Page 46 of Dearly Departed

He waves goodbye.

I wave back.

Time to go.

I might have overestimated my bravery. The second I squeeze through a too-small gap in the trees—I want the camouflage netting to stay where it is—my heart bounces into my throat.

Why did I think it was a good idea to come out here with only a steak knife to use for self-defense? Why did I think my shoes would survive this? They are made for strolling from villa to beach and back again, not tromping through thick mud.

I calm myself by checking out the camouflage netting from the other side. It’s good. In the dark, it matches well with the forest around it. I can’t see the light from the window. Hopefully, Raymond Harris will never know the camouflage exists. Hopefully, he’ll never find the cabin.

“Okay. Next steps,” I mention to the rain.

I get the compass from my pocket and orient myself to the north in the light of my flameless candle. Then I find a northeast-ish direction.

The trees grow so close together that I have to skirt around what must be the waterfall-side of the clearing. When I think I’m close by, I stop and listen as hard as I can for the burbling water.

I can hear it, I think.

A sudden hush in the rain comes, and then I do hear it.

The rain picks up again.

I have a map and a compass, so I’m confident I can find the cabin again. It might be a ridiculous thing, what I’m about to do. But if Jacob breaks his promise and comes looking for me, I don’t want him spending precious energy going the wrong direction.

That’s what the rice is for. I take out the packet and sprinkle a few grains near the base of a tree, where they won’t sink into the mud. Then I move on.

I can’t tell if I’m following a path that was made on purpose, or if the spaces between the trees are coincidentally convenient. The ground starts to slope up as soon as I pass the hidden clearing, raising my heart rate and making me very glad there’s not a ton of plants growing in the mud. Rain taps on the leaves far above my head like the rain on the roof. It’s comforting to imagine being in a forest-room, I guess.

I’m not too comforted, which is good. I’m energized. I can pretend my heart is only thudding from the steeper hike and dragging my feet through mud. Definitely not fear.

I can also pretend I’m on a game show and my overall safety is guaranteed. I can pretend the prize is getting back to Jacob.

Well—

That is the prize.

The light from the flameless candle doesn’t reach very far from the base. I can see in front of me just enough to keep my balance. Sometimes, more rain pours through a gap in the canopy and hits the hoot of my jacket.

It’s not a smooth incline. I guess that’s what the map said, but I didn’t have a clear idea of what that meant.

Now I do.

It means climbing over steep rocks jutting out of the ground and stopping to catch my breath and slogging through more mud until there’s another boulder.

All I can think is Jacob Jacob Jacob.

All I can think is that I’m going to save him. I’m going to try to save both of us, but he’s the one who matters to me.

And that…

Doesn’t scare me.

Being in love—being married—scared me for a long time. I thought being in love with a man would put my life at risk. The laugh I let out at that thought is more of a wheeze. My life is at risk, but not because Jacob’s a terrorist, and not because I’m afraid to leave him. This isn’t like my parents’ marriage at all. They were the wrong kind of team, ready to turn on each other at any moment.

Another boulder—God, this one’s high—and lean against a big tree trunk, panting.

The rustling comes from behind me, somewhere off the mud.