Survival in Style Read online

  Chapter 3: Traces

  I don’t know why I just sat there like an idiot, even when I started inhaling water and realized I was drowning. Maybe my head had gotten whacked a few too many times. All I know is that when I felt hands on my seatbelt, I remembered Tony and I didn’t want him to drown trying to save me.

  Somehow he guided us out of the airplane. It could have been a window, a door, or the cracked windshield; I was too busy fighting my instinct to inhale the water and trying to swim to the surface to really know for sure. Boy, did the air taste sweet! I kept coughing and coughing, and I felt like I was being dragged back down by a heavy weight.

  “Take it off,” Tony said in my ear.

  I didn’t understand. But when he started fidgeting with the clasp on my new cloak, I actually pushed him away. “My mother would kill me!”

  “Suit yourself,” he said, and began swimming away.

  It really didn’t occur to me to take it off. I’m telling you, my head was pounding and it was all I could do to paddle. I never was a good swimmer. Plus, the wet folds kept getting in the way. Instead of moving forward, toward the muddy bank, I just kept going under. Suddenly, I felt Tony’s arm around my shoulders.

  “Calm down,” he said. “I’ll get us there.”

  I should have helped by kicking or something. Instead, I just relaxed and let him fall into a rhythm. It’s funny what a person remembers when they’re faced with death. I looked up at the blue sky - not sky-blue, as my mother would have said (“Be specific, Alana, we’re talking about colors here”), but more of a Columbia blue - and saw Dad’s fishing boat in a cloud. I swear I heard every argument they’ve ever had, each word as crystal as the icy water Tony pulled us through, and yet I couldn’t remember what they said.

  When we reached the shore, Tony kept tugging at me. “Stand up. They’ll check.”

  I still had no idea what he was talking about. “Just let me rest a minute.”

  “Not yet. We have to get under the trees.”

  “Hang on a second.”

  He hauled me to my feet. “Listen, Little Miss Concussion, you’re probably not thinking straight right now, so just do as I say!”

  “My name is Alana, and quit pushing me!” I shouted. My legs were already weak and trembly. I collapsed to my hands and knees.

  He squatted beside me. “Please? Think about it. They just shot us out of the sky and probably watched the plane go down. And you’re sitting there making puddles for them to find. Don’t you hear that?”

  The distinct chop-chop-chop of helicopter blades punctuated the air and reminded me of what had happened before the water nearly killed me. “Oh, right,” I said, feeling stupid. When he jerked me to my feet again, I didn’t fight him. We ran to the nearest pine tree and scooted under its low branches.

  “Be right back,” he said. As he ran back to the shore, he tore up long stalks of grass and whatever other plant was growing, and then threw them on the spot where I had dripped. Then he ran back to the pine - and just in time, too.

  The helicopter appeared over the treeline and dipped near the lake. They arrived just as the middle of the lake erupted into giant bubbles, like some ill-mannered water ogre belching after a meal. They skirted the shores in a slow and thorough search for us, but Tony must have hidden our traces pretty well. As soon as they completed the circle, they flew away.

  We both breathed our sigh of relief at the same time. As he glanced at me, I noticed those gorgeous eyes of his again, and caught the last faint whiffs of his cologne. “Thank you,” I said.

  “You feeling better? We need to go.”

  I pushed my wet hair out of my eyes. “Where to? Do we even know where we are?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Anywhere is better than here.”

  All gratitude left me, replaced by temper. “What just happened? Are you some criminal or something?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Well, I suppose it’s kind of a relief if they’re after you,” I babbled. “I thought they were after my jewelry.”

  “Why would anyone want your jewelry?”

  I closed my hand over my new locket. “No reason. But I distinctly remember you saying ‘I knew they’d find me,’ which means all of this is your fault. What did you do?”

  “We have to go,” he repeated.

  “I’m not going anywhere with a criminal.” I wrapped my arm around a branch to emphasize my words.

  “I’m not a criminal.”

  “So what, then?”

  “We don’t have time for this! What if they come back? Let’s go!”

  “I saw a cabin not far from here,” I suggested. “The sun almost blinded me, so it’s in that direction. Maybe it’s a ranger station? Rangers are police, right? If we head there...”

  “Police?” he interrupted. “I’m not so sure.”

  “So you are a criminal.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry I got you into this mess. Yes, it’s my fault that they’re after us. But I also saved your life.”

  I released my death grip on the branch. He did have a point. “So why not the ranger station?”

  He stared at the ground a minute, thinking. “I guess it’s as good a place as any,” he said after a minute. “Which way did you say it was?”

  I’ll be honest, it made me nervous to leave the open lake, where at least I could see over the trees. As we headed deeper into the forest, I started to feel claustrophobic. Towering sugar-maple trees and thick-trunked oaks reminded me of how puny and fragile I was. Tall birch trees rattled their hard gray leaves at me, whispering secrets I’d never understand. Some of the logs we had to climb over reached my waist; at least the forest floor was thick with moss to cushion my stumbles.

  As I brushed my fingers through my hair, I realized that my cloak was completely dry, unlike my shirt and jeans. “Water-resistant material,” I murmured. “Way to go, Mom.” I took it off and folded it over my arm so my shirt could dry out in the sunshine - at least, the little that filtered through the trees above.

  Tony gestured toward my boots. “This the first time you’ve worn those?”

  “Just bought them yesterday,” I replied. “Do you like them?”

  He shook his head. “Only a city girl would wear new boots for a hiking trip.”

  “Well, I didn’t know I’d be hiking today,” I retorted. “I thought I’d have a week to break them in before I went camping with my dad.”

  “Are they real leather?”

  I glared at him. “What do you think?”

  “I think they’ll shape to your feet faster now, though you might get a blister or two in the process.”

  “That’s a nice attitude,” I sneered.

  “Look who’s talking.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I folded my arms across my chest - both to let him know I was angry, and because I was still chilly from the lake’s icy water.

  “I mean,” he said, holding a branch for me so it wouldn’t smack my face, “that you ordered me around like a servant, copped an attitude with my friend, who’s now dead, and you wouldn’t give up your little princess cape out there, which cost me a lot of extra energy and time. You didn’t even tell Chris thank you for waiting. So don’t talk to me about attitude!”

  “I said thank you,” I replied, “but I think the engines were too loud to hear...” I broke off my sentence as I caught a glimpse of his face. He seemed really upset about Chris; maybe that’s why he was being so cross.

  “Doesn’t matter now,” he said. “Just don’t expect any more rescues.”

  “I can take care of myself, thanks. At least I’m not some common criminal who’s avoiding the police! At least tell me why we’re in this mess.”

  He said nothing. We walked for a while, our wet boots making squishy conversation as we hiked through the pathless green overgrowth. I tried to respect his grief, if he was truly upset about his friend, but after a while the silence bothered me. “I gues
s this counts as my first adventure,” I offered.

  “Adventure is just stories about suffering told by the ones who survive,” he replied.

  “Boy, what a grouch,” I muttered under my breath, hoping he’d hear.

  If he did, he didn’t respond.

  I hoped we’d get to the ranger station soon.