“I like it,” Cade said through gritted teeth.
“Uh-huh,” Dara replied. She lifted his feet and dropped them on the metal rests. When she leaned over him, her hair parted and bared the nape of her neck. Her flesh was golden, creamy like the inside of a pawpaw. Fingers twitching, he longed to touch it to find out if it felt like it looked.
But he blinked into darkness. And when he opened his eyes again, they were moving. The hallway stank of antiseptic and sickness. Recoiling, Cade pulled into himself. A hot sweat rose on his skin; his heart beat like he was facing that bear again.
“Taking him to X-ray,” Dara told someone. They were nothing more than a blur.
They moved so quickly that the breeze chilled him. It kissed his face, and rushed into the open hem of his gown. The hair on his thighs prickled. Gooseflesh swept his body, and he lolled his heavy head back to try to look at her. “They took my clothes.”
“I know,” Dara said. There was hurt in her voice. Worry. She rolled to a stop, then pushed the wall until little disks on it lit up. Staring at illuminated numbers above her head, she didn’t seem to realize the strange magic she was working.
Cade had heard of elevators, of course. They went with the escalator lesson, and automatic doors. It was nothing he’d ever expected to see, though. His parents said that world was gone. Electricity and cars, and little rooms that could slide up and down a shaft, carrying people from floor to floor.
The people. The people were all supposed to be gone. He wanted to ask Dara about them, but just as the doors slid open, his eyelids fell again.
Drifting back into the dark, he missed his first elevator ride completely.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
FOURTEEN
Josh Brandt’s house was usually an oasis. His father taught yoga; his mother taught philosophy at the university. They spoke softly and lived quietly. The TV never blared, and everyone wore headphones to listen to music. That made the pounding on the front door even more jarring.
Hauling himself off his bed, Josh walked out of solitary confinement to go answer it. His parents hadn’t banished him to his bedroom. No, they had both been very disappointed in Josh for the secret camping trip. They had concerns. Since they made himself define his own consequences, Josh had grounded himself. It was better than writing an exploratory journal about his actions.
Dara stood on his porch, close to collapsing under Cade’s weight. A sheet wrapped around his shoulders, Cade looked like he was going to a toga party. Or, from the way he listed and could barely raise his head, had just left one. An abandoned wheelchair sat forlornly on the walk, the porch stairs too steep to mount.
“Help, please.” Dara sank down, starting to wobble.
Slinging Cade’s good arm over his shoulder, Josh hauled him up. Then he dragged him inside and dropped him on the squeaky leather couch. He didn’t like it, but what else could he do? Knotting a hand in his own hair, he stared at Cade, then turned to Dara.
“What even, Dara?”
Jittery and talking too fast, Dara paced. “He wanted to go home, and I . . . and I . . .”
“You brought him to mine?”
“He passed out. I didn’t know where to take him.” Dara stopped, putting a hand on Josh’s arm. Looking up at him, she really did seem sorry. “Dad took my keys. You can only wheel somebody through Makwa for so long before somebody notices.”
Josh looked at Cade again. He could tell he was awake. Listening, even. Yeah, he had a gorked-out look on his face. But under heavy lids, his eyes followed them as they talked. Creeped by that, Josh covered Dara’s hand and pulled her into the dining room.
“It’s just until I can figure something out,” Dara swore.
“He can’t stay here.” Josh glanced toward the back door. The door his dad would be coming through anytime. “I’m grounded. And he’s . . . you kidnapped him!”
Dara shook her head insistently. “I didn’t. He wanted to go.”
Leaning to look at Cade on his couch, slumped and pale in his sheet, Josh raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”
“They tied him to the bed,” Dara said. She touched Josh’s face, making him look at her again. She looked wounded, like she was the one in restraints. Considering she’d just broken a guy out of the hospital, Josh mused, maybe she needed to be. Her fingers curled, skimming down his chin, his throat. “I couldn’t leave him there.”
“Okay, great, but . . .”
Cutting him off, Dara said, “I know. He can’t stay here. Can he borrow some jeans, though?”
Josh wanted to say no. After a moment of hesitation, he headed for his bedroom. Agreeing didn’t make him agreeable, though. The irritation came through when he asked, “Where are you taking him?”
“I’ll figure it out,” Dara said flatly. She crossed her arms, standing in the doorway of his room.
Three weeks ago, she would have sprawled on his bed. Distracted him from his homework by taking his picture from a hundred angles. Wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him until they couldn’t breathe.
In his closet, Josh had two antique baseball cards—his college fund, his parents joked. He would have sold them both to take back the camping trip. The box with the cards rattled as he threw open his closet doors to find his oldest jeans and his least-favorite T-shirt.
“Why are you so mad?” Dara asked. She slid into his room. Leaning against the wall, she kicked at a pair of old sneakers.
Bristling, Josh tossed some jeans to the bed. “My dad’s on his way home.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
She did. Or she should have. They almost always came back to his house after school. For homework, or photography, or whatever. And at five thirty, when his dad rolled in from work, it was always back to homework. Three years, going on four—Dara knew. Josh grabbed a threadbare T-shirt from his shelf, then a pair of socks to go with. He thrust them at her.
“There.”
Dara took the clothes, but she didn’t move. “He saved our lives, Josh. You could be a little more grateful.”
Sweeping an old pair of sneakers off the floor, Josh dropped those on the pile of clothes in Dara’s arms. He didn’t answer her, except with a look. One that told her she needed to get the Primitive Boy dressed, and out of his house as quick as she could.
Because he wasn’t grateful.
Josh had kind of hoped the guy would get patched up and go back wherever he came. That he’d never have to see him again, or hear about him, or talk about him. Every time he saw his stupid picture on the news, Josh remembered. Every time he checked his email, he remembered. On Twitter, on Skype, his friends couldn’t stop talking about this guy.
For them, it was just some weird story. Something interesting to take the boredom out of Makwa.
But for Josh, it was a lot more. When that bear stood up, his thoughts came fast and clear. He’d put his hand on Dara’s shoulder. He was going to drag her away, throw her over his shoulder if he had to. But before he could, Cade swooped out of nowhere.
Like some backwoods Batman, he saved the girl and left Josh facedown in the dirt.
If he’d been one second faster . . . if he’d moved one second sooner . . . Since he’d gotten home, Josh lay awake at night, chewing the insides of his cheeks raw.
That’s why he’d decided to ground himself. No phone calls, no more internet, no dates, no company. He didn’t want them. It was easier to hide than to look at her. It devoured him from the inside, because he was the one who took care of her. Who bought her batteries, and found new places for her to photograph.
Since freshman year, he was the one who held her hand. Who walked on the outside of the sidewalk, closest to the cars. That’s who he was. Josh Brandt, Dara Porter’s boyfriend. Her protector. He should have hauled her out of the woods the first night she thought they were being followed. All the arguments af
ter that would have never happened. Cade the Primitive Boy wouldn’t have swept her away.
Pounding a fist against the wall, Josh bellowed, “Hurry up!”
Dara ignored that outburst.
Instead, she pressed her cheek to the bathroom door. It had gone quiet in there. She was afraid Cade had passed out—wouldn’t Josh love that? Things were so strained now. Except for the joint interrogation, she hadn’t even seen him since they got home.
To be honest, she hadn’t been desperate to, either. She’d realized too many things about herself during the camping trip, and maybe too many things about Josh, too. The distance was there and it grew.
The door shook and Dara jerked away in time for Cade to open it. This was probably the view Sofia had been hoping for. He’d managed to get the socks, jeans, and shoes on. But his chest was bare. His waist tapered into the jeans; his skin everywhere was bronze and smooth. His few scars trailed his muscled body like silver vines.
Holding the T-shirt out, he said, “I can’t raise my arm.”
Glancing down the hall, Dara was relieved to see Josh had gone outside to wrangle the wheelchair. He was already mad; watching her put a shirt on another guy couldn’t possibly improve his mood.
It should have made a difference that Cade’s chest was heavily bandaged. There was nothing sexy or fun about the spots of blood seeping through. Now that Cade was steadier on his feet, did that mean his pain medication was wearing off, too? As she pressed into the bathroom with him, she wondered how badly it hurt.
Bunching the shirt up like panty hose, she pulled it over Cade’s head. “Arm through there, good.”
Hands beneath the shirt, she pulled the collar down his shoulder, then stretched the sides and sleeve as far as they would go. It was a 3D puzzle, and she reached through the armhole to grab Cade’s wrist.
“Push,” she said.
Cade lifted his head. His jaw was hard, and he pressed his lips together tight. It was like he was trying to trap a cry in his throat. His brows knitted with the exertion. When Dara straightened his arm, his nostrils flared and he sucked in a sharp breath.
Wavering, Dara pulled the shirt down. Maybe he needed to be in the hospital. What if the restraints had been for his own good? But she shook that thought off. Nobody deserved to be chained to a bed. What if there had been a fire, or a tornado?
“I called my friend Sofia,” Dara told him. She turned on the tap, rinsing her hands with cool water. Then she pressed them against his face, trying to soothe him. “She’ll be here in ten, tops. It’s going to be fine.”
Cade grimaced. “I want to go home.”
“I know. I’m working on that,” Dara said. “I promise. Come on, can you walk?”
She led him from the bathroom and through the kitchen. Sunlight spilled through the French doors. When Cade slowed, Dara squeezed his hand, tugging him a little. “What?”
“What is all this?”
Dara looked around, confused. It was just an ordinary kitchen. To be fair, a nicer than average one, with black countertops and cabinets that went up to the ceiling. There was even a built-in wine refrigerator, half full of Coke. But nothing unusual, down to the totally ordinary microwave and can opener.
“What’s all what?” she asked.
Slowly, Cade considered the room, then pointed. “That. What’s that?”
Was he seeing things? Dara followed the line of his finger, but there was nothing there. Confused, she pointed with him. “You mean the stove?”
“It’s inside . . . ,” he said. It wasn’t a question. To Dara, it sounded like wonder. Maybe he still had more medication in his system than she thought.
Tugging him gently toward the doors, Dara nodded. “Yep, it’s a stove inside. Sofia has one, too, you can check it out. But we have to get outside so she can pick us up, all right?”
“You’re talking down to me.”
“I am not!”
He laughed a little, the first time Dara had heard that since the harrowing ride to the ranger’s station. His resistance melted away and Dara led him out the back doors. A small alley ran behind Josh’s house, just wide enough for one car. It was the perfect escape route; Dara had used it more than once.
As she unlatched the gate, Dara stiffened. She heard sirens in the distance. It wouldn’t have taken them long to discover Cade was missing. Had they already pulled the security cameras? Was somebody from her dad’s station watching her roll Cade out under the noses of every single guard in Lake Cumberland Regional?
Stop it, Dara told herself. Those sirens could have been for anything.
From nowhere, Cade smoothed a hand over her shoulder. Though his skin smelled sour, mixing badly with the scent of Josh on the borrowed clothes, his presence was comforting. Warm, even. “What’s wrong?”
The crunch of tires on gravel drowned out the sirens. Relieved, Dara patted Cade’s hand and slipped from under it. “Nothing. Okay, okay. We’re going to Sofia’s first. Her parents are out of town so we can catch our breath and get everything situated.”
“You said you’d take me home.”
“And we will! I mean, do you live near here?”
Confused, Cade frowned at her. “I don’t know.”
“Well, what’s your address?”
“I live near the bee hollow,” he explained.
“Quit messing with me,” Dara said. “I don’t have a lot of time here.”
“I’m not. That’s my home.” Cade raised his brows, like he was waiting for her to get it. To understand.
But Dara didn’t. People had addresses. Houses. Except when they didn’t. She was right; he was one of those people on the Appalachian Trail. But now that she’d actually seen him, talked to him . . . There was something deeply sad about that.
He wasn’t old enough to go to the woods to live deliberately. He should have been in school. He should have had a home. There were so many terrible possibilities that would explain why he didn’t. She saw them all the time through her mom’s job, to a lesser extent through her dad’s.
Twisting her hands, she looked away, then back at him plaintively. She wanted this to be a joke. She hoped he was just playing around with her, for whatever bizarre reason. “Seriously, Cade.”
“I’m very serious.”
A car horn blared in the alley. It was a break in her churning thoughts. The next step was Sofia’s, to get him out of Josh’s hair and somewhere he could rest. Settling him in there, that would give Dara time to think. And to figure out the truth. Grabbing Cade’s hand, she pulled him toward the steps. “Sofia’s here. Time to make a break for it.”
“Okay,” he said.
For a second, Dara suspected he had no idea what that meant. But she didn’t have time to worry about that. She had to figure out how to pack him into the backseat of Sofia’s car before anyone saw them.
It didn’t sound complicated, but it was. Sofia had the world’s largest collection of fast food bags back there. A purse wouldn’t fit back there, let alone a towering, broad-shouldered guy on the lam.
When the car stopped, Sofia leaned her head out. “Dare! What the hizzy?”
Dara shrugged as she helped Cade to the car. “Hey, you wanted details.”
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
FIFTEEN
Cade sat in a very blue bedroom. The walls and carpet, a trash bin, a desk—all blue.
Though he couldn’t help it, he heard every sound in the house, including Dara talking to her friend in another room. He was used to listening for much smaller things. The footfalls of squirrels, the rustle of a single bird in a bush.
“He lost a lot of blood. He could be confused, or . . .”
“Most people know where they live,” Sofia said. “Ooh, unless he has amnesia.”
“Really, Sof?”
He didn’t have amnesia. A bad case of his skin crawling, sure. There were
so many people here. Crammed together, constantly touching. Breathing on each other.
“Just go get the stuff.”
“You’re sure he’s going to be okay here?” Dara asked.
Of course I am, Cade thought, and peeled off his socks. Already, he hated them. How was he supposed to keep his balance without his toes? In sneakers that didn’t bend like supple leather boots? Once his feet were bare again, Cade stood.
He hadn’t heard Sofia’s answer. It was probably the same. He was fine in this blue, blue bedroom. Not nervous. Not anxious. Nope. He’d already learned something about this new world. Panic didn’t help. And he’d panicked at the hospital.
When his parents had told him about the world outside the forest, Mom started with the hospitals. How they were full of disease, of dying. They sealed the walls and windows against the wind. The water only came in cups and pitchers. Instead of healing, hospitals harmed. That’s where the infections began . . .
Yes. He’d panicked, and it wouldn’t happen again.
Standing, Cade crept around the edges of the room. Touching everything. Looking at everything. Bottles full of blue liquid sat on top of the dresser. A musky, chemical scent radiated from them—the same scent clinging to the curtains and carpet. Cade picked up a few coins, not interesting. He’d seen money before.
The pictures didn’t hold his attention either. Back in his cave, in a box he’d built himself, he had a few photos of his own. His mother, young and dazzling. His father, lovesick and consumed by her. In a few snapshots, they held a baby—Cade. They stood inside a house Cade didn’t remember, with people Cade didn’t know.
Ranging across the artifacts on the dresser, Cade found a small box wrapped with wires. There was a switch on top of it, and tentatively, he pushed it.
A screen lit up and Cade nearly dropped the thing. A tinny sound gushed from the wires, from little buds at the end of each one. Tentatively, he brought one to his ear, then reared back. It was music, but nothing like he’d ever heard. It pulsed, loud and hard, with a rhythm he felt in his fingertips.
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