Love Without a Compass

by Lindy Zart

  “I never thought it could be that he didn’t know about me. I’m not sure why, but out of all the scenarios, that wasn’t one of them.”

  I twist my head to meet Ben’s eyes. As soon as I do, he lowers his mouth and gives me a sweet, lingering kiss that floods my body with bittersweet joy. We haven’t talked about it, but what happens when we leave here? We can say we’ll stay in each other’s lives all we want, but how will that be possible with me in Illinois and Ben wherever Ben decides to go?

  Maybe he won’t go. The thought floods me with guilt. I will not ask him to stay for me. That would be wrong. I push anything but now from my mind, Ben’s fingers in my hair lulling me to slumber. This is wonderful. He’s wonderful. And I feel wonderful.

  “I’m happy,” I announce softly, a hint of disbelief in my tone. The words seem out of place, given our circumstances.

  “Good. So am I.”

  I smile and sink lower into Ben’s arms.

  One second I’m about to fall asleep on Ben’s shoulder, and the next I’m shoved to my back on the ground with a hand clapped across my mouth. Ben’s lying directly on top of me, his head lifted, his body taut and unmoving. I try to ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but unintelligible sounds are all I produce.

  Ben’s voice, low and thick with warning, feathers across my ear. “Shh.”

  When I try to wiggle out from beneath him, he tightens his hold and lowers his face to mine. I immediately slacken my body at the look on his face. It’s menacing. “Don’t move; don’t talk.”

  My eyebrows dip in question.

  “We are not alone.”

  “Wh—”

  He squeezes my shoulder, slowly moving his head side to side.

  I jerk my head in what is meant to be a nod of submission, my heartrate stuttering before shifting into overdrive. I want to ask him what he means by that, and what exactly is with us, and where. “Where” is an excellent question. Body still as stone, my eyes flicker around us, looking for whatever has Ben spooked. If we’re about to be attacked, I have no idea from which direction. A rock sits in my stomach as I envision a lion or wolf, maybe a bear, dragging me off to eat. What if it’s that alien-goat-thing come back with its clan to finish what it started?

  I choke back a whimper.

  Ben carefully lifts his body from mine, instantly chilling me, and crouches feet from me. He pauses as if listening for something only he can hear. With fast, noiseless movements, he removes all evidence of us and the fire. I think that’s a great idea, until I wonder why he needs to do that if there is only an animal near us.

  “What’s going on?” I hiss, terror clawing at me from the inside out.

  He turns to me. “When I tell you, you run. Got it?”

  “Ben,” I whimper.

  “You run.”

  “Why? Ben.”

  “I don’t think we’ve been in Shawnee National Forest for quite some time, and that worries me. I saw a fire not far from here. We’re being tracked. Anyone who doesn’t want us to know they’re near us is not someone we want to find us.” Ferocity stares back at me. “I mean it, Avery. You run.”

  “W-where?” comes out in a disjointed whisper. I remember the sensation of being watched today. Were we? My body shakes with cold and fear.

  A rustling to the left of us spikes the tempo of my pulse and widens my eyes. I spring up, ready to run, and I don’t care to where. I move in a circle, searching for a predator I can’t see. It’s like spinning around in a circle of madness.

  Ben’s hand clamps to my arm, halting my progress to nowhere. He freezes me in place with his eyes, wordlessly telling me to stay put. It’s a wonder I can hear anything around the pounding of my heart, but when Ben’s mouth forms the word “run”, I do, without a backward glance.

  Call it instinct, call it cowardice: I am gone.

  Ben will be fine; he’s a fast runner. He’ll catch up in no time. Heart pounding, I run without direction. Through high weeds that grab and slice my legs and arms, I go and go. I watch the darkening skies as I run. I have to keep moving, and whatever is after us won’t get me.

  But Ben…Ben it might get.

  I slow to a stop, knowing I have to go back. I can’t leave him. Whatever happens, we’re in this together. Always.

  My shoulders spring back.

  I am not a coward. I am brave.

  An animal growls.

  I jump, screaming when a hand clamps down on my shoulder and spins me around, another immediately slapping over my mouth to halt any further sound. I’m dragged to a tree with a vicelike grip on my wrists, a heavy weight pressed against me to ensure I can’t escape.

  BEN

  “What are you doing?” I demand. Avery was running toward danger, not away from it. My heartbeat hasn’t been right since I saw her heading straight to the strangers I want to avoid. It sent fear so profound I thought I was going to vomit spiraling through me, with fury quickly following it.

  She slumps against me, and I loosen my grip on her. Without saying a word, Avery wraps her arms around my neck and presses her frame to mine, burrowing her face in my neck. I stand with my arms raised, hands out, and with a hard swallow, I embrace Avery. My arms tighten, gathering her closer, and my cheek drops to the crown of her head. My heartbeat won’t steady, and my pulse is past malfunctioning.

  Avery’s okay, I tell myself, closing my eyes. She’s okay.

  “I was…I was trying to find you,” she tells me in a voice that shakes as much as she is.

  My throat tightens. “You were supposed to run.”

  Working in an office side by side with Avery for months was torture. Part of the time because she seemed to purposely try to outdo me at every opportunity. Then there was the night of Duke Renner’s birthday party and the ensuing days after that royally screwed everything up. But the other part of the time it was because she was likable. Too likable. My head and heart have been on a merry-go-round of torment since she arrived at Sanders and Sisters. It was easier to dislike her than try to figure her out.

  “I left you for the crows,” Avery states. “I’m not leaving you again.”

  Now I don’t have that shield to help protect me from my own emotions.

  Because I know her heart, and it’s as fragile as anyone else’s.

  Because every bad thing she did was for someone else.

  Because she doesn’t give up.

  Because she came back for me, and a hundred other details I can’t wrap my head around, even as they stare me in the face.

  Because she said she’s not leaving me again.

  I take a deep breath and slowly release it.

  “Do you hear that?” she whispers.

  I nod, looking in the direction of faint voices. “Yeah,” I say flatly.

  “It sounds like people.”

  I nod again, pinpricks of unease dancing along my spine.

  Avery keeps herself perfectly still. “Is that who we’re trying to avoid?”

  A third nod.

  She moves back to see my eyes. “Why? It’s people, the first we’ve seen since we’ve been out here. They can help us.”

  Avery takes a step toward them and my hand snatches out, gripping her wrist to halt her. “They’re hunters.”

  She looks over her shoulder at me. “Okay?”

  “And we might be on their land. Either way, I have a bad feeling about them.”

  Avery shifts closer to me, standing on her tiptoes to try to catch a glimpse of the men. Her face is directly beside mine, making it hard to focus on anything but her. “How many are there?”

  Grimness coats the word as it leaves my mouth. “Four.”

  They’re too close to where our fire was, and I know they know we’re nearby. How long have they been tracking us? In my haste to get far from them, I forgot whatever scraps are left of the backpack, and anything else we had lying about. These men are dangerous, and we don’t want to have anything to do with them.

  “Ben?”

  “Y
eah?” I look at Avery, catching the determined set of her jaw.

  “I need to know if you trust me.” She straightens her spine as if steeling herself for whatever cruel words I’m about to sling at her.

  I jerk my eyes to hers. “Does we have to discuss this now?”

  “Yes.”

  Frustration sharpens my tone. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t know what’s about to happen, and I have to know that whatever does or doesn’t, you trust me.”

  “I trust you,” I tell her firmly. “Now you have to trust me, all right?”

  Avery nods.

  “Whatever happens, don’t fight.” Don’t let them touch you.

  She frowns at me.

  “Do what they say.” My palms shake, and I fist my hands. Don’t let them hurt you.

  A twig crackles under the weight of a boot, and I freeze, holding Avery’s eyes. “Don’t look away from me,” I whisper. Don’t let them take you away from me.

  Her eyes begin to slide to the side.

  I shake my head, gripping her shoulders. Her eyes flutter back to mine. “Look at me, Avery. That’s right, just look at me. Don’t look away.”

  Don’t let me lose you.

  “Aw, isn’t this sweet.” A husky voice drawls from behind. “A little romantic time in the forest between two lovebirds.”

  Avery’s face is filled with fear, her features pale and pinched. Still, she stands tall. I won’t let anything happen to her. I swear it, to her and to me. A barely perceptible nod acknowledges what I silently promise. Unlike finding the lodge, this promise I plan to keep.

  “Jim, check this out,” he calls. “I think we found the campers.”

  Although her expression is fierce, Avery starts to visibly shake.

  “Is that so?” a second voice booms. “Well, come on then, turn around and show your faces. We don’t bite.”

  His words produce laughter from his comrades, but it isn’t friendly. It’s the kind that slithers down your spine with foreboding.

  “You forgot to say much. We don’t bite much,” one adds.

  “Well, now, that all depends on the person. How about you folks? Are you decent or do I need to get the can of whoop ass ready? Come on, be polite and turn around.” Impatience slices through the words.

  I take Avery’s hand in mine and slowly turn to face the unknown men. Four stand spread out in a line that blocks us from going forward. Their faces are hidden by shadows. One is substantially taller than the rest, and wider too. As a unit, they step toward us, bringing their features into focus the closer they get. Hard-edged faces without a hint of empathy look back at us.

  “I believe you have something of mine.” It’s the tallest one, complete with a handlebar mustache and safari hat. Interest glints in his eyes as they come to rest on Avery. He shifts his gaze to me. “I’ll take my knife now.”

  “You can have the knife,” I say with a voice that sounds like sandpaper.

  “And the lady.”

  My blood vessels constrict, tightening to the point of physical pain. Avery flinches, her eyes shooting to mine. I carefully shake my head, never breaking eye contact with her. They cannot have her. I will not allow it. As the men continue to talk, it sounds like the adults in the Charlie Brown movies inside my head; a bunch of noise without much sense to it.

  “Jenkins, why don’t you escort this fine lady to our camp.”

  That I hear perfectly well.

  Shoulders forward, I face the men. “You’re not taking her.”

  The man tips his head and laughs. “You confiscated my knife—some could say you even stole it. I think asking the same of your lady friend is only fair. We’re tired of looking at one another’s ugly mugs. Need a change of scenery. We’ll be nothing but the best of gentlemen, isn’t that right, boys?”

  A chorus of agreement rings out.

  Needles prick my skull, stabbing at me from all directions. Combustible rage throbs inside me, wanting to get out. They will not touch her, not while I live. I pull Avery behind me, never releasing her wrist. Avery makes a funny sound. I briefly wonder if it’s out of fear or discomfort from the ironclad grip I have on her.

  My voice is cold as I announce, “I don’t think so.”

  “Boys.”

  Three barrels are aimed at me within seconds.

  I flinch.

  Avery inhales sharply, her nails digging into my back.

  He chuckles. “Oh, I do think so.”

  “You touch her,” I rasp, fury filling my blood, singing sweet and deadly. “You die.”

  I don’t know how, but I’ll make it happen. I’ll squeeze the life out of him with my hands around his thick neck if I have to.

  The large man tips his head back and laughs, his gut moving as he does. When he’s had his share of mirth, he focuses on me with lethal intent. All traces of humor are gone. “I’m afraid you don’t get it. You’re on private property. Trespassing, I’d say. And, you see, we’re the ones with the guns.”

  He steps closer, a slight tilt to his head as he makes a slow, wide circle around us. We turn with him, never letting him out of sight. The hunter stops before me, close enough that I can see the black of his teeth when he speaks and smell smoke and sweat. “What do you have?”

  I lunge forward without thought, intent on smashing in his face. But he’s ready, swinging his fist into my jaw. I hear a crack as pain radiates down the side of my face. Avery screams, piercing and unending. Seconds later, the atmosphere is ravaged by an animalistic roar that sends chills down my back and tightens my throat.

  It’s as if the beast is responding to Avery’s call of distress.

  It comes again, closer, louder, and the three men with rifles scramble to get out of the charging bear’s way as it barrels through shrubbery and directly at the hunters. The black bear, larger than all three men combined, gallops after them. I stand still, confused by what I’m seeing, as the bear chases each of the men, bellowing its displeasure with them.

  “Shoot it,” the man closest to us shouts, waving his arms.

  Another tries to aim the gun, but a bird swoops at his head and he cries out, dropping the weapon.

  “What in the absolute hell?” the lead hunter rages, striding toward the chaos playing out beside us.

  The sky is obliterated with black flying objects and Avery shrieks and drops to the ground as an army of crows swoop into the fray, pecking at one of the hunter’s shirts as he screams and flails his arms and tries to outrun them. One of the crows comes near enough that I can see it only has one eye.

  “No fucking way,” I whisper.

  It flies toward Avery, cawing once before taking off. She covers her head and cowers. I stare at Avery, disbelieving what I’m seeing, even as I know it to be true.

  I kneel beside Avery, touching her shaking shoulder. “Avery, get up.”

  With ungraceful motions, Avery straightens her contorted form and looks around us, fear and awe riveted to her features as she takes in the scene. As if tag teaming, the crows and bear take turns terrorizing the hunters. It would be funny, if this was a movie and not reality.

  Already turning to go, she states, “I’m trying to be brave, but right now, I am failing.”

  “We can’t go yet. Wait.” I put a hand on her shoulder. We need to make a decision here.

  Annoyance puckers her mouth when she turns back to me. “For them to remember us? No, thank you.”

  “Just let me think a second,” I demand.

  Avery sighs and gestures for me to get on with it.

  I scowl at her.

  She lifts her eyebrows.

  I want to be irritated with her, but don’t have time for that. Turning an analytical eye on the situation, I go through possible scenarios, looking for the best one. While the men are distracted, we could run for it, like Avery said, but that’s only a temporary fix. They’d still be out here, and they’d find us again. My eyes land on one of the guns.

  Before I can come to a decision, it’s ta
ken from me.

  A higher, younger cry joins the bear’s, drawing the leader’s attention. His focus, along with the weapon in his hands, swings to the bear cub who decided to join its mother. The hunter with the gun is the closest to us. This fact doesn’t seem all that significant, until Avery moves. With a shout, she throws herself before the cub and directly in front of the rifle.

  The world stops, along with my heart, and then it comes back with speeding force.

  I sprint toward Avery. The fear is consuming; it makes it hard to even move. Chest tight, breaths choked, I try to get to her in time. “Avery! Avery, no!”

  She looks up, eyes on me, steady and strong.

  I love her.

  The thought hits me hard enough that I stumble forward, breaking stride, as a shot cracks the night into pieces.

  20

  AVERY

  In another incident where I react without thinking, I again find myself running. This time, however, it’s toward danger. That little bear cub is not going to die. It would break Ben’s heart. Let’s be real: it would break mine too. In a move either valiant or senseless, depending on the person, I put myself between the firearm and the bear cub.

  “Stupid girl,” the hunter mutters, shaking his head with an evil grin.

  “I am not a girl,” I tell him firmly.

  He gives me a weird look and I realize I inadvertently called myself stupid.

  I jump forward, intent on wrestling the weapon from him just as Ben rams into me with enough force to send me sailing sideways. I land on the ground, the wind knocked from me.

  Everything pauses when the gun goes off. I open my eyes, going motionless, and watch as Ben plummets to the ground, face first. Tears, instant and brutal, swim to the surface. I crawl to Ben, knowing that if he dies, I might as well go with him.

  “Ben,” I croak, shaking his shoulder. I search for blood on him, and finding none, shake him some more. “Ben. Are you okay? Answer me!”

  He gingerly lifts his head and spits out dirt and grass. “I’m fine. You?”

  I help him sit up and then I cover his face in kisses, tasting dirt and sweat and not caring. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine,” I whisper over and over, trying to convince myself it’s true.