“What are those?” I ask.
“Sort of like X-rays, but more precise. I’ll be able to see exactly what your brain is doing. That should tell us what’s going on. If it’s agreeable to you, I’d like you to come in as soon as possible. Say, tomorrow?” He glances between Asher and me. We both nod—what am I going to say? No?—and he continues, packing up his equipment. “Fantastic. We’ll see you then.” He pats my knee. “Don’t worry, young lady. We’ll figure all this out.”
He leaves while I just stare at my hands. Asher nudges me. “Are you as tired of being cooped up in here as I am?”
I’m confused, but answer truthfully. “Yes.”
“Great. Go get dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty.”
“Dressed for what?”
“We’re going to see a bit of the city,” he says. “Dress warmly. It’s chilly.”
As we walk through the city, Asher keeps pointing out different things, like he did in the car when we first arrived. I try to listen, but I can’t help but keep an eye out for Gavin the entire time we walk. It just doesn’t feel right to be out here with someone other than him. I sigh, then wince, looking over at Asher. It’s amazing, the contrast between him and Gavin. Asher has this … perfect prettiness to him that makes him look just like everyone else here. His eyes are always smiling, showing his happy-go-lucky, nothing-ever-gets-me-down-for-long personality. Even dressed casually, like he is today, he looks effortlessly put together and fashionable, like the other people I’m seeing on the street.
He’s wearing a hat. His dark hair sticks out on either side of it, the blue patch just barely visible under the lip of the hat. He’s also wearing a long-sleeved dress shirt with the sleeves pushed up over his elbows and a gray vest. Of course, since this is Asher, his shirt is not tucked into his jeans. But it doesn’t stop him from looking great, anyway.
Gavin, on the other hand, has a rugged—almost dirty, even when he’s freshly washed—look that is simply the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. No matter how nice and shiny Asher looks, it’s Gavin that will always take my breath away.
I feel strange thinking of him like that, especially considering I may never see him again.
But, as Asher continues to show me around, my thoughts move to the city itself. I’m amazed how different the people look from the villagers. They’re cleaner, but they’ve got the same shiny look to them that the city has. Like Asher, only the kindness in his eyes isn’t reflected in anyone else’s. It’s as if they’re really fake. Like dolls.
I don’t belong here either. I don’t belong anywhere.
Asher, however, seems at home. More so than he did in the village. It makes me think of what Gavin said about not trusting him. “We need to check the gates,” I say.
He doesn’t even argue. Just changes direction and leads the way back to the guards. They’re the same as the day before. And they have the same news. “No one has seen him.”
I wrap my arms around myself and shiver. Maybe he really is dead. Maybe he isn’t coming.
Asher glances over, his features as sad as I feel. “Want to go and get something warm to eat?”
I let him drag me to the closest restaurant, where he orders something that sounds like absolute heaven. Hot chocolate.
We spend the next few hours talking. He tells me about his childhood, and Gavin’s, remaining careful not to tell me anything of what really happened between them, keeping to lighter things like the time Gavin and him were fishing when they were fourteen and Gavin hooked Asher instead of the fish. And how he, Asher, had gone running off, screaming, before Gavin could take it out. When Gavin finally found him, it was dug deep into his skin, and Asher squealed like a little girl when they tried to remove it. To take his mind off it, Gavin had the bright idea to break into the Mr. Pok’s back room and alleviate him of the shine he kept hidden in a closet. They’d both gotten so drunk that they’d stripped down to their underpants and ran through the town square yelling something about fish. I try to ask Asher why and he just shakes his head and grins, shrugging. They’d ended up grounded for a month.
Even when the conversation moves to the other things, like me, and what I remember, and laughing or gushing over things Asher and I have in common, Gavin is never far from my mind.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
One of the most cunning animals of those in the Outlands is the coyote. The coyote’s ability to adapt is the leading reason for its continued survival. Over time, coyotes have learned to hunt in small packs and stun their kill before dragging them to their burrow for consumption.
—EXCERPT FROM FIELD GUIDE TO DANGEROUS WILDLIFE
Gavin
A shout wakes me, and there’s a flurry of movement around me. For a second, something sharp tightens around my arm; there’s another shout, and the sound of a gun going off. Finally, something yelps next to me, and the sharpness in my arm lets off.
Coyotes! my mind screams at me. Get up. Get up. Get up.
I try to open my eyes, but I can’t force myself to do it. Sleep just grabs ahold of me and pulls me in.
After what feels like no time at all, I’m being shaken awake again. I open my eyes, immediately regretting my decision. The light stabs my eyes like rusty knives. I groan and slam them shut again.
“Nuh-uh, Sleeping Beauty. You’ve got some explainin’ to do,” a gruff male voice says. I open my eyes again as a rough hand yanks me up to a sitting position.
In front of me is a man. From the lines in his face, the gray in his scraggly beard, and what’s left of the hair on his head, he’s either fast approaching middle age or time has not been his friend. He’s wearing all black. It looks like some kind of military uniform.
Immediately I tense. I reach for my gun, but it’s gone.
The man barks out a laugh. “Did ya think I was goin’ t’ let you keep yer gun?” He scratches his chin and flakes of something dribble out of his beard like snow. “Not a very bright thing, are ya?”
“Who are you? What do you want?” I force myself to my feet. I’m grateful he didn’t feel the need to tie me up.
“Ah, now, see, I said you had some explainin’ to do, not the other way round, boy.” He straightens up and I fight back a wince when I see that not only is he taller than me, but his arms are as thick as small trees.
Shit.
“So, now. Are yeh goin’ t’ explain what yer doin’ here?”
Where is here? Glancing around, I notice I’m at the lip of a sulfur lake. I recognize it from the strange greenish-yellow color and the smell. How did I get here?
Then I remember. The birds. Barely escaping with my life only to run into a pack of hungry coyotes. One of them pouncing. Falling, hitting my head on the hard ground and blacking out.
But how did I end up here?
Something my father taught me ages ago when we found the chicken coop raided pops into my head. He said that coyotes have only managed to make it so long because they’re smart enough to drag their food to their dens before eating, because otherwise they’d have been hunted to extinction.
So I look around for the den, but there’s nothing visible except the lake. I take a small step backward, then two.
The man chuckles. “At least yer smart enough to stay away from that.” He jerks his thumb at the water. Then he frowns again. “Come on, boy. I don’t got all day. What ya doin’ here?”