AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“We should get back,” Reed says, nodding in the direction of the cabin. “They’ll wonder where we’ve gotten to.”
We continue on our way, back to the cabin, where we’ll spend what remaining light we have sharing out our food rations and either waiting for rescue, or for darkness to fall...
Whichever comes first.
Chapter Nineteen
Reed
THE DAY HAS PASSEDwith no sign of rescue. Now, our second night here has fallen, and I lie on my back on the thin mattress and stare up at the ceiling. Beside me, Laney’s soft breaths deepen as she falls to sleep. I’m painfully conscious of the exact position of her long limbs, of the way her hair fans across the tiny pillow.
Ididlook at her, naked, in the river.
I hadn’t planned to, but her offhand comment about me not being able to see a bear coming if I wasn’t looking had been playing on my mind. I’d honestly thought she’d have at least kept her underwear on, but when I glanced over, just to make sure she was safe, I discovered her completely naked. She was standing, thigh deep in the river, her back to me. Her long hair had been twisted up into a knot on top of her head, so she’d exposed the elegant line of her neck and back. I couldn’t help but follow her spine down, to the curves of her ass and the length of her thighs, before they vanished beneath the water.
She was so breathtakingly beautiful, I completely forgot my promise for a moment, and just stood there, staring.
Combined with the gorgeous scenery of the river and surrounding forest, she’s like something out of a screenshot of a movie.
It wasn’t that I was thinking about her sexually, though I had to admit—not out loud—that it was a struggle. It was just like admiring a beautiful photograph. I managed to tear my eyes away from her and turn back around, but it took every ounceof my self-restraint not to sneak another glimpse. I’d pictured her using the bodywash and running her soapy hands over her breasts and flat stomach, and then down between her thighs. I’d felt myself lengthen and harden as the images danced in my mind, and I’d done my best to force them away.
She’s my stepdaughter. She’s seventeen. She’s out of bounds.
Except now I can’t get the image out of my mind.
Chapter Twenty
Laney
THE DAYS TICK BY WITHno sign of help coming.
We’re all starving, our stomachs growling audibly. We’re down to the final few packets of nuts and crackers, and I hate to think what the atmosphere is going to be like in the cabin when they’re gone.
I can already see the difference in my body shape from the lack of food. My jeans hang from my hips. I try not to let it get me down, but it’s not easy. I’ve never been particularly curvy—probably due to my lack of food during my developing years—and that I might lose what few curves I have is depressing. Each time I find myself feeling down about it, I remind myself of the flight attendant and how she’d have happily lost a few pounds if it meant she got to keep her life.
I try not to cry in front of any of the men. I don’t want them to see me as a burden or as being weaker than them, even though I am, physically. There isn’t much I can do about that, though. If I need to cry, I go down to the river and tell them I’m going to wash, or I lock myself in the bathroom. Maybe they notice my red eyes and blotchy skin, but if they do, none of them says anything.
The men seem to find their release in the physical tasks that need doing—the chopping and hauling of logs in for the fire. Darius has taken that job—not the chopping of wood, but the clearing and setting and feeding of the fireplace. It keeps the cabin cozy and means we can signal for help if we do hear or see signs of a helicopter.
We probably could have put the mattresses back on the beds by now, and maybe one or two of us could have taken the bedroom, but there seems to be a silent agreement between us all that we don’t want to be separated. There’s a comfort in us all sleeping in the same room.
In the bedroom, I find a set of shelves filled with paperbacks. They’re slightly swollen with damp, the pages yellowing, but they’re legible. Most of them appear to be old eighties and nineties horror books by authors like James Herbert, Dean Koontz, and Stephen King. They’re not the sort of thing I’d normally choose to read, but beggars can’t be choosers.
I pick one up, and the slightly terrifying face of a drawn rat with red eyes stares back at me. I hurriedly shelve it again.
Maybe I won’t be reading that one. I hope there aren’t too many real rats or mice around. I’m not a fan.
I flick through the other books and discover one is a woodsman's guide to edible plants. That could come in handy. I carry it out onto the porch and take a seat to continue the lookout for a search team. I have the book open on my lap, but I’m not really reading it. I don’t feel I can pay proper attention to the skies if I’ve got my nose buried in a book. It’s been days now, though, and my hopes that anyone is coming for us are dwindling.
Movement comes from the bushes, and I straighten, muscles tense, senses alert. Cade appears, and I relax, but only a fraction. He strides up to the cabin with all the bravado of a street fighter who’s just won a brawl. From one hand dangles a good-sized bird that’s clearly dead.
“Anyone hungry?” he calls.
“You caught the grouse!” I say in delight.
“Didn’t I tell you I would? Boil some water so we can pluck and gut it. Dunking it in boiled water will make the feathers easier to pull out.”
I don’t normally appreciate Cade ordering me around—especially not for things that involve the kitchen—but I’m so delighted at the thought of getting to eat some meat that I don’t care. I hop out of my seat and hurry inside the cabin.
