Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“You need to eat something.”
“And you need to stop being such a dick.”
I pull the covers up over myself, pain radiating from my ankle. It’s hard to keep track of days here with how dark it is most of the time, but I know whatever day it is, everyone is considering the possibility that we’re dead.
My mom and Dalton have to be frantic. Someone new will be tasked with leading the Allura launch at work. I know I should be grateful to be alive, and I am, but that launch meant so much to me.
How long will they search for us? When will they give up and hold funerals? The thought of my mom and Dalton at my funeral when I’m not even dead makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.
And I have no one to voice these worries to. My anxiety means I have a constant running dialogue of worst-case scenarios, and now I don’t have my daily medication or my supplemental one for when I’m having an anxiety spike.
It’s such irony not having my medications when I’ve never needed them more.
Is someone feeding my cat Karma? Will the new Allura team leader figure out my system for organizing the materials for each individual product? Will anyone at work even be able to log onto my computer since no one but me knows my password? Is Dalton racked with guilt over putting us on that plane? Does my mom know how sorry I am that I worked instead of coming to see her for her last birthday?
I squeeze my eyes shut as questions fly through my mind at a rapid-fire pace. The only upside to the near-death exhaustion I felt when we got here was that it silenced my nonurgent worries. Now my anxiety has all the energy it needs to run at full capacity.
And I have to hide it from Lincoln. There’s no way he’ll understand how different my mind is from his. If he knew I was worried about my work computer password, I’m sure I’d get a scowl and a question like, “Are you fucking serious?”
Dealing with my anxiety is hard enough. I don’t need his caveman bullshit about it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lincoln
Trinity’s been curled up on the bed since I last helped her to the outhouse an hour ago. She hasn’t said a word, and I can’t get her to tell me what’s up.
“I might be gone for twenty-four hours or more,” I tell her for the third time as I slide on one of my boots while sitting at the kitchen table. “If you’re sick, you need to let me know and I’ll wait until tomorrow.”
“I’ll be fine,” she says flatly.
Her usual fire is nowhere to be found and that concerns me. Both of us have slept a lot in the last couple of days. Even though there’s plenty of water in the storage room, I figured we should save it, so I’ve been filling cups, cooking pots and bowls from the kitchen cabinets with snow that we drink when it melts, and we’re finally rehydrated.
This trip is going to be a lot smoother than the trip here. I won’t have to worry about Trinity, I can wear my coat and I’m layering on extra gear I found in the storage room. The ski mask, heavy gloves and scarf will keep me a lot warmer than the moving pad and emergency blanket did.
My cell phone is dead, but I have a flashlight I found in a kitchen cabinet. I’m also bringing a leather-sheathed hunting knife in case I run into trouble.
“You’ve got plenty of firewood and water. Is there anything else you need before I go?”
“No, I’m good.”
A flare of aggravation makes me exhale heavily. I’m trying to get us rescued, and she’s pulling the old I’m fine bullshit. All I can do is try. I’m not going to beg her to talk to me.
“I’m heading west. Do not leave this cabin for any reason. I’ll be back, so don’t come looking for me.” When she doesn’t respond, I add, “Okay?”
“Stop treating me like a child,” she snaps.
“Stop acting like one, then.”
She doesn’t fire back, which bothers me more than anything. The shell of a person curled up on the bed is not the Trinity I’ve spent the past few days with. Has she given up?
“We might be out of here by this time tomorrow,” I say as I tuck my pant legs into my boots. “We could be a couple miles away from help.”
“I hope so.”
I put my hand on the doorknob, looking over my shoulder at her. “I’ll see you before long. Don’t forget to drink lots of water.”
“I will. Be careful. Don’t run away from bears.”
Her random advice makes me lower my brows. “What should I do? Play dead?”
“No. Reason three hundred and twelve this is a bad idea. You have no idea what you’re doing. Stand your ground and move away slowly if it’s safe. If the bear is acting aggressively toward you, start yelling and try to make yourself look big. That comes pretty naturally to you.”