Minutes, hours, or days later, I smell rain. It tugs at my thoughts, but I fight to keep them away. All I need is this feeling. Nothing else matters. At some point the weightlessness ends, but the cocoon remains. It is ceaseless, endless, and it absorbs every errant thought before any can penetrate my mind and ruin my peace. I drift, unaware, warm, and content. My lips move, and something cool and wet trickles down my throat. I swallow and float back into my nest of nothingness.
The first person I find in the blackness is Samuel.
I can see him perfectly, as if a day hasn’t passed, only he’s not eight anymore, but older, and much bigger than me now. His face is beautiful, chiseled, his eyes a deeper blue than Matt’s. His hair is like mine, the color of dark beach sand, with bright blond streaks running through the long waves. Someone needs to cut his hair. Dad would never let him wear it that long.
He stares at me for so long but doesn’t say a word. I try to speak, but my voice won’t come. I want to tell him I miss him and that I’m sorry. That we’re all sorry.
And we’re all broken.
I used to go to bed and dream of what my family would have been like if Sam was still with us. Mom would be happy. Matt wouldn’t spend his days being perfect and nights anything but. Dad would loosen his grip because there wouldn’t be that ever-present fear of losing us.
I could’ve known what normal was, if there’s even such a thing.
If only my voice would come, I could tell him I believe him now, about the monsters in the forest, even though it’s too late. And that he’s the reason I escape to the forest, so I can see him, remember him, and that for some strange reason I feel like watching the Bigfoot will in some way make up for my disbelief of his story. But the price will never be paid, because he’s gone forever, and neither my lies nor my honesty about any of it will change that.
Too soon Samuel fades away. This time I call to him, but it’s less than a whisper, and he leaves anyway.
When I find myself again, I’m overwhelmed by heat. It’s no longer the comforting presence it was, but thick and oppressive. Something drips in the background, and heavy breathing echoes around me. I try to remember where I am, but something about that terrifies me. As the warmth increases, so does this burning in my arm. The light of pain becomes focused now, along my shoulder and upper right arm.
Voices drift in and out, but it’s meaningless chatter, just beyond my understanding, yet still familiar. I try flexing something, and my fingers are the first to move.
They clench fur.
Well, that’s not right. I flip through the various reasons in my mind of why I would touch long fur, and I can’t come up with anything rational. All my stuffed animals are short-haired. We don’t have a dog. Matt’s hair doesn’t feel this thick. Not that Matt would be lying practically on top of me.
I let my fingers move again, testing the hair. It’s coarse and slightly oily. There’s a smell too, animal-like, musty, kind of like a wet dog.
My mind keeps hitting a wall. I know there’s something I should remember. It feels imperative that I do. The only way to describe it is like continuously hitting the snooze button on a really important day, only to find you slept your way right through it, and now it’s too late and everyone already left without you.
I think I’m going to be sick.
Heat rolls over me in waves, and sweat runs down my skin. I try to shift my legs, but they’re immobile. I think I’m going to scream if I can’t pry my eyes open, but it’s like they’re glued together.
Another scent hits me, wrapping around me with recognition, luring me out of the darkness. Fingers drift down my cheek, rough and soothing, smelling of pine and earth. The pain in my arm flares for a moment as I feel my blanket shifting, the fur drifting through my fingers.
Something breathes on my face. My eyelids flutter open. If my tongue wasn’t so thick and my mouth dry like cotton I would scream.
Two large, liquid brown eyes stare back, sunken beneath a jutting forehead and black fur.
My blanket is alive.
Her warm breath blows across my face, her gaze watchful. I lift my head enough to glance down, even though the simple movement nearly takes my breath away.
Yep. Bee is snuggling me.
I groan with something between pain and denial. She shifts again, and fire lances down my shoulder. I scream, and suddenly he’s there, looming over me, his face washed in firelight and panic.
“Leah? Can you hear me?” Even through the searing pain, my mind registers how easily my name falls from his lips. As the red fades from my sight, I can see him clearly now.
God, he should exist continuously in firelight and nothing else. He’s like some avenging angel of the forest, with deep shadows and sharp planes creating a chiseled sculpture of perfection. His hard muscles flex as he pries my blanket off my body. She doesn’t go willingly, and scoots close to my head, her steady gaze never leaving me. She twists strands of my hair around her thick fingers, eliciting a soft humming sound.
“Water,” I whisper, my throat burning. I cough, clenching in pain, until he lifts my head gently, placing a cup of water against my lips. Before I think to care if it’s clean or not, I gulp it down, sputtering when I swallow too fast. He frowns but doesn’t take the cup away. His thumb drifts slowly across my cheek, and he stares at something above my eyes with worried intent.
I feel like I’m lying in the desert with a sunburn, but it’s pitch black around the firelight.
Fever.
I don’t remember being sick. But then, I don’t remember anything before a few minutes ago. I can see a small fire licking the darkness just beyond my view. How? Why? Too many questions. I begin closing my eyes to shut them out but realize I can see a roof above my head.
Vines curl and stretch across the high ceiling, spreading down pale cement walls that are covered in faded graffiti. Tiny black things hang from the vines above, looking suspiciously like bats. One drops like water and swoops out into the night, through a massive hole in the farthest wall, blown there nearly a century before to remove logging equipment.
I know where I am.
To my left, on the closest wall, almost as if I knew they were there, I see the familiar scrawl of a handful of names in faded black spray paint, nearly crowded out by others. Even now my eyes find them easily, though I haven’t been here in years.
Reed’s name sits just above mine, joined by Matt, Ashley, and Sam. The Robertses and the Huttons, one of the last times we were all together. The line that surrounded the names is gone, overlapped a dozen times over.
I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember Reed helping me hold down the sticky spray knob on the paint can so I could do a barely legible version of my name. Dad took a picture of all of us together by our names, goofy grins and funny faces filling up the space around the painted concrete.
That’s the dad I wish I had today. The one with the unfailing smile and ever-ready hug, who played the role of horse or bear when I wanted it, or hero when I needed it. The dad who wasn’t afraid to let me push the boundaries and leap, as long as he was there to catch me.
I would give anything for that dad to come back and take the place of the one I have now, who’s drowning in guilt and bitterness and trying to take the rest of us down with him.
But it’s just a memory now. Like that photo, tucked away somewhere in an old, musty box.
“Why am I here?”
The boy frowns again, staring just above my eyes. Bee lets out a moaning huff, and he narrows his eyes at her.
“You don’t remember?”
“No.” My voice breaks, and he holds out another cup of water. “What’s wrong with me?”
“You’re hurt. I’m sorry, Leah. I found you first and couldn’t leave you there.”
I agree with the hurt thing. My arm feels like it’s on fire, and it worries me that he keeps staring at my forehead. “What happened?”
He chews his lip for a moment, watching me, and I flinch when
Bee accidentally tugs my hair. I can feel the tangle that she’s made by twisting it over and over. He takes her massive hand and slides it gently out of the strands. He folds her hands in his, keeping them still, until she heaves a heavy sigh.
“Car crash.”
“What?”
He leans in close, his green eyes glowing with reflected flame. “Your car crashed.”
The memories hit me in a rush. The deer. Matt. The tree. Too fast. Too much. I try to sit up, but the action nearly makes my brain explode in pain. It feels like my arm is going to fall off if my head doesn’t split open first. My breath leaves me in a scream, and when I slam my head back down on the concrete, I go willingly into the blackness.
It’s not fever or the heat of flames that wakes me again but the cool sound of running water. This time I’m prepared. Don’t move my arm, don’t move my head, just open my eyes and nothing should hurt.
Hopefully.
I breathe deeply, inhaling the smell of clean forest air. My right hand tests my surroundings, feeling for anything that might tell me where I am before the shock of opening my eyes somewhere new and strange. My fingers encounter the feel of Spanish moss mixed with pine needles, the layers so thick that they protect me from the rocks beneath.
I can’t hear anything over the rush of water. It’s loud, and echoes around me until I can’t begin to tell where it’s coming from.
I might as well get this over with. Lifting my eyelids ever so carefully, I peer through the slits into late-afternoon light. It’s the grotto. Except now there are a dozen or more thin streams of water flowing over the mouth of the cave into the pool at the entrance. The cave walls glisten with moisture, and tiny drops fall to the ground around me. I watch as one falls toward my face. I close my eyes but feel nothing. My eyes flash open. I should have felt that water drop. I reach a tentative hand up to touch my forehead, only to find some sort of fabric instead. My fingers trace the texture down and around, finding it wrapped completely around my head.
A bandage. Panic sets in. I remember now. The car crash, Matt, and then the boy. But where is Matt? Why am I here and he isn’t?
I have to get up. I have to find Matt.
The pain in my head has reduced to a dull throb, and I don’t use my arm as I push myself up to a sitting position. My head rushes and my sight swirls around me. Fingers dig into the soft ground, trying to hold my body still before I collapse again. All I can do is focus on breathing, in and out, one breath at a time. It takes a few minutes for the earth to stop whirling beneath me so I can open my eyes.
I slowly turn my head left and right, surprised to find I am alone. “Hello?” My voice cracks. There’s no way anyone heard that over the pouring water. I put my lips together, take a deep breath, and let out a whistle.
Someone whistles back.
A silhouette shifts in the rays of the setting sun. The dark shape drifts forward, and my heart sinks. It’s too big to be the boy.
“Please let it be Bee. Please let it be Bee,” I mutter over and over again. Because if it’s him, I don’t know that I will ever make it out of this cave. The fading light highlights the Sasquatch in an orange halo, softening the dark hair around the edge of its body. From this angle I can see it only from the waist up. It’s not until I see the face clearly that I realize it’s not her.
I dig my heels into the soft gravel and moss, using one hand to push myself back into the recess of the cave and sink back against the rocks, too afraid to even blink. A few feet from the edge of the slope, he stops. The creature stares down at me through the water, his face blurry, as I’m sure mine is to him. Blood pulses through my body, pounding painfully in my head. I have to tell myself he won’t hurt me. I have to believe everything I’ve seen him do is just him trying to protect his family, and that if I’m not a threat, I’m safe.
Pebbles scatter over the lip of the grotto as he slides his toes over the edge. Where the hell is the boy? Why would he leave me here knowing his crazy Bigfoot dad is lurking nearby?
My fingers twist into the gravel beneath me, grabbing a handful in preparation. Not that it will do any good. Rocks press into my back as I scoot even farther away, my eyes never leaving his. Then, instead of slowly sliding down the incline like I expect him to do, he leaps. All I can manage is a horrified gasp before he’s standing at the edge of the pool. On my side.
Bitter fear slides like ice through my veins. Where I felt only hot, pounding blood a moment before has now gone cold and numb. Air ceases to flow through my lungs, the muscles in my throat constricting beyond my control. Hair raises along my skin as he blocks out the light of the setting sun, converging on my hidden space.
A massive black foot slides beneath the sheet of water, followed ever so slowly by the rest of him. His large, dark eyes are so human it frightens me more than his nearness. Crouching down to enter the low space, he sits beyond my reach and just within the curtain of water. Wariness and suspicion emanate from every part of him, from his ready-to-flee legs bunched beneath him to the way his fur quivers with each heavy breath. He may be cautious, but there’s no way he’s as frightened as I am.
Around his wide eyes, tan skin gathers in deep wrinkles like sun-darkened leather. Wisps of coarse, shaggy black hair frame his face, and his fists flex over and over in a squeeze-and-release pattern. A wide, flat nose sits above straight lips, and every few seconds he lifts his face to sniff the air, nostrils flaring to catch my scent.
Time has stopped for me. I can no longer feel it passing, though the constant sound of trickling water tells me it must continue on. For all I know, we’ve been here for hours, just staring into each other’s eyes, waiting. At some point my body starts to shiver, but whether from nerves or fever, I can’t tell.
He reaches down, fingers sifting through the pebbles at his feet. He pulls up a handful of flat rocks and drops them into his palm. Then, one by one, he stacks them, until a tiny tower of pebbles sits between us. He looks at me, then at the rocks.
Then, after only a few seconds or maybe a million, he stands and walks away without a backward glance. In two leaping strides he’s across the pool and then he surges up the incline, disappearing over the ridge within a few moments.
Just like that he’s gone. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t to be left alone in one piece. With a rock tower gift. In the silence of his departure, my body is tuned to every sound the forest makes. Every rustle of leaf or snap of branch has my nerves on edge. It’s exhausting. I don’t even realize I’ve fallen asleep until my eyes flash open.
Bee is staring at me, her humid breath falling heavily on my face. The sun has dipped below the tree line, casting a blue-orange glow over the darkening woods, and the sounds of twilight echo around us, magnified by the shallow cave.
A cool hand slips over my forehead, and I glance over to see the boy next to me. His face is in shadow, but I can see the frown on his forehead deepening the longer his hand remains on my skin.
“Where were you?” I whisper, because my voice has suddenly lost the strength to be any louder.
“Away.”
“Why? He came, and I thought . . .” My voice feels thick like cotton, and a wash of heat runs over my skin.
“He was protecting you.”
“You knew?”
He nods, his fingers sliding gently from my skin. I immediately miss the cold. The adrenaline that was keeping me from acknowledging the pain in my body has left, leaving aching agony in its place. I’m not sure what hurts worse now, my head or my arm. And where it doesn’t hurt, it’s gone completely numb.
“I have to take you home, Leah.”
I drag my heavy eyes up to meet his. “Where is Matt? Is he . . . hurt?”
“No.”
They don’t know where I am. God, Mom is probably beyond hysterical. I try to stand. Big mistake. Something in my arm pops and white-hot pain is all I can feel. The boy yells, at me, at Bee, but it’s incoherent as I fall down a dark tunnel into oblivion.
chapter twenty-four
I’m weightless once again. Only this time it doesn’t come with the carefree nothingness of an unconscious mind. The memories are there, fighting to gain the forefront of my attention, but they battle against the excruciating pain of whatever’s wrong with my head and arm.
Icy mist falls on my skin, and I can hear the rattling of bare branches as the frigid wind whips through the trees. The sound of runoff falling into the pool is gone. Where am I this time?
I realize I’ve been moving only when I suddenly stop. The motion makes my head swim with nausea.
“Leah?” The boy peers down into my face, sweeping wisps of hair from my skin.
“What?”
“Matt’s here. He’s going to take you home.”
I have no idea what is going on, not until I look up at who is carrying me. Bee is watching me with a mildly possessive gaze, as if she might not let me go. Her warm fingers curl around my skin a little tighter when the boy motions at her to put me down. Her chest vibrates against mine with a warning growl. The boy sighs with impatience, gently peeling her fingers off of me. He lifts me against him, being mindful of where my injured arm is. A soft whimper escapes her lips when her arms fall away from me. My head swims, threatening to bring me down into the blackness again.
“Go,” the boy whispers softly. Bee doesn’t move. I can feel her fingers reach for my hair, twisting the strands anxiously. “Go,” he says, pointing back the way we came.
With a huff she slowly turns away, her footsteps crunching on fallen leaves, the ground vibrating with her heavy steps. “She’s mad at you.” My voice sounds strangely delirious.
He puts a quick hand on my forehead. “It happens a lot.”
“I like your voice.”
“You’re sick.”
“You’re getting really good at talking.”
The Shadows We Know by Heart Page 17
