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Summary: You want to be rescued. Kodiak wants you. Part 11 of an ongoing story: read part one here.
Content: Smut. Age gap: older man/younger woman. Intended for 18+ readers. Mature content under the cut.
You’re still tearstained when you make it back to the camp. It’s fully light and Nat is already up, her jacket wrapped tight around herself in the cool morning air.
“You’re cutting it close.” Nat turns to you. Her eyes widen as she sees your face, her voice turning hard and flat. “What did he do?”
As she speaks she adjusts the strap of the rifle hanging over her shoulder, almost unconsciously, as though she’s checking it’s still there.
You shake your head. “It’s not like that.”
“So what’s it like?”
“Just drop it. It was my fault, okay?” You feel a hot jagged feeling in your throat, not as done with crying as you’d thought.
You expect Nat to double down but instead she pulls you into a hug. Her grip is tentative as though she expects you to shrug her off, she holds herself awkwardly, conscious of the rifle, and when you lean into her the bleached ends of her hair get in your nose and mouth. She rubs your shoulder blade soothingly, halfway between a pat and a stroke.
“You’re really starting to freak me out. You know that?”
“I’m sorry.” You mean for all of it: for everything you did and failed to do last winter.
“I didn’t mean–”
“Hey, have either of you seen–” Travis stops short when he catches sight of you both. You pull away from Nat, trying to swipe at your eyes discreetly without making things look worse. “Is she uh… okay?”
“Oh, uh– Nightmare,” Nat tells him. It’s not particularly convincing as lies go but Travis won’t ask questions. They mostly avoid each other since the break up, as far as it’s possible to avoid anyone out here. When they do talk it’s in this weirdly forced casual tone, as though they’re trying to convince themselves there’s no hard feelings. “Hey, um, could you go find Mari? The crossbow keeps jamming.”
“Yeah.” Travis gives you a searching, worried look before he turns to go. “Sure. No problem.”
“I’m sorry I keep making you lie for me,” you say quietly. Your voice cracks a little.
Nat wraps an arm around your shoulders, more natural this time. You rest your head on her shoulder, inhaling the leather and tobacco scent.
“You know I’m going to get us home right?” Her voice is low and husky against your ear. “Whatever it takes.”
You wrap your varsity jacket around yourself as you walk. Somehow it doesn’t feel like yours anymore; you miss the weight of Kodiak’s coat, the way the leather’s worn rough and smooth at once, the way it smells like him.
Kodiak himself is out in front. He’s tense, setting a hard pace, and when he snarks at the others it lands more harshly. You wonder if that’s your fault, or if it’s only that he’s impatient for the safety of the rescue point. You haven’t asked him about it yet, you’ve been focusing on putting one foot in front of the other because the enormity of what you’re asking for scares you. You don’t know whether there’ll be anyone there to meet you, what it might look like. Days ago, you caught yourself imagining stepping through the trees and suddenly a road would be there, maybe an emergency call box, maybe a passing truck you could flag down. That seems less likely now: the forested mountainside seems no less wild than the one you started on. It occurs to you, uneasily, that there might not be roads out here at all.
The flare gun in your backpack is a shifting weight against your spine. You’d half forgotten about it but now you wonder if Kodiak gave it to you because he knew you’d have to signal a rescue helicopter or light aircraft. It worries you a little that he gave it to you specifically: usually he carries things for you, spares you the hard jobs when he can. You don’t think Nat
would have given him a gun, even a flare gun, but he still wanted you to have it, instead of the others. It implies that, if it comes down to it, he’s prepared to leave them behind. It shouldn’t surprise you: he’s said as much himself. Still, the idea that he has an actual contingency plan is like an extra weight you can’t put down.
Whatever bad mood you’ve put Kodiak in, he takes it out on the others: pushing them harder than ever, his snarky comments coming out meaner and more frequent, striding ahead so that Misty has to jog just to try and keep pace with him. Either she hasn’t picked up on everyone giving Kodiak the cold shoulder or she has and feels a sense of kinship with him. She wears herself out and trails along with the rest of you. Her shoes are giving her trouble, like most of yours are: everything you have was worn to shit when you set out and five days of hiking haven’t helped. Misty looks dejected, unsure what she’s done to offend him, and you add that to the pile of things to feel guilty over.
Kodiak even tries to push on past midday, telling you all to break open a ration pack while you walk. It’s only when Nat notices blood turning the pink canvas of Misty’s shoes to crimson, that you’re all forced to stop. She’s been walking on blisters until one of them burst, leaving a raw angry spot on her heel where a whole layer of skin has torn open, like a second degree burn.
“Jesus Christ, Glasses, why didn’t you say something?” Kodiak keeps asking, as he straps it up.
“Like you care!” Mari – also exhausted, also limping badly – flares up. “You’re the one who was pushing her so hard.”
Kodiak looks up at her, unimpressed.
“You realise winter isn’t going to wait for us, right? There’s a window. And every time one of you slows us down with stupid shit, that window closes a little more.”
“You’re lying.” Akilah’s voice is quiet but it carries.
“You think you can do better?” Kodiak throws his arm out in frustration. “There’s the trail. Knock yourself out.”
“We’re not going to get to the rescue point if we keep injuring ourselves,” Mari snarls.
“You might not.” Kodiak gets to his feet. He’s easily a foot taller than Mari, probably more than twice her weight too. “I’m not dying out here because you have sore feet.”
“Oh yeah? How about because you got shot the back?”
You realise, with a sickening jolt, that Mari has the bow.
“Nat?” Your voice comes out so strangled it might as well be a whisper. But Nat is already looking.
“Look, Marie–”
“It’s Mari!”
“You know what? Maybe you should worry less about me learning your name and more about us getting back to civilisation before your friends run out of food.”
“Drop it, Mari.” Nat has the gun in her hands, barrel pointing at the ground.
“Me?” Mari turns on her outraged. “What did I do?”
Nat opens her mouth to pacify her and it might very well have ended there. You could have finished strapping up Misty’s foot, limped on to the rescue point, made it there without bloodshed. But of course Kodiak has to open his mouth.
“I mean, I can think of one pretty significant thing,” he says. “Or are we not counting the cannibalism?”
Mari wheels on him, her dark hair flying, her mouth opening in a snarl. She jabs the bow out, aiming it directly at Kodiak’s heart.
“Look, asshole–”
You can tell from Kodiak’s expression that whatever he says next, it’s going to be bad. You want to get in between them but you’re afraid to make any sudden movements around Mari right now.
“Oh sorry, do you prefer humanitarian?” Kodiak widens his eyes, mock innocent. “I mean it’s true what they say: you are what you eat.”
“Both of you take a walk!” Nat keeps the gun trained on Kodiak, her hands steady even as she yells. “Opposite directions. Go.”
Mari shoots her a betrayed look and, realising Nat’s not going to bend, storms off. Kodiak faces Nat down, still smiling, his hands halfway raised in a way that makes it clear he thinks this is all some big joke.
“If you were going to shoot me, you should have used the bow,” he tells her. “Save your bullets. We both know you won’t get home without me.”
Nat flicks the safety off with her thumb.
“I. Said. Take. A. Fucking. Walk.”
Kodiak scoffs but he goes, sauntering off as though he wants everyone to know that he’s not afraid to turn his back to her.
You try to catch Nat’s eye with a “what the fuck was that” type glance. She doesn’t look at you. She’s staring at Kodiak’s retreating back with so much hatred you feel like you’ve been scalded.
Travis goes after Mari, Akilah’s distracted fixing up Misty’s foot and Nat is standing guard, which means there’s no one to notice when you slip away after Kodiak. Apparently you’ve already pissed him off once today and you can’t imagine having a gun and his own bow pointed at him have sweetened his mood any, but you need to talk to him before he gets himself killed.
You catch up to him framed against a stand of young aspens. The leaves are starting to turn already; the afternoon sun turns them golden where it touches them. The sight makes something clench deep in your chest.
“Kodi?”
“What now? You pissed because I was mean to your friend?”
What he said went way beyond mean but you don’t have time to get into that right now.
“Look, I know you’re mad at me. I’m sorry. Please don’t take it out on the others.”
Kodiak turns to you. Irritation makes the hard planes of his face seem harder.
“Why would I be pissed at you?”
“You know why. This morning.” You flush, glancing off to the side to avoid looking at him. “You caught me off guard.”
Kodiak gives a dry laugh. “Yeah, I find that’s when people are most honest.”
“Okay, be mad at me then.” You force yourself to turn back, meeting his gaze head on. “You’re pushing them too hard.”
Kodiak softens a little, the tight line of his jaw unclenching.
“It’s not that.” The way he says it sounds more like an admission than reassurance. “We need to make good time today, that’s all.”
“We’re behind?” A pit opens in your stomach. You think of the lengthy backtrack after your injury, the impossibility of walking further that day, your weakness ever since; how badly have you been slowing the others down? “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I was working up to it.” The irritation returns to Kodiak’s tone but less harsh than before; he sounds more exasperated than angry. “I wanted to wait until you were in a good mood. But instead I somehow made you cry–”
“You didn’t make me cry.” You cut him off. “It’s just… teen girl bullshit.”
“Princess, you barely cried when they sewed your damn arm back together. I’m guessing it’s pretty bad.”
You flinch at the reminder that your injury is the thing slowing everything down.
“Two?” Your voice rises sharp and panicky before you forcibly drop it to a whisper.
“Well shit, Princess.” The nickname hits you like a slap. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“What?” Your chest feels tight, your breath coming out fast and shallow. The sun has gotten warmer as the day’s worn on but you can feel winter closing around you like a fist. All you can think about is that you brought the others here and now you’re all worse off; exposed on the mountainside with no shelter, food and bullets running out.
“I tell you we might have another night together and you look ready to have a panic attack.”
“It’s not that.” You close the gap between you, a hand on his arm, pleading. “The others are going to freak out. I promised them.”
Kodiak anchors you with a hand on the small of your back. You lean instinctively into his touch, his palm warm and rough where it touches the slither of bare skin between your jeans and shirt. He cups his other hand around your jaw, tilting your face up so that you can’t help but meet his gaze head on.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Princess.” Kodiak drops his voice. His tone is still fierce but his eyes, fixed on yours, are tender. “None of this is on you. You are not in charge here. I am.”
You don’t want them mad at him either. The memory of what happened to Ben rises like bile in your mouth. “I know you think we’re just dumb teenagers.”
Kodiak chucks his thumb under your chin. His scowl softens, one side of his mouth ticking upwards into a crooked smile. “Want to prove how smart you are? Stop fighting me.”
“I don’t want to fight you.”
“Yeah, I don’t blame you.” Kodiak’s smile widens as he leans in to tower over you, his voice low and insinuating. “Tiny little thing like you. I bet I could snap you in half with one hand.”
You glance downwards, feeling your face flush with heat. Kodiak follows the motion downwards, his gaze fixed on the shy half smile playing over your lips. He winds a strand of your hair around his fingers, tugging it lightly. You feel a pull towards him, like magnetism. You can’t stop thinking about how easy it would be to stand on tiptoes and pull him down into a kiss.
You hear some call your name sharply behind you. You jerk away from Kodiak, clumsy with alarm. He grabs your arm, steadying you, and you jerk free on instinct, stumbling.
Travis is facing you, his dark eyes wide with alarm. His posture is the same one you’ve seen him drop into on the hunt; poised between flight and fight.
“You need to come with me.” Travis keeps his voice low but you can hear it crack with tension. “Everyone’s looking for you.”
Kodiak’s expression turns sour. “Are they?”
“Yeah.” Travis gestures for you to come with him. “Come on. It’ll be safer.”
“What the fuck do you care?” Kodiak snaps.
You turn back to Kodiak and shoot him a pleading, placating look. You can’t side with one without making the other suspicious of you. “We need to get moving anyway, right?”
“You’re going?” Kodiak raises his eyebrows. His expression is ostensibly surprised but there’s something dark and mocking under it. “Damn. Why’d you never let me order you around like that?”
“She doesn’t know you.” Travis surprises you by answering for you. It’s not like him to interrupt, since last winter he’s spoken less and less.
Kodiak pushes off the tree he’s leaning against, so he’s standing straight. It’s a small gesture but it adds an inch or two to his height, and a lot more to the menace radiating off him.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have followed me into the woods.”
“Ignore him.” You’re not even sure which one you’re speaking to. It doesn’t matter anyway: neither of them listen. Travis is weirdly hunched, like he’s bracing himself for a blow, but he stands his ground. You can feel everything starting to unravel. You’ve been attuned to it, since Jackie died; how quickly an argument can spiral into something dark and ugly and permanent.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have.” Travis’ voice is quiet but the words carry. “We don’t even know your name.”
“It’s written on my shirt.” Kodiak scoffs, unimpressed. “But don’t worry about it. I haven’t bothered to learn any of your names either.”
A muscle jumps in Travis’ jaw, like he’s trying to stop himself from getting involved.
“I figure it’s easier not to get attached.” Kodiak keeps on prodding. “You know in case one of you gets hungry in the night.”
“Drop it, Kodi.”
Your getting involved only seems to egg him on harder.
“Or maybe I’m expecting too much, assuming you all know how to read. None of you exactly finished high school, huh?”
“Did you?” Travis mutters. You don’t think he meant Kodiak to hear it. Except Kodiak has a talent for finding the cracks in people’s psyches and pressing on them until they break.
“That might hit harder if you weren’t afraid to say it to my face.”
“Just because you peaked in highschool,” Travis mutters, quietly but not remotely calmly. And then turning to you, “Let’s go.”
“Yeah?” Kodiak steps between Travis and you, blocking your path. “Was your peak before or after the cannibalism?”
“It’s like you’re trying to get shot,” you tell him, frustrated.
Kodiak’s eyes track down to the empty space on Travis’ hip where the bow should be.
“With what? He gave my bow to his girlfriend. Or, I don’t know man, maybe she’s your sister.” Kodiak’s mouth curves into something that looks like a smile but isn’t. “Hell, you’ve been out here a while. For all I know it’s both.”
“Stop talking.” You glare up at Kodiak. He looks right past you, his eyes fixed on Travis like a dog scenting blood.
“I mean, inbreeding goes with the territory.” Kodiak senses a weak spot and prods harder. “You know, for cannibals.”
You shoulder in between them, turning to Travis. “He’s being an asshole. Ignore him.”
Travis ignores you instead. “So do you just assume all Latinos are related or…”
Kodiak scoffs.
“I mean, you were travelling with an all-girl’s soccer team. So yeah, I figure you must be somebody’s brother. But hey, my bad, I don’t know how many of you got eaten already.”
Your chest constricts. The air seems electric, the heavy, breathless feeling that comes before a thunderstorm.
Travis sidesteps around you, his arm drawing back into a punch. Avoiding you makes him clumsy: you manage to grab his shoulders and shove him backwards, throwing all your weight behind the movement to send him staggering. His punch goes wide, catching you on the shoulder but adrenaline carries you like a tide, so that you barely feel it. You catch Travis’ face between your hands, forcing him to look at you instead of Kodiak. The pain on his face is so naked it feels wrong to look at, as though it’s not meant for you to see. You keep your body between his and Kodiak’s shielding them from each other.
“He doesn’t know.” You try to keep your voice steady, as though your heart isn’t hammering so hard you feel like your ribs will break. If you let them fight, Kodiak is going to really hurt him. If he does, Natalie will do what she’s been threatening to and kill Kodiak. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, okay? He’s just making shit up to get a rise out of you.”
Travis looks at you and it’s like a wounded animal in a trap. You watch his mouth open and close, his voice failing him.
“One more day and then we never have to see him again.”
You have to fight to keep your voice from cracking as you say it. You hate to think that this is the note you’re going to leave things on with Kodiak, before he goes back to his life and you go back to yours.
“Okay.” Travis’ voice comes out low and hoarse, as if he’s been choking. “Yeah. Okay.”
“So let’s get out of here.”
Travis nods, just once.
You breath out, jagged with relief. You almost reach out to steer him away but then think better of it, your hand falling awkwardly in the space between you. You glance over your shoulder at Kodiak: he’s watching you closely, his expression unreadable.
Neither of you speak much, as you leave. Travis is wound tight, you can’t tell whether from anxiety or from anger. You’re frantically running through scenarios in your head, trying to figure out how you can keep him and Kodiak away from each other for two more days without one of them getting any more suspicious of the other. That’s why it takes you a few minutes to realise that you’re not heading back the way you came but toward the sound of the river.
“Nat’s getting water,” Travis tells you, when you stop short. His voice is quiet but he sets his jaw, like he’s expecting to have to fight you on it. “This’ll go easier if we catch her alone.”
“We can’t tell Natalie,” you blurt. Nat might avoid Travis but if he asks her outright, she won’t lie to him. The others barely trust Kodiak when they think he’s helping you all out of the goodness of his heart; you don’t want to think about what’ll happen if they learn you had to bribe him with your body. There’s only one way things can end when the group turns on someone: they die, badly.
“I should have gone to her sooner.” Travis scowls and suddenly you identify the expression you couldn’t place: guilt. “I thought I could run interference long enough for us to get home.”
“So do that. We’re so close.”
“Are we?” Travis pushes his long hair out of his eyes, irritated. “Because we’ve been hiking less and less every day. Making camp earlier. Walking slower. He’s dragging things out.”
You open your mouth but there’s no air in your lungs to give the words voice.
“We didn’t say anything because we didn’t want to freak you out while you were recovering. But yeah.
“Wait. Does everyone know about this?”
“Not everyone. Me and Akilah. But I know Nat suspects something too.”
Fuck. They were going to find out soon anyway but you’d hoped you’d have until nightfall to figure something out. Everyone’s been trying to spare you from worrying about it but all it’s done is left you blindsided.
“Oh so now you want to talk to Natalie?” It’s a low blow but you don’t know what else to say to derail the conversation before everything spirals.
“We talk when it’s important,” Travis mutters.
He’s serious, you realise. Travis has been so quiet and cowed since Javi died, since things got out of hand between him and Lottie. You’d be glad that he’d found his voice again if he hadn’t chosen such a cataphorically terrible time to do it.
“Yeah well…” You try desperately to think of a way to derail him and come up with nothing. “I just can’t.”
“Okay seriously, what is with you?” Travis shakes his hair out of his eyes with a sharp jerk of his head.
“Nothing! I just–” You trail off in an inarticulate snarl.. “Just leave it alone, all right?”
You turn on your heel, striding back towards where you left the others.
“You don’t have to keep lying.” Travis doesn’t raise his voice but the words ring through the air like a gunshot. “I know.”
You turn towards him, a hundred excuses dying on your tongue.
The air goes out off your stomach like you’ve been punched.
“How did you…” Your voice escapes as a hoarse rasp. “Did Natalie tell you?”
“Natalie? Yeah, she told me everything.”
You put a hand out against a tree to steady yourself.
“Okay but you get that you can’t tell anyone, right? Nat’s overreacting. It’s not a big deal.”
“Yeah? Because you’re acting like it’s a big deal.”
“It’s just sex, it’s not–”
“Wait!” Travis’s voice rises to a strangled yell. “You’re fucking him?”
“Yeah?”
“On purpose?”
“You mean consensually?” You stare at him. “Yeah. Why? What the hell did Natalie tell you?”
“Nat knows about this?”
“You said she–”
“Natalie didn’t tell me shit.” Travis shakes his hair out of his eyes. “I was bluffing.”
You reel back from him, betrayed.
“What the fuck, Travis?” You raise your voice but Travis doesn’t flinch from it this time.
“Oh, you want me to apologise to you?” Travis snaps. “I was worried, okay! He was acting really weird and possessive. How was I supposed to know you were into it?”
“You do not get to judge me!” Your voice rises to match his. “You think he wanted to help us? He was going to leave, okay? Back there. He got the bow off me and I had to do something before our only chance at getting out of here got away!”
“So this is my fault?” Travis retorts. Then his face falls. “Fuck. I left you alone with him.”
“Yeah?” You force yourself to lower your voice. “And what would have happened if you stayed? We take him back to camp and wait for Shauna to kill him? Then what? We’d have frozen or starved or got fucking eaten.”
You see the realisation settle on his face.
“Nat hates it,” you continue. “But what was she supposed to do: turn around and go home?”
Travis blanches.
“Because those are our options: we go forward or we go back.”
Travis doesn’t say anything but you can see on his face that he knows you’re right.
“So?” You ask tentatively. It feels like poking a bruise but you need to know he’ll keep your secret. “Are you going to be cool about this?”
“I can’t go back.” Travis’ voice is so hoarse and quiet that it takes you a moment to figure out what he’s said.
“Okay.” You let out a relieved breath that’s more performance than actual relief. “Good.”
“No,” Travis rasps. “I mean, I really can’t go back.”
You really look at him. The hike has taken it out of him: he’s newly gaunt, his eyes shadowed, an unsettled, twitchy intensity to him. You want to reach out and put a hand on his arm but think better of it.
Travis turns away. His voice is so quiet you have to strain to hear it. “I did something.”
“We all did stuff.” You feel useless saying it. You’ve been trying to convince yourself that you can go home, slip back into your old life, pretend all of this never happened. What you’re starting to realise is, the Wilderness isn’t something you can leave behind.
“Will you just stop?” Travis snaps. “You all do that. Treat me like I’m helpless or– or like I’m better than you. I’m not better than you.”
You don’t answer. The only thing you can think about is the one thing you can never bring up around Travis. When Natalie drew the queen, he was the only one who tried to stop it; and later, he was the only one of you, Nat included, who didn’t stand on the frozen lake and wait for Javi to stop moving before pulling his body from the ice.
“I lied.” Travis is barely looking at you but words keep spilling out of him, like a levee giving way. “I lied about all of it. All that Wilderness bullshit. I told Lottie what she wanted to hear because I thought maybe she’d leave me alone. And then when it just made her worse, I lied again and sicced her on Akilah.”
“All of it?” you echo.
Travis shoves his hair out of his eyes, yanking it so hard it looks painful.
“I wanted to believe her,” he mutters. “At first. When Javi was missing. And after.” His voice cracks. “But what god would allow any of this to happen? There’s nothing out here. Unless it’s fucking evil.”
You flinch a little, unsure of what might be listening.
“And I had to do something,” Travis continues. “I had to make it right.”
“Okay,” you say, your voice turning low and soothing. Here’s something you can use. You should feel worse manipulating him but if it gets you all home in one piece you don’t care. “It’s okay. You got Akilah away from her.”
“Will you listen to me!” Travis snaps. “Jesus! I tried to kill her, okay? I tried to kill Lottie.”
Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
“What?” You manage, your voice a faint wheeze. You replay the syllables in your head, hoping you misheard him. It doesn’t make any sense.
“The pit Mari fell in?” Travis’ voice is weirdly flat, as if all the fire’s gone out of him. “I sharpened stakes, filled it, covered it. Fucking…lured her there.”
You can’t answer. Bile rises in your throat. You can almost feel the ground shift under you, the bite of metal into your flesh.
“I didn’t know, okay?” Travis’ voice cracks a little. “I didn’t know it was going to be like that. I just wanted her to stop.”
He couldn’t have been responsible for your trap, you remind yourself. How could he? None of you have ever been that far from your camp before. It doesn’t comfort you much: just because he didn’t have the opportunity doesn’t mean he doesn’t have motive. Your heart beats hard and erratic against your ribs, your breath turning fast and shallow.
“I–I don’t understand,” you falter. “Lottie was fine before we left. Did you… did you change your mind, or…?”
Your voice is small as you say it, like a plea. You desperately want it not to be true.
Travis shakes his head, one sharp jerk.
“No. I did it.” His voice is so hoarse you have to lean towards him to make out what he’s saying. “Or I tried. Lottie walked over it like it was nothing and she looked at me and she fucking knew.”
Travis makes this noise like he can’t breathe and then suddenly his chest is wracked with great gulping sobs. The pain and guilt and fear on his face is so naked that at first you flinch away from him. Then you remember that he’s still one of you and he’s hurting and fold your arms around him into a hug. Travis startles. You pull back, sure you’ve overstepped, but then he’s clutching you like he’s drowning, all bones and angles and wiry muscle. You have a horrible feeling you’re betraying Nat somehow. Not because there’s anything romantic about it – there really isn’t – but because it’s her who should be comforting him, not you.
“It’s okay.” The words come out automatically, even though this is the farthest thing from okay. You rearrange your arms gingerly around him, trying to shift so his shoulder isn’t jutting into your throat. It’s probably not true, you tell yourself; Travis has been drunk, high or both more often than not since the cabin burned. He probably hallucinated the whole thing. It’s a rational explanation but you can’t quite bring yourself to believe it. The possibility that it’s true scares you too much; something capable of doing that isn’t going to just let you walk out of here.
Travis lets go of you, arms crossed over his stomach as though he has to hold himself together.
“Sorry,” he says, gruffly. “I’m not used to– Everyone treats me like a bomb waiting to go off. I don’t even know the last time anyone– um…”
“It’s okay. Does– does Akilah know?”
You realise as you’re saying it that of course she can’t: Misty, Mari and especially Akilah were all big into Lottie’s church.
Travis shakes his head. “No. She’s a good person. That’s why I had to get her out.”
“Does Nat?”
Travis shakes his head. “Fuck no. I don’t want her to know this about me.”
“Okay, good.” Part of you wishes she did, that this was something you could share with her instead of another lie between you. “That’s good. The less people who know the better.”
Travis looks at you with this expression that’s so lost – so hopeful – that you feel something tear inside your chest. His face is still tearstained. You hug him again more cautiously this time. He returns it, his head resting against yours. You can feel the irregular hitch of his breathing as he tries not to freak out again, the way his bones all feel too close to the surface.
“This is just between us, okay?” You tell him. “I’m going to get us home. We don’t tell anyone. Not Nat, not the others.”
“Kodiak,” Travis says thickly.
You make a face against his hair. The last thing you want is Kodi knowing anything about this, either for his sake or for Travis’.
“Yeah, Kodiak can never find out about this.”
“No. No, I mean–” Travis pulls away from you, taking an unsteady step backwards. He grips one of your arms pulling you with him, so you turn sideways.
It’s only then that you see the shadow falling across your path.
A/N: Thank you for reading! Feel free to yell at me in the replies and reblogs: I have a chunk of ch 12 written, so hopefully the wait won't be ask long this time. Hearing from you really does help so much with motivation.
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Summary: You want to be rescued. Kodiak wants you. Part 11 of an ongoing story: read part one here.
Content: Smut. Age gap: older man/younger woman. Intended for 18+ readers. Mature content under the cut.
You’re still tearstained when you make it back to the camp. It’s fully light and Nat is already up, her jacket wrapped tight around herself in the cool morning air.
“You’re cutting it close.” Nat turns to you. Her eyes widen as she sees your face, her voice turning hard and flat. “What did he do?”
As she speaks she adjusts the strap of the rifle hanging over her shoulder, almost unconsciously, as though she’s checking it’s still there.
You shake your head. “It’s not like that.”
“So what’s it like?”
“Just drop it. It was my fault, okay?” You feel a hot jagged feeling in your throat, not as done with crying as you’d thought.
You expect Nat to double down but instead she pulls you into a hug. Her grip is tentative as though she expects you to shrug her off, she holds herself awkwardly, conscious of the rifle, and when you lean into her the bleached ends of her hair get in your nose and mouth. She rubs your shoulder blade soothingly, halfway between a pat and a stroke.
“You’re really starting to freak me out. You know that?”
“I’m sorry.” You mean for all of it: for everything you did and failed to do last winter.
“I didn’t mean–”
“Hey, have either of you seen–” Travis stops short when he catches sight of you both. You pull away from Nat, trying to swipe at your eyes discreetly without making things look worse. “Is she uh… okay?”
“Oh, uh– Nightmare,” Nat tells him. It’s not particularly convincing as lies go but Travis won’t ask questions. They mostly avoid each other since the break up, as far as it’s possible to avoid anyone out here. When they do talk it’s in this weirdly forced casual tone, as though they’re trying to convince themselves there’s no hard feelings. “Hey, um, could you go find Mari? The crossbow keeps jamming.”
“Yeah.” Travis gives you a searching, worried look before he turns to go. “Sure. No problem.”
“I’m sorry I keep making you lie for me,” you say quietly. Your voice cracks a little.
Nat wraps an arm around your shoulders, more natural this time. You rest your head on her shoulder, inhaling the leather and tobacco scent.
“You know I’m going to get us home right?” Her voice is low and husky against your ear. “Whatever it takes.”
You wrap your varsity jacket around yourself as you walk. Somehow it doesn’t feel like yours anymore; you miss the weight of Kodiak’s coat, the way the leather’s worn rough and smooth at once, the way it smells like him.
Kodiak himself is out in front. He’s tense, setting a hard pace, and when he snarks at the others it lands more harshly. You wonder if that’s your fault, or if it’s only that he’s impatient for the safety of the rescue point. You haven’t asked him about it yet, you’ve been focusing on putting one foot in front of the other because the enormity of what you’re asking for scares you. You don’t know whether there’ll be anyone there to meet you, what it might look like. Days ago, you caught yourself imagining stepping through the trees and suddenly a road would be there, maybe an emergency call box, maybe a passing truck you could flag down. That seems less likely now: the forested mountainside seems no less wild than the one you started on. It occurs to you, uneasily, that there might not be roads out here at all.
The flare gun in your backpack is a shifting weight against your spine. You’d half forgotten about it but now you wonder if Kodiak gave it to you because he knew you’d have to signal a rescue helicopter or light aircraft. It worries you a little that he gave it to you specifically: usually he carries things for you, spares you the hard jobs when he can. You don’t think Nat
would have given him a gun, even a flare gun, but he still wanted you to have it, instead of the others. It implies that, if it comes down to it, he’s prepared to leave them behind. It shouldn’t surprise you: he’s said as much himself. Still, the idea that he has an actual contingency plan is like an extra weight you can’t put down.
Whatever bad mood you’ve put Kodiak in, he takes it out on the others: pushing them harder than ever, his snarky comments coming out meaner and more frequent, striding ahead so that Misty has to jog just to try and keep pace with him. Either she hasn’t picked up on everyone giving Kodiak the cold shoulder or she has and feels a sense of kinship with him. She wears herself out and trails along with the rest of you. Her shoes are giving her trouble, like most of yours are: everything you have was worn to shit when you set out and five days of hiking haven’t helped. Misty looks dejected, unsure what she’s done to offend him, and you add that to the pile of things to feel guilty over.
Kodiak even tries to push on past midday, telling you all to break open a ration pack while you walk. It’s only when Nat notices blood turning the pink canvas of Misty’s shoes to crimson, that you’re all forced to stop. She’s been walking on blisters until one of them burst, leaving a raw angry spot on her heel where a whole layer of skin has torn open, like a second degree burn.
“Jesus Christ, Glasses, why didn’t you say something?” Kodiak keeps asking, as he straps it up.
“Like you care!” Mari – also exhausted, also limping badly – flares up. “You’re the one who was pushing her so hard.”
Kodiak looks up at her, unimpressed.
“You realise winter isn’t going to wait for us, right? There’s a window. And every time one of you slows us down with stupid shit, that window closes a little more.”
“You’re lying.” Akilah’s voice is quiet but it carries.
“You think you can do better?” Kodiak throws his arm out in frustration. “There’s the trail. Knock yourself out.”
“We’re not going to get to the rescue point if we keep injuring ourselves,” Mari snarls.
“You might not.” Kodiak gets to his feet. He’s easily a foot taller than Mari, probably more than twice her weight too. “I’m not dying out here because you have sore feet.”
“Oh yeah? How about because you got shot the back?”
You realise, with a sickening jolt, that Mari has the bow.
“Nat?” Your voice comes out so strangled it might as well be a whisper. But Nat is already looking.
“Look, Marie–”
“It’s Mari!”
“You know what? Maybe you should worry less about me learning your name and more about us getting back to civilisation before your friends run out of food.”
“Drop it, Mari.” Nat has the gun in her hands, barrel pointing at the ground.
“Me?” Mari turns on her outraged. “What did I do?”
Nat opens her mouth to pacify her and it might very well have ended there. You could have finished strapping up Misty’s foot, limped on to the rescue point, made it there without bloodshed. But of course Kodiak has to open his mouth.
“I mean, I can think of one pretty significant thing,” he says. “Or are we not counting the cannibalism?”
Mari wheels on him, her dark hair flying, her mouth opening in a snarl. She jabs the bow out, aiming it directly at Kodiak’s heart.
“Look, asshole–”
You can tell from Kodiak’s expression that whatever he says next, it’s going to be bad. You want to get in between them but you’re afraid to make any sudden movements around Mari right now.
“Oh sorry, do you prefer humanitarian?” Kodiak widens his eyes, mock innocent. “I mean it’s true what they say: you are what you eat.”
“Both of you take a walk!” Nat keeps the gun trained on Kodiak, her hands steady even as she yells. “Opposite directions. Go.”
Mari shoots her a betrayed look and, realising Nat’s not going to bend, storms off. Kodiak faces Nat down, still smiling, his hands halfway raised in a way that makes it clear he thinks this is all some big joke.
“If you were going to shoot me, you should have used the bow,” he tells her. “Save your bullets. We both know you won’t get home without me.”
Nat flicks the safety off with her thumb.
“I. Said. Take. A. Fucking. Walk.”
Kodiak scoffs but he goes, sauntering off as though he wants everyone to know that he’s not afraid to turn his back to her.
You try to catch Nat’s eye with a “what the fuck was that” type glance. She doesn’t look at you. She’s staring at Kodiak’s retreating back with so much hatred you feel like you’ve been scalded.
Travis goes after Mari, Akilah’s distracted fixing up Misty’s foot and Nat is standing guard, which means there’s no one to notice when you slip away after Kodiak. Apparently you’ve already pissed him off once today and you can’t imagine having a gun and his own bow pointed at him have sweetened his mood any, but you need to talk to him before he gets himself killed.
You catch up to him framed against a stand of young aspens. The leaves are starting to turn already; the afternoon sun turns them golden where it touches them. The sight makes something clench deep in your chest.
“Kodi?”
“What now? You pissed because I was mean to your friend?”
What he said went way beyond mean but you don’t have time to get into that right now.
“Look, I know you’re mad at me. I’m sorry. Please don’t take it out on the others.”
Kodiak turns to you. Irritation makes the hard planes of his face seem harder.
“Why would I be pissed at you?”
“You know why. This morning.” You flush, glancing off to the side to avoid looking at him. “You caught me off guard.”
Kodiak gives a dry laugh. “Yeah, I find that’s when people are most honest.”
“Okay, be mad at me then.” You force yourself to turn back, meeting his gaze head on. “You’re pushing them too hard.”
Kodiak softens a little, the tight line of his jaw unclenching.
“It’s not that.” The way he says it sounds more like an admission than reassurance. “We need to make good time today, that’s all.”
“We’re behind?” A pit opens in your stomach. You think of the lengthy backtrack after your injury, the impossibility of walking further that day, your weakness ever since; how badly have you been slowing the others down? “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I was working up to it.” The irritation returns to Kodiak’s tone but less harsh than before; he sounds more exasperated than angry. “I wanted to wait until you were in a good mood. But instead I somehow made you cry–”
“You didn’t make me cry.” You cut him off. “It’s just… teen girl bullshit.”
“Princess, you barely cried when they sewed your damn arm back together. I’m guessing it’s pretty bad.”
You flinch at the reminder that your injury is the thing slowing everything down.
“Two?” Your voice rises sharp and panicky before you forcibly drop it to a whisper.
“Well shit, Princess.” The nickname hits you like a slap. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“What?” Your chest feels tight, your breath coming out fast and shallow. The sun has gotten warmer as the day’s worn on but you can feel winter closing around you like a fist. All you can think about is that you brought the others here and now you’re all worse off; exposed on the mountainside with no shelter, food and bullets running out.
“I tell you we might have another night together and you look ready to have a panic attack.”
“It’s not that.” You close the gap between you, a hand on his arm, pleading. “The others are going to freak out. I promised them.”
Kodiak anchors you with a hand on the small of your back. You lean instinctively into his touch, his palm warm and rough where it touches the slither of bare skin between your jeans and shirt. He cups his other hand around your jaw, tilting your face up so that you can’t help but meet his gaze head on.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Princess.” Kodiak drops his voice. His tone is still fierce but his eyes, fixed on yours, are tender. “None of this is on you. You are not in charge here. I am.”
You don’t want them mad at him either. The memory of what happened to Ben rises like bile in your mouth. “I know you think we’re just dumb teenagers.”
Kodiak chucks his thumb under your chin. His scowl softens, one side of his mouth ticking upwards into a crooked smile. “Want to prove how smart you are? Stop fighting me.”
“I don’t want to fight you.”
“Yeah, I don’t blame you.” Kodiak’s smile widens as he leans in to tower over you, his voice low and insinuating. “Tiny little thing like you. I bet I could snap you in half with one hand.”
You glance downwards, feeling your face flush with heat. Kodiak follows the motion downwards, his gaze fixed on the shy half smile playing over your lips. He winds a strand of your hair around his fingers, tugging it lightly. You feel a pull towards him, like magnetism. You can’t stop thinking about how easy it would be to stand on tiptoes and pull him down into a kiss.
You hear some call your name sharply behind you. You jerk away from Kodiak, clumsy with alarm. He grabs your arm, steadying you, and you jerk free on instinct, stumbling.
Travis is facing you, his dark eyes wide with alarm. His posture is the same one you’ve seen him drop into on the hunt; poised between flight and fight.
“You need to come with me.” Travis keeps his voice low but you can hear it crack with tension. “Everyone’s looking for you.”
Kodiak’s expression turns sour. “Are they?”
“Yeah.” Travis gestures for you to come with him. “Come on. It’ll be safer.”
“What the fuck do you care?” Kodiak snaps.
You turn back to Kodiak and shoot him a pleading, placating look. You can’t side with one without making the other suspicious of you. “We need to get moving anyway, right?”
“You’re going?” Kodiak raises his eyebrows. His expression is ostensibly surprised but there’s something dark and mocking under it. “Damn. Why’d you never let me order you around like that?”
“She doesn’t know you.” Travis surprises you by answering for you. It’s not like him to interrupt, since last winter he’s spoken less and less.
Kodiak pushes off the tree he’s leaning against, so he’s standing straight. It’s a small gesture but it adds an inch or two to his height, and a lot more to the menace radiating off him.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have followed me into the woods.”
“Ignore him.” You’re not even sure which one you’re speaking to. It doesn’t matter anyway: neither of them listen. Travis is weirdly hunched, like he’s bracing himself for a blow, but he stands his ground. You can feel everything starting to unravel. You’ve been attuned to it, since Jackie died; how quickly an argument can spiral into something dark and ugly and permanent.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have.” Travis’ voice is quiet but the words carry. “We don’t even know your name.”
“It’s written on my shirt.” Kodiak scoffs, unimpressed. “But don’t worry about it. I haven’t bothered to learn any of your names either.”
A muscle jumps in Travis’ jaw, like he’s trying to stop himself from getting involved.
“I figure it’s easier not to get attached.” Kodiak keeps on prodding. “You know in case one of you gets hungry in the night.”
“Drop it, Kodi.”
Your getting involved only seems to egg him on harder.
“Or maybe I’m expecting too much, assuming you all know how to read. None of you exactly finished high school, huh?”
“Did you?” Travis mutters. You don’t think he meant Kodiak to hear it. Except Kodiak has a talent for finding the cracks in people’s psyches and pressing on them until they break.
“That might hit harder if you weren’t afraid to say it to my face.”
“Just because you peaked in highschool,” Travis mutters, quietly but not remotely calmly. And then turning to you, “Let’s go.”
“Yeah?” Kodiak steps between Travis and you, blocking your path. “Was your peak before or after the cannibalism?”
“It’s like you’re trying to get shot,” you tell him, frustrated.
Kodiak’s eyes track down to the empty space on Travis’ hip where the bow should be.
“With what? He gave my bow to his girlfriend. Or, I don’t know man, maybe she’s your sister.” Kodiak’s mouth curves into something that looks like a smile but isn’t. “Hell, you’ve been out here a while. For all I know it’s both.”
“Stop talking.” You glare up at Kodiak. He looks right past you, his eyes fixed on Travis like a dog scenting blood.
“I mean, inbreeding goes with the territory.” Kodiak senses a weak spot and prods harder. “You know, for cannibals.”
You shoulder in between them, turning to Travis. “He’s being an asshole. Ignore him.”
Travis ignores you instead. “So do you just assume all Latinos are related or…”
Kodiak scoffs.
“I mean, you were travelling with an all-girl’s soccer team. So yeah, I figure you must be somebody’s brother. But hey, my bad, I don’t know how many of you got eaten already.”
Your chest constricts. The air seems electric, the heavy, breathless feeling that comes before a thunderstorm.
Travis sidesteps around you, his arm drawing back into a punch. Avoiding you makes him clumsy: you manage to grab his shoulders and shove him backwards, throwing all your weight behind the movement to send him staggering. His punch goes wide, catching you on the shoulder but adrenaline carries you like a tide, so that you barely feel it. You catch Travis’ face between your hands, forcing him to look at you instead of Kodiak. The pain on his face is so naked it feels wrong to look at, as though it’s not meant for you to see. You keep your body between his and Kodiak’s shielding them from each other.
“He doesn’t know.” You try to keep your voice steady, as though your heart isn’t hammering so hard you feel like your ribs will break. If you let them fight, Kodiak is going to really hurt him. If he does, Natalie will do what she’s been threatening to and kill Kodiak. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, okay? He’s just making shit up to get a rise out of you.”
Travis looks at you and it’s like a wounded animal in a trap. You watch his mouth open and close, his voice failing him.
“One more day and then we never have to see him again.”
You have to fight to keep your voice from cracking as you say it. You hate to think that this is the note you’re going to leave things on with Kodiak, before he goes back to his life and you go back to yours.
“Okay.” Travis’ voice comes out low and hoarse, as if he’s been choking. “Yeah. Okay.”
“So let’s get out of here.”
Travis nods, just once.
You breath out, jagged with relief. You almost reach out to steer him away but then think better of it, your hand falling awkwardly in the space between you. You glance over your shoulder at Kodiak: he’s watching you closely, his expression unreadable.
Neither of you speak much, as you leave. Travis is wound tight, you can’t tell whether from anxiety or from anger. You’re frantically running through scenarios in your head, trying to figure out how you can keep him and Kodiak away from each other for two more days without one of them getting any more suspicious of the other. That’s why it takes you a few minutes to realise that you’re not heading back the way you came but toward the sound of the river.
“Nat’s getting water,” Travis tells you, when you stop short. His voice is quiet but he sets his jaw, like he’s expecting to have to fight you on it. “This’ll go easier if we catch her alone.”
“We can’t tell Natalie,” you blurt. Nat might avoid Travis but if he asks her outright, she won’t lie to him. The others barely trust Kodiak when they think he’s helping you all out of the goodness of his heart; you don’t want to think about what’ll happen if they learn you had to bribe him with your body. There’s only one way things can end when the group turns on someone: they die, badly.
“I should have gone to her sooner.” Travis scowls and suddenly you identify the expression you couldn’t place: guilt. “I thought I could run interference long enough for us to get home.”
“So do that. We’re so close.”
“Are we?” Travis pushes his long hair out of his eyes, irritated. “Because we’ve been hiking less and less every day. Making camp earlier. Walking slower. He’s dragging things out.”
You open your mouth but there’s no air in your lungs to give the words voice.
“We didn’t say anything because we didn’t want to freak you out while you were recovering. But yeah.
“Wait. Does everyone know about this?”
“Not everyone. Me and Akilah. But I know Nat suspects something too.”
Fuck. They were going to find out soon anyway but you’d hoped you’d have until nightfall to figure something out. Everyone’s been trying to spare you from worrying about it but all it’s done is left you blindsided.
“Oh so now you want to talk to Natalie?” It’s a low blow but you don’t know what else to say to derail the conversation before everything spirals.
“We talk when it’s important,” Travis mutters.
He’s serious, you realise. Travis has been so quiet and cowed since Javi died, since things got out of hand between him and Lottie. You’d be glad that he’d found his voice again if he hadn’t chosen such a cataphorically terrible time to do it.
“Yeah well…” You try desperately to think of a way to derail him and come up with nothing. “I just can’t.”
“Okay seriously, what is with you?” Travis shakes his hair out of his eyes with a sharp jerk of his head.
“Nothing! I just–” You trail off in an inarticulate snarl.. “Just leave it alone, all right?”
You turn on your heel, striding back towards where you left the others.
“You don’t have to keep lying.” Travis doesn’t raise his voice but the words ring through the air like a gunshot. “I know.”
You turn towards him, a hundred excuses dying on your tongue.
The air goes out off your stomach like you’ve been punched.
“How did you…” Your voice escapes as a hoarse rasp. “Did Natalie tell you?”
“Natalie? Yeah, she told me everything.”
You put a hand out against a tree to steady yourself.
“Okay but you get that you can’t tell anyone, right? Nat’s overreacting. It’s not a big deal.”
“Yeah? Because you’re acting like it’s a big deal.”
“It’s just sex, it’s not–”
“Wait!” Travis’s voice rises to a strangled yell. “You’re fucking him?”
“Yeah?”
“On purpose?”
“You mean consensually?” You stare at him. “Yeah. Why? What the hell did Natalie tell you?”
“Nat knows about this?”
“You said she–”
“Natalie didn’t tell me shit.” Travis shakes his hair out of his eyes. “I was bluffing.”
You reel back from him, betrayed.
“What the fuck, Travis?” You raise your voice but Travis doesn’t flinch from it this time.
“Oh, you want me to apologise to you?” Travis snaps. “I was worried, okay! He was acting really weird and possessive. How was I supposed to know you were into it?”
“You do not get to judge me!” Your voice rises to match his. “You think he wanted to help us? He was going to leave, okay? Back there. He got the bow off me and I had to do something before our only chance at getting out of here got away!”
“So this is my fault?” Travis retorts. Then his face falls. “Fuck. I left you alone with him.”
“Yeah?” You force yourself to lower your voice. “And what would have happened if you stayed? We take him back to camp and wait for Shauna to kill him? Then what? We’d have frozen or starved or got fucking eaten.”
You see the realisation settle on his face.
“Nat hates it,” you continue. “But what was she supposed to do: turn around and go home?”
Travis blanches.
“Because those are our options: we go forward or we go back.”
Travis doesn’t say anything but you can see on his face that he knows you’re right.
“So?” You ask tentatively. It feels like poking a bruise but you need to know he’ll keep your secret. “Are you going to be cool about this?”
“I can’t go back.” Travis’ voice is so hoarse and quiet that it takes you a moment to figure out what he’s said.
“Okay.” You let out a relieved breath that’s more performance than actual relief. “Good.”
“No,” Travis rasps. “I mean, I really can’t go back.”
You really look at him. The hike has taken it out of him: he’s newly gaunt, his eyes shadowed, an unsettled, twitchy intensity to him. You want to reach out and put a hand on his arm but think better of it.
Travis turns away. His voice is so quiet you have to strain to hear it. “I did something.”
“We all did stuff.” You feel useless saying it. You’ve been trying to convince yourself that you can go home, slip back into your old life, pretend all of this never happened. What you’re starting to realise is, the Wilderness isn’t something you can leave behind.
“Will you just stop?” Travis snaps. “You all do that. Treat me like I’m helpless or– or like I’m better than you. I’m not better than you.”
You don’t answer. The only thing you can think about is the one thing you can never bring up around Travis. When Natalie drew the queen, he was the only one who tried to stop it; and later, he was the only one of you, Nat included, who didn’t stand on the frozen lake and wait for Javi to stop moving before pulling his body from the ice.
“I lied.” Travis is barely looking at you but words keep spilling out of him, like a levee giving way. “I lied about all of it. All that Wilderness bullshit. I told Lottie what she wanted to hear because I thought maybe she’d leave me alone. And then when it just made her worse, I lied again and sicced her on Akilah.”
“All of it?” you echo.
Travis shoves his hair out of his eyes, yanking it so hard it looks painful.
“I wanted to believe her,” he mutters. “At first. When Javi was missing. And after.” His voice cracks. “But what god would allow any of this to happen? There’s nothing out here. Unless it’s fucking evil.”
You flinch a little, unsure of what might be listening.
“And I had to do something,” Travis continues. “I had to make it right.”
“Okay,” you say, your voice turning low and soothing. Here’s something you can use. You should feel worse manipulating him but if it gets you all home in one piece you don’t care. “It’s okay. You got Akilah away from her.”
“Will you listen to me!” Travis snaps. “Jesus! I tried to kill her, okay? I tried to kill Lottie.”
Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
“What?” You manage, your voice a faint wheeze. You replay the syllables in your head, hoping you misheard him. It doesn’t make any sense.
“The pit Mari fell in?” Travis’ voice is weirdly flat, as if all the fire’s gone out of him. “I sharpened stakes, filled it, covered it. Fucking…lured her there.”
You can’t answer. Bile rises in your throat. You can almost feel the ground shift under you, the bite of metal into your flesh.
“I didn’t know, okay?” Travis’ voice cracks a little. “I didn’t know it was going to be like that. I just wanted her to stop.”
He couldn’t have been responsible for your trap, you remind yourself. How could he? None of you have ever been that far from your camp before. It doesn’t comfort you much: just because he didn’t have the opportunity doesn’t mean he doesn’t have motive. Your heart beats hard and erratic against your ribs, your breath turning fast and shallow.
“I–I don’t understand,” you falter. “Lottie was fine before we left. Did you… did you change your mind, or…?”
Your voice is small as you say it, like a plea. You desperately want it not to be true.
Travis shakes his head, one sharp jerk.
“No. I did it.” His voice is so hoarse you have to lean towards him to make out what he’s saying. “Or I tried. Lottie walked over it like it was nothing and she looked at me and she fucking knew.”
Travis makes this noise like he can’t breathe and then suddenly his chest is wracked with great gulping sobs. The pain and guilt and fear on his face is so naked that at first you flinch away from him. Then you remember that he’s still one of you and he’s hurting and fold your arms around him into a hug. Travis startles. You pull back, sure you’ve overstepped, but then he’s clutching you like he’s drowning, all bones and angles and wiry muscle. You have a horrible feeling you’re betraying Nat somehow. Not because there’s anything romantic about it – there really isn’t – but because it’s her who should be comforting him, not you.
“It’s okay.” The words come out automatically, even though this is the farthest thing from okay. You rearrange your arms gingerly around him, trying to shift so his shoulder isn’t jutting into your throat. It’s probably not true, you tell yourself; Travis has been drunk, high or both more often than not since the cabin burned. He probably hallucinated the whole thing. It’s a rational explanation but you can’t quite bring yourself to believe it. The possibility that it’s true scares you too much; something capable of doing that isn’t going to just let you walk out of here.
Travis lets go of you, arms crossed over his stomach as though he has to hold himself together.
“Sorry,” he says, gruffly. “I’m not used to– Everyone treats me like a bomb waiting to go off. I don’t even know the last time anyone– um…”
“It’s okay. Does– does Akilah know?”
You realise as you’re saying it that of course she can’t: Misty, Mari and especially Akilah were all big into Lottie’s church.
Travis shakes his head. “No. She’s a good person. That’s why I had to get her out.”
“Does Nat?”
Travis shakes his head. “Fuck no. I don’t want her to know this about me.”
“Okay, good.” Part of you wishes she did, that this was something you could share with her instead of another lie between you. “That’s good. The less people who know the better.”
Travis looks at you with this expression that’s so lost – so hopeful – that you feel something tear inside your chest. His face is still tearstained. You hug him again more cautiously this time. He returns it, his head resting against yours. You can feel the irregular hitch of his breathing as he tries not to freak out again, the way his bones all feel too close to the surface.
“This is just between us, okay?” You tell him. “I’m going to get us home. We don’t tell anyone. Not Nat, not the others.”
“Kodiak,” Travis says thickly.
You make a face against his hair. The last thing you want is Kodi knowing anything about this, either for his sake or for Travis’.
“Yeah, Kodiak can never find out about this.”
“No. No, I mean–” Travis pulls away from you, taking an unsteady step backwards. He grips one of your arms pulling you with him, so you turn sideways.
It’s only then that you see the shadow falling across your path.
A/N: Thank you for reading! Feel free to yell at me in the replies and reblogs: I have a chunk of ch 12 written, so hopefully the wait won't be ask long this time. Hearing from you really does help so much with motivation.
If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging: it really helps creators out, so we can keep making cool stuff.
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