“Probably. Crap.”
“Hang in there. I’m on my way, okay?”
“Okay. Tam—thanks.”
“Just be careful, Kay.”
They clicked off, and Kay kept hiking.
She finally reached the stream—it was wider here, farther downstream than where she usually crossed. Without a bridge or even stepping stones within sight, she plunged into the freezing water and waded across, slogging against the current, gritting her teeth as her hiking boots soaked through and her legs grew cold. She just wanted to get to safety. Once she got to the main road, she could follow it the picnic area where she’d told Tam to meet her. She guessed it was just a mile or so away, and hoped she was right.
Her feet and legs were numb, and she was shivering, but she kept moving and it wasn’t so bad. She’d stay warm if she kept moving. Helicopters—news and military—passed overhead, but she pressed herself to a tree for cover, stayed still, and they didn’t see her.
She hoped Artegal was okay.
Kay heard sirens in the distance, coming closer.
She stayed in the trees, away from the road and trails, as she slogged on, as fast as she could. She was cold, wet, shivering; the faster she moved, the warmer she’d be, and that kept her going. The sooner she met Tam, the better.
After the sirens faded, the voices started. Men, shouting at one another in the woods. “This way…. She’s been here…. We’re getting close….” The voices seemed to surround her.
In a panic, she almost sat down and gave up. But no, if she were quick, if she kept to the trees, they wouldn’t find her. She’d been running around these woods her whole life, climbing, hiking, kayaking on the river, camping in all kinds of weather. But these guys were trained military. They probably had guns—and she couldn’t trust anymore that they wouldn’t shoot at anything that moved.
Now she knew what it felt like to be hunted.
She tried to remember the rules of climbing: She had to keep breathing. She had to breathe, slow and steady, because that would keep her from getting even more scared. So she concentrated on breathing and on where she was putting her feet. One foot in front of the other, quick and careful. She kept an eye on the forest floor ahead of her, all the protruding branches, stones, and detritus waiting to trip her up, every place she could slip.
The cops or army guys or whoever they were made a lot of noise. They crashed through the trees, skidded on the ground, their heavy boots pounding, shouting at one another. Maybe there were just a lot of them.
They seemed to be moving along the river, downstream. They figured she had to cross somewhere, so that was where they concentrated their search. She never caught a glimpse of them, which she figured was a good thing—if she never saw them, maybe they never saw her. When the noises came close, she crouched low, close to a tree trunk, and didn’t move until they’d faded again. She wasn’t camouflaged, wearing jeans and her black parka. But she wasn’t brightly colored, and if she stayed still, she blended into shadows.
That was how she got past them.
She waited until the forest around her was quiet. Not even a breeze rattled the trees, although she could hear aircraft in the distance. For a long moment, she didn’t believe she was really safe—they were waiting to pounce as soon as she started moving again. But no one was there.
Carefully, she moved from the trees to an open meadow. She still had to work to keep from breathing in panicked gasps. Looking around, she recognized landmarks—the big hill that the highway curved around, a rocky crag that looked kind of like a hunched bear. The picnic area was a half mile south. Her parents had a pocket GPS tracker—it usually lived in the glove box of her mother’s car. She mostly used it for work, but sometimes they used it hiking. Kay wished she had it now—she’d have to think about taking it for next time. She felt a twinge at that—was there even going to be a next time?
Fifteen minutes later, she stumbled into the clearing of the picturesque picnic area, a few tables arranged around an iron fire pit half buried in the ground.
The gravel parking lot beyond the tables was empty.
Kay leaned against a tree and slid to the ground. Tam wasn’t there, but on the plus side the cops and military weren’t there, either. But she worried that Tam had been caught. She pulled out her phone again, willing to risk another call—and jumped at the sound of tires crunching on gravel as a car pulled up. Kay was ready to run back to the woods. Then she recognized Tam’s blue hatchback.
Kay ran toward her, and Tam tumbled out of the driver’s seat. They crashed into each other for an epic hug.
“Are you okay?” Tam said. “God, I’m so glad to see you!”
“We gotta get out of here.” Tam nodded, and they climbed in the car. She’d left the motor running and peeled out of the parking area way too fast, but Kay didn’t complain.
Tam said, “I had to take back roads. People are everywhere. There’s a whole traffic jam of people trying to get out of town. That’s the only reason they haven’t caught me yet.”
“Thank you,” Kay said yet again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to drag you into this—”
“Stop apologizing. I’ll do whatever I have to. But, Kay, are you all right? Really all right?” Her eyes were wide, as if she were in shock, and her face was taut, serious.
Kay nodded quickly. “Yeah, I think I am.” She couldn’t wait to see the news, to see what they were saying about her and Artegal, to see if all this had gotten them the publicity she’d hoped for.
Tam crossed the highway and stuck to county roads, mostly narrow dirt trails that had connected neighborhoods and ranches before Silver River was even a real town. Maybe that would keep them out of sight as they returned to town.
“What are we doing? Where are we going?” Tam said. She looked scared—her white-knuckled hands gripped the wheel, and she chewed her lower lip. But she drove like a pro.
“I don’t know,” Kay said, shaking her head. “If they grab me, they’ll lock me up and I’ll never see the light of day again.”
“We’ll go to the store,” Tam said. Tam’s mom had a souvenir shop in town, selling T-shirts and stuff to tourists. Tam worked there during the summer. “Maybe no one will be looking there. It hasn’t been open since the fire.”
“Okay.”
They’d driven a couple of miles in silence before Tam looked at Kay, anguished. “Oh my God, Kay! What have you been doing? What the hell’s going on that you were with—that you were riding that thing?” She sounded like she’d been betrayed, and maybe she had. Maybe Kay should have told her about this all along.
She told Tam the whole story, start to finish, from that day she fell in the creek to the book to flying to today. When she got to the part about Branigan and spying, she trailed off, not sure yet how the story was going to end and not knowing what else to say.
They continued a little farther in silence before Tam laughed. The laughter was tense, her jaw clenched like she was trying to stop it. Kay looked at her, questioning.
“It’s like Romeo and Juliet,” she said. “Like trying to be friends when your families hate each other. Like that, but bigger.”
“I guess it is,” Kay said wonderingly. This was another story of two people running around behind the backs of their families because their families were unreasonable. There were people dying on both sides and everything.
“I mean this dragon, Artegal. You aren’t, like, in love with it or anything. Are you?” Tam sounded incredulous.
Kay didn’t even know what it meant to be in love. She thought most of what she felt for Artegal was awe. She was glad she’d met him, even if they never saw each other again. But that wasn’t love, was it? Wasn’t love supposed to be more about feeling safe, wanted, and beautiful? More like what she felt when she was with Jon.