by Katie Cross
"There." Devin pointed to a particularly dark spot, surrounded by what appeared to be bushes. "Let's try it."
We moved out of the open area and toward the greater protection of the trees. Bushes cluttered the riverbank, forming a natural kind of barrier. The dark spot was a portion of streambank that had crumbled away and sloped into the water, leaving a place below level ground that we could sit on. Bushes on top would shield us if anyone walked by, which I doubted. Most likely, Kimball and the others would head straight west, staying at the bottom of the canyon until they hit a road or something.
I hoped they walked right in front of a semi.
Still, I couldn't shake the fear that they had followed us. That they wanted revenge and would find us here to finish what they intended to do. The night was too cold, the dark too deep, and my fatigue too great for me to know whether my thoughts even made sense or not.
We slipped down the dirt slope, which was wide enough to sit side-by-side. Dev dropped to a knee, plunged his hands into the water, and brought it to his face. He gave a little gasp from the cold, then did it again. He rubbed down his face, his neck, his hair, then drank until I settled numbly next to him. The water cleared the dirt and blood from his face.
Thoughts of Kimball and the fire-scarred man retreated to the back of my mind again while I worried about Devin.
I sat back and stared at the top of the gentle creek as it slid by. Moonlight illuminated the top in white slivers as the water bumped over rocky rapids. Thoughts spilled all over my mind, just like the creek. They flowed with equal parts relief to be away from the reach of the fire, euphoria that Devin was still with me, and utter terror that Kimball would somehow find us. All the courage that buoyed me up at the abandoned cabin fled from me now and left me weak in its wake.
"Ellie?"
Devin's voice cut through my mind and stopped what had become a fast spiral of thought. I shook my head, blinked, and registered that he was staring at me. The moon illuminated enough of his profile that I could see the angle of his cheek, softened by his swollen cheekbone. The urge to reach up and touch his face nearly overcame me. He seemed oriented now, as if the water had woken him up.
"I'm okay," I said quietly.
Unable to endure the intensity of his stare, I scooped up water and drank from my cupped palm. The moment my lips touched the cool liquid, I drank hungrily, scooping six or seven times before my thirst calmed. The water had a mossy taste and slid with cool relief all the way to my ravenous stomach.
"Probably past midnight, you think?" I asked as I shook the water droplets off my hand.
"At least. How long was I knocked out?"
"Not sure. Half an hour, maybe."
He frowned.
I didn't know what to say, so I remained quiet. To acknowledge what he said would force me to acknowledge our position, and I wasn't ready to do that. My brain needed to keep all emotions in their respective boxes. That way, I could push through and not let my love for him get in the way. Nor would the fact that I'd almost lost him again slow down my judgment.
My battered mental boxes trembled tonight.
Devin reached over and grabbed my shoulder. The solid grip made me suck in a sharp breath. I tilted my head back to look at him, limned in starlight. Concern lay evident on his features.
"Are you really okay?"
I nodded, even though both of us knew I lied. Right now, I was fine. All of this would spill out later, once I let the emotions out. For now, I'd stay buttoned up and in control.
"Are you?" I asked.
He shook his head, then grimaced a little as he stretched his body around. "No." He scoffed, and it could have been a chuckle under different circumstances. "Joe was a friggin' wrecking ball. At least . . . not really bad. I can walk off the mountain."
"Your head?"
"Messed up in so many ways," he murmured.
Before I could ask what that meant, he repositioned. His left shoulder leaned against the wall of dirt behind him. Our knees pressed together. This little nook of dirt and rocks would hide most of us for the night, but we wouldn't be able to lay down. Sitting upright made it feel as if I were ready to react to anything that came along. Dev grabbed a pine needle that stuck out of the dirt near his face and began to methodically split it into pieces.
"I had a flashback." He met my gaze. "Back there. That's why I acted so weird. It's been happening pretty often after this last deployment. Based on the intense circumstances tonight, I think it's gotten worse. Like my body recognizes when I'm back in that fight-or-die position and runs back. I'm sorry."
I recalled the haze in his eyes and his attempts to reiterate my existence. The word flashback helped it click back into place. Hearing the confirmation sent a shudder through me. He looked over the stream, then shook his head softly.
"I'm not sure what my triggers are yet," he continued. "I've seen a professional to help get myself out of the flashbacks, but only had a chance for two visits before I got my leave. They still rear up despite some initial work to keep them at bay. Mostly in dreams. Sometimes in situations like this. I still can't peg exactly what starts them, but . . ."
He trailed away and I wondered what he was going to say, but prevented. A thousand questions filled my mind, starting with, what happened to hurt you so deeply? And when were you going to tell me?
If we hadn't experienced this horrible night, would he have let me in on his secret? Would I have ever known that he suffered? Maybe not, because Devin and I didn't owe each other that anymore. The silent give-and-take ended when he left and our friendship stopped so suddenly.
But did it have to continue like that? Couldn't friends pick back up where they left off? And they always leave, Mama whispered, which engaged the real question.
Did I trust Devin?
"I'm sorry, Dev," I whispered to silence the other voice. "That's . . . I'm sorry it's happened to you. I would never wish that on anyone."
"Thanks." He swallowed. "Me too. It might happen again tonight, which is why I wanted to tell you."
"What can I do?"
He let out a breath. "It's called grounding. You already kind of did it back there, or helped me do it. When I'm in the flashback, it feels like I'm back at a few specific moments of the deployment. I say things to ground myself back in reality. Things that remind me where I am. They reiterate that I'm not there so I can eventually work out of the confusion."
"Like when you asked me if I was real?"
His nostrils flared and he nodded. For a moment, he looked as if he would say something, but his lips sealed shut. Finally, he said, "I'm not ready to tell you everything about that deployment. Maybe I never will. But it was hell over and over again. One of the most difficult postings we've had." His fingers curled into a tight fist and bitterness edged his tone. "Over forty men died there before the government finally agreed to leave it so we didn’t have to fight and die anymore."
Unable to say a word, I just reached over and took his hand. The touch seemed to give him courage. He looked over at me. His gaze dropped to my lips, then skated away. His voice returned to the melodic singsong of before.
"Although every day had a question mark on it over there, there were three times I really thought I would die. Those are the flashbacks I have now. They haunt me the most, although sometimes I have memories that surface out of nowhere. Like pictures in my mind, when I'm walking or in line at a restaurant. It's unpredictable. Each instance when I thought it was my last day, I . . ."
He faltered. A troubled expression crossed his face and he tightened his fingers around mine. I wanted to pull him close. My heart longed to draw him into my arms and soothe all that frustration from his eyes. But I froze because I knew Devin. He needed to get this out and he wouldn't do that unless he could look into my eyes.
"I saw you."
My eyebrow rose. "Me?" I whispered.
"Each time." His voice became strained. "Each time I thought I might die, I saw you. You just looked . . . worried. Conc
erned. Angry, even. Like you came to say goodbye. But you never spoke to me. That's why I was confused when you said something tonight."
His fingers felt hot against my suddenly cold ones. The words played over and over in my mind. I saw you. I saw you. Devin and I had always had a more intense connection than most people expected, but this was something else. I licked my lips, speechless for several seconds.
"Wh-what did I do?"
Devin let out a long breath, then faltered. "I . . . You . . ."
I put my free hand on his arm. "You don't have to tell me, Dev. It wasn't a fair question. Keep going."
His eyes closed in relief, which only deepened my desire to know. "So far, you haven't been in my flashbacks. It's how I ground myself. If I don't see you, then it's not real and I'm not there. So when I saw you tonight, you sort of mixed with the flashback and I was . . . confused. Worried. It's like a strange merging of past and present. Sometimes I feel the danger and the fear, even though I know I'm not at that place. Sometimes, I can see the memory play out in front of me, like a movie. That's why I asked if you were real and whether you were here. Because at that place in Afghanistan, when I thought I was about to die, you didn't speak to me. Tonight, you did. It convinced me that it was just a flashback."
The crack of my heart would have been audible if my heart had words. I didn't move my gaze off of his. He pushed through.
"If it happens again, which I hope it doesn't but it probably will, do what you did. Help me ground and get me back to reality by telling me where I am. Tell me what we're doing. Give me concrete details until I'm fully back. In those moments, I need to know what's real and what isn't. If you don't," he added quickly and with a spurt of fear, "I might get too far into the memory. I could hurt you. I haven't yet, I can normally get myself out of it." Agony etched into his features. "But I could," he added softly.
I squeezed his hand. "You won't, Dev. You never would."
He leaned forward until our foreheads touched. So many questions filled my mind, but not even they could distract me from the smell of him. The warmth of his body next to mine. Without him, I would have been out here alone.
"We need to get some sleep," he whispered. "We can huddle together, in case it gets much colder, and doze. I won't sleep deeply, I hope, but if I get into a nightmare, try to wake me up."
"I'll ground you."
He smiled gently, then pulled away. There wasn't far to go, so he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and we leaned back into the stream bank. I wiggled closer and put my head on his shoulder. Like missing puzzle pieces, we slid together. The boxes in my mind jangled with an ugly reminder of how full I'd filled them tonight. Devin's whispered confession, so darkly vulnerable and stark in the reality of his new life, created more boxes.
More emotions.
More uncertainty.
"Thank you for telling me," I whispered.
He squeezed my shoulders and I slid into a reluctant and fitful sleep.
16
Devin
Dawn edged the sky when my eyes fluttered open.
Darkness still lingered in the trees across the stream, but the sky had started to lighten in the east. For the first time in my life, the presence of light in the mountains wasn't a comforting thing.
We'd make better time and would hopefully be able to haul off the mountain today, but so would Kimball and Steve. There was more to see in the daylight, and we were included in that. Without knowing their motivations and whether or not they wanted to come back at us, I had to assume they were still hostiles. Particularly this morning, after time allowed reality to set in. I'd seen the pink bricks of powder burst into flame before we stumbled away. Men killed over lesser insults than lost drugs and money.
A gentle sigh drew my gaze down. Ellie's head remained tucked up on my shoulder, her breath warm and gentle on my neck. Her arm lay limp across my stomach. Dew had descended overnight, dampening our clothes. Her skin was cool where she wasn’t touching me. I wanted to curl her all the way into my arms and wrap her in a hold that pressed my heart on hers. Maybe she wouldn't even protest. We'd always cuddled and touched more often than most. But that didn't necessarily mean anything.
I shoved those thoughts away. Practicality demanded attention, not dreams. No matter how hard I tried to get rid of them, they returned.
Besides, Ellie wasn't mine. She never really had been. She felt like mine in high school when our worlds intermixed so easily. When I could keep an eye on her and also have other friends. That life wouldn't have lasted. The adoration I saw in her eyes for her best friend was part of the reason I knew I had to leave, at least for a while. Because Ellie was, for all intents and purposes, mine. Totally under the spell of what friendship we had. She'd hold herself back in all elements of her life because of her loyalty to me and never think twice about it.
At least, not at first.
Resentment would have built over time. I'd seen it in my sister and my parents and wanted better for Ellie and me. I tightened my hold on her without thinking about it and she stirred.
The gentle twitter of birds overhead drew my thoughts back to our surroundings. The stream bubbled by, soft as a sigh. No other sound interrupted the lazy woods, but my gaze darted around anyway. Nothing was ever this peaceful.
Yes, it is, came the thought. You've just forgotten.
Flashes of deployment in Afghanistan and the brap brap brap of hostile fire jolted me. I shook my head to get rid of the intrusive thoughts.
I'm here, I told myself and forced myself to draw in a deep breath. The fresh scent brought me back. That world and that life aren’t real right now.
Except it was for someone else, and that made me just as sick to my stomach. With intentional mental force, I turned my mind back to where I wanted it for the third time: our plan to get out of here.
A popular, even wider creek should have waited at the bottom of another ridgeline, set to the south of the one Ellie almost set on fire last night. But we hadn't found it yet. We'd crossed over this stream yesterday, but farther up. At least, I thought we had. The ridges and valleys were unclear without the absolution of a map. Any attempt to recall it met with uncertainty. I thought I knew where to go, but couldn't be sure of it. My stomach growled as if it sensed my lack of confidence.
We couldn't wander forever.
The ridge wasn't as high here and had more forest cluttering the hills, but I hoped it would intersect with the well-known trail near the bottom, where the stream dumped into a lake that people often hiked to. Once we hit the trail, we could move quickly and get out of here.
My head pulsed lightly with pain, but it felt dull and thick instead of torturous thuds. I'd need to get to a hospital sooner than later, but, for now, my focus would solely be on getting us out of these mountains. If Kimball did follow, they'd expect us to stay near the stream. We'd walk high, following the creek in the trees if we had to.
"Dev?"
The quietly spoken word stirred my chest. I glanced down again to see Ellie blinking up at me. She shifted away, gazed around in panic, then sagged back in relief. She returned to the same spot and snuggled in more deeply, her forehead pressed against my neck. I held her tight against me and tried not to feel annoyed that I smelled like blood, dirt, and vomit. Instead, I let the deep intensity of hope from her touch fill me. Like I could draw all her power into me and stuff it into all my broken places.
My voice came out a scratchy burr when I asked, "Sleep okay?"
"Yeah. In and out."
"Same."
Her eyelashes fluttered against the column of my neck as she blinked. I rubbed her cool arm with my palm and she shivered.
"It's cold this morning."
"It'll warm up fast." My gaze darted up to a cloudless sky. "Should be a hot day."
She nodded. "How long have you been up?"
"Just a few minutes."
"Already mapped out our escape?" she quipped and her face moved into a little smile.
Despite my own
pessimistic thoughts regarding the onset of daylight and Kimball's likely deep desire for revenge, I heard optimism in hers. The sky had turned blue overhead. To the east, rays of sunlight had started to break. Birds sang in a wild cacophony of sound. It would be another hour or so before the sun would be visible over the craggy mountains, but light reached the world all the same.
"Had some ideas."
"Follow the stream?"
"Yeah, but in the trees." I tilted my head toward the bank of trees that reached up to the ridge. "Even those idiots could figure out that following a stream might be the easiest path out."
Her face moved into a smile that I could feel. "You have good ideas," she murmured. "It's what I was going to suggest."
She pulled away again, and I felt her missing pressure and heat like a removed limb. With her fingers, Ellie picked a hair band out of her hair and let her locks spill free on her shoulders. My throat tightened at the sight of her, rumpled from sleep, her eyes bright, and crinkled hair unbound in a wild mess over slender shoulders. I turned away and wondered how I'd ever be able to walk away and back to North Carolina.
"Is your head okay?" she asked as she combed through the hair with her fingers. A twig dangled off a few strands near her left shoulder. I reached over and plucked it free, flicking it off my fingers. A smile twitched my lips as I pulled another bramble out of another lock of hair. She snorted.
"My head hurts," I said, "but fine. You ready to hoof it out of here? I want to get started now that we can see."
"Yeah, let me just get a drink."
Ellie slowly straightened, arms stretched overhead. I diverted my hungry gaze so it didn't rove over the elegance of her arms and the shape of her shoulders. Then she reached for the water, drank several times, splashed her face and arms, and turned to me. Her eyes met mine for the first time this morning with a clear, sparkling curiosity. Brilliant as the thick greenery around us.
