Now that I’m somewhat safe, I have a moment to think, to breathe, but how I’m going to get back to Corium consumes my thoughts. Silence surrounds me, minus the crackling fire from the plane. Strange enough, the sound is almost comforting.
It’s a peaceful silence, but also a silence that tells me how alone I really am. Dread festers in my gut, and my thoughts become my own worst enemy.
What if no one comes for me?
What if this was the plan all along?
No! I can’t think that way. There is always hope. My eyes drift to my hands, where I still hold a death grip on the metal emergency box.
The chilly breeze whips through my hair, and I shiver. The night is only going to get worse when the temperature drops further, and the animals come out to play. I shake away the subconscious thoughts and focus my attention back on the box. My fingers tremble as I undo the metal tabs and flip the top of the box open. I stare at the contents for a whole second, wondering if I’m seeing the two flares sitting inside or if I’m imagining them being there.
There’s hope. There’s still a chance someone could save me.
I grab the orange flare gun and hold it to my chest. My heart thunders against my ribcage, the beat filling my ears.
I’ll have to wait until it gets closer to dark to use it if I want the best chance of someone seeing it and coming to my rescue. That’s if anyone cares enough to. No. I have to stop thinking like that. I’m still a student at Corium; surely, they’ll send a search party out. Except no one knows I’m gone, only Ren.
Leaning back against the tree, I stare up at the blue sky and try not to think about the way he smiled at me right before we took off.
Did he do something to the helicopter?
My stomach churns at the thought. He wouldn’t, would he? The doubt grows in my mind like ivy, snaking through each thought. I don’t know the answer to that question, but I can only hope he wouldn’t set me up like that.
The minutes tick by so slowly it’s almost paralyzing. The throbbing in my leg turns to numbness after sitting for a while. I shiver, the cold breeze seeping into my bones. As the day passes, my fear of being left out here alone mounts.
I stare at the flare, wanting to fire it off. I contemplate doing so but decide to wait a little longer. I only have two, so I have to make the use of them count.
The sky grows darker, and I swallow thickly. I’m thirsty, hungry, and while my leg isn’t hurting now, it needs medical attention. I look down at my bloody hands and pick some of the small metal pieces out of my skin.
After a while, the shock I’m in subsides. My body aches again, then real pain sets in, accompanied by the cold. As the sun sets, the temperature drops, and I shake. Fuck, if these injuries don’t kill me, the cold will.
The weight of it all presses down on me, and I pull the flare gun away, pointing it toward the sky, making sure I’m in the clear and not going to hit any trees. My finger shakes as I wrap it around the trigger. It might be a long shot, but I have to try. At least if I die out here, I’ll die knowing I attempted to save myself. Saying a silent prayer, I pull the trigger and watch as the flare goes up, sending a bright orange distress signal into the sky.
The signal lasts as long as a firework before it dissipates, the smoke drifting off in the wind. It’s just another drop in the bucket. All I can do is hope someone saw it and that whoever that person is gives half a shit about me because God knows, no one in Corium cares about me.
No one but Brittney… and maybe Quinton, or so I thought.
2
QUINTON
I watch as the gray leather surface of the sandbag turns red. My blood leaves a strange pattern as I punch it over and over again. My knuckles bleed profusely, but they don’t hurt anymore. I hit harder, hoping that the pain will return, but I’m already numb. My body and mind are numb, leaving nothing but a hollow feeling behind.
I would rather feel the pain.
I push myself to the brink of passing out before finally stopping. Hugging the bag, I lean against it, pressing my sweaty forehead to the smooth surface to catch my breath.
Just like before I met Aspen, the world spins out of control, and I can do nothing to stop it. I feel helpless and weak, and I hate it.
Walking into the gym’s bathroom, I actively avoid looking into the mirror as I run cold water over my hands until the water turns from pink to clear. My heart is still racing, and my breathing is labored. Each breath I take seems to be shorter, with less air making it into my lungs. I feel like I’m suffocating. The walls are closing in on me, leaving no space for my lungs to inflate all the way.
We’ve been living underground for months, but this is the first time I feel like I need to get some fresh air to breathe. Without even drying my hands, I leave the gym and head to the surface part of Corium.
My body operates on autopilot, carrying me to the helipad without thinking. As soon as I step out from the tunnel leading to the outside, cold Alaskan air wisps around me. I’m only in gym clothes, my body sweaty, making the cold send icy pricks across my skin.
I am no stranger to grief, but this is different because this one is on me. I made Aspen want to leave this place. It’s my fault she’s dead, and I don’t know how to get over that. I don’t know if I can.
For a long time, I stare out into the never-ending forest surrounding us. My whole body is shaking from the cold, but I don’t care; I can’t go back inside. I don’t even know why, but something has my feet cemented to the ground.
It’s getting dark now. With the sun setting, the sea of trees turns into one shade of dark green. The sky becomes an ocean of deep blue with specks of white.
I could stay out here all night, but I know that would only make me end up at medical again. Scarlet would be worried, and my parents would be here on the next flight, maybe even demanding for me to come home.
Taking one more deep breath, I’m about to turn around and walk back inside when I see it.
A bright red flare shoots up like a firework. With wide eyes, I watch the bright ball light up the sky before fizzling into nothingness. For a moment, I just stand there, wondering if I really saw it or if my mind is playing tricks on me. That was the spot where I saw the helicopter go down. I’m sure of it.
Someone survived the crash. Which means there is a chance Aspen is still alive. It doesn’t take long for that new information to trickle into my mind. Spinning around, I run back into the tunnel, passing several guards on my way back inside. Each of them gives me a bewildered look. I ignore them all.
Taking the elevator down, I make my way to Diavolo’s office as fast as I can. His secretary jumps up, trying to stop me, but I drown her voice out and push her body aside. I storm into Lucas’ office and close the door behind me.
He looks up from his desk as if he is about to start yelling, but his features soften when he sees me. “Quinton, everyone all right?”
“I saw a flare,” I half yell at him, not wanting to waste any time.
“A flare? What are you talking about?”
“I was up on the helipad catching some fresh air. I saw a flare being shot from the same spot the helicopter went down,” I explain. “We need to send out a search party. Someone survived the crash.”
Lucas leans back in his chair. “Quinton, I don’t have another helicopter here.”