“It was my idea, too,” Dara said. “I wanted to take pictures.”
Clapping a hand to his chest, Sheriff Porter said, “It’s my understanding there’s scenery in Florida. You were out in the forest? What do you know about the woods, Dara? Arlene in dispatch said you got attacked by a bear.”
Dara’s head felt so hollow. “I didn’t. There was a bear in our camp. Cade, this . . . this other camper, he tried to scare it off. He got hurt. He’s really hurt. He lost so much blood. I put pressure on it like you taught me, but it was—I thought he was going to die. He might still die.”
With that, Dara started to cry. It was all just too much. When she closed her eyes, she saw Cade bleeding beneath her again. Heard the roar of the bear and felt the gravel road jolting beneath her as she tried to hold Cade together. It had happened so fast. Now it kept happening, in her head, over and over.
Suddenly, her father abandoned the interrogation and wrapped his arms around her. Emotion choked his voice as he rocked her. “Shh. Shh. We can get into it later.”
“It could have been me,” Dara sobbed, pressing her face against his polyester shirt. “It almost was. He saved us, Daddy.”
Stroking her hair, Sheriff Porter sighed. “You all got lucky.”
“I don’t feel lucky.”
“I do.”
Sheriff Porter leaned back, pulling a packet of tissues from his pocket. He always carried them, along with hard candies and breath mints. Carefully, he wiped her face for her, like she was still little.
The poker face was gone, completely. He furrowed his brow and worry played through his eyes. He was just a dad, and he looked sick with worry. Overwhelming guilt spilled through Dara; she was the reason he looked so human. So afraid.
With a hand swept beneath her eyes, she choked out an apology. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. For all of it; I scared you. I scared me. I lost my camera, I . . .”
“We’ll go back and get it. And you can be sorry later. Calm down.”
Dara hiccuped. “Okay.”
Her father handed her the rest of the tissues. Taking a deep breath, he glanced toward a buzz building in the hallway. “I need to go talk to a couple people. I told Harland that putting emergency calls on Twitter was a bad idea.”
Shrinking, Dara apologized again.
Makwa was a small town. Nothing much happened there, so the Twitter feed was usually as exciting as oatmeal. Shoplifters at the mall, stolen bikes, vandalism. A kitchen fire, and twice last summer, kittens down a storm drain. For weeks, that’s all anybody talked about, Lightning and Thunder, the kittens down the storm drain.
It was embarrassing to realize that she was one of those calls now. She waited until her dad walked down the hall to dig out her phone. It was weirdly pleasurable to see full bars again. Pulling up the county sheriff’s account, she didn’t have to scroll far to find her fifteen seconds of infamy.
@PCSD_911 Three campers vs. bear in DanBoone Nat’l, Park Services on scene, Lifecom, EMS en route
Closing her phone, Dara slumped in relief. At least it was generic. No names, no details. Hikers had weird animal encounters all the time. It was bad enough living in a small town when regular stuff happened. The last thing she wanted was to be the new Storm Drain Kitten.
Not when things with Josh were so tenuous. Not with Cade in surgery, probably still in surgery, right that moment. Fortunately, half her school was in Florida and wouldn’t be back till Sunday. That was plenty of time for something else mildly interesting to happen. Anything. Anything at all.
Dara slumped back on the thin pillow and covered her eyes. The sounds of the emergency room rose up around her. So loud. So busy. And yet, it all managed to blend together to a white noise. Soothed by the blankness, she finally drifted off to sleep.
Shortly after noon, three teens camping in Daniel Boone National Forest were surprised by a bear that entered their camp. Though they managed to scare the animal off, one of the youths sustained an injury to the shoulder. All were transported to local hospitals; two have been released. The third has been admitted and remains under observation. Their identities are being withheld pending notification of their families. The Kentucky Department of Fish and Wildlife Resources encourages everyone to treat all bears as wild animals. If you encounter a bear . . .
After signing off on that press release, Sheriff Porter headed upstairs. His deputies knew where to find Josh at home. They had already driven out to get his version of the story. What interested the sheriff was the third boy in the mix.
Dara called him a camper, but the EMTs called him Davy Crockett. They’d cut buckskins off of him, and he was bare underneath. It was their job to stabilize him and find out as much as they could. And what they found out wasn’t much.
The boy was afraid of the helicopter. Afraid to go to the hospital. Wouldn’t give up anything but a first name. He didn’t know if he was allergic to anything, and he wouldn’t give them contact information.
“Made me wonder if he was a runaway,” the flight nurse said.
It made Sheriff Porter wonder a lot of things. If the kid was in trouble, or if he was trouble himself. He was all kinds of prickly that Dara was involved at all. That meant he had to step lightly. Do everything strictly by the book—right up to the point of stepping away entirely. That wasn’t going to happen unless he absolutely couldn’t avoid it.
Stopping at the desk, Sheriff Porter waited to catch someone’s eye. He smiled at the nurse who came over, smoothing a hand on the counter. “How’s John Doe doing?”
The nurse tapped on the computer, pulling up a few records. Ticking his tongue behind his teeth, he scanned the screen. “Out of surgery, and according to this, he’s awake. Do you want to talk to him?”
“If you wouldn’t mind,” Sheriff Porter said. “We’re still trying to contact his parents.”
The nurse pointed him in the right direction, and Sheriff Porter made his way to a room at the end of the hall. Looking through the window, he tried to get a feel for the boy before he spoke to him.
To him, he looked frail and small. Way too young to be sitting there in the hospital alone. And he had to be in pain. The bandages covered most of his chest; he hadn’t been out of surgery that long. He stared blearily toward the window, lips moving. Was he talking to himself? Knocking on the door, Sheriff Porter let himself in.
“Mind if I come in?” he asked.
Cade rolled his head toward him. It lolled heavily. His eyelids drooped; his lips barely moved. “I want to go home.”
That was a good start. Sheriff Porter walked lightly, pulling a chair closer to his bed. “I’d like to help you get home, son. My name’s Sheriff Porter. What’s yours?”
“Cade.”
“You have a last name, Cade?”
To Sheriff Porter’s surprise, Cade shook his head. He had one free hand and he raised it, just long enough to drop it against his mouth. It was like he was trying to shush himself. Ordinarily, the sheriff wouldn’t bother with a minor drugged to the gills. But figuring out who he was and where he belonged was more than a little important.
Settling in the chair by the bed, Sheriff Porter tried another tack. “I expect they’re worried about you, your parents.”
“Shhh,” Cade replied.
With a frown, Sheriff Porter leaned back. It took a lot of strength to be stubborn on that much morphine. It made him suspicious. He could send a deputy over with a fingerprint kit later, try to run him that way. But things would be a lot easier if the kid would just talk.
“Is there somebody I can call for you?”
Eyes widening, Cade stared at him a moment. Then he slumped down, all the tension melting from his expression. Fingers twitched on the pale sheets, and he murmured. “You’re all dead. I think. That’s what they said.”
Was that a threat? Or was he just talking out of his head. Sheriff Porter didn’t want to overreact, but if there was something bigger going on here, he had an obligation to figure it out. He had a count
y to oversee, and innocent people to protect. Clearing his throat, he deepened his voice just a little. “Who said that?”
“Mom,” Cade murmured. “Just Mom. Have you seen Dara?”
His daughter’s name on this stranger’s lips made Sheriff Porter stiffen. “She’s fine.”
“She was hungry. Now I’m tired.”
With a sigh, the sheriff stood. This was pointless; he could admit that. Patting the bed rail, he said, “Get some rest. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”
Leaving the boy to surrender to sleep, Sheriff Porter closed the door quietly behind him. It was already a long night, and it had barely started. He hoped somebody at the office had managed to pull up a missing persons to match this kid. The sooner he had some parents to claim him, the better.
Sheriff Porter didn’t care for complications. Especially not when his daughter was involved.
The next day, Josh folded himself in the corner of his couch and tried to blot out his parents’ voices. They hovered over him, holistically concerned, fully understanding, and insisting that he cooperate with the police. Again. This was the third time in twenty-four hours that he had to explain the disastrous ending to their camping trip.
This time had the added bonus of Dara’s parents mixed in, Mrs. Porter and Sheriff Porter, who was definitely on the clock and on official business. Dara kept shooting him sympathetic looks from her end of the couch. It was the smallest consolation that she looked as miserable as he felt.
Stroking his digital recorder, Sheriff Porter kept repeating things they’d just told him. This time, he fixed his gaze on Josh. The man had never liked him, and Josh knew it. Mostly, he didn’t care.
“So you’re saying you didn’t know anyone else was out there.”
“Not until the guy left a button in our camp.”
“It was a necklace,” Dara interrupted. “Like a charm on a piece of leather.”
Josh’s mom, Mrs. Brandt, fluttered in her seat. “Why didn’t you leave then?”
“People do stuff like that out there,” Josh said. He didn’t know why he was defending any of this. If they’d left when he wanted to, none of this would have happened. No bears, no strangers, no police. Pushing a hand into his hair, he waved the other one around. “People talked about it on the Appalachian Trail last year. You pass by a camp, you leave something behind. It’s friendly.”
Sheriff Porter wasn’t convinced. In fact, he looked at Josh like he was brain damaged. “Then what happened?”
“I ran into him by the river.” Dara crossed, then uncrossed her legs. The whole couch shook as she shifted anxiously. “He gave me a couple of fish. That’s what we had for dinner.”
“And he just handed them to you.”
“Yes!”
Quietly curious, Mr. Brandt raised his hand. It was embarrassing the way he waited to be called on in his own house. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft like powder. “I feel like there must have been some conversation at that point.”
Defensive, Dara twisted herself around. “I mean, yes, I asked him if he was camping near us. I noticed his clothes were kind of weird. And he was skittish, you know. Nervous. He didn’t want to talk, but he gave me a couple of fish and that’s it. It was like, a minute long conversation. If that.”
Josh broke in. “Is there something you guys want to ask us? Do you think we’re lying about something?”
Hand raised, Sheriff Porter shook his head. “Nobody said that.”
“We’re just trying to process,” Mrs. Brandt added.
Frustrated, Josh said, “That’s everything, then. We knew he was out there. We didn’t hang out with him. We didn’t see his camp. I didn’t see him until we walked up on the bear. Maybe Dara had some deep conversation with him in the truck, but I doubt it. She was trying to keep him from bleeding to death.”
Mr. Brandt murmured a distressed sound. Reaching out, he smoothed a hand over Josh’s shoulders. Sympathetic, he said, “I’m sorry you two had to go through that. That’s a lot to unpack.”
“But we’re very proud of you,” Mrs. Brandt added. “The right thing isn’t usually the easy thing to do.”
“We weren’t gonna leave him out there to die,” Josh said.
That was true, but Josh wished he meant it more. Not that he wanted Cade to die. In fact, if Cade could be healthy and happy and back in the wilderness area tomorrow, that would be Josh’s fondest dream. Let this all fade away. Let him turn into a memory. A weird story to tell in twenty years, half remembered.
Keys jingling, Sheriff Porter stood up. Offering his wife a hand, he looked to Mr. and Mrs. Brandt. “I thank you all for your time and your cooperation. If there’s anything else that comes to mind, Josh . . .”
“We’ll call,” Mr. Brandt assured him. “He’s going to have some consequence time coming up. I imagine there’ll be a lot of thinking involved.”
Mrs. Porter waited for Dara to stand. Though she’d been quiet for most of the talk, her presence suddenly filled the room. Bold and firm, she slipped her arm around Dara’s shoulder and looked her over. “Yes, Miss Independent’s going to have some thinking time of her own for a while.”
The parents shook hands and chatted themselves out. Josh, however, focused on the carpet. He didn’t know where things stood with Dara. And since they weren’t gonna have time to hash it out, it made more sense to pretend she was already gone. He didn’t even risk a glimpse of her silhouette; when the front door opened, he closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, she was gone.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
ELEVEN
It felt strange to be at home.
Dara opened the fridge and stood in front of it. As silly as it sounded, she found it remarkable. All the bright light. All the food, just waiting there. It was packed so full that she didn’t know where to start. While she stood there in awe of the Frigidaire, her younger sister slunk in behind her.
“Lose something?” Lia asked snidely.
Plucking a box of leftover fried chicken from a shelf, Dara finally closed the doors. “I missed you, too.”
Lia rolled her eyes, texting away on her phone. It ticked like a bomb, little bloops punctuating finished thoughts. Without ever raising her head, she managed to sneer at Dara at the same time. “I don’t know what makes you so special. If I ran away with some guy, I’d be grounded for life.”
That was Lia’s gift, making everything sound shadier than it was. Dara wasn’t sure when her little sister had turned all goth bitter. It wasn’t an overnight thing. But now she was full-blown in black eyeliner and combat boots. Dara figured she had two choices. She could ignore Lia, which would tick Lia off. Or she could reply, which would also tick Lia off. There was no winning with her.
So, Dara picked the latter. “Mom and Dad knew I was spending spring break with Josh. They just didn’t know where. And FYI, I am grounded. Happy?”
“No,” Lia said sullenly. “My phone is blowing up because of you.”
Taking out a plate, Dara shot her sister a look. “I’m sorry?”
“You should be. I get enough of Dara-Dara-Dara at home.” Fingers flying, Lia sent another text, then slapped her phone down so Dara could see the screen.
Abandoning the chicken, Dara reached for it. That was the first thing her parents had taken away: technology. She’d spent a week trying to get a signal in the middle of nowhere. Now that she had one, she wasn’t allowed to use it.
Lia snatched the phone back. “No, no. You can look, but you can’t touch.”
“Quit being a weasel,” Dara said.
“If you don’t want to see . . .” Lia replied. Her voice was a singsong, full of sisterly threat.
Dara was trapped. She didn’t want to give Lia the satisfaction of giving in. But Lia was making such a big deal out of it that Dara was dying to know what was going on online. She probably had a
million emails and a wall of texts. Her best friend, Sofia, had gone to Florida. There had to be news about hookups and breakups and drama. Now Dara was practically vibrating to find out.
Raising both hands like she was being robbed, Dara said, “Okay, fine.”
A satisfied smile touched Lia’s lips, just briefly. She was pretty anti-smile lately. Laying the phone down, she scrolled to the top of her text scroll. “My friend Kit wants to know if you got the attack on video.”
Mouth dropping open, Dara blinked at her sister. “How does he even know it was me out there?”
“Duh,” Lia said. “Everybody knows.”
“Dad didn’t release our names,” Dara insisted.
Disgusted, Lia rolled her eyes again. “Um, okay, but everybody knew you bailed on Florida. And everybody knows you’re home early. Everybody knows who didn’t leave town for spring break. Gee. I wonder how people figured it out?”
Ugh. Dara slumped on the kitchen island. “Fine, whatever. Of course there’s no video. What kind of idiot takes video when there’s a bea— Hey, don’t tell him that!”
Lia hit send and shrugged. “Sorry, too late. Okay, so that’s Kit. Sofia wants to know why you haven’t called her. She wants to know that approximately four hundred times. And she asked if you were the one in the hospital. I told her no. I’m not a total monster.”
A chill raced Dara’s spine. The whole Florida crew knew about it? There was no way she was getting out of being a Storm Drain Kitten now. Reminding herself that it made her a bad person, she actively hoped somebody would come back from Florida pregnant. It was the universal rule of gossip: your drama stopped being interesting as soon as better drama came along.
“Anything else?”
Touching the screen, Lia gave it a sharp swipe. Text bubbles flashed by, far too fast for Dara to read any of them. But that wasn’t really the point. It was the sheer number of them. The scroll went on and on. “Do you have any idea how obnoxious this is?”
“Yeah, I kinda do.”
“Then do me a favor,” Lia said, pocketing her phone. “Sneak online and update your Twitter. I’m not your digital secretary.”
Wild Page 8
