Stephenie Meyer - The Chemist

Alex stood in front of the log cabin – it was a red cedar A-frame, charming despite some evidence that it had been built in the seventies – so tired she couldn’t move those last few steps. Though the night had been blessedly uneventful, it had still been a long time on the road. She’d traded seats with Daniel outside Baton Rouge and then been too wired by the sense of apprehension that had troubled her since sending the e-mail to relinquish control again. Daniel had napped off and on, and he seemed almost chipper now. He passed her to go retrieve Lola from the back of the Humvee.

“You look like you might need to be carried, too,” he commented as he passed her again, this time with the dog. He set Lola beside the door and then came back for Alex.

“Give me a second,” she mumbled. “Brain sleeping.”

“Just a few more steps,” he encouraged. He put an arm around her waist and pulled her gently forward.

Once she started moving, it was easier. Momentum got her up the stairs and through the front door. She only partially took in a high wall of triangular windows looking out over a swampy forest, aged but comfortable-looking couches, an old-fashioned wood-burning stove, and a short open stairway as he steered her past it all and down a compact hallway.

“The master is over here… I think – Kev and I always got the loft. I’ll unload and get the dogs settled, then I’ll crash, too.”

She nodded as he showed her into a dim room with a large iron bedstead. That was all she noticed before her head hit the pillow.

“Poor darling,” she heard Daniel chuckle as she sank into the dark.

She came back to consciousness slowly, drifting up through layers of dreamy nonreality. She was comfortable and calm; nothing had startled her awake, and even before she was fully lucid she was aware of Daniel’s body warm beside her. A low, close thrumming caught her attention, but before the sound could frighten her, she felt the breeze of the oscillating fan move gently down the length of her body. She opened her eyes.

It was still dim, but the light was a different color than it had been when she’d collapsed. It leaked in around the lined floral curtains that covered the big window on the opposite wall. Early evening, not as hot as before. She must have been sweating earlier, but it was dried now, a film that felt stiff against the skin of her face.

The room was made of long red logs, just like the outside. More light came from behind her. She rolled over and saw the skylight above the open vanity. Her backpack, her gas mask, and the first-aid kit were by the sink.

Daniel might not be a natural fugitive, but he was more thoughtful than anyone else she’d ever known.

She tiptoed out to the hall and did some quick surveillance. The rest of the cabin was small, just a kitchen with an attached nook for a dining room, the living room with all the windows, the open loft above it, and a small second bedroom with a hall bath. She used that bath to take a quick, much-needed shower. There were shampoo and conditioner in the little blue shower-tub combo, but no soap, so she used the shampoo as body wash. She was glad the soap was missing, just like she was glad the refrigerator was empty and that there was a fine layer of dust on all the counters. No one had been in these rooms for a while.

After she quickly applied new bandages to her face and examined her hands, which looked much better than she’d thought they would, she peeked through the long windows beside the front door to check on the dogs. They were snoozing contentedly on the porch. She was getting used to the comfort of having an early alarm system.

She was a little hungry but felt too lazy to do anything about it right away. She remembered how it felt yesterday to wake up alone, and she didn’t want Daniel to experience the same panic. She wasn’t really sleepy anymore, but she was tired, and the bed still looked pretty good. It was probably avoidance. As long as she kept her eyes closed and her head on the pillow, she didn’t have to start planning what needed to happen next.

She returned to her earlier position, curled up against Daniel’s chest, and let herself relax. There wasn’t anything that she had to do immediately. Twenty minutes of unthinking rest wasn’t so much to ask. Or even an hour. She’d gotten them here alive; she’d earned it.

Unfortunately, not thinking was easier said than done. She found herself dwelling on the promise she’d made to Daniel – that she wouldn’t leave him behind. On the one hand, she knew she would never be satisfied with any long-distance arrangement for his safety. Even if she could stockpile a year’s worth of food, even if she could be positive that the owners wouldn’t come back, even if she could arm this place to vaporize any intruder, and even if she could lock Daniel inside like a prisoner so he couldn’t wander off and find trouble, she would not be satisfied. Because what if? The hunters had found him before, and she’d left a trail, albeit a faint one, to this place. She could take him north to her rental, but the department had contacted her while she was living there. She didn’t think they knew her address, but what if? As long as Daniel stayed near her, she could do what was necessary to protect him, things he wouldn’t think of himself. She could see the traps he wouldn’t see.

On the other hand, was that just her own wants talking? She wanted to be with Daniel. Was her mind coming up with proofs for that necessity? Was her logic flawed – twisting to accommodate her personal wishes? How could she be sure? When she’d told him before that it wasn’t a good idea to have her liability close beside her while she went on the attack, she knew that was sound logic. Of course, if they got to him while she was far away, that distance wouldn’t remove the hold they’d have on her.

She sighed. How could she see clearly? Her emotions had tangled this whole situation into a knot of Gordian complexity.

Still unconscious, Daniel shifted to wrap his arm around her. She knew what he would say about her dilemma, and she also knew that his perspective would not help her to see more clearly.

He sighed, starting to stir. His fingers traced down the length of her spine, then slowly back up. They played with the wet fringes of hair on the back of her neck.

He stretched with a groan, and then his hands were back in her hair.

“You’ve been up,” he murmured.

His eyes opened slowly, blinking as they worked to focus. In the dusky room, they were dark gray.

“It didn’t stick,” she answered.

He laughed as his eyes slid shut again. He tucked her more tightly into his chest. “Good. What time is it?”

“Around four, I think.”

“Anything to worry about?”

“No. Not for right now, at least.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah, it really is.”

“ This is nice,” he said.

His hand traced back up her spine again, then trailed over her right shoulder, traced lightly across her collarbone, and finally curved around the good side of her face. He tilted it up until their noses touched.

“Yes, this, too,” Alex agreed.

“More than nice,” he murmured, and she would have agreed, but he was kissing her. His hand on her face was soft, his lips soft, but the arm around her waist strained her tight against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held herself closer still.

It wasn’t like the car, where the pulse of the hunt had been loud in their ears, when they were still shocked and panicking. There was no horror. Just the rhythm of her heart and his, speeding without fear.

She supposed it was inevitable, the way they’d been carrying on, that given a quiet place far away, for the moment, from any danger, with just the two of them together and no interruptions, there would be nothing to keep them apart any longer.