Page 27 of Wandering Wild
Zander’s laugh tickles my ear. “I promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
“That doesn’t mean Ibelievedyou.”
His reply is soft, meaningful, and causes a shiver to travel down my spine. “Now you know better.”
The adrenaline from our skydive stays with me as I unclip our harnesses and help Charlie to her feet. There’s a flush in her cheeks, and her eyes are bright, indicating she feels the same lingering exhilaration that I do.
I still can’t believe she trusted me with her life. If our roles were reversed, I doubt I could have placed that kind of faith in someone I barely know. Or in Charlie’s case, someone she loathes. Her acting skills are impressive; I have to keep reminding myself that her behavior is only a guise for the cameras, and that in reality, she can’t wait for this trip to be over—mostly so she can be rid of me.
I wish I knew the reason for her antipathy, whether it’s based solely on the “bad boy” gossip or if it’s something else entirely. But with Bentley’s cameras and the nano drones now on us twenty-four seven, I can’t ask her without the world hearing, which would only risk what we’re trying to achieve here. Not that I think she’d answer me, anyway.
Resigned to us both having to keep up appearances for the next four days, I follow Hawke’s instructions to fold the parachute back into its pack, listening as he explains how it’ll provide an effective shelter when we make camp tonight. I know he’s speaking for the benefit of the audience, since he’s talking directly to Bentley’s camera and goes on to share a scripted introduction to our adventure:
“We’ve just landed deep in Australia’s Blue Mountains National Park, which stretches more than a thousand square miles—that’s the size of New York City, London, and Pariscombined—over perilous slot canyons, jagged peaks, sandstone gorges, secluded rainforests, and breathtaking waterfalls.”
I blink, having not realized the area was so large.
“The park itself is a World Heritage Site,” Hawke continues narrating, “and home to hundreds of species of endangered flora and fauna, many of which are deadly to humans.”
ItoldSummer that everything in this country would want to kill me.
“It also has a rich cultural history, being the traditional homeland to numerous Indigenous communities,” Hawke says, his eyes still trained on the camera. “All of that, along with its natural beauty, makes it one of the most popular tourist destinations in the country. But it’s also one of the most dangerous.”
Here we go. I consider covering my ears to block out whatever he’s about to say next.
“Every year, hundreds of hikers wander off the path and get lost in these treacherous mountains, learning for themselves just how lethal the Australian wilds can be.” Hawke’s lips curve into a wicked grin. “For the next four days, we’ll be trekking through one of the most extreme environments in the world, where a single misplaced footstep could spell our doom. It’s safe to say that if my special guests can survive this, then they can survive anything.”
Hawke indicates to Bentley that he’s done, and the cameraman pivots to film the dramatic view off the side of the cliff. I glance at Charlie and find her chewing her lip, making me wonder which part of Hawke’s spiel has her the most anxious. Or perhaps, like me, it was all of it.
“Sorry about that,” Hawke apologizes, moving toward us. “Usually those kinds of speeches are recorded during post-production and added as a voiceover, but since this episode is being rushed to air, there may be a handful of narrated moments in the days ahead. Not many—we’ll keep things mostly candid from here on out, and my editing team will decide what to use and what to toss.” He then adds, “So aside from the rare scripted line, try to forget about the cameras and act as you would without them.”
Thatis an impossible ask, for both Charlie and me, but we nod our false agreement regardless.
“Excellent. Now, let’s swap out your harnesses and strap on your packs,” Hawke says, dragging over the larger bag that Bentley wore on his chest during the skydive.
Inside are four black climbing harnesses, their simple leg loops and waistbelts making them look harmless enough, but I see Charlie gulp as she’s handed hers and shown how to put it on. I want to reassure her that Hawke has been doing these trips for years and won’t let anything bad happen, but I don’t think my words will make her feel better. So instead, I focus on removing my bulkier skydiving harness and replace it with the more compact mountaineering one, adjusting the buckles until it sits comfortably over my clothes.
After exchanging his own gear, Hawke withdraws a long coil of rope and secures it diagonally across his torso. He then pulls out three smaller backpacks—making me think the designers of theWild Worldapparel must have discovered the secret to Mary Poppins’ magical bag—and hands one each to Charlie and me, keeping the third for himself. Lastly, he shoves our parachutes into Bentley’s pack, where they join a myriad of filming equipment, all of which the cameraman hauls onto his shoulders with ease.
“Our extraction point is roughly forty miles northwest of here,” Hawke reveals, gesturing over the cliff in that direction.
From this height, all I can see is the landscape dipping down into a forested ravine toward what might be a river or a canyon, then rising again into more peaks all around us. I can’t help realizing how isolated we are out here, so far from any trace of civilization, and relying entirely on Hawke’s skills to survive.
“So needless to say,” he continues, “we have a lot of ground to cover if we want to make it there by Friday afternoon.”
“I suppose it’s too much to hope that we’ll be walking the whole way, and this is just for decoration?” Charlie asks, fiddling with her harness.
Hawke grins. “It’s always good to have hope. It can be the difference between life and death in a place like this.”
Charlie waits a beat, then says, “You didn’t answer my question.”
Bentley snickers from behind his camera, and Hawke’s grin widens as he hoists his pack onto his back, his only reply being to say, “We’re wasting daylight.”
I have to choke back a laugh at the look on Charlie’s face, and again resist the urge to comfort her as we follow Hawke away from the cliff and into the trees, beginning a gentle ascent up the mountain, with Bentley—and his camera—bringing up the rear.
“What are some of the most important things you need to prioritize when you find yourself in a survival situation?” Hawke asks as we walk. “Zander?”
I’ve watched enough of his show to confidently answer, “Water, food, and shelter.”
