Kelley Armstrong - The Calling

We slogged uphill for at least two hours. I was guessing at the time. My watch had survived the first dunk after the helicopter crash but not the second one, when I’d been pulled right under. Daniel’s still worked and I think Corey’s did, too, but no one was asking them for the time—no one cared.

When I heard the burble of a stream, I picked my way through a patch of bramble to get to it. Hayley was right behind me, fighting through the branches instead of ducking them. Sam got poked in the eye. When she cursed, Hayley jumped and slipped on a muddy patch. Corey ripped his shirt on thorns helping her up. All three complained, loudly and bitterly.

“We need more water,” Daniel said. “Which means you need to get to it, because we can’t bring it back for you.”

“Well, maybe if Hayley was more careful,” Sam said. “Not letting the branches fling back.”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t walking right behind me,” Hayley said. “Why do we need water anyway? We drank before we set out.”

“We need to drink from every stream I can find,” I said. “As I’ve said, dehydration is the biggest risk we face out here.”

“Okay,” Corey said. “But could you find a path without mud and thorns?”

“I’ll make sure the next one’s paved.”

Daniel leaned toward me as we walked. “I bet if we bolted, we could lose them in ten seconds.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I muttered.

He grinned and put out his hand to help me over a muddy patch. I crossed, then called back a warning to the others. Daniel seconded the warning and pointed out the mud. Hayley still slid and fell.

At the stream—a little cascade splashing over a rock ledge—we got a drink. As we were leaving, Hayley said, “I can’t do this,” dropped, pulled up her knees, and buried her face against her legs.

“I’m sorry, guys,” she said, her voice tight. “I just can’t. I’m cold and I’m tired and I’m hungry.”

I crouched beside her. “I know you’re uncomfortable, but we’re okay. Our clothing is dry now and it’s not cold enough for hypothermia. We can survive without food as long as we don’t dehydrate—”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Corey snapped. “We’re tired and hungry, and you blather on about hypothermia and dehydration—”

“Hey!” Daniel bore down on Corey. “She keeps talking about hypothermia and dehydration because you guys won’t shut up about being cold and hungry.”

“Well, maybe we don’t need to hear how this isn’t going to kill us,” Corey said. “Maybe we need more than a pep talk.”

“Like what? Sympathy? Right. Because that’s going to get us out of these woods. Maybe you can show a little sympathy yourself under the circumstances and—”

“Enough,” I said. “You’re right, Corey. I’m sorry. I know your knee is hurting. I know everyone’s cold. I know everyone’s tired. I know everyone’s hungry. I know everyone’s worrying about their parents and what’s going on back in Salmon Creek. And we’re thinking about Nic and Rafe and—”

Oh God. My parents. Nicole. Rafe.

I tried to finish, but I couldn’t remember what I’d been saying, and I just stood there with everyone staring at me. Then Daniel was beside me, rubbing away the goose bumps on my arms and Corey was hobbling over, looking like a kicked puppy. He put an arm around my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Hayley echoed him, on her feet again, standing there awkwardly.

I wiped my eyes, and gave Corey a quick embrace before nudging him back. “I should look at your knee.”

“Nah, it’s—”

“I should check it.” I glanced up at him. “Please.”

He nodded, and limped to a boulder to sit.

“I’ll go see if I can find some berries,” Daniel said.

“You won’t and even if you do, eating a little…” I looked around at the others, then back to Daniel. “Sure, that’d be good.”

“No,” Hayley said. “Eating a little will just remind us how hungry we are. There has to be a summer cabin around here somewhere. Everyone leaves food behind. I’d settle for cold beans from a rusted can.”

Corey’s knee looked the same as it had that morning—scabbed over, bruised and tender to the touch. It had to be killing him to walk, but when I asked if he wanted to stay behind, his response was an emphatic no with an edge of panic.

“Can I apologize again for snapping?” he said.

“No.” I sat back on my haunches. “We need to slow down for you. You’re in pain and you’re not going to remind us of that.”

“It isn’t that bad. Really. I—”

“See? Gotta be a tough guy.” I lowered my voice so the others wouldn’t hear. “How’s your head?”

“I didn’t hit my head. Not yet anyway.”

“You know what I mean. Your headaches.”

“I’m fine.” When I opened my mouth to protest, he clapped his hand over it. “I’m not pulling any macho crap, Maya. My head is fine. I’m getting twinges, but it’s nothing I don’t get everyday, even with the meds. I’ll be okay.” He looked around him. “And as soon as we get out of this place, I’ll be even better. So let’s hit the trail.”

The ascent was getting steep, so I decided to hike ahead. The others would follow slowly—we all had to get over this mountain, one way or another.

Someone needed to come with me, for safety’s sake. Daniel would be my first choice, but when Sam volunteered, I took her up on it. I wanted to talk to her. Alone.

I left Kenjii with Daniel, using a length of vine as a leash. She didn’t like that. He didn’t like it much either, until I explained that by keeping her, he could find me as they followed along behind at their own pace.

We picked a landmark, then Sam and I hiked off toward it. It was rough going. Daniel would find an easier route for the others, but I was taking the most direct one, which meant rock climbing. Soon Sam was puffing, red-faced. I found a stream—not much more than a trickle over the rocks—and we drank our fill, then I made her sit on the rocks so we could rest.

“You’d never met your aunt and uncle before your parents died, had you?” I said as we rested.

She shook her head. “Never even heard of them. At the funeral, my parents’ lawyer introduced us. I knew my dad had a couple of sisters, but it freaked me out, no matter how nice the Tillsons were. I tried to run away. Told the lawyer they weren’t really my relatives. Everyone thought I was having a breakdown. The doctor gave me something. The rest was a blur. I expected to wake up locked in a laboratory.”

“Instead you woke up in Salmon Creek. Did you think the Tillsons were really your aunt and uncle?”

“I tried to.” She stood and stretched, then we started walking again, hiking up a steep incline. “Most days I believed it. Even when I didn’t, I figured it was a mix-up and I didn’t want to argue. Mr. and Mrs. Tillson are”—she swallowed—“were great. Really nice to me, no matter how much of a brat I was. Salmon Creek wouldn’t have been my choice of a place to grow up in, but it seemed safe. If I had to be somewhere, I might as well have been in some nowhere Canadian town where the bad guys wouldn’t find me.”

“Only they did. That’s what you thought when Mina Lee started asking questions. That they’d found you. Until you figured out what Daniel is. And by then it was too late to run. You were on the helicopter with us.”

She nodded. Didn’t add anything.

“The book Daniel and I read said there aren’t any more benandanti,” I continued. “It said they were wiped out during the Inquisition. Only they weren’t. They just hid their powers and intermarried with regular people until future generations didn’t have any powers. The benandanti went extinct. Then they were resurrected in an experiment.”