. We can go somewhere where no one, not even my parents, will find us.”

He let his hair fall, his shoulders drooping forward. “Do you think I’m
stupid
, Allie? Do you know, really, where they’ve estimated my IQ? Do you have
any
idea? Look around you. How many years have people been trying to figure out the mysteries of Wildwood? Yet . . . here we are. It didn’t even take me all that long. A little research, some trips up here exploring. I knew it had to be someplace where the entrance was covered with water when the lake was filled. Someplace . . . inaccessible, even before that. They were
meeting
here, you know. To make secret plans. To plot against him. To
betray
him. He gave them everything, yet they turned on him.”

Stewart stepped toward me, taking something from his pocket, pointing it my way. A gun? A knife? “Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

“No, Stewart . . .” My hands flew up to stop whatever was coming. Behind him, Andy had moved into the light now. The second figure came out of the shadows. Blake. I couldn’t see his face, but his careful stride across the floor was unmistakable.

“Stewart, listen,” I pleaded. “I never meant to hurt you. You didn’t tell me how you felt. I didn’t know. I want to hear more about where we can go. The place you know about. How do we get there?” I forced myself to focus on Stewart, not to
glance toward Andy and Blake. They were less than ten feet away now, almost within reach. “Tell me more about it. Is it in the mountains? I’ve always liked the mountains. A place with snow. Not like Texas. It’s so hot here. I’m sick of the heat.” For once, my ability to babble was a life-saving skill.

Stewart tipped his head to one side, seeming almost mesmerized by the picture.

“Is there a cabin? A lake, maybe? I’ve always had that in mind. A place to get away from everything. No Internet, no phone calls, no TV . . . just quiet. Doesn’t that seem almost perfect? Just quiet and . . .”

A rock crunched against the floor, and suddenly everything was happening at once. Blake lunged forward, Stewart whirled, the gun exploded, I screamed. I felt myself falling, a stabbing pain, and then darkness.

Grandma Rita was there as the light faded.
You did a good job, darlin’. You did all you could do.
She stroked my hair.
You’re a Kirkland, and our people pioneered this country. We don’t take guff off nobody.

Then even she was gone, and there was nothing.

Overhead, a patch of blue shone through a void in the clouds, the color perfect and brilliant, the edges outlined in radiant streams of golden light.

Heaven?

An airplane flew across the open space, drawing a vaporous line. Did they have airplanes in heaven? Was I still here?

Movement at the edges of my vision came into focus. I recognized faces. The fishermen from the Waterbird, Burt and Nester. Mallory from Wildwood. Birdie’s grandpa, Len. Andy stood above him, and strangely enough, Rav Singh and Tova.

Tender concern etched their expressions.

“Move back, give her some room,” a sheriff’s deputy in uniform commanded.

No one retreated.

Blake was sitting over me, his face near mine. “Welcome back to the world.” His hand moved my hair from my forehead.

Somewhere nearby, water stroked the shore, soft, rhythmic. Far in the distance, thunder purred, the sound receding now, harmless as a contented cat settling in for an afternoon nap in a sunny window. We were near the lake, but I was lying on something soft.

I tried to reach for Blake, but my hands were strapped down.

“Just stay still. They’re getting ready to take you in the ambulance.”

Panic flickered. “W-was I . . . was I . . . d-did he . . . shoot?” My voice was barely a whisper. Blake leaned closer to hear.

What if I was dying, right here? Now. The life seeping out of me?

Please, God, no. There’s so much I need to do. So many things I want to change. So much I need to fix.
I’d lived my life as if I had all the time in the world—time to think about relationships, time to understand why I was put on the planet, time to make my life count for something, time to make a difference. I’d never really understood that at any moment, time could run out.