“Right,” Parker remembered. “No phone signal out here.” Planting his feet wide apart, he balanced himself on the tree’s enormous trunk. He ripped off a limb, flung it angrily, then wiped a muddy hand across his brow. “And Etienne’s truck is stranded. Which means we can’t go for help.”
Ashley’s fearful eyes swept over Gage. “It’s just . . . like Roo said . . . he’s lost so much blood.”
It was bad enough not knowing the extent of Gage’s injuries; it was even worse not being able to reach the ones they could see. The helplessness was unbearable. Miranda felt as if she were watching all the life drain slowly and steadily out of him.
“I’ve got some tools in the truck.” Shrugging out of his jacket, Etienne passed it to Miranda. “Here—try and keep him warm. I’ll be right back.”
He was off before anyone could stop him. Holding the jacket at arm’s length, Miranda wondered what good it could possibly do—like all the rest of their clothes, it was soaked. With Roo and Ashley’s help, she managed to work it in beneath the branches, to tuck it around Gage’s chest. Gage moaned, his eyelids struggling open. Most of his right arm had escaped serious injury, so Miranda reached down and gently squeezed his fingers. They were slick with blood.
“Look at his eyes.” Crouched there with the others, Ashley began rocking slowly back and forth. “He’s hurting so much . . . I can’t stand it.”
Miranda knew exactly what Ashley meant. Gage’s big brown eyes, always so soft, so expressive, were now dull with pain, hazy and unfocused. As a muscle flinched in his jaw, the girls crowded even closer, determined to protect him however they could.
“I think he’s coming to,” Roo mumbled. Stroking his cheek, she leaned in close to listen.
“Cold,” Gage whispered.
Up till now, Miranda hadn’t really noticed the bluish tinge to his lips. Alarm bells immediately sounded in her brain, but before she could get up, Parker’s hand came down on her shoulder.
“Here,” he said, “give him this.”
With Roo and Ashley looking on in surprise, Miranda accepted the small flask Parker slid from his pocket. She nodded him a grateful smile.
“What happened?” Gage whispered again. “Roo . . . is Roo okay?”
“He doesn’t see me,” Roo choked, while Ashley and Miranda forced a few sips of whiskey down Gage’s throat. Roo took a deep breath, tried to collect herself. “Hey, I’m fine,” she told Gage. “And you’re fine, too. And everybody’s here, and . . . dammit, Gage, why’d you come with me? I told you not to. I told you I wanted to be by myself. Why don’t you ever listen to anything I say?”
“So . . . cold,” he murmured. “Can’t . . . feel . . . legs.”
“Gage, no. Oh, God.”
Miranda glanced over her shoulder. Etienne had waded back from the truck, bringing tools with him. The boys were standing about twenty feet away, locked in grim conversation. Etienne was pointing to the last cumbersome branch that trapped Gage. Parker was nodding, making air measurements with his hands.
This can’t be good. As new prickles of fear crept up Miranda’s spine, she refocused on Gage.
“He’s still saying he’s cold,” Ashley said.
For the first time Miranda stared at Ashley’s pink headband. The girl had pulled it from her hair and was running it tenderly over Gage’s face, trying to clean off dirt and blood. How long had Ashley been doing that, Miranda wondered—how long had they all been out here? She didn’t even recall seeing that headband before—but seeing it now, with Gage’s blood all over it, was almost too much for her. She closed her eyes, swallowed hard, tried to concentrate on what Ashley was saying.
“I don’t think it’s just his legs he can’t feel. I’m not sure he can feel anything.”
Miranda opened her eyes. All this time she’d been holding Gage’s hand, squeezing his fingers, getting no response. “It’s temporary,” she answered, determined to be hopeful. “He’s fading in and out right now, and that’s good. If he could feel everything—everywhere he’s hurt—I’m not sure he could take it.”
“Miranda”—Ashley’s eyes were wide with fear—“what are we going to do?”
Miranda could only shrug in frustration. As Ashley pressed the headband to Gage’s forehead, and Roo continued to stroke Gage’s cheek, Etienne and Parker walked over.
“This should do it,” Etienne announced. “Now y’all need to hold him down. Tight, you understand? ’Cause when we cut this last branch, and it shifts around, he’s probably gonna feel it. And it’ll hurt like hell.”
Roo’s stare went slowly from Etienne to Parker. “He’s going to die, isn’t he.”
“And leave you?” Parker snorted. “Not a chance.”
And then everything happened so fast. Surreal, like a dream— age-old instincts of love and survival, guiding them, giving them strength. The girls trying to restrain Gage—Parker and Etienne shouting—the crushing branch turning and scraping and tilting, suspended there for mere seconds—just long enough for Gage to be dragged out from under it.
Miranda was distinctly aware of two things.
Gage screaming in agony.
And the world turning red with his blood.
“Quick!”
“Got him!”
“Move!”
As the tree came down again, it hit with an earth-shuddering crash. But Gage was clear of it, and—at least for now—he was still alive.
“Come on—take him to the shelter!”
“The picnic shelter? Are you sure it’s safe?”
“It’s concrete, and it’s raised. What, you got any better ideas?”
Sharp tableaux swept through Miranda’s head, imprinting themselves on her brain—bright, piercing snapshots she knew she’d never forget.
The raging storm and the raging emotions. Gage’s face twisted in anguish, his broken body, shards of white bone, torn muscles, raw flesh. Gage trying so hard to be brave, trying so hard not to feel, not to cry, even as tears streamed helplessly down his cheeks. And the blessed relief of unconsciousness that followed; the limp, easy weight of him in their arms; their rushing him to the picnic shelter, laying him down, standing guard—close and watchful and protective—around him.
“Anybody here ever set a broken bone?” As the others regarded him with blank expressions, Etienne pointed to Gage’sleg. "Great. Anybody here wanna help me?”
And once again it was as if somehow, instinctively, they all knew what to do. Parker and Etienne tearing off their shirts to stanch the bleeding. Every jacket, every extra bit of clothing commandeered for makeshift blankets and bandages. Caring for Gage, crying for Gage, praying for Gage. When all had been done that could be done, only then did everyone finally give in to exhaustion, resolved to wait out the storm.
“Listen,” Etienne said. For the last half hour he’d been leaning up against the wall, arms folded across his bare chest, narrowed eyes gauging the flooded woods around them. “I’m gonna try to make it home.”
“Now?” Parker gaped at him as though he’d lost his mind. “In this?”
“Etienne, that’s crazy!” Curled along Gage’s side, Ashley raised up in alarm. “There’s no way you could get home. Don’t even think about it.”
Etienne’s sigh was tolerant. “Look, it’s not that far—”
“I know how far it is,” Parker broke in. “But going by truck is one thing. And going by boat is another thing. But trying to swim—”
“It’s not that bad yet. I can still make it through if I leave now. And it won’t be this deep, the closer I get to the road.”
“Roo, say something.” Half turning, Ashley appealed to her sister. “He’ll listen to you. Tell him not to go.”
Roo calmly considered. She’d been sitting cross-legged beside Ashley, with Gage’s head cradled in her lap. Her glance flicked from Etienne to Gage, but when she didn’t answer, Parker resumed the argument.
“Have you noticed it’s very dark out there? Does the word night mean anything to you?”
“Nobody knows we’re here.” Etienne’s reply was matter-of-fact. “It’s not like they’re gonna be sending search parties for us anytime soon.”
“At least wait till the rain lets up a little.”
“This rain, it could go on for hours.” Etienne’s mouth settled into a hard line. “And if the water keeps rising . . . I mean . . . Gage needs help.”
Throughout the exchange, Miranda kept her thoughts to herself. She didn’t want to admit how terrified she was, watching Gage with an increasing sense of dread. His breathing was more ragged now, catching tight in his chest, stabbing deep through his muscles. And even though he was covered with sweat, he’d begun shivering uncontrollably.
At last she stood up. She walked solemnly over to Parker and Etienne. “I think . . . someone needs to go.”
As the three of them stared at one another, Etienne pushed away from the wall.
“No.” Parker grabbed Etienne’s arm. “I’ll go.”
Surprise crept slowly over Etienne’s face. Instinctively, Miranda glanced at Ashley, who seemed oddly frozen.
“Parker—” Ashley began, but Etienne interrupted.
“I know the way better than you do,” he said firmly.
“Like I haven’t been to your house a million times?” Grinning, Parker shrugged and jerked his chin in Gage’s direction. “You got one too sick to go, two too tired to go, and her”—he winked at Miranda—“too damn cute to go. And besides, who’s the athlete around here anyway?”
“No, Parker. I—”
“Look.” The grin faded from Parker’s lips. He moved closer to Etienne, putting his back to Roo and Ashley so they couldn’t hear. His voice was soft now, and serious. “You and Gage, you’re each other’s family. If something happened to you—” He broke off, glanced away, then pulled his eyes back to Etienne. “What would Gage do if something happened to you? Hell, what would any of us do if something happened to you?”
Their gazes held steady. Parker swallowed . . . gave a slight nod.
“Let me do this, Etienne. I want to.”
Silence fell between them.
A silence louder, wider, deeper than any storm.
It was Ashley who broke it. “Parker, what’s happening?”
Almost guiltily, Miranda jumped. She’d been so engrossed in the boys’ conversation, she hadn’t noticed Ashley approaching. At once Parker and Etienne turned toward Ashley, their expressions somber.
“Parker?” Ashley asked again. But then, as she stared long and hard at the boys, a slow dawn of awareness crept over her. “No, Parker. Please don’t be stupid.”
Miranda waited for Roo’s usual insults. Roo kept silent.
“Hey, I’m up for this.” Grin firmly back in place, Parker struck a heroic pose. “Parker Wilmington—explorer, adventurer, and super-swimmer!”
“Parker, you can’t go out there—”
“Battling the elements! Wrestling man-eating alligators! Laughing in the face of danger!”
“Parker, I’m serious!” Ashley was close to tears. “It’s too far to Etienne’s house!”
"Hey, I need the exercise. And the fresh air. And the good news is: I won’t even have to worry about dehydration.”
But the tears came now, rolling down Ashley’s cheeks, while Etienne tactfully moved away and Miranda joined him.
“Please.” Slipping her arms around Parker’s waist, Ashley leaned into him, peered up at him. “It’s too horrible out there. I’m scared.”
Parker raised his arms, flexed his muscles. “Fear? Fear is foreign to me!”
“Don’t joke about this! I’m really scared something bad will happen. I just feel it.”
“Ash, nothing bad is going to happen. I’ll be careful, okay? I’ll be safe.”
Miranda suddenly realized she’d been eavesdropping. She hadn’t meant to intrude on their private conversation, yet she’d been watching their faces and hearing every word. An eerie chill had settled at the base of her spine. She felt anxious and restless and afraid.
She glanced at Roo. Roo hadn’t said anything in such a long time, just sitting there holding Gage, her head bent over his face. Miranda’s heart reached out to Roo, but her own uneasiness persisted. Something dangerous, something tragic . . .
Something familiar . . .
Reluctantly she turned her attention to Ashley and Parker. Though Ashley’s features were pale and drawn, she seemed composed now, even quietly resigned. Parker was squeezing her in a tight hug.
“You better hurry, Parker Wilmington.” Ashley’s voice was muffled against his chest. “Promise you’ll come back to me.”
Parker rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, sure. I promise.”
“Tonight.”
“Tonight,” Parker echoed dutifully.
“Cross your heart.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Ashley, I said I’d be back, didn’t I? Don’t I always come back? Even when you don’t want me to?”
Miranda’s breath caught in her throat. Fear squeezed in her chest.
It can’t be . . . it’s impossible . . .
For she knew now why she’d listened so intently to Ashley and Parker, why their conversation had seemed so familiar . . .
Oh, God, no . . .
“Parker,” she whispered.
Starting forward, she saw Ashley and Etienne standing at the edge of the shelter. Ashley was shivering, and Etienne’s arm was around her shoulders. Miranda tried to call out, to shout a warning, to stop Parker from going, but he’d already dashed into the rain; she could already see the beam of his flashlight growing smaller and dimmer, swallowed by the storm.
Yet his words were still here. They lingered in this dark, frightening, abandoned place—the words he’d spoken to Ashley, and the words Ashley had spoken to him.
Prophetic words and fatal words. Words that tore at Miranda’s heart and echoed over and over again in her mind.
The words Nathan and Ellena had spoken . . .
Right before the end.
32
“WHERE IS HE, MIRANDA?” ASHLEY WHISPERED. “What’s taking him so long?”
Hours had passed since Parker vanished into the storm. Hours of waiting and worrying and watching hopefully for his return. And though Miranda had kept up a steady show of confidence for Ashley’s sake, secretly she was scared to death.
Nathan promised Ellena he’d come back to her . . .
And Ellena never saw him again.
Miranda noticed Ashley’s grave expression. She remembered Ashley’s fears that something bad would happen . . . and Parker’s attempts to reassure her.
Ellena never saw him again.
“Something must have happened.” Glancing from Roo to Miranda, Ashley ran her hand lightly over Gage’s cheek. “I just have this horrible feeling—”
“Listen to me, cher,” Etienne broke in. “He’s fine. It’s just gonna take him some time, that’s all. But he’ll come rescue us. You’ll see.”
Miranda could tell how much Ashley wanted to believe him. But as the girl’s face began to crumple, Etienne stretched out his arms. “Aw, now, don’t cry. Come here to me.”
Ashley got up and started toward him, just as Etienne started toward her. He drew her gently against him. And then, while she sobbed quietly, he held her in a strong, solid embrace.
“You’re tired, cher,” Etienne mumbled. “We’re all tired; we’re all a little scared. It’s okay to cry. Just get it all out. We’re all gonna be fine. You’ll see . . . you’ll see . . .”
Miranda also wanted to believe that, though the words of Nathan and Ellena continued to haunt her. She couldn’t even share her fears with Etienne, not when he had so much to deal with already.
She couldn’t help marveling at him. His calm in the midst of chaos. His detachment holding them together. The way he rested his chin on top of Ashley’s head. Patting her back, swaying her ever so gently . . . murmuring comfort and hope. Even though he looked far more strained and exhausted than the rest of them. Even though
Gage still lay battered and unconscious, and there was nothing more any of them could do. And even though the storm blew savagely around them, and the black water was creeping over the foundation of the shelter, and inching slowly toward Etienne’s feet.
“But Parker should be back by now,” Roo suddenly murmured to Miranda. “Maybe something really did happen.”
Miranda threw her an anxious glance. Nodding, Roo fixed a worried gaze on Ashley.
Time crawled endlessly. Minutes stretched to hours, and those hours grew more fearful. The girls kept their vigil around Gage. Etienne continued to stand, his keen eyes watchful for some sign of Parker’s return. Miranda could only pray that Gage wouldn’t rouse from unconsciousness.
As the night drew on, Parker’s absence became almost unbearable. Etienne had started pacing. Roo had scooted closer to her sister, occasionally leaning her head on Ashley’s shoulder. Watching Ashley stare so sadly out into the night, Miranda could only imagine what the girl must be thinking. Once again she tried to make positive conversation.
“It’s so brave, what Parker’s doing.” Miranda offered Ashley an encouraging smile.
But Ashley’s own smile seemed emotionless. “He should have been there by now. We all know it. People should be rescuing us.”
“They’ll come, Ash,” Roo mumbled.
“He must not have gotten there.”
“He did. I’m sure he did.”
Ashley took a deep breath. She touched her head against Roo’s, then gazed at Miranda.
“I’m not as nice to Parker as I should be.”
“How can you even say that?” Miranda was startled. “Parker’s crazy about you.”
“But I’m mean to him sometimes.”
Again Miranda expected Roo to chime in with her usual sarcasm. But again, Roo was uncharacteristically quiet.
“I am,” Ashley admitted, almost shamefully. “I am mean to him.”
“You’re true to him,” Miranda corrected. “And truthful to him. I can’t think of a better way to love someone.”
Just like Nathan and Ellena. Oh please, God, let Parker be okay.
Ashley seemed to find solace in Miranda’s words. Lowering her head, she spoke softly to Roo.
Walk of the Spirits Page 23
