Alaska Wild

by Helena Newbury

  Kate stepped forward to lead the way, eager to be off. She actually seemed happy down here. For once, everything—the low ceilings, the small openings—was perfectly sized for her. But I shook my head and gently pulled her back. “I should go first,” I said tightly. “In case I can’t fit. Then we don’t get separated.”

  I hunkered down in front of the opening, clicking on my own flashlight. The nearer I got to it, the smaller the damn thing looked. I was going to have to twist like an eel to get through. I hesitated, my spine prickling, sweat breaking out on my back. Goddammit, why did we have to come down here?

  “You sure you’re okay?” asked Kate quietly.

  I whipped my head around. “I’m fine!” I snapped. Then immediately felt guilty. It’s not her fault I’m a fuck up. I glared at the opening instead, trying to will it bigger, but it just sat there, a gaping maw laughing at my weakness.

  Goddammit.

  I crawled into the hole.

  One mile in, my heart was hammering in my chest and I was sucking air in through gritted teeth. I had to keep shining my flashlight around each chamber to reassure myself there was space around me, and that the darkness didn’t hide walls that were just inches away. Hold it together, Boone!

  There was another problem, too. I could still hear the hiss of the rain coming down outside, echoing through the chambers. The floor was running with water - only an inch deep, but getting higher. And all that water was going in the same direction as us: down.

  We had to hurry.

  But a half mile further on, the tunnel narrowed. My shoulders started to brush the sides and I felt the panic start. The ceiling dipped until I had to duck and then hunch and then crouch. Ahead, the only way through was a crawlspace: wide, but less than a foot high.

  There suddenly seemed to be not enough air in the cave—

  “Mason?” Kate’s voice. I realized I’d stopped and was just crouching there, staring at the crawlspace. I shook my head and pressed on. I had to do it. The water was definitely flowing faster as more and more rain filtered down through the rocks above. Another fifteen minutes, maybe, and the crawlspace would be underwater.

  The ceiling got even lower. It widened a little but we’d have to crawl on our bellies. I dropped to my knees, fear making my movements slow. I started to lie down on my stomach, but realized that would put my face in the running water. Dammit. I’d have to go face-up, just like—

  “Mason?”

  Just go fast. Get through it fast and you’ll be fine. I rolled onto my back and started to slide myself along the ground, waterproof jacket scraping along the rock. I watched the ceiling descend towards my face with each inch. I could hear my breathing speeding up, each gasp echoing around the cave—

  “Mason?”

  I angrily rammed myself forward. I was right in the crawlspace, now, rock under my back and more rock no more than an inch from my eyes. I had to tilt my head a little to the side to fit.

  Go fast! Get through it before—

  I hauled myself further in but I only had one working arm and I moved painfully slowly. I could feel the ceiling pressing down on my chest, tight enough that I couldn’t take a full inhalation. Quick, quick! I tried kicking with my legs but that did nothing except remind me of how little space I had. Oh Jesus. I couldn’t get a full breath so I breathed faster and faster, huffing like a goddamn steam train—

  The panic uncoiled inside my chest, a sleeping monster I’d stupidly awakened. It spread, sinking its claws into me, and every place it touched went numb. My neck. My face. My arms.

  No! Not here! Not now!

  I heard Kate’s voice again but she was far, far away...out of reach. The rock was turning to wood under my fingertips, the smell of it in my nose. I stopped moving because I couldn’t even wriggle my shoulders, anymore. The coffin was too tight, too tight—

  And then the horror of it forced my mind into the only safe place it had.

  Inside.

  39

  Kate

  Oh Jesus. Oh God no.

  I’d pushed myself into the crawlspace next to him. I was lying on my back, head twisted to the side so that I was looking right into his eyes. And there was nothing there at all. He stared right through me.

  Is he dead? His breathing had gotten faster and faster but now I couldn’t hear it at all. Had he had a heart attack?

  I put my face as close to his as I could, grunting and straining my neck. I still couldn’t hear anything but I could feel a faint breath of life on my cheek. I shook his arm. “Mason?”

  Nothing. He was still alive. He just wasn’t there anymore.

  Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Or something very like it. He’d had an attack and locked up completely. You idiot, Kate! I was meant to be good at reading people! How had I missed every single sign? He’d been scared just coming into the cave, more when we first had to crawl. This crawlspace must have been an unimaginable hell. I stared into his unseeing eyes. Why didn’t you say something?

  Because he’d had no choice. My guts twisted. Not if he wanted to keep me safe.

  And there was another problem. The water that had been washing across the cave floor was getting deeper and the crawlspace was low. Already, it was already only a few inches from Boone’s face. Soon, he’d drown in there.

  I inched back out of the crawlspace and took hold of his feet. I’ll just pull him out. Then, when he’s got some space around him, I can help him. I braced myself and heaved.

  Nothing happened.

  I heaved again. Nothing.

  A third time, panicking, now. He was just too heavy, the rock he lay on was too rough and, crouched as I was, I had no leverage. If it had been him pulling me, no problem. But I just wasn’t big enough.

  Tears in my eyes, I called myself every name under the sun. I’ve never hated being five foot two so much.

  And then I crawled back into the crawlspace beside him. The water was still climbing.

  If I couldn’t pull him out, I’d find some other way.

  I wasn’t giving up on him. Not ever.

  40

  Boone

  There’s a place you can go to, right down inside yourself, where nothing can hurt you. It’s where you go when an IED takes your leg off or when you’re being raped.

  It’s where you go when you’re being tortured.

  And the more times you go there, the easier it becomes to visit. And the harder it becomes to leave.

  You can’t hear anything. You can’t see anything. Stuff’s going on around you but you’re not part of it, anymore. You don’t even think. You just...are.

  Sounds peaceful? It isn’t. Because the one emotion you have left is fear. Simple, animal fear. You’re cowering and you know that it—the pain, the rapist, the torture—is right outside that mental door, waiting for you to come out. You haven’t escaped. You’ve hidden.

  You only come out when the need to live, to carry on, outweighs the terror of facing your fear. And if it doesn’t? If your fear is so strong it keeps winning out?

  Then you just stay in there forever.

  I lay there for what felt like hours before I became aware of something. Out on the edges of my perception, I could still feel the ceiling and floor. Sometimes they were rock. Sometimes they were planks of wood. But they were always hard.

  Now there was something else. Something soft that slipped between those hard walls, reached inside me and caressed my mind. A voice.

  Her voice.

  It was barely a whisper and I had to strain to hear. I couldn’t leave my hiding place but I could climb up inside and listen. I had to know what she was saying. I was addicted to that voice.

  “—and I know that you’re scared. I don’t know what happened to you. I don’t know what those bastards did to you over there but you’re not there now. You’re here with me. And I’m going to get you through this because you’ve got me through so much.”

  The voice died away and there was another noise, one that sent a stab of pain through
me. Then she started speaking again.

  “I get it,” she said. “I get it now. I’ve figured it out. I get why you can’t risk going to jail, not even for a month. And I am so, so sorry I pressed you.”

  That noise again, the one that hurt me. I pulled myself a little higher so I could figure out what it was.

  Crying. My woman was crying. A big, hot wave of emotion rose up inside me, lifting me up towards the exit of my hiding place. I wanted—needed—to stop her crying.

  “And I swear, Mason,” said Kate. “I swear, if you come back to me I will not press you again. You can stay in Alaska. You can live out your whole life here, with space.”

  My stomach flipped over. The tears were still in her voice. She was talking about giving something up. She’d let me stay here. But she wanted me with her. And I wanted to be with her.

  “But Mason, right now, right now, I need you to come back to me. I need you to come back because we have to get out of here. The cave is filling up with water and I can’t move you and I’m not leaving you behind!” She was crying again. “You hear me, Mason? I am not leaving you behind so you come back to me right now!”

  And my hiding place started to fill with thick, red anger. Anger at how the fear had controlled me. Anger at how it had made me isolate myself for so long. Anger at having a shot with a life with her, with this amazing woman, and being too scared to take it. Anger at myself because Kate was going to die down here in a dark cave if I didn’t—If I didn’t—

  The anger filled every corner of my hiding place, crushing me, but I didn’t fight the rage: I fed it. I thought of how Kate had looked when she drowned, her skin cold and her lips blue. I thought of her dying like that, down here, because she was too damn stubborn to leave me and I was too damn scared to—

  The pressure built and built until my hiding place was too small to contain it. And then it exploded, launching me past the fear and up—

  Back to her.

  My eyes focused and she was there, as close as if we were lying in bed. Had she been there the whole time? Her soft skin was streaked with cave slime and her mahogany hair was soaked and dripping on one side from the water. That need to protect her swelled up inside me: this was no place for her. But it was her eyes that hit me the most: wide and scared. I’d scared her.

  I looked into those eyes and grabbed her hand. “Sorry,” I managed at last. The water was lapping against my cheeks. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  And I began to haul myself on through the crawlspace. The fear wasn’t gone but it had been forced down deep enough that it felt like it wouldn’t return for a little while.

  I made it through and went to help Kate, but with her size she slithered through just fine on her own. In the next chamber, the water was up to my knees which meant it was halfway up her thighs. But the floor was starting to angle upward.

  Another half hour and we caught our first glimpse of daylight. Ten minutes after that, we hauled ourselves up into a small cave that led out into a forest. By my rough guesswork, we’d come out over a mile from where we went in.

  I stared back at the dark hole we’d emerged from. I couldn’t believe I’d made it through. How the hell had she done that? Somehow, she’d triggered something in me even more powerful than the fear. I’d been way down inside myself and she’d guided me out.

  I shook my head. I’d made it back...this time. But now that the adrenaline was wearing off, just the idea of being in a small space made my chest tighten up. I’d gotten lucky. I’d very nearly gotten her killed down there.

  I caught Kate’s eye and suddenly my face was burning. I felt like I wanted to crawl right back down into the darkness again. This whole time, I’d been hiding my problems from her. Now the guy she’d come to rely on had suddenly turned out to be a mess.

  I stomped over to the cave mouth, where she was standing looking out at the rain. “Thank you,” I said. It came out as a low growl.

  She bit her lip and just nodded. Her eyes were liquid and that made my face heat even more. I don’t need your sympathy!

  “We should move,” I grunted. “In case they send someone in and follow us, or trace the caves on a map.”

  I headed out into the rain, leaving her to follow. I felt shitty for doing it but I couldn’t face talking about what had happened. She’d seen a part of me I hid from everyone...hell, even from myself. That’s why I was living all the way out here, so I wouldn’t have to face it.

  That was why I couldn’t go with her, if we made it to a town. Once she was safe, we needed to part ways.

  “Where are we headed?” Kate’s voice, behind me. Asking much more than just our destination.

  I paused, getting my bearings. Both of us were exhausted and we’d barely eaten since we left the cabin. We needed a place to rest and regain our strength.

  “I know a place,” I told her. And led the way.

  41

  Kate

  The rain slowed and finally stopped. The storm clouds gradually broke up and the mid-afternoon sun started to filter through.

  After another hour of walking, the sky was almost clear and the sun was warm enough that I stripped off my waterproof jacket. We were in a sheltered valley so there was almost no breeze and that helped, too. The forest had opened up, with large clearings filled with soft ferns and mossy banks, and it was easy going. The storm hadn’t reached this far and it was a relief just to be somewhere dry. It would have been a pleasant walk except...Boone was silent. Totally and utterly silent. He strode on ahead, his huge body carving a path for me through the foliage.

  I knew we needed to talk but I had no idea how to start. Every time I tried to catch up to him, his shoulders hunched and his head dipped, closing me out. And with every minute we didn’t talk, I felt the tension building.

  I was just about to try again when he suddenly stopped, unslung his pack and tossed it down on the ground. “We’re here,” he grunted.

  I’d been watching him so hard, I hadn’t looked up at our surroundings for a while. I stopped...and gasped.

  We were in a circular clearing, the ground underfoot soft, springy turf thick with wildflowers. In the center of the clearing was a spot that had been cleared of grass, the ground scorched and blackened. He’s been here before. Through the trees I could glimpse the sun reflecting off water and there was a noise in the background I couldn’t identify, a low roar.

  It was beautiful. But all my attention was on Boone. He turned and caught my eye for a moment and I opened my mouth to speak—

  “I’ll get a fire going,” he muttered and stalked off towards the nearest tree. He stripped off his jacket, pulled a lethal-looking folding axe from his pack and swung it at the trunk without breaking his stride, burying it deep in the trunk. I flinched.

  He turned his back fully to me, then pulled the axe out and swung it again, stubbornly ignoring his injured arm. Wood chips arced over his shoulder. Again. Again, tearing through the tree like it was his enemy. Yet he didn’t curse or yell, just glared down at the destruction, grimly silent.

  “Mason,” I said timidly.

  The tree creaked and then crashed to the ground. He started splitting off logs with brutal efficiency, the axe rising and falling, the muscles of his arms gleaming and hard.

  “Mason?”

  He gathered the logs in his arms and stalked past me on his way to the scorched ground.

  “Mason!” I grabbed hold of his arm as he passed. His body throbbed with heat under my fingers, the muscles like rock. He could have easily pulled out of my grip but he froze there as if he’d rather suffer anything than risk hurting me.

  I swallowed, searching for words. “We should talk.”

  He shook his head.

  I opened my hand and he slipped past, out of reach. He crouched in the center of the clearing and began slamming the logs into place, his hands so big that he held each one-handed.

  “It might help—”

  “No it wouldn’t!” His voice shook the trees. His b
ack rose and fell as he panted in anger, eyes fixed on the fire, body taut with barely-contained violence. It would have been terrifying if I hadn’t spent so much time with him over the last few days. The one thing I knew for certain was that he wouldn’t hurt me.

  Three cautious steps took me to his side. I squatted down next to him but he wouldn’t even look at me. “I get now why you’re out here. I get why you can’t risk being put in a cell. I want to help.”

  “You can’t,” he said flatly. “No one can. I went out there; I came back...changed.” But his voice didn’t say changed. It said broken.

  It said weak.

  Oh God. Is that how he sees it? I fell silent and he went back to building the fire.

  “Mason,” I said softly.

  He kept going.

  “Mason.”

  He raised his hand, still with a log in it, but he didn’t lay it down. He was so mad with himself he was panting, nostrils flaring like a bull.

  “Listen to me,” I said, “because I need to say something. What you went through out there: I can’t even imagine. I don’t know what you were like before that. But I know you now.” My voice dropped and, as I spoke again, I saw his shoulders drop just a little, as if the sound of it soothed him. “I’ve seen your nightmares. I’ve seen you at your worst. And I don’t care. I still...I—” My throat closed up. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  He finally turned to look at me. Glared at me. Demanded that I be lying.

  I sucked in a long, low breath, my eyes never leaving his. And nodded.

  When he spoke, each word came as if he was hauling it up from enormous depths. “You saw what I was like down there. It’s not just about small spaces. It’s about being trapped. Imprisoned. And that’s what they’re going to do to me. They’re going to lock me up. Maybe you’ll get me an appeal and maybe it’ll work but it’ll take months. As soon as they chain me up, I’ll be like I was down there. And this time, I might never make it back.” He shook his head. “I can’t go back with you, Kate.”