Earthbound by [email protected]

Author:[email protected]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2013-01-27T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

W

e walk—Quinn heading roughly back in the direction of Camden, but still deep within the trees—for what feels like hours. With nearly numb fingers I check the time on my phone. I left the car almost an hour ago. I’m so cold I can hardly move my toes, and it’s snowing hard enough I can barely see Quinn just a few feet in front of me.

“Quinn,” I call softly, jogging forward to try to catch up with him yet again. “I can’t go on much longer,” I say, surprised when he lets me draw close. “How far is it?”

But he’s silent, still. I look around, my light flashing narrow beams over the dense forest. We’ve got to be almost two miles from the car, but other than that, I have no idea where I am. I try not to think about how cold I’m going to be by the time I get back.

Or how far up the sun will be.

“There are people—” I stagger and have to take a second to right myself. “People following me. Shooting at me. I can’t just wander off like this. My . . . friend Benson is still back at the car. Quinn!” I whisper-yell, but my voice is muffled by the fresh powder.

A mound of earth covered in snow, with withered grass barely poking up through it, catches my attention as my light skims over it, and even as I take a step toward it, Quinn is moving with me.

“This way,” he whispers. He gestures to the small hill and I walk, leaves and snow crunching beneath my feet.

Suddenly my feet break through some kind of weedy covering and I fall on my butt, with my legs sunk to my knees in foliage.

“I crafted these steps specifically to blend in.” Quinn’s voice is quiet above me.

“Well, thanks for the warning,” I mutter, the cold taking its toll on my attitude. I can already feel the soft snow melting through my jeans, soaking my underwear. Fabulous. This midnight stroll had better lead somewhere good. My patience is past the wearing thin point, and hypothermia is not going to improve my mood.

Quinn says nothing, just looks off into the distance as I clear away enough debris to make my way down six stone steps that end in front of a weather-worn door that looks like it was laid right against the hill. Shelter, finally.

I pause as something prickles at my awareness. I study the door and the stairs, covered with old leaves and sticks. Despite knowing where this place is, Quinn hasn’t actually come down these steps. At least not recently. You can’t fake this kind of overgrowth. “Why didn’t you come here before?” I ask, staring at an elaborate locking mechanism. “Maybe clear things away before you came to get me?”

“I was waiting for you.”

I give myself a moment to stare back, to let that liquid heat in his gaze slip into me and warm my chest. Just for a moment—I’m so cold— then I turn regretfully away and try to open the round latch.

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