Summer Lane - State of Emergency

I compare the bottom of my shoe to the print in the mud, but it’s so faint that I can’t really tell. I hold my boot right over the print to compare sizes, hovering in place like a scared butterfly.

The shoe is a lot bigger than mine.

I pull my leg backward, spooked. The footprint is considerably fresh. It hasn’t even dried around the edges yet.

I look around the woods, every shadow seeming bigger and darker than it did five second ago. Am I being followed? Did some Omega creep track me through the night? Impossible. I would have heard them.

Wouldn’t I?

I cinch up my backpack and decide to solve this navigational issue once and for all. If someone is following me, I don’t want to find out who it is. I don’t have any weapons besides the knife Jeff gave me to defend myself.

What I know:

I’m lost. But I also know that the highway was running south to north when I was forced to make an unexpected pit stop by Bree and her brothers. If I travel that same direction again, I’ll eventually run into the highway, right? I can’t be more than ten miles away from the place I left Jack and Peter. The road has to be nearby.

I walk in a quick circle, looking over the trees. I find a cedar tree with some low-hanging branches and pull myself up. I keep climbing, scraping my palms against the sharp bark. I eventually drop my backpack to the ground because it’s a little too hard to maneuver the tree with a pack hanging off my shoulders.

I climb higher and higher, until my vertigo kicks in and glues my arms to the tree trunk. I’m up reall yhigh. So high that I can actually feel the tree moving with every gust of wind.

I hang onto the tree like a scared chipmunk, moving my gaze across the horizon. I can see over the bulk of the canopy of trees. The sky is darkened with clouds around the edges, and I’m pretty sure the high winds will move them over here faster than I want.

I can’t see the highway, of course, but I can see the sun. It’s about noon, which makes it easy for me to really tell which way East is. Once I figure that out, I’m able to find West, South and North. Awesome.

I start shimmying down, slipping a few times and catching myself on another branch. When I get to the bottom, I jump from the low branch and land on the ground in a crouch to keep from spraining my ankle.

“Now we’re in business,” I say out loud, grabbing my pack.

Crunch .

I roll my eyes, seriously tired of being ambushed. Suspicious sounds are starting to get annoying. I look around, seeing nobody, and start walking north. All I have to do is keep this course and I’ll eventually run into the highway — some highway — again. From there I can find the cabin.

Snap .

Okay. That was definitely something with a little weight behind it. More than a squirrel, anyway. I whirl around, taking a step backwards like I just got smacked in the chest. Someone’s out there.

Down the hill, a dark figure is creeping up the trail behind me. I stand there, motionless, just staring at the person. Whoever it is, he’s wearing black.

He could be anybody…mercenary or AT soldier.

I don’t stop to wave hello or throw a rock at his head. I just run — only this time I make sure I run North . Which, of course, means, I’ve got to climb the next hill I’ve been avoiding. It cuts up at an insane angle, making it almost a sheer cliff.

I get to work, digging my feet into the dirt and using trees, roots, rocks and the occasional sprout to pull myself up. And then I do something I regret: I look behind me. The black shirted maybe-AT-trooper is gaining. He’s not keeping his presence a secret, and it makes me wonder if he’s alone. Are there more of them back there? Did they figure out that it was me who fired those rounds at the guys trying to kill Peter and Jack?

Don’t think, climb!

I climb so fast that every muscle in my body simply refuses to move anymore. I guess running all night in sheer terror exhausts your physical strength, because this would usually be no problem.

I slip on a bed of pine needles and slide on my hip down the hill about twenty feet. I push myself back up, panic starting to claw its way into my head.

“Cassidy!”

I turn around, shocked to hear somebody speak my name.

Peter?

Jack?

I slip again and slide back down like an idiot, catching my breath. The guy has a black bandana tied around his hooded head, decked out in black combat pants and boots. He’s got a heavy coat on, a rifle slung over his back.

“Chris?” I stutter.

He pulls his hood off, revealing a face I recognize — but it’s smeared with black paint and dirt. It is Chris, right?

“Who the hell else would it be?” He climbs the last few feet separating us and yanks me to my feet, throwing me against his chest. I grab his shoulders to keep from taking a sled ride to the bottom of the hill just as he presses a fierce kiss to my lips. I wrap my arms around his neck, threading my fingers through his hair. He pulls away suddenly and glares, hands gripping my hips so hard I think he’s leaving bruises.

“Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been about you?” he demands.

I touch my mouth, feeling some of his black camo paint rub off on my skin. I stare up at him, his beautiful green eyes flashing with totally not subtle anger.

“I had to go, Chris,” I say. “You know that.”

“I thought you were dead ,” he says, holding me around the waist with one arm, his other hand cupping my cheek. His hands are wrapped up with strips of cloth. He looks like he’s been fighting some kind of war.

“Why would even think that?” I ask. “I can take care of myself.”

But while I’m talking, all I can think is:

Chris is here. With me.

Complete, utter relief floods me like a drug.

“I found a dead body a few miles back,” Chris says. “Omega was out in full force in the lower part of the mountains. They’re searching for campers in the hills. I thought maybe you were caught in the crossfire.”

I pale, realizing he must have found Bree.

“Did you find anybody else?” I whisper.

“No. Why?”

I shake my head.

“I was there,” I say.

Chris squeezes me tighter.

“I’ve been tracking you since you left,” he tells me, his thumb trailing down the side of my neck. “Why would you do that to me?”

“Do what?”

“Leave without saying goodbye.”

I sigh.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I guess I didn’t want to make you choose between me and your family.” There. I said it. Finally.

He looks shocked and then kisses me slowly, sending a shiver down my spine. Everything around us dissolves — the cold weather, the trees, the dirt. It’s just the two of us, and the only thing that matters is that he’s holding me, and I feel safe.

Completely safe.

“I think we already had this discussion,” he says, his voice soft. “You are apart of the family, now. So you should start acting like it.”

I lower my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I answer. “I just had to go before I lost my nerve.”

My lower lip wobbles a little, tears threatening to spill onto my cheeks. “Chris, the body you found,” I say. “I was with that girl when she died.”

His gaze narrows and a muscle ticks in his jaw.

“And you’re lost,” he states. “Tell me what happened.”

I nod, sinking down to the ground. Chris keeps his arms around me as we lean against the base of a tree. I snuggle into his warmth, so glad that I’m not alone anymore. Because believe me, when you’re completely alone in the woods, companionship is the most wonderful thing you can have.