He steps back and waves a hand. “You have to find it, or you’ll die. What’s it going to be? I know you’ve got it in you, we both know that. You need to dig down and find it again, or we won’t walk out of here alive.”
He’s hit me right where it hurts. He’s talking about the girl I was before Nan. I don’t have it in me to tell him that she’s already dead.
*
Night falls and with it comes eerie silence and complete darkness that terrify me. Noah finds a small overhanging tree that we sit under. We stopped at a stream and had some water, but neither of us felt energetic enough to climb a tree or figure out how to get the coconuts down. We decided we’d do that in the morning; for now, we’re here and we’re together. Not that we’re talking, but we’re together and that has to count for something … right?
It’s May in Florida, so the nights are still a bit cool. Not cold enough that we’ll freeze, but on a good, clear day it can get chilly enough at night to need a light coat. Tonight is still partially overcast, so the weather is cool but not cold. I press my back against a tree and rub my hands over my bare arms, wishing I’d worn a sweater out the evening before.
Noah hasn’t said a word to me in hours and it’s killing me. He told me to be tough, to find my strength, yet he’s refusing to make conversation with me—and when he does speak, it’s only to spit acid at me. How we’re supposed to work together to get ourselves out of this horror is beyond me. I rub the back of my neck where a dull ache has started to form, wondering if it’s from whatever drug we were given.
I can’t see Noah in the dark, but I know his face must be sore; he hasn’t complained, though, so I’ve chosen not to bring it up. I can feel him next to me, his big, warm body close enough that the heat gently caresses my skin, but not close enough that we’re making any kind of contact. I exhale and run through a million scenarios in my head, like I’ve been doing all day. I try to put myself in the mind of this man, try to figure out what I can about what he’s got planned, but I just can’t seem to piece anything together.
I can’t remember a damned thing from the night before, and it’s frustrating as hell. Maybe if I could, I’d be able to figure out who put us here.
“You cold?” Noah asks, finally speaking. His voice is gruff, tired, maybe a little scared.
He’ll never show it. It’s not in his nature. Noah will fight until his last breath, because that’s the kind of man he is.
“Not really,” I say, even though my arms are a little chilly.
“Take my shirt, it’ll keep you warm.”
“No, you keep it on. It’s not that cold.”
“Then at least move closer so you can get some of my body heat. We might not be getting along, but the point of the matter is we need to get out of here alive.”
I don’t argue. I move closer until our shoulders touch. It is a lot warmer.
“Why do you think he picked us?” I ask softly, tucking my knees up to my chest.
“Best I can figure is it’s because we don’t get along,” he mutters. “If we already drive each other to the brink of madness, we’re doing exactly what he wants. Playing right into his game.”
“But why us? Why not another dysfunctional couple?”
“Wrong place at the wrong time.”
It can’t be that simple, surely. No, someone who planned something this detailed wouldn’t just pick two randoms. The thought that he’s been watching us, for God knows how long, makes my skin crawl.
I chew on my lower lip. “I’m sorry, Noah.”
“For what?”
“That I’ve handled this so badly, acted so weak and pathetic.”
Noah doesn’t answer.
That feels like a punch to the stomach.
“You’re not pathetic or weak,” he finally says, his voice low and thick. “You’re lost and confused, you don’t know who you are anymore. There’s a difference.”
I’m not sure it’s a good one. And his words still sting a little, despite his reassurance, because I don’t think he is right. He saw what I went through with Nan. He saw how that affected me. I had to change who I was, because being who I was got people hurt. I’m not lost and confused, I’m just a different person.
“I’m scared I can’t survive out here,” I say softly.
It’s not a question, but a statement of fact.
“So am I,” Noah says, his voice quiet.
That’s not what I expected him to say. He must be getting tired, I realize. He’s not only contending with an unthinkable situation, but dealing with me, too. Am I going to be the reason we don’t make it out of here alive? Am I going to let Noah down? Myself? What if Noah gets hurt because I’m not able to handle whatever is coming? Maybe they’re all wrong. Maybe I can handle it. Maybe I’ll have no choice.
“I’m not going to stop fighting,” I say softly. “I know my emotions have been scattered today, but I’m not going to stop fighting.”
“It isn’t about the fight, Lara. It’s about so much more than that.
“He’s going to target the weaknesses that are obvious in you. You can fight, that’s a given, but you can’t handle violence anymore, you scare easily, and he’s counting on that. If I’m right, he’s going to target me to weaken and torture you.”
“I won’t let him,” I say defiantly. “I’ll figure it out, but I won’t let him, Noah.”
He huffs into the dark. “You can’t change who you are, Lara.”
I fall silent.
“You and I both know I can.”
He has no answer to that.
“Do you have any idea what we’re going to do?” I ask, changing the subject after a few minutes of silence.
“I’m still trying to figure it out. I don’t know how it is he’s watching us, but I can guarantee he is.”
“Do you think he can hear us, too?”
“Oh, the fucker can hear us. Probably sitting there wanking his dick right now with joy. Stupid fuck.”
I swallow. How can someone hear us, see us, and yet we don’t know about it? Every plan we make, everything we talk about, he’s always going to be one step ahead of us.
“So how do we outsmart someone we can’t get out of our heads?” I question.
Noah leans in close, so close I shiver. He moves the hair off my neck and whispers so softly I can barely hear it, “Not even the best technology can hear this.”
I tremble, because his breath on my neck has sparks running down my spine and settling into my core. I close my eyes and swallow, then nod and pull away.
Neither of us says anything after that.
Because what is there to say?
I bring the coffee to my lips, my hands trembling with utter joy as I watch them fall asleep next to each other.
His body is tense. He knows I can see him and hear him. He just doesn’t know how and it’s killing him.
He’s that kind of man. He likes control. He likes to know he’s got everything covered, and he can’t figure me out.
More than that, he’s angry. At me. At himself, but mostly at her. He’s trying not to be, but he is. He’s like a simmering pot, slowly bubbling away until eventually he is going to explode.