Chosen (18 page)

“Sorry, Princess,” he said more to himself than her. He hated what he had to do. The creek was deeper than he expected and he used it to his advantage. He dove to the other side of the log keeping his gun above the water. In one quick jerk, he pulled her off and under water, along with most of his own body, only keeping his head behind the log and his hand with this gun on the side. Seconds later, bullets hit the water and the log. The shock of the cold and being held under water revived Emma and she fought him. The current was swift and the curve was up ahead a short distance. If they could make it around the curve, they would be out of reach of the gunmen. More bullets hit the thick tree trunk and whizzed over Will’s head. Emma continued to thrash. He had to let her up soon, but they weren’t around the curve yet.

One of the men suddenly appeared on the bank, closer to Will. He knew the man had a clear shot at them. Will couldn’t get a good shot while continuing to hold Emma down. The gunmen raised his gun and Will reacted. He released Emma and aimed. The current moved the log, making the gunman’s aim off. But Will’s wasn’t. The gunman fell just as they hit the bend in the river.

Emma
. He scanned the water for her.
Where is she?
He hoisted himself up on the log to get a better view of the water and saw nothing. Had she gotten shot? Was she still under water? He began to panic as he rounded the curve. The current picked up and he still hadn’t found her. He dove under the water, looking, and found nothing. His heart raced. The stream became wider and shallower ahead. He worried she would get beaten up by the rocks in the creek bed.

He looked over the log and spotted her, face down in the water a few feet away. He dove and swam to her, somewhere in the process dropping the gun. He turned her over and pulled her to the log, pushing her up so her upper body leaned across. Her lips were blue and she wasn’t breathing.

Even though a clump of trees jutted out, blocking their view, Will wished they were further away from the gunmen. He had no choice but to take her to the creek bank. As soon as he could touch the creek bed, he dragged Emma to the shore and began CPR. After only a few compressions and a blow of air in her mouth, she sputtered and coughed. Will turned her head to the side as she vomited water.

“There you go.” Relief flooded him as he swept her hair from her forehead, careful to miss the lump with its gash.
It really should be stitched
. But he knew that was the least of their worries. He pulled her shivering body up and held her in his arms as she regained consciousness.

***

Emma woke cold, wet and confused. She felt arms pulling her to a cold body. “What happened…” her voice trailed off. She buried her face into the chest and gripped a t-shirt in her fists trying to steady herself. She had no idea where she was.

“Emma, we have to go back in the water,” Will said, regret in his voice. Will. Reality slowly eased back in. Will, the Bad Men.
Something about Jake
.

“Jake…” Her voice was soft with confusion. She shook her head trying to clear it, instead setting off sharp pains and a wave of dizziness. Her body shook from the cold.

Will pulled her to her feet and started walking, her hands still clinging to his shirt. A creek roared in front of them.
How did we get here?

“Where’s Jake?” She heard her voice in the distance, everything was foggy.

He ignored her question and dragged her into the creek. The icy water shocked her as it lapped her feet. She jerked back in defense. Will pulled her more forcefully.

“We’ve spent too much time here already. I’m sorry, Emma, we have to go back in.”

She gasped as he pried her fingers off his shirt and put her arm over a log.

“Hold on. Hopefully we can get out of the water soon.” He pushed off and the log floated downstream.

She looked at Will’s grim face. “Where’s Jake?” She began to cry, not knowing why. Everything was all jumbled up. Why were they in icy water? Where was her baby?

Will hung onto the log with one arm and put his other around her back, holding her on. The pain in her head was almost unbearable and the blackness crept in the edges of her mind. “Emma, don’t go to sleep on me now. You’ll ruin my reputation.” His voice in her ear was soft and warm, but not quite right. Nothing was right. Will stroked her cheek.

“I’m so tired…” She struggled to get the words out. They felt heavy on her tongue.

“Talk to me.” She heard his voice, far away. “Where did you grow up?”

His question confused her. Where did she grow up? She couldn’t remember. “I don’t know…” she finally slurred out through the fog. She was so cold. She couldn’t feel anything. She felt herself slipping down into the water.

“No, you don’t.” Will pulled her back up. “You’ve spent enough time under water.”

Although she tried to hold on, her arm wouldn’t cooperate. She felt Will holding her up.

“Emma.” His voice was stern this time. “Look at me.”

She wanted to obey him, yet her eyelids were so heavy.

***

Will worried that Emma had a concussion and cold water wasn’t helping things. The temperature had dramatically dropped with the storm. There was no denying her body was cold, her skin tone a dusky gray. They had to get out soon. But then what? She’d be freezing in the rain and he was cold himself. He couldn’t even warm her up.

Earthen walls etched out from years of rushing water enclosed the creek ahead, causing it to narrow. Ahead of that, the creek turned to rapids, with multiple boulders jutting above the surface. It would be difficult to get through by himself, let alone with Emma balanced precariously atop the log. He decided to wait until they got through the narrow part and then move to the bank, but it proved trickier than he expected. He kicked through the swift current until his feet got a foothold, then pushed Emma and the log to the bank. Her legs dragged along the rock-lined creek bed.

“Son of a bitch,” he cursed under his breath. He was sluggish with cold, but he managed to pick her up and stumble up the muddy bank, slipping in the rain-soaked sand and rocks.

“Emma.” He lay her down and rubbed her already battered arms, worried he would hurt her yet more anxious she wouldn’t wake up. She moaned when he accidently rubbed the gash on her arm. He hated that he hurt her, but was grateful for the response.

“Emma, can you get up and walk? We need to get moving and try to find someplace dry.”

Her eyes moved behind her lids.

“Emma, you’ll warm up if you move around.” He pulled her limp body into a sitting position. He sat on the bank and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her and rubbing her arms and legs. “Wake up, Princess.”

She moaned again. “I’m so tired.” Her words were thick and slow.

“I know, but if you get moving you’ll warm up. Let’s try, okay?” She didn’t answer, but he decided to try anyway. “We’re getting up now.” He stood up, hauling her limp body with him. She was dead weight against him and the pebbles that covered her back and arms made it difficult to hold onto. “Come on, Emma. Stand up.”

She moaned against him.

He had to make her move and being nice wasn’t working. He sucked in his breath, hating himself for what he was about to do.

“Goddamn it Emma, don’t be such a drama queen.” He shook her, matching the rough tone of his voice.

She moaned again, but put more weight on her legs.

“You expect me to carry you? I don’t think so. Get your lazy ass moving. I don’t have all day.”

Emma began to cry as she clutched his shirt for support.

He felt like a bastard, but it was working.

“I can’t.” Her eyes were still closed and her entire body shook with cold.

“Yes, you can. Now start walking.”

Her feet shuffled, but her legs wouldn’t support her weight. As she began to fall, he pulled her back against him. “I can’t,” she choked through sobs.

“Yes, you can. Don’t make me leave you behind.” But he kept his arm around her, holding her up as she clung to him.

“Don’t leave me,” she whimpered and opened her eyes, looking up at him.

His throat tightened at the sight of her. She looked like a ghost with her pasty gray face and blue-tinged lips. Her sunken dark eyes pleaded with him. He had never seen someone look so broken.

“Then get moving.” A white-hot fire burned in his gut. He couldn’t believe he was doing this to her, but she moved, one foot at a time. Will wanted to encourage her yet he didn’t want her to stop moving. “Come on, you’ve got to do better than that.” He would surely rot in hell for this.

Emma cried, but moved, maintaining her death grip on his shirt while Will kept his arm around her waist. The slope of the embankment proved difficult to climb. Once at the top, he looked around and realized he had no idea where they were. Mountain slopes encased them in a small valley. He had no clue which way to go, so they went forward.

He walked and half-dragged Emma deeper into the woods. The winding course of the river made him lose track of what direction was north, not that it would help with finding a road. Besides, given the circumstances, he wasn’t sure finding a road was such a good idea anyway. Their last encounter on a road didn’t go so well. The understatement made him think of Jake. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat along with the thought. Thinking about Jake would not be helpful. At the moment, he needed to focus on finding someplace warm and dry.

Emma continued to cry, leaning against him but shuffling along. At least she was walking, albeit slowly. He took consolation in knowing that her blood was moving and hopefully warming.

After about fifteen minutes, Emma staggered, releasing his shirt and collapsing to the ground before he could catch her.

“Emma.” He leaned over her.

“Please don’t leave me, Will. Please don’t leave me.” Her eyes begged, brimming with tears. She looked even worse than earlier, if that were even possible.

He sat down and pulled her into his arms, rocking her. “No. I won’t. I won’t leave you.” His hand cradled her head as she buried her face into his chest.

She clung to him, a fresh wave of sobs consuming her. “Jake’s gone.”

“Yes.”

She cried in earnest. He could only hold her as she shook violently, from both cold and despair.

“We have to go Emma. We need to find someplace dry.”

“I can’t.”

He stood up and scooped her in his arms, her cradling against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck clinging to him, still crying. Will didn’t know how she could have any more tears left in her.

Will was freezing. His arms became dead weight, making it difficult to hold her for very long. When he finally caught a glimpse of a structure through the trees ahead, it turned out to be a small cabin, appearing in a clearing, deserted, with no cars or any other signs of habitation. He lay Emma down at the edge of the woods, behind a thick tree.

“I’m going to see if anyone is here, okay?”

Emma had cried herself into exhaustion. “Please don’t leave me,” she pleaded, barely audible.

“I’m not leaving you. I’ll be right back.”

Will approached the cabin with caution, feeling naked without a gun. Logically, he knew there was little chance of a threat here, but there was nothing logical about their situation. The cabin looked old and rundown, the paint on the siding faded and peeling. The surrounding landscape looked overgrown. His sagging spirits rose a bit. The place looked abandoned. He went to the front door and knocked, casting a glance in Emma’s direction.

When no one answered, he pounded on the door. “Hello?”

Still no answer. Will tried the door and found it locked. Checking all the logical places for a hidden key turned up nothing, but it only took a couple of good kicks to get in. He stood in a living area with a small kitchen in one corner. He found no light switch, but spotted a couple of kerosene lanterns sat on a table covered in thick dust.

He went back outside to get Emma, picking her up and carrying her inside. The cabin was small with a living area, two bedrooms, and a bathroom. Grateful to find a bed in the first bedroom he came to, he laid Emma down. The curtains on the window were open, filling the room with meager light. He opened the dresser drawers and looked for clothes, finding a few tshirts, some socks and sweats. He pulled out some clothes and went to the bathroom for some towels and a washrag.

When he went back to the bedroom, Emma’s deathly pall startled him. “Emma, we have to take your clothes off. Can you do it?”

She was unconscious again. He pulled the bed covers back on the side Emma didn’t lay on and began to remove her clothes. Will thought she might wake up and protest, which he would have welcomed. Any movement from her at the moment was a positive sign. But her breathing was slow and shallow as he stripped her clothes off as quickly as possible. He grabbed one of the tshirts and pulled it over her head and scooted her over to the dry side.

He picked up the wet wash rag and began to wash the mud off of her face. Since the rag was cold, he tried to warm it between his hands first but it wasn’t enough because she flinched when the rag touched her cheek.

“I’m sorry. I’m trying to clean your face.”

It seemed to revive her, but her eyes were still closed and fat tears rolled from the corners of her eyes. He wiped them with the rag as he cleaned her face, his heart heavy. He washed her arms next, as gently as he could, but they were covered in cuts and bruises. She flinched several times and he murmured his apologies as he cleaned. The cold rag made her even colder and she shook when he finished.

He stripped his own clothes and climbed in the bed with her, throwing the covers over the top of them. He curled up behind her, lifting the back of her shirt so the skin of his chest contacted her back, his legs against the back of hers. He wrapped his arms around her stomach, under her shirt, giving her his warmth. What little he had to give. Exhaustion and sorrow overcame him and he fell asleep to the sound of the rain.