The Missing - Kiersten Modglin (the reading strategies book TXT) 📗

“Do you think other people started it? The ones who left the weapons?” Ava’s tone was high with fear.

“Maybe, but it could’ve been the lightning, too. We just don’t know. Either way”—Harry moved toward them—“everyone get a drink and fuel up for the trip. There’s no way of knowing how long we’ll be traveling or when we’ll be able to stop again.”

Needing no further coaxing, we made our way toward the coconuts and seashells, drinking the fresh rainwater in gulps. I’d never tasted anything so magnificent in all my life.

Once we’d finished the water—seconds later, mind you—Harry pointed to me. “Can we borrow your cardigan-thingy?” He gestured toward his shoulders. “I’m going to tie it up and make a makeshift pack. We can use it to carry these shells. You never know when we might need them.”

“Oh, sure,” I said, pulling my arms out of Noah’s T-shirt long enough to shrug the sarong off my shoulders. I handed it to him, and he tied the ends together carefully, loading up the coconuts and seashells and tying it one final time. “There.” He held it up, admiring his work. “It’s not perfect, but it’ll do.”

“It’s great,” I said, taking it back from him and sliding my arm through the opening so it hung like a grocery sack. It was heavier than I’d been expecting, and there was no less-awkward way to carry it, so this would have to do.

“Okay then, if everyone has their weapons and their…things…” He looked around, and I knew he was thinking about what few items we had—Harry’s book, our phones, my Kindle. “Our fire was put out by the storm and our shelter’s gone, so we have nothing to do here. Unless anyone can think of anything before we head out, we’ll get going.”

With nothing to add and no reason to stay, we followed Harry’s lead as he left the shore and disappeared into the forest, walking past our shelter without so much as a glance in its direction. I couldn’t explain the sudden sadness that swept through me. It was just a rock with branches now scattered around it, but it had kept us safe. For our time here, it had been the closest thing we’d had to a home, and I couldn’t deny the grief swelling in my stomach over never seeing it again. It seemed no one else shared my sentiments as we hurried past it and into the vast, unexplored forest.

The afternoon heat was sweltering; the humidity from the storm had recreated the intense feeling of opening the dryer door and being smacked in the face by the warm, wet heat.

God, I missed dryers.

I missed everything. Even small things, like opening a bag of chips on the way home from the grocery store and being stuck in traffic when your favorite song comes on. I missed the big things, of course—my husband, my mom, my bed, my friends, air conditioning, but it was the little things that really seemed to get to me the most. The things that snuck up on me in the quiet, unexpected moments.

We made our way through the forest, swatting away buzzing insects and mosquitoes and being smacked by branches, twigs, and thorny plants every few steps. My mouth felt drier than it had in our time on the island, and my legs burned as we trekked through the mud and over boulders.

When we finally stopped in the center of a small clearing, I realized I was panting, my chest tight with haggard breaths. Harry was staring into the distance, a hand up over his brow to shield his eyes from the sun.

“There,” he said, pointing toward the sky. I looked up, following his finger. “The mountain. The cliff up there. That’s where we’re going.”

The cliff he’d gestured toward looked thousands of feet away, and I felt my legs shaking at the mere thought of it.

“I don’t smell smoke anymore,” Noah said, tilting his nose upward. “Do you?”

He was looking at me, but it was Ava that answered. “I haven’t smelled it in a while. Maybe we were just smelling the remnants of our fire.”

“I don’t think so,” Harry said. “But the wind stopped blowing too. It’s possible the scent was being carried on the wind. If lightning did start a fire, the rain may have put it out and we just caught a bit of the smell.”

“Well, if we’re not in a hurry, can we at least take a break?” James bent over his knees. “My legs feel like whipped cream.”

“I think the term you’re looking for is ‘jelly,’” Ava said with a giggle. “Your legs feel like jelly.”

“Potato, patahto. Whipped cream tastes better.” He winked.

“Are we planning to eat your legs?” Noah teased. “I’m not super into the whole Hannibal thing, and if we’re eating anyone’s anything, you would not be my first pick.”

James rolled his eyes, not taking them off Ava for even a second. “Whatever. Either way, I don’t feel like walking anymore.”

“I agree,” I said, nodding dramatically as my lungs burned with a sudden stitch. “I need to rest.”

“It’s going to be dark soon anyway,” Harry agreed, though his tone was rife with disappointment. “We’ll make camp here for the night and then head out as soon as the sun’s up tomorrow. James, can you get a fire started?”

“Sure thing. Ava, you want to help me?”

She nodded, following him away from where we stood. I realized then I’d been right before, in my assumption that there might be something between them. Though they were the closest in age, it struck me as odd that James, the brawny but mostly silent one had taken so easily to the outspoken and fierce Ava. Still, I found myself feeling thankful they had each other, even while nursing a bit of bitterness myself to be alone.

God, sometimes I missed my husband so much it felt as if it were burning me from the inside out. At least, if he were here, I thought