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Her eyes open impossibly wide before she places the mango down beside her. “You know what? Waiting sounds good to me.”
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Salem
When a day had passed without either Oz or Zig having any adverse reaction to the fruit, they allowed themselves each a large chunk, but that was all. It would be another twenty-four hours before they would let me anywhere near it. Not that I was dying of starvation. Both are excellent hunters, and we still have a few ration packs, but the thought of fresh fruit after going so long without makes my mouth water.
And speaking of water, that’s our biggest problem right now. Oz had headed off in a different direction yesterday in search of water. When he came back, it was with a small shake of his head and a slight tensing of his shoulders that told me he had been unsuccessful before he even opened his mouth.
While he was gone, Zig had stripped down some bamboo and weaved a few crude baskets. I took a bunch of the large waxy leaves from around the area and folded them into the baskets, hoping it would help hold the water when—if—it ever rained. We had laid them around the camp, ready. I hope Oz comes back today with better news.
“You okay?”
I lift my head from my knees and look at Zig, who walks over to me and crouches down.
“I need something to do. I’m going a little stir-crazy thinking about all the things that could go wrong. I need a distraction.”
“Okay. Here, put some more of this on. You’re looking a little pink.”
He hands me the sunscreen before looking around the camp. “Want to go hunting with me?”
I blink, unsure if I heard him right. They have been so intent on keeping me safe that I stopped asking if I could go with them.
“I’m not sure how good I’ll be, but hell yes, I want to come.”
“Sunscreen first. I’ll get some supplies.”
He turns and walks up the downed tree to the plane as I apply some sunscreen to my face. The T-shirt offers me some protection, keeping my shoulders and chest covered, but I rub some on my arms and my stomach, where I’ve tied the T-shirt into a knot above my belly button. The shorts cling to me like a second skin, but tight means nothing is going to sneak up the leg when I’m not paying attention, which works for me. I cover all my exposed skin before wiping my hands on my shorts.
I’m a bundle of excitement as I wait for Zig to return. Hunting is not something I ever thought I’d be into, but everything is different here. When he comes back, he plants a baseball cap on my head and tightens it before taking the sunscreen from me and sliding it into the pack on his shoulder.
“Alright, let’s head out.”
I surprise us both by slipping my hand into his. He looks down at it and squeezes. We walk in silence, listening to the cacophony of jungle noises as we walk deeper into the trees. I stay close to Zig, my arm brushing his as we walk. I take in the stunning scenery around us but remain wary. Pretty things meant to entice can prove deadly out here.
I look at Zig when that thought crosses my mind and wonder if that applies to him too. Pretty and deadly, though pretty isn’t quite the right word to describe Zig. He has too much of an air of menace about him. If I didn’t know for a fact that he would put himself between me and a bullet, I’d be terrified of him.
Instead, I’m nothing but intrigued. And…well…aroused. I don’t know if it’s the jungle heat frying my brain or sleeping between the two of them, but each morning when I wake up and find them curled protectively around me, I let my mind drift off, imagining how it might feel to have their hands on me in a different way.
Zig stops abruptly, making me almost fall. He keeps a hold of me, waiting for me to get my balance again before releasing me. With barely a whisper of noise, he slips the pack from his back and pulls a knife from it, as well as a gun.
I stare at the gun, my palms sweaty all of a sudden. I’ve never been a fan, though I understand the need for them. Especially now. But having healed gunshot wounds before, absorbing the pain and damage into my own body to do so, I can absolutely say they are dangerous.
“What are your climbing skills like?” he asks me quietly, his deep voice more of a rumble.
I shrug. “Can’t say I’ve climbed much of anything since I was a kid, but I’m not afraid of heights if that helps.”
He points up, and I look toward where he’s pointing.
It takes me a second to see it, but when I do, I smile. He’s pointing at a nest, and a nest usually means eggs.
“Take this.” He unstraps the utility belt he’s wearing. On the side of it is a leather pouch, which will be ideal for the eggs, leaving little room for them to move around too much. He drops into a squat and wraps the belt around my hips, pulling it tight before using his knife to make an extra hole for the buckle since it’s far too loose for me.
“You look for eggs. I’ll grab some birds. Focus on what you’re doing, not me. I don’t want anything to distract you and make you fall.”
I can’t guarantee I won’t jump and squeal when he fires his gun, but I’ll do my best not to. “Are you going to use that?” I nod at it.
“Only if I have to. I don’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to us, especially while we’re separated from Oz.”
