Page 53 of Her Crew

“Go on, bear!” I whisper-shout again. “Get!”

Instead of retreating, the massive beast drops to all fours and takes a step toward me.

This time, I raise my chest and step toward the bear. “Get the fuck out of here, bear! You don’t know what the fuck I have been through in the last eight hours, and you don’t want to fucking find out!”

The bear licks his lips, flicks his ears, and turns tail to run.

The risk of being eaten really invigorated my legs, because I take off running again. In the opposite direction of the bear, obviously. Branches whip against my legs and cut through my pants. And like every embarrassing character in a horror movie, I forget how legs work. The toe of my shoe catches on a root snaking across the ground, and I go face first into the bushes. My wrists ache as I land on them with all my weight. I love this for me.

I drag myself to my knees, thankful that my pride seems to be the most damaged part of me. After forcing myself to my feet, I take a weak step forward. I’m thirsty. I’m hungry. And somehow, I’m even more miserable by the time I break into a clearing and discover the source of the sound I’ve been chasing.

My eyes ride up the cascading waterfall. When I was younger, I never saw the water from this angle. I was always standing above, looking down. Now I look up at the magnificent, raw power of Mother Nature, and it’s as terrifying as it is exciting. Despite the absolute shit situation I’m in right now, with the serious risk of dying out here, I can’t help but see things from a different perspective. I imagine how much power there is at the top. How much better it would feel up there, with all the risk behind me and all the reward flowing into the lake beneath.

I want more than what I am. I want to be a stronger version of that sad little girl who used to be up there. There has to be more for me. But I’m uneducated and underqualified, so what more can there be?

I walk over to the bank’s edge and peer into the basin. The water ripples away, heading to what might be another small fall down the lake. Thank god it’s nighttime, because I would hate to see what might be floating in this water as I cup my hand beneath the surface and drag some to my mouth. I don’t swallow, afraid I’ll end up on the news when giardia rips my bowels from my body. I just let the water sit between my cheeks, wetting my dry mouth. It’s cool and comforting, but it does nothing to soothe my parched throat.

Parting my lips, I release the water, then pull up another cool mouthful. I sit on the rocks beside the lake and rest my weary legs. I let the water run from my mouth, down my chin, beneath my shirt. What does it matter? There’s no one here to see me.

My eyes scan the vast wilderness around me. For the first time in a long time, I feel hopeless. I’m the fat, anxious city girl who saw a drainage pipe as her salvation. Now? I don’t know what salvation I can hope for.

There’s no way Alec will find me.

How could he?

I’m in the middle of nowhere.

Chapter 30

Alec

After thirty-eight miles, I spot deep tire-tracks in the mud on a brush-covered side road. I tap Tye’s shoulder, and he slows the van to a stop, then turns to face me.

“Do you think those tracks were made by the van?” I motion to the deep ruts in the earth.

Tye licks his lips and studies the markings, then nods. “They sure look like it to me.”

The van isn’t light. Even when it’s mostly empty, it weighs more than the average car or SUV. It’s either this fucking van or a truck, but it’s the best lead we have. Tye backs up a bit and turns down the side road, and the van bumps along the uneven ground.

We follow the tracks until they end in a circle. This must have been where Stacks stopped and dumped her out. If we even have the right forest. Tye turns off the van, and we hop out to begin our search.

“Tegan!” I yell into the night air. Insects and frogs respond, but there’s no sign of her. Much to my frustration, the mud isn’t soft enough to take up footprints. Off to the side, there’s too much grass and debris, so tracking is doubly difficult when we don’t have this sort of experience. Tye and I are street-smart city kids. We could track her in an urban setting just fine, but the wilderness is another story.

“What do we do, Alec?” Tye asks as he rounds the van and comes up behind me.

“I don’t fucking know.” I sigh. “I don’t know where she could be if she’s not here.”

Hopeless desperation takes over me. I haven’t experienced this helpless feeling since I was a child, and I put a lot of effort into never feeling this way again. Part of that protection meant never getting too close to anyone. Tegan changed that. She got close to me without even trying.

We have to find her. This is all my fault, and I should have protected her. I have to make this right.

Tye shoves his hands into his pockets and looks around. “Maybe she⁠—”

“Shh . . .” I hold up my hand and listen. “Do you hear that?”

Tye closes his eyes and listens, then shakes his head. “Hear what? Chirping frogs and wind?”

“The sound of water.”