Their path forward was blocked by the crocodile and the drone, but going back was not an option. The drone dipped low, the Games Master gesticulating wildly at the unfolding scene.
Could he make it around the side? The drone bombed low, getting in the fucking way. Heat flushed through his body. What kind of sick fucks watched this for kicks?
Heath dived for the next closest rock, his arm colliding with the interfering drone. He misjudged the counterbalance and fell against the crumbling rock edge, taking Isa with him in a tangle. She landed on his side, knocking the air from his lungs. His cheek caught on searing hot rock as he rolled, clasping Isa against his abdomen.
The crocodile lunged, its teeth connecting in a sudden snap only inches from his forearm. The hairs on his arm jolted skyward and his heart almost exploded. The croc dragged itself forward on small, stubby forelegs, rock streaming from its hide like oil, its tail cracking against the drone’s metal casing.
Isa was babbling. “Ohmygodohmygod—”
Heath clamped a hand across her mouth silencing her. His heart lodged thick and hot in his throat. He had to get her out of here. Alive. He hissed in her ear. “Breathe through your nose, otherwise you’ll burn your throat.” He pressed his own lips together and yanked her to her feet.
The drone darted around his head, canted at an angle, one of its four motors a destroyed mess of wire. Despite the damage, the agitated buzz of its engine drilled deep into Heath’s brain as it climbed higher, a telescopic lens extending toward the crocodile. The reptile dived in response, plunging into a fissure out of sight.
Heath wasn’t fooled. No way it was giving up on them. Blood thundered in his ears, deafening him. The ground had lost all stability, splitting into plates of rock that surfed on a volatile swell of lava. Behind, their path was broken, already a treacherous fragmented path.
“The cliff face.” Isa pointed, her hand trembling. Glittering rock rose in a sheer wall a short distance away. “It looks solid.”
She was right.
“If we get close enough, I can boost you up. Let’s go.” He gripped her hand, supporting her as they jumped in tandem to the next shifting plate. At the last moment, she broke free of his grasp, bending at the knees, steadying herself by pressing her fingertips into the ground.
The crocodile rocketed upward—too close. Way too fucking close. Liquid rock streamed from its jaw, spattering the air with caustic droplets as it shook its head from side to side.
Isa screamed and escaped to the next rock plate, leaving Heath with a clear path, but the croc changed direction, swinging to face him.
He jumped, its teeth shearing thin air, way too close to his heels. He scarcely registered solidity as he landed, springing forward again, not daring to look behind.
“Heath!” Isa had arrived at the cliff base.
The sight of her gave him a renewed burst of energy, and he jumped in quick succession, sweat stinging his eyes, his clothes dragging him down with hot dampness. When he made it to the cliff base he was breathless and lightheaded. From several feet away it looked smooth and problematic, but it was ragged with plenty of footholds.
Finally something was going their way. He hooked Isa’s foot with his hand and straightened, boosting her up the rough rock-face.
Her weight lifted from his palms and then she was scrambling over the top of the precipice.
Yes.
The drone buzzed crossly at the back of his head shattering his concentration. Damn thing. He swung round aiming for it but missed. He fell backward as the armor-plated tail of the crocodile hit him square in the side, catapulting him onto his back. His left arm fell over the rock lip and skimmed molten lava. Agony blazed up his arm and his vision wavered.
Heath fought to breathe. He pulled himself up onto his hands and knees, digging his hands into his diaphragm to force the muscles to work. He gagged, coughed then sucked in parched air.
Shit, his arm. Rock was solidifying on his skin, making the flesh pucker, exposing raw muscle and sinew. He staggered upright onto shaky legs, drawing on the dregs of his reserves, even as his thighs cramped forcing him to lean against the cliff face.
“Heath!” She was waving her arms in a crazy windmill from the top of the cliff. He glanced back at the shifting river of lava. The crocodile was circling like a half-submerged torpedo, slick rock parting in its wake.
Heath lunged for the cliff face, hitting it sideways on, his uninjured arm grabbing a handhold, his feet finding a toehold on the rough surface. The drone zoomed too low, and he palmed it, using the power to boost himself higher.
The drone protested under the weight of his push and ditched into the fiery flow. Heath clung to the rock and closed his eyes for a second, gathering his strength for what he had to do next. He inhaled, digging his fingertips deeper into a crack, then flexed his injured arm and pulled himself up. The movement tore a roar from his injured body but he willed himself to ignore the torture and hanging from his wounded arm swung his good one up to follow.
He repeated the motion. Sickening ripping sensations engulfed his entire left side.
Climb.
At never-ending-last he flung his right arm over the top edge. Isa reached over him, her dirty face streaked with tears as she, pulled at his belt helping to drag him to safety. Heath collapsed, clutching his wrist, hot tears stinging his eyes. From the shoulder down, his left side was an inferno. Red stars exploded against the backdrop of his eyelids.
“Heath.” Cool fingers touched his cheek, then threaded between the fingers of his right hand. “Heath, we have to move. It’s still coming.” Her pull was insistent, impelling him back onto his feet.
Her voice was a soothing balm in the darkness of his pain. “This way. I’ve got you.”
14
Isa was dizzy with adrenaline as she hauled Heath away from the cliff edge, trying not to look at the black and bloody mess of his left arm.
The croc was throwing itself at the rock face making the ground shake. Isa wasn’t hanging around to see if it could climb.
Breathe. She swallowed down a wave of nausea. She was useless to Heath if she lost it now. “Come on. We can do this.”
He was stumbling and groaning, his skin slippery with sweat and blood.
She jerked her head up, scouring the surrounding hostile landscape. There had to be somewhere sheltered out of the sun and away from predatory eyes.
His breathing was irregular in her ear but he was still alive. He moaned, a deep noise, wrenched from the depths of his soul.
God. She gritted her teeth. “A bit more.” She urged him on, wrapping her arm around his waist to help him forward.
There. Thank God. The dark mouth of a cave beckoned, concealed by the drooping branches of a stunted tree. She steered him toward it, supporting him the last few steps till he collapsed at the entrance in dappled green light. Cool air soothed her hot face as she dropped to her knees beside him. She cupped his jaw with shaking fingers. His eyes were pressed closed tight, his face tinged gray, his lips almost blue. God, he looked awful. Shock? Shit, why hadn’t she trained to be something useful in life like a doctor? Right now, an in-depth knowledge of quantum mechanics was useless.
Isa swallowed and forced herself to look at his injury. The skin was stripped from his elbow to his shoulder. What in holy hell was she supposed to do?
She lowered her head and released a slow breath. Think. Heath needed her. She had to help him.
He sighed. “You okay?”
She stared at him. “Are you for real?”
He grinned, lopsided, and then his eyes rolled upward and he sagged. She caught him and, taking his knife from the sheath on his hip, she cut the shoulder straps of his backpack and slid it off his right arm.
Isa eased him back against the tree trunk, using her fingers to cushion his head. “Easy now.” She glanced at the filigree of leaves patterned above her head. They fluttered in silent conversation with each other. Well, if they could move, why not communicate?
She returned her attention to Heath. His breathing was rapid and shallow. She tilted his head into a more upright position, her fingertips registering the swelling in his neck and the bluish tinge to his lips. “Okay, his airway is clear.” She patted the trunk. “Let me know if he stops breathing or something.” She ripped open the backpack and tipped it upside down in a vigorous shake. “I need all the help I can get.”
Heath spluttered, his head lolling. “Angie, the computer in your head. It’s here…”
God, he was babbling now. She rummaged through the motley assortment she’d emptied out on the ground with shaking hands. An emergency blanket. Water bottle. Gloves of some sort. Striped wool? The wool fell apart—socks. Hand knitted, judging by the state of them. Didn’t he have anything useful in here? She tossed them to the side, her frustration growing. A sealed box looked hopeful. Please let this be a first aid kit. She dug her nails under the lip and prized it open. The lid popped free, and the contents scattered. She cursed as she examined the tubes and packets with clumsy fingers. Her hands were trembling so much the writing on the labels was a scratchy blur. She rocked back on her heels and clenched her fists tight against her thighs, taking a deep breath. Her heart eased a little.
Okay. One thing at a time.
Read the information. Ha! Result. She snapped off the cover and stabbed the loaded painkiller into his thighs. Heath didn’t flinch, he was still muttering, but too quiet and jumbled for her to make sense of his words.
Isa swiped hair off her forehead and stared at the tree. “How long do you think before the painkiller kicks in?” Leaves stirred in the breeze.
She dipped her head low to his. “Heath, I need to clean the wound.”
She picked up a canister of antiseptic spray. “He may shout. Don’t take it personally.” The tree stood silent and motionless. What if this wasn’t even one of the moving ones? Lord, she was talking to a normal tree that did nothing.
She shook her head, dismissing her own craziness, and pressing the back of her hand across her nose, liberally sprayed antiseptic over his arm. Dead skin and fragments of rock washed off and soaked the parched earth. Sweet Jesus. She blinked, ignoring her heaving stomach.
Heath jerked and crushed her wrist in a vise grip, his eyes wide and staring. His gaze lasered right through her, any confusion gone. “You know what you’re doing?”
Isa offered him a watery smile and blew out a noisy breath. “Only if you’ll let me get on with it.” She raised an eyebrow, and he relaxed again, trusting her.
She bit her lower lip. Just as well she was a good liar. Some rock remained stuck to the ruined flesh but she wouldn’t touch that. She’d do more damage than good. Better to keep it clean and dressed.
She thumbed the lid on a final container. The label was vague. As far as she could gather, it was multi-purpose healing stuff. “I grew up on a farm. Helped my dad until he died. Not gonna lie, the chances are this will hurt.” Isa unleashed the spray. A white cloud formed above his forearm then the particles settled, covering the raw flesh. As she watched, the motes spread, interlocking into an opaque dressing. Amazing. Everything here had a mind of its own. She tapped the can. “Says it’s good for at least forty-eight hours.”
Heath nodded, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“We had a lot of large animals. Horses, cows, pigs.” No hot men.
She shook her head and blew loose hair out of her eyes as she unwrapped a sterile dressing. He was hot. But he was not hers to consider. Her priority was getting off this rock and home. But back to what? Her wedding band glinted accusingly. She’d lost her job. Her parents were both dead. And she couldn’t even begin to work out all the crap she’d have to deal with when it came to Karl and the house.
“Are your parents still alive?” His head tipped back against the weathered tree trunk. Isa glanced up, but the tree remained stationary. Maybe it liked them.
“No, they’re dead.”
She wound the dressing around the solid curve of his bicep. She’d dated a few men in her time. None had arms like this. It was like wrapping the leg of a panther. She finished at his wrist and secured the dressing. She leaned back, pleased with her handiwork.
“I’m sorry about your parents.” His eyes crinkled with concern. He looked like he meant it.
Isa shrugged. “It was a long time ago.” When her father had been sick Karl had refused to visit the hospital, saying the smell freaked him out.
Isa dismissed Heath’s concern with a small smile and wrapped her arms around her sides. “It’s all ancient history.” Her marriage was over years ago, she’d been foolish to not act on it sooner. She wound a loose bandage back into a snug tube.
Heath was staring at her. His lips had regained some color, which was a good sign. And the lines around his eyes had softened.
“Has the painkiller kicked in yet?”
He gave an awkward nod. “A little.”
A long second stretched between them. Something hot and tight within her eased. He would be okay.
“Isa…” He touched his dressing. “Thank you.”
“No problem. You’d have done the same for me.” She scrambled away from him, dismissing her relief as a comedown from the croc attack along with the dirt she brushed from her thighs. Lost on a dangerous planet with a stranger was not the time to be thinking about how attractive he was.
Even if he was.
Adrenaline from escaping was dissipating, leaving her legs shaky. She settled on her backside a safe distance from him, grateful that his injury provided an excuse for them to rest. “We should take it easy for a while. Catch your breath.”
Something unspoken flitted across his face and his lips parted as if he was about to speak. He shook his head and shot her a small smile.
Isa relaxed against the tree and closed her eyes. Didn’t make any difference. She could still see him in her mind’s eye, all tousled hair and stormy eyes.
She sighed. Not matter what her rational brain professed her body had other ideas about her new companion.
15
Heath woke from a dreamless sleep with a start.
Bright afternoon light splotched his arms and legs. The air was still, the only sound the barest rustle of the trees stretching above his head. No drones. No ice storms. He enjoyed the brief calm before memories stole it away.
The crash. Escaping. Finding Isa. The crocodile. He flexed his arm. It resisted movement and throbbed deep in the muscle tissue, but nothing like the fire that had incapacitated him earlier. It’d take a day or two for the nanobots to create new skin, but it was usable again. He sat up, a violent beat pulsing through his injury with the movement, forcing air between his clenched teeth.
He was alone.
Where was Isa?
His backpack rested against his thigh. His hand flew to his wrist. The field pad was missing, along with all the information it contained.
About who he was.
What he’d done.
He rubbed his wrist bone. Did she remove it when fixing his wound? Pain jumbled his thinking. He had no idea. He ripped open the backpack to discover it neatly packed. Isa was far tidier than him. She’d stowed the first aid kit, zipped up for another day but there was no field pad.
He hauled himself onto his feet, hanging on to the tree as the world spun in a dizzying whirl. The bark abraded his forehead. “Do you know where she is?”
Silence.
Gods. Now he sounded as crazy as Isa speaking to the trees.
A few hesitant paces made his thighs protest as he searched for a sign of her, his ears straining for any giveaway noise.
Nothing.
He knotted the cut straps and tossed his backpack over his good shoulder, checking his knife was in its sheath, while ignoring the river of agony cascad
ing down his forearm. Pain meant he was alive. That he could still sort out this mess.
But where the hell was she?
Had she hacked into his field pad? Seen the incriminating evidence? He didn’t know what she did for a living. What if she was some cyber spy Buke had recruited for… for what? Nausea washed through him as his train of thought crashed and burned. His shoulders slumped. He’d wanted one thing: to protect his mother.
What a fucking mess.
He limped out from under the tree and started to ascend the slope that headed west. He at least remembered that from the route plotted on his pad. It took him almost fifteen minutes to climb the tilted rock face with only one arm for balance. When he crested the edge, his upper limbs pounded in a heavy tune that set his teeth on edge. He should have injected more painkillers before he tried anything strenuous but the need to find Isa had been too insistent.
Mountains spread out before him in all directions and below, the flushed late afternoon glow highlighted Isa’s small figure crouched in the dirt.
She looked so alone. His scanned the sky, seeking any threat, but finding nothing. His gut clenched. What did she think she was doing standing out in the open like that? Fierce protectiveness powered through him.
As if sensing his displeasure, she turned and waved at him and then, tucking something under her waistband, she jogged back toward him. Ignoring the beat of blood in his veins, Heath hurried down the other side to meet her.
She hadn’t left him.
He sucked in a pained breath, angry at his own doubts. She could have run, but she’d stayed. He swallowed hard. The last time anyone had cared for him, he’d been a child.
She was breathless when they met, her cheeks pink from the climb and her eyes bright. A genuine smile lit up her face. “Hey, you’re awake. Isn’t it gorgeous?” She gestured at the sun flaming wine-red on the horizon. Guilt fueled his impatience and blotted out any appreciation. He grabbed her wrist. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Hunted Page 7
