Page 8 of The Hidden Guardian
The look on his face is one of bewilderment as my bottle tumbles to the floor. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” He pats the log beside him, trying to make amends. “Come sit, we can talk about it–”
Absolutely not, I think to myself as I spin around and stomp away, back to the silence.
Rounding the back of the truck bed, looking for an excuse to make my escape, I grab the roll of toilet paper off the pile of food, then make my way through the brush and into the forest. Using the need for a bathroom break, I wander farther, losing my footing a few times. I keep going deeper and deeper into the trees because I don’t want Darren—or anyone—sneaking a peek at anything.
Once I finish my business, I stumble slightly, pulling my pants back up. As I look around, I can’t figure out which direction I came from. I realize I’m deep in the forest now and I don’t see the campfire anymore or hear any voices, only crickets. Tall trees encircle me, and they all seem to look the same.Oh shit. Reality and panic begin to set in. I wander aimlessly about trying to find something that looks familiar, but my anger at being here blinded me as I looked for a place to be completely alone. Well, mission accomplished. Coming to a small clearing between a few trees, I gaze around, trying to decide which way to head when I see a man coming out from the bushes.Ugh, this Darren will not give up.
The farther I walked into the forest, the darker it became. But squinting my eyes, I can make out that that’s not Darren. This guy is sporting glowing green eyes. I blink a few times to see if my eyes will adjust to the shadows, and now he’s closer, wearing absolutely nothing. His lean, muscular frame is accentuated with hair in just the right spots that it’s making my heart pound in my chest. This gorgeous man standing in front of me is staring so intensely, and I shy away glancing down to see I still have the roll of toilet paper in my hands. I sigh because if I wasn’t so shocked, I’d be embarrassed. He reaches his hand out for me and my insides swirl and tingle. Immediately, that sixth sense in my heart pangs with something other than pain. It makes me want to follow him. A numbness coats my entire body and all thought, all sorrow, evaporates until it is just me and him. My breath hitches in my throat, my palms grow sweaty, and he takes a step forward. One thing is certain, without even speaking a word, I know that I’d follow this man anywhere.
“Autumn!”
Breaking my trance, I twist to see who’s calling me. The absence of our eye contact is felt immediately and the sorrow returns. The voice calling my name comes again, closer this time. I whip my head back around to find the mysterious man has disappeared, and all that remains are footprints in the soil where he stood. At least I know he was here. I blink again when I realize maybe those aren’t footprints, they look smaller, rounder … like … paw prints. Vicky has her arms around me in seconds, ushering me back out of the forest. I keep looking behind me, wanting to believe the unknown man will somehow follow me. I don’t want to lose him, that much I know. It’s all a blur as I’m led back into camp, and I’m being put to bed in my tent by Vicky. The zipper slides all the way up and I stare at the apex of the tent flapping in the wind, or is that just my mind spinning? I mean, I did just want to go to bed, so wish granted. The firelight dies down outside and the voices fade as I fall into a dreamless sleep.
* * *
My mind registers an odd sound outside the tent. At first, I think it’s scratching, but it’s softer. A dark shadow appears on the back of the tent. The shadow is huge, casting my tent into blackness. I sit up, pulling the sleeping bag up to my nose and scooting to the opposite side of the tent. The sound stirs again. I barely hear it over the pounding of my heart. It sounds like sniffing … then the shadow moves. I leap into the center of the tent as the animal moves to the other side. If my heart wasn’t pounding before, it’s jackhammering against my rib cage now. The shadow continues its trek to the front of the tent now and continues. It’s circling me, like I’m its prey. A thought crosses my mind, I’m not proud of it, but I welcome the attack. At least I’d have the chance to see my family again.
So, calming my wildly beating heart, I lie my spinning head back down on the pillow and take a deep breath. Right before I lose consciousness, I hear a deep howl coming from somewhere in the forest. It makes me smile, it sings to my very soul, and I silently welcome the danger that it brings.
* * *
Stumbling out of my tent sometime mid-day, I block my eyes from the bright sun overhead. I enter the empty camp to see it scattered with beer cans and liquor bottles. Everyone must still be sleeping; I grab my head trying to remedy the pounding that is vibrating through it. I make my trek over to the truck and grab a water bottle before climbing up onto the bed of the pickup and resting my head on a backpack. Oh Gods, I feel like death. This must be what a hangover feels like. I’ve never drank before, and I made up for it all in one night. Man, I’m so glad I didn’t go to college, I don’t think I could handle this multiple times a week. Staring up at the clouds against the bright blue sky passing by above me, it’s beginning to make me sick. All I can think of is: Don’t vomit in Vicky’s truck—she will kill me, literally. But I have to puke so I quickly jump down and make it to the bushes where I empty my stomach onto the forest floor. It takes what seems like forever before I come up for air and wipe my tearing eyes and dripping mouth. I’m about to head back to my tent and never wake up again when something catches my eye. A pair of green eyes. They glow and vibrate with a power that sends a shiver down my spine. My gut flips and tingles again. I wipe at my eyes again and they are gone. I’m obviously hallucinating now, I must still be drunk.
* * *
I’m sitting in my little green tent with my rolled-up sleeping bag propped behind my head, helping to keep the inside of the tent from blurring around me. The lack of the numbing effects of alcohol is bringing the sorrow and guilt back. My thoughts have taken a dark turn, and I begin to sob softly into my sleeping bag. I’m a horrible person. It should have been me. I should’ve died instead of Colton. He may be gone, but I am dead inside.
“Autumn?” Vicky breaks me out of my morbid thoughts. I wipe my tears as she un-zippers my tent. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay …” She looks at my face, and whatever she sees must not have been okay because she climbs in beside me. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting things to get so out of control last night. I just wanted to take your mind off things if only for a little while.” She sighs, obviously realizing that this wasn’t the best plan to get my mind off of things. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
She nods solemnly, I think she might say something else, but she only states, “Here, I brought you some water and bread; just keep drinking water. I’ll let you sleep it off.”
With that she takes her leave. I down a bottle of water and fall back against the sleeping bag as I let my mind finally drift off to unconsciousness.
My eyes flutter open to the darkness. I startle sitting up as my eyes adjust. It takes me a minute to register the green tent above me and recall where I am. I sigh, my head feels a lot better as I take a swig from the water bottle. With the dark comes complete silence in the camp. I obviously slept all day. All I hear are the sounds of the night forest. The owls hooting in the distance, the scampering of rodents all about me, and the sniffing. The sniffing? That’s it. I grab a plastic pipe left over from putting the tent together and slowly unzip my tent. The moon shines over the campground that has been cleared since I was awake. I grip the pipe tighter and I’m about to take a step out, when suddenly I come face to face with emerald green eyes. A silvery strand of moonlight shimmers behind us. Those eyes take on a flickering glow when they lock on mine, and we pause, staring at each other. The moon glimmers off his shiny dark hair and the tan skin of his face. A hard, angular profile hidden under a well-groomed beard. His gaze bores into me like he’s studying me, testing me. He seems so familiar. I stare back trying to echo the intensity behind his eyes. If this is a hallucination, I want him to kiss me. I will forever fantasize about those hard lips of his on mine and feel the prickle of his beard rough on my face. I’m staring at his lips now when he grazes his tongue over them as if reading my mind. My heart leaps in my chest. I close my eyes, anticipating his lips on mine, fierce and passionate. It never comes. When I open my eyes, he’s gone. Disappeared. Not even leaving a trail behind him. Maybe I’m still dreaming? I sigh, zipping the tent up and falling back onto the hard ground beneath me as I do the only thing that I can, I fall back to sleep.
* * *
Thankfully, Vicky’s friends gave me my space, and when I finally come back into camp, I realized that in another life we might’ve been friends. They joke and prod each other in good fun as I watch from the sidelines. Apparently, my breakdown and trek through the woods are well known because they start calling me Jane, as in Jane of the Jungle. I don’t dare tell them that I saw a hot naked man with green eyes and tan skin in my many drunken hallucinations because I’m embarrassed enough with what they already saw of my behavior.
But I survived the weekend camping with them, although I wasn’t much company. Everyone is packing up to leave. Since I got a tent to myself, I have to pack all of it up. Let’s just say hand-eye coordination has always escaped me. I can’t tell you how many volleyballs have hit my head in gym class. Just as I’m unhooking the flaps of the tent, I’m about to fold it up when I lose my balance in a hole. I catch myself before faceplanting, but it’s not a hole, it’s a … pawprint. A huge pawprint larger than any animal I have ever seen. Was I right about the sniffing, that it wasn’t part of my imagination? My eyes scan the tree line around us. I don’t see any movement, no more of those glowing eyes, but something strange is definitely going on around here.
Toward the end, Darren stepped in to help me since I was slowing the group down. We pack the pickup truck with everyone’s tents and the remaining food and climb aboard. Luckily, I get the window seat because I’m still slightly ill. I lower my window as Vicky tears down the road toward town. The wind on my face and the hum of the engine lulls me to sleep.
I’m running, running fast. Leaves are whipping past me, but the wind in my hair is all that matters. My heart is soaring like the eagles in the sky. It’s here. It’s time. I’m so close. My movements are fluid, as the lush greenery flies past. My head turns slightly looking for the scent again. There it is, sweet like jasmine after a rain. I will not lose it, not this time.
ChapterSix
AUTUMN
Two days later, I fall out of bed gasping for breath, my arms wide and desperate. The planter with the dead orchid crashes onto the floor beside me, spilling dirt everywhere. I reach for my throat. My fingers graze the sensitive part of my neck, but it’s not hurt or even sore. That dream felt so real. It felt like I was being strangled, I couldn’t breathe. That tingle in my heart is there again and tugs me up and into action. I rise, thinking I need to check on Colton and make him some breakfast. But as I swing my legs off the bed, the memories hit me. Somehow in the first hours of the morning, I always seem to forget the truth. A part of me wants to wake up and pretend like this week never happened, but as the reality settles once again, I sink back into bed. What is there to wake up for? My brother—no, my entire family—is gone.
* * *
Sleep eludes me all morning. Every time my crying would cease and my mind would calm, the annoying tingle in my chest would bring me back to consciousness. Now, it’s another twisting growl that brings me to my feet in search of something to eat. The tile floor is cold as I pad my way into the kitchen. Each cupboard I open remains bare. I never went grocery shopping after Colton destroyed the house. In the farthest cabinet on the wall, there’s a bunch of empty boxes inside. I toss them to the floor. Ignoring the sensation in my chest, I rise up on my tip toes to reach the next shelf. More empty boxes. I push them aside until my hand snags on something and pull it back down with me. Instant oatmeal. Brown sugar cinnamon—the worst flavor, in my opinion—but it was Colton’s favorite.
Sniffling back tears, I reach for a bowl and fill the teapot in the sink. Flicking the starter, I light a match and ignite the flame before placing the teapot on the stove. The electricity hasn’t been on in years, but Colton always used to make sure we had gas and matches for the stove. Now, I’ll have to remember to do that. That and many other things Colton always took care of. Chopping wood for the fireplace in the winter, trapping the mice that always seem to wiggle in during the cool fall months, and of course, shoveling snow. Today is the deadline to show up to the Gun Lot and speak to Tom. Something inside me wants to crawl deep under my pillows and never come out, but a part of me knows I need that job. I’m going to need the money to survive … alone. The word itself seems like a curse. Alone. I’m completely alone.
