Wild

by Mallory, Alex

  Sometimes, talking to her dad felt like a police interrogation. In this case, it actually was.

  Dara pulled her sleeves over her hands. “Dad, for the millionth time, I don’t know him.”

  “But you know something about him.”

  It hadn’t been a million times, but it was pushing fifty, at least. Nobody—not even her family—believed her. A stranger swooping her away on a vine, it was ridiculous. It was a story that belonged in old books and cartoons. And boy, what a mistake to mention that she thought Cade might have been following her.

  Slumping, Dara said, “He told me his name. He wanted to know how many people were left. And that’s seriously, really, totally all I know.”

  Dara’s dad pushed his chair back. He had keen eyes. They weighed people’s words, their expressions. He liked to tell Dara and her friends that he was a human lie detector. Which explained why Dara got invited to parties, but nobody ever told her the address. It was pickup and delivery only for the sheriff’s kid.

  An old clock ticked away on the wall. It buzzed, competing with the fluorescent lights. The itchy, tingly sound went on and on while Sheriff Porter peered at her expectantly.

  This was a tactic, Dara realized, called “let the other guy talk first.” Unfortunately for her dad, she didn’t have anything to say.

  Slumping a little more, she let her gaze wander. The police station was almost as familiar as her living room. In December, a wobbly plastic Christmas tree stood in the corner. She used to make presents to put under it. Now, she brought cookies. People only needed so many tin-can pencil holders.

  The bulletin board hung on the other wall. Lots of FBI fact sheets and Most Wanted lists. But weirdly, now a police sketch of Cade and a picture of his bloodied clothes hung there, too.

  He wasn’t dangerous, but he was most wanted. Since they’d come out of the forest by helicopter and ambulance, official people had a lot of questions. Like, what Cade’s last name was. Where his parents were. How they could be reached.

  Dara didn’t know. Cade wasn’t telling.

  It seemed to Dara like her dad, the human lie detector, should have realized she wasn’t holding back on him. No, Cade was as mysterious to her as he was to the social workers and the police. And the rangers, and the parks department. Get attacked by a bear in a national forest, and a lot of people want answers.

  The worst part was, school gossip was slowly turning into news. Lia’s idiot friend Kit was running a Tumblr now. He’d cobbled together some of the stuff the police put out trying to identify Cade. There were pictures, of his face and his bloodied deerskin clothes. Somehow, Kit got ahold of an email from the Pulaski County Sheriff’s office to another department in Nashville.

  Nobody was supposed to see the email except for other police. So it looked pretty terrible, their theories written out in black-and-white. They thought Cade’s babbling about infections and sickness meant something. Maybe he was a terrorist. It was obvious he’d been living in the woods for a while; was he growing drugs? Hiding a bomb lab?

  Kit added his own messed-up spin on all of it. He turned it into a sideshow, complete with macros. They were all the same picture, some guy in a coonskin cap on an orange-and-red star-burst background.

  The first one read STEP ONE: FIGHT BEAR. STEP TWO: ??? STEP THREE: PROFIT!! Another one read BREAKING BEAR: ALL NATURAL METH. There were more, each of them stupider than the last. Dara made the mistake of asking Lia to get Kit to lay off. Two hours later, somebody added a stick-figure girl to the macro with the caption, LEAVE MY PRIMITIVE BOY ALONE.

  Sheriff Porter pulled a folder from his desk. “He trashed his hospital room today.”

  Her pulse stilled.

  “The whole time, he was screaming for you.”

  She felt sick. She’d sworn she’d see him, and she hadn’t. Not for days, not since the paramedics had closed the helicopter doors between them. No matter how many times she asked, even when she explained her promise, the answer was always no. Guilt and responsibility nagged at Dara. She raised her head to meet her father’s gaze. “Is he okay?”

  “What’s it matter if you don’t know him?”

  What a jerk. Gathering her bag, Dara stood. “He only saved my life.”

  Pointing at the chair, Sheriff Porter said, “You’re grounded. It’s you and me until your mother gets off work.”

  It wasn’t a little bit of grounded either. Sneaking onto the landline was probably the last contact with the outside world she was going to have. They’d confiscated her car keys and her iPhone, her laptop and her iPad. The only reason she knew what Kit was up to online was because Lia couldn’t stand keeping the hilarity to herself.

  Dara wasn’t sure why her parents had cracked down so hard. She was a good student. She didn’t get in trouble; they never had to worry about her—not like they did about Lia. And what’s more, they knew she was spending spring break with Josh. Sure, they thought it would be at Disney World, not Daniel Boone National, but so?

  “I have homework,” she said, raising her bag.

  “On the first day back?”

  She ducked out of his office and planted herself at the empty desk near the filing cabinets. Soon, she lost herself in a book. Occasionally, her thoughts would interrupt. She really did want to know how Cade was. Screaming for her? Her dad could have been lying, but Dara wanted to see for herself.

  Unnoticed at the back of the station, Dara read and plotted. Tomorrow, she’d get her mom to volunteer for guard duty. Things were always so busy at the Pulaski County At-Risk Outreach. Even when Dara went in to help her mom with month’s-end paperwork, Mom barely noticed she was there. Dara could break out for a visit, easy. No problem getting back in time for the dinner run home, for sure.

  Dara turned a page of her book. She found herself looking over it, though. Glancing at the bulletin board again. Something in her chest tightened. The sketch was bad, but the pictures of Cade’s ruined clothes made it all too real. The heat of his blood felt fresh on her hands. His wild, terrified look pierced her again.

  Tomorrow she’d get to him, Dara decided.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  THIRTEEN

  Sofia had been Dara’s best friend since third grade. That meant she had special privileges. For example, torturing Dara for details about anything. The big rescue in the woods had been the topic of conversation since Sofia had stepped off the plane from Orlando. Unfortunately, there was more to say about Sofia’s mahogany tan than there was about Cade.

  That didn’t seem to sink in for Sofia, though. As they walked from the parking lot to Pulaski County At-Risk Outreach, Sofia took advantage of her free pass again.

  “If I’m going to cover for you,” Sofia said reasonably, “I need information.”

  “Fine,” Dara said. She knew what Sofia wanted to hear. Pressing a hand to her chest, she lowered her voice. A sexy, late-night podcast voice. “Okay, just this once. He’s six five, brown dreads, brown eyes, incredibly hot.”

  Sofia brightened up. “Really?”

  “Oh yeah. Built like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely. When I was sitting on him, trying to keep him from bleeding to death, I was so turned on.”

  Realizing she’d been punked, Sofia rolled her eyes.

  Dara understood that as her best friend, Sofia really did deserve the most details. She knew more than anyone else, but there were some things Dara wasn’t ready to share. The nightmares, she kept to herself. When she was asleep, she was there again in the forest. The bear, the collision . . . then all the blood. It always came back to the blood.

  Even awake, she had to shake those thoughts off. Sometimes physically. The less she talked about it, the better she’d feel. With her head full of it again, she had to surface.

  Back to the real world, where she was safe and fine
and she nearly shrieked when a man stopped in front of the office doors.

  “Dara Porter, right?” he said, thrusting a business card in her face. “I’m Jim Albee with the Makwa Courier, hi. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Glad to hear it, you’ve been through an ordeal,” Albee said. He dripped with fake sympathy. It was a thousand times creepier than real sympathy from strangers. “Do you have time for a couple of questions?”

  Confused, Dara shook her head. Her father had been the sheriff for a long time. He’d drilled it into her, no matter what the reporter wanted, she didn’t have a comment. Some of them weren’t above trying to get information about him through his children. Trying to reach past him to open the door, Dara said, “I don’t, sorry.”

  “Just one quote about the Primitive Boy.”

  “Don’t call him that,” Dara snapped. Hearing Kit’s stupid Tumblr name for Cade coming out of a grown man’s mouth shocked her. How did this guy even know about it? Why was he using it? Pulse pounding furiously, Dara tried to reach for the door again to escape.

  “Do you know who he is?” Albee asked anyway. “Did he confide in you?”

  Sofia swiped her thumb across her cell phone. “I’m calling the police.”

  Albee moved, but he didn’t leave. He stood there like he owned the place. Or like he realized he only had a few more minutes to ask questions before the sheriff rolled up. “What do you think about the hospital putting him on a psychiatric hold?”

  The path clear, Dara grabbed Sofia’s arm and rushed inside the building. Their footsteps echoed on the back stairs. Heat flashed through Dara. It made her dizzy and sick at the same time. She didn’t realize she was waiting to hear the door latch, until relief flooded her at the sound. The reporter didn’t follow, thank god. Only the sound of their panting breath filled the stairwell.

  On the second floor landing, Dara let Sofia go and slumped against the wall. It was marble, nice and cool. She looked to Sofia, still carrying her phone.

  “Haven’t they answered yet?” Dara asked.

  Sofia turned the speaker on. “Thank you for calling Kentucky 811. Para continuar en español . . .”

  “I thought . . .”

  Hanging up her phone, Sofia sat on the bottom step and waited for Dara to recover. Her dark hair swung in its ponytail, ironed smooth and bright. “Easier to sneak out if your dad’s not in the parking lot in his police cruiser, am I right?”

  Relief bubbled through Dara. “You’re the best.”

  Sofia shrugged. “I know. Go out the other door, I’ll tell your mom you’re in the bathroom.”

  Already halfway up the next flight of steps, Dara looked back when Sofia called her name. Her head was already in the next step. The next move she had to make. Was it true? Was Cade under a psychiatric hold? Her dad said he’d trashed his room—was that true, too? Had he really been screaming for her?

  Emotions already winding tight in her chest, more questions spilled out in her head. Why would a reporter be interested in this at all? Gossip was one thing at a high school where literally nothing happened. Didn’t the real news have something better to cover? It took Dara a moment to realize that Sofia was talking to her. Shaking her head, she asked, “What?”

  “All the details,” she said, wagging a finger at her.

  Dara crossed her heart with one finger, then disappeared down the back hall.

  Sneaking into the hospital was harder than sneaking out of her mom’s office.

  Dara made the mistake of going to the information desk first. The nurse on duty typed forever on the computer, then shook his head.

  “I’m sorry, no visitors allowed,” he said. He didn’t sound sorry at all.

  At a loss, Dara scrubbed her free hand on her jeans. With the other, she clutched a balloon. Static electricity kept making it drift toward her hair. It crinkled in her ear, a lightning storm just in her head.

  “Could I leave a note or something?”

  The nurse didn’t roll his eyes. He should have, because it was obvious he was annoyed. He slapped around the desk, opening drawers, and making his life’s work out of finding a pad of paper and a pen. The WHILE YOU WERE OUT pad right in front of him wouldn’t do, it seemed.

  Dara wrote a generic note, sorry I missed you, give me a call, and signed it with her phone number. Then she dropped the balloon’s gold weight on top of it.

  “Thanks,” she told the nurse, then started to walk away. She stopped, like she suddenly realized she had a question. Turning back, she asked, “Um, the bathroom?”

  The nurse pointed the way, and Dara thanked him before hurrying down the hall. To make it look good, she went inside. Washing her hands twice, she stared at herself in the mirror. Pulling her fingers through her hair, she straightened her spine and pulled her shoulders back.

  She’d learned a lot of things listening to her dad. The previous summer, he’d chased a ring of shoplifters all over town. They weren’t the usual pack-of-gum, box-of-smokes shoplifters. They strode into electronics stores and walked out with flat screens. After every hit, the store clerks were embarrassed to admit they let it happen. The guys acted like they were supposed to be there, they said. They seemed like they knew what they were doing.

  Proof you could get away with anything if people thought you belonged.

  I belong, Dara told herself.

  Pulse quick and chest tight, she walked that hall like she was the CEO of Lake Cumberland Regional. When she turned a corner, she smiled and nodded at the cluster of nurses gathered around a cart. They smiled back. And they said nothing when she caught sight of Cade through wire-laced glass, and let herself into his room.

  The rush of pulling it off died when she realized two things. First, he was asleep. And second, he was tied to the bed.

  It struck her, a hammer directly to the chest. This boy, who’d done nothing wrong—who’d gone out of his way to feed her, and then to save her—they had tied him to the bed like an animal. The reporter was right. Someone at the hospital had talked; medical records were supposed to be secret. That nurse wouldn’t even let her in to visit, but a reporter knew?

  A hot spike of anger pierced through her. It seemed to fire her from the inside out. They were monsters, treating him this way. He was a hero, and he didn’t have a friend in the world here.

  No, that wasn’t true. He had her. And she had promised they would take care of him. She’d sworn it, because at the time she believed it. Making sure the door closed tight behind her, she pulled the curtains closed and approached his bed.

  He’d been afraid of the helicopter. Of the truck. And he was only here because she convinced him to come. The thick leather bands around his wrists and ankles tormented her. They may as well have put him in chains. He was still so pale. There were so many tubes and wires surrounding him—the bandages stretched across his chest, and IVs dangled from the inside of his arm.

  Throat knotted with tears, she reached out carefully. Touching his brow, she smoothed her thumb against the furrow between them. She had to fix this somehow. She had to make it right. What could she do? As a plan slowly unfolded in her thoughts, she started with the most logical place.

  Leaning in, she whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

  Breath touched his ear. A whisper slipped into him.

  Cade blinked, drawn out of the dark. He wasn’t really awake. Just sort of aware. It took a few more blinks to make out the shadow hovering over him. Leather tongue rattling in his mouth, he struggled to speak. “Dara?”

  “What have they done to you?” Dara asked.

  She pulled at the straps around one wrist. When she freed that one, she leaned across to get the other one. That woke Cade more than anything. Her sweet scent covered him, her weight, too. Raising a tingling hand, he caught her arm. His fingers slipped off her skin, too weak to grip.

  “I need to go home,” he managed to say. Then he winced. His throat hurt, and suddenly, he was so, so thirsty.

&nb
sp; Dara bustled around him, tugging at his ankles. “I’ll take you there right now. I can’t believe they’re treating you like this.”

  “The windows don’t open,” Cade volunteered.

  “I’m not surprised.”

  Golden strands of Dara’s hair floated as she unlatched the last of his restraints. They drifted in the air, glittering like dust in the streak of late day sunlight. The same beam of light raced across her face. Shadows chased away, her eyes glittered like clear water. Useless fingers waving, Cade lifted his head to try to get to her.

  The drugs in his system pulled him back down. He drifted back into the dark, only to surface when Dara appeared at his side. She put her cool fingers on his forehead, and it felt so good. So familiar. Trying to catch her arm again, his hand glanced off her wrist but he managed to look up.

  “Take me home?”

  “First, we get you up.”

  Dara looped an arm beneath his neck. He felt like he was floating when she pulled him to sitting. Swaying against her wasn’t terrible. He could breathe her in. He had a reason to hold on to her. Cade had no idea where Josh was; he didn’t care. Maybe he was far away. Maybe he was just a bad dream he’d had. Everything was hazy, but Cade felt possessiveness just fine.

  And embarrassment. Dara hadn’t seen him at his best yet. Afraid at the river. Bleeding to death, then crying like a baby, afraid to get in the helicopter. Now this, limp and dozing. Searching his head and his mouth and his throat, he managed to meet her eyes. It was like a dip into fire after a long winter hunt.

  “Are you stealing me?”

  Dara laughed. It was high and shrill, like a blackbird’s call. “I think so. Shhh, we have to get out of here. Two steps to the wheelchair, come on.”

  When he dropped into the seat, he hissed. He’d ripped open the doctor’s first careful stitches. They were worse the second time. Deeper, maybe. Tighter thread. His flesh felt like raw meat, chewed and gnawed at the edges. At night, the only thing that dragged him out of his sedative coma was the pain.

  Trailing her fingers over his shoulder, Dara whispered, “Sorry.”