Wild (22 page)

Thirty-six

T
oday, they weren't staying in. After trading afternoons in her bedroom and his, with quick, sneaking trips to the park, Dara was ready to show him something new.

Spring threatened to turn to summer. The trees had unfolded all their buds, and daffodils waved from their neat, front-yard beds. Finally warm enough to ditch the hoodies, Dara wore hers anyway. The minute Cade turned up at her back door, she slipped a pair of sunglasses on his face.

“Come on,” she said. They followed their intricate map, over the fence, across the alley. Then Dara led him down a new street entirely. Heading for the corner, she grabbed his hand and beamed back at him. “You're going to love this.”

Today was the day she finally planned to show him the
ultimate
.

Hustling Cade along, she glanced at her phone. Then, the bus turned the corner. She couldn't remember ever being this excited about public transportation, and yet, there it was. Bouncing a little, she nudged Cade along. Hydraulics groaned, the whole bus sinking like it was exhausted.

“Get on,” she said as the bus doors folded open. “Put these quarters in the black box by the driver.”

Unfortunately, Cade didn't understand
quick
. He wanted to look at the fare box. Listen to it. His face lit up when the coins slipped in, and the digital face suddenly changed, counting the money. When the transfer ticket popped up, he laughed.

Plucking it from the box, Dara slipped it in his hands and (gently!) pushed him into the nearest seat. After paying her own fare, Dara dropped next to him and smiled when the bus rumbled into motion again.

“This,” she told him, “is the County Access Express. It'll take you anywhere in town. Here, grab a map.”

To be fair, the buses in Makwa weren't as impressive as, say, the New York City subway system. But it was still grander than anything Cade had ever seen. Smoothing open one of the maps, Dara hung over his shoulder. She traced their route on the green line, and secretly, got a little high on the scent of his skin.

“See, we're going to pass Clayton Park in a few minutes,” she told him.

Curling her hands on his shoulder, they both turned to look through the tinted windows. Her nose brushed his hair. A thrill ran through her; he smelled like a campfire. Just a little, sweet and warm. Her fingers tightened and she made herself smile when he glanced back at her.

“What's wrong?”

Dara smiled. “You're missing it.”

Clayton Park appeared, that same pack of feral middle schoolers roaming its borders. Today, they slumped on the climbing castle. Shoelaces untied and disaffected smiles, they were as tough as a bunch of kids with an eight o'clock curfew could manage.

Cade said, “I think they live there.”

“I think you're right.”

When he turned, he caught her face too close to his. Their noses almost touched, and he didn't shrink away. Instead, he teased with dark, dancing eyes. “They wouldn't be the first.”

Smoothing the map, Dara tried to keep it on her lap. She failed, a little. Her fingers skimmed the curve of his denimed knee. There was too much adrenaline in her system for something as simple as a bus ride to the mall.

Hanging on him like a thrift store coat,
she told herself sarcastically. Rearranging herself, Dara backed off—but not all the way. “Okay, coming up is downtown. There isn't a lot of it, so don't get too excited.”

“Too late,” Cade said, amused.

For the rest of the trip, she pointed out landmarks. The
sailors' monument sulked in bronze. The courthouse had a tree growing from the side of it, a seedling sprouted in an accidental planter. A block away from that, two benches and a tree memorialized a couple of seniors who'd died in a car accident. In the fifties.

It was a small town, and soon they were on the other side of it.

 

“Grab the string,” Dara urged Cade. She pointed at the grey cord in the window.

Though he looked confused, he did as he was told. A loud ding rewarded him, and the digital sign at the front of the bus shifted to read “Next Stop Bear Creek Mall.”

Spilling into the parking lot, Dara laughed when Cade stopped to thank the bus driver and shake his hand. As he stepped into the sunlight, he reached for his sunglasses. Dara held him back.

They were lucky to get out of the house unseen. And it was easy to stay unseen when there weren't any people nearby. But Bear Creek Mall was the opposite of deserted.

“We don't want anyone to recognize you,” she explained.

She savored the excuse to slip her fingers through his. And she let him walk
slowly
through the parking lot. She wasn't sure why row after row of completely ordinary cars intrigued him so much. But they did, and she may have had something to buy, but this trip was for Cade.

Even with the warm-up, the cool blast of air that greeted them when they walked into the mall was completely unnecessary. Except as advertisement. A waft of cloying, saturated sugar washed over them. They'd come in near the caramel corn store and the cookie outlet.

“What's that?” Cade asked, slipping away from her.

Bolting straight for the caramel corn store, he stopped by the popper. He watched it spill fresh corn into a bin. It was obvious from the way he stood that he was sniffing the air. Since he couldn't touch the food, he backed away. The novelty store flashed, beckoning.

Though he was curious, he refused to step inside. The strobe light ball at the front door made him blink and jerk his head back. Dipping down, he stared at a basket full of rolling, mechanical ferrets.

They banged into the bin's walls, and into each other. Raising a hand, Cade steadied himself. Then he plunged into the bin and pulled one of the toys from it. It still twisted in his hand. Tethered to a ball, the artificial fur flapped like a weirdly desperate flag.

Reaching for her purse, Dara started to laugh. “Do you want it?”

“No.”

Cade watched the toy flail for a moment more. Then he dropped it and backed away. He seemed almost disgusted by it. The bin of battery-powered puppies disturbed him even more. Their wheezing barks, so exact, unnerved him.

Hurrying away from them, he turned to Dara. “Don't people keep pets anymore? Real animals?”

Poor thing. Dara took his hand again, squeezing it gently. “Yes. Those are just for fun.”

“I wasn't having fun,” Cade replied.

“Then we're definitely skipping the arcade.”

She'd kind of planned to anyway. It had a lousy selection of games, the floors were sticky, and everything cost fifty cents. She didn't mind wasting a quarter for two minutes of hard-core blinking action, but she drew the line at half a dollar.

“Down there is the
good
movie theater,” she told him. “There's an indie theater upstairs in an old Hot Topic.”

Cade looked at her blankly.

“It's a clothes store.”

The look didn't dissipate. Unsure which part had lost him, Dara added, “Like, art movies. Black-and-white stuff in other languages. Mostly about French women who smoke cigarettes and die in tunnels. It's weird.”

Still skeptical, Cade nodded. Drifting toward a plate glass window that displayed tablets and phones, he told her, “According to Ms. Fourakis, you can see the exact moment they fall in love in
The Notebook
. That's a movie, by the way.”

He said it so earnestly. Dara wanted to throw her arms around him, and pet him. She reminded herself to tell Sofia later. It was too good to keep to herself. Fixing the exact tone of his voice in her head, she repeated “That's a movie” to herself for mental safekeeping.

Then, aloud she said, “Come on. I have a surprise for you.”

Reluctant to abandon the brightly glowing gadgets in the window, Cade anchored himself and held on to her hand tight. She could take a few steps away, but he wasn't following just yet. He asked, “What is it?”

“I want you to see it first. I want to see if you recognize it.” When he seemed unmoved, she tugged his hand and added. “Please?”

When he relented, it seemed like a much bigger victory than it was. Peeking over at him, she was startled to see hints of copper and bronze in his brown eyes. The bright mall lights stripped away his shadows. His face suddenly had new dimensions, unexpected details.

If she'd been looking at him with her photographer's eye all this time, she would have noticed. But it turned out she'd been looking at him with something else entirely. Though he held her hand tighter than ever, each step felt light. Almost like floating; almost like flight.

She couldn't wait to show him the surprise.

Thirty-seven

I
t was extraordinary.

Skin tingling, Cade stood at the bottom of an enchanted staircase. It gleamed in silver and glass, rising gracefully to the second floor. When he concentrated, he could block the mall from his senses. With his focus steady, he heard the whisper of a hidden machine. Smelled oil and warmth, the same scent he noticed when he passed a still-warm car.

Dara trembled behind him. Her excitement crackled. He felt it leap between them, and he turned with a huge smile.

“Escalator,” he said.

Suddenly, Dara was in motion. She herded him onto the steps. The mechanicals vibrated gently. It wasn't audible. It was a physical hum, one that tuned through him as they glided upward.

“Step off, step off,” Dara said when they reached the top. She laughed nervously, all but leaping to the landing. “You don't want to get your shoes caught. It'll eat them, seriously.”

Cade didn't ask how a machine could eat anything. He didn't want to know. All he wanted was another ride. Bounding to the down side, he grabbed the rails on both sides. It was just as smooth sliding down. Faster than he expected, but he could admit he didn't know what to expect.

When he hit the first floor, he got back on. Dara came down at the same time. It was thrilling, realizing they would meet in the middle. Nearly there, she leaned on the inside rail. A glow warmed her face. There was a brand-new light in her eyes. And for once, no shadows at all.

“Okay, so this is how an escalator works,” she said, talking fast before they passed each other completely. “There's an engine under there, connected to two gears, one at the top, one at the bottom. A chain connects both gears . . . get back on!”

Racing down again, he laughed when she started up. The anticipation was sweet, and he held a hand over the gap. They'd touch in the middle, and she was already talking.

“All the steps are separate! They have their own wheels! They roll on the chain that's looped at both ends. When they come out at the bottom, they're right side up.”

Their hands met, warm fingers slipping together, then apart. She passed him so swiftly. He expected to see her hair flowing behind her. Though it washed her shoulders when she turned to look at him, there was no wind to touch her face. To tease color into her skin, to carry her scent to him.

Dara stopped on the landing, and waited for him to catch up. “And when they go back inside, they turn upside down. The handrail is made out of rubber. It has its own drive, timed to match the stairs.”

Hands spread, Cade stood in the middle of his step. Even though he knew it was just a machine, it felt like ancient magic. The ground moved
for
him, raising him to the heavens. It was such a small thing. A metal contraption that lifted him between two floors. Inside a building, no less, one with steel beams stretching its length.

But he couldn't help remembering what his mother had said about the Egyptians and the Maya. Two cultures, both building pyramids to lift them to the heavens. People were beautiful . . . Dara, waiting for him at the top, was beautiful.

The machine carried him to her. Seamlessly, he stepped off the escalator and caught her face in his hands. His only guides were a few books and instinct, but they were enough. He caught her mouth beneath his. Like a bird, she startled. Then she gentled, pressing back against him. Plush lips parting, she twisted her fingers in his shirt.

Everything was heat. He felt liquid and fierce, branded with all her details. The soaring sweetness of her kiss sharpened his hunger for the next. This fit. It was the perfect fit, and both his worlds fell away. For that moment, there was no wild. No mall, no police, no social workers. No bee hollow or horseshoe falls. No questions, no confusion. No lies.

He murmured her name; she whispered his back.

They belonged.

 

If the power pack in Channel 43's remote camera hadn't blown out, it never would have happened.

The only place in this backwater to get a replacement was the mall. The reporter, camera operator, and producer flipped a coin because none of them wanted to schlep to the other side of Greater Makwa.

In fact, they all wanted to head back to Knoxville. The State Police weren't talking, the Primitive Boy was apparently a ninja, and they could only run so many freaking interviews with kids from the local high school. They'd burned out their weirdo ration when they interviewed an old woman who claimed the boy was her long-lost niece.

Without anything new to cover, they were wasting their time. The nationals had more resources. They'd sprung for helicopters and hiking experts to try to find the Primitive Boy's secret forest hideaway. Turned out that was a lot like parachuting into Death Valley and trying to find one particular cactus.

So the producer from Channel 43 trudged into the mall with a station credit card. They'd do one more stand-up in front of the sheriff's house, then pack it in.

Texting home, he stopped to check the directory and headed for the escalators. He had to dodge a couple of kids goofing off on them. That's how small the town was. Riding the people mover at the mall counted for entertainment.

Four hundred dollars later, the producer left the camera shop, phone already in hand. Texting with just his thumb, he was halfway through a message to the station director when he stopped. At first, he thought he was hallucinating. Too much motel coffee and not enough sleep or something.

Slipping out of sight, he peered at the escalator kids. He was sure, he was almost freaking positive . . . He raised his phone and took a picture. Sending it quickly to his reporter back at the scene, he added a quick text.
I'm not crazy am I?

The chirp came back instantly.

THAT'S THEM STAY THERE WHERE ARE YOU?

 

Dara paid for her panoramic lens, clutching it to her chest.

Though she wanted to look up, a shy weight kept her from looking at Cade directly. Not that she needed to look at him. When their elbows brushed, they sparked—flint against a stone. Her stung lips distracted her. The slightest touch stirred the sensation of the kiss again. Even when she spoke, she felt a low, luxurious buzz.

She wanted to laugh. Not at him; at herself. For thinking he was so perfect and pure and innocent. For believing he couldn't figure out what to do with his hands or his mouth, or his anything. Shivering in pleasure, Dara said, “One more ride down, then we'd better get back.”

“Okay.”

“If it's all right with everybody, maybe we can go get pizza with Sofia tonight. It's kind of awesome, I think you'll like it.”

“Okay.”

Freer with his hands now, Cade threaded his fingers beneath her hair. His rough fingertips skimmed the nape of her neck. One finger curling, he stroked behind her ear, then trailed it against her ear.

Did he have any idea what he was doing to her? Her blush showed, impossible to hide. She wondered if he could hear her breath go shallow. If he noticed the prickles racing her skin. She tightened everywhere. It was a lush sensation and way too intimate for the middle of the mall.

Brushing his hand away, she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder in vague apology. “You're making me crazy.”

Cade shared a secretive smile with her. “You've been making me crazy since the first time I saw you.”

Dragging her lower lip through her teeth, Dara looped her arm in his. They stepped onto the escalator, drifting down to the main level. This was complicated, and possibly unfair. But it didn't feel wrong, and she wanted to
know
. Pressing closer to him, she asked, “And when was that, exactly?”

“The day you put up the tent.”

Incredulous, Dara laughed. “No.”

“I was checking my traps, and I heard you singing. Your hair was . . .” He waved a hand, miming a ponytail in motion. “The sun came through the trees exactly the right way. You were like gold.”

Blush deepening, Dara led Cade toward the exit. The thick candy smells in the air had thinned some. Now it was a pleasant impression, and one she was almost reluctant to leave behind. She turned to look back, to the top of the stairs where everything changed. And then she frowned for no reason. She didn't see anything unusual. It was just like the atmosphere changed, and she wasn't sure how.

“What's wrong?” Cade asked.

Shaking her head, Dara said, “Nothing. Just kind of gobsmacked. The first day we got there, huh?”

“You knew I was there.”

“What? No I didn't. Not until you laughed at the river.”

Cade pressed his thumb gently against her back. He drew it down the curve of her spine, before letting his hand fall to rest on her hip. “Yes, you did. He talked you out of it, but you heard me. You were almost aware.”

“Almost, huh?”

It looked like Cade might lean in to kiss her again. Instead, he just looked at her. His thoughts flickered behind his eyes, mysterious to her. When he finally glanced away, his features softened. His mouth soft, his brows knitted, he nodded. Squeezing her closer, he said, “I was always there. You just needed to look up.”

Simple advice. Rules for tracking Cade in the wild. Amused, Dara steered him around the novelty shop that had unnerved him so much earlier. Peering into it, she tried to see it from his perspective. The masks on the walls hung unnaturally. A lot of lights, a lot of shrieking, beeping sounds.

When she pictured herself swallowed inside a box, nothing but strobes and sirens, she felt it. A quiver of uneasiness. It squirmed in her belly, and made her fold closer to Cade. Because she thought she knew why, she didn't look up.

Instead, she let Cade hit the automatic doors first. He enjoyed stuff like that way too much. Putting on her sunglasses, she followed him outside. The shift from artificial light to the natural glare of the afternoon was abrupt. She blinked, her eyes watering. Cade was a shape in front of her for a moment.

Suddenly, his shoulders angled. He reached a hand back, grabbing for Dara. “The people with cameras are here.”

“Crap,” Dara said.

She squinted, and her head went a little dizzy. Cade wasn't kidding, the reporters were there. And not just one of them. Not just that jerk Jim Albee. White vans filed into the parking lot and there were people already on the move. Heading for them. Right for them, a terrifying cloud.

“We can go back through,” she said decisively.

“Hey Dara,” a man said behind her.

Whipping around, she stared blankly at someone she'd never seen. By the rumpled polo and the eager expression he wore, she guessed he was with the press. “Sorry, that's not me.”

The man didn't back off. He kept looking just past them, cagey and abrupt. “Don't be scared. We just want five minutes of your time. Yours too, Cade. We've been dying to talk to you. My name's Mark—”

“No.” Dara cut him off. “Talk to my dad. Leave us alone.”

Slipping an arm around Dara's shoulders, Cade tried to shield her with his body. It was a sweet gesture, but it didn't make her feel safer. He had no idea how to get away from the mall. And honestly, neither did she.

“Hey,” Mark said. “Two minutes. An exclusive, and I can help you. Come with me right now, and I'll help you ditch the rest of those jackals.”

They didn't answer. Instead, they moved at once. Under Cade's arm, Dara broke for the door. Her plan was simple. Get inside, get to the bathrooms. Block the doors and call her dad. Without an escape car, and half the reporters in Kentucky between them and the bus, it was the best they could do.

Edged with desperation, Mark grabbed for Dara. He fell short. His fingers ripped the bag from her arms. Suddenly, Dara felt like she was in the novelty box. Too loud. Too bright. Everything happening too fast. Her heart didn't pound. It filled her chest, and shuddered to a stop.

The lens shattered when it hit the ground. The trapped chime of the glass didn't start Dara's heart. But it made her move. She scrambled for it. At the same time, Mark darted for it, too. Before either reached it, Cade snatched the bag from the ground. He was faster than both of them.

That's when Mark made the mistake of reaching for Dara again. “Hey, I'm not trying to hurt you,” he insisted.

But he reached. He grabbed, and Cade lunged. Plowing into Mark's chest, Cade knocked him off his feet. A pair of glasses flew off in a wide, glittering arc. Gabbling voices approached, high-pitched. Excited. The air sharpened with it, thin and electric.

In the rush, Cade grew. His shoulders spread, his back widened. His face, so soft just a few minutes before, had turned feral. Body rising and falling, he was terrifying. Opening his mouth, his teeth flashed. He roared.

The terrible sound echoed in the entrance alcove, off glass and steel. Caught by the microphones on the cameras rushing toward them.

“Don't hurt me, don't hurt me,” Mark cried. He threw his arms up to protect his face.

At that, Dara grabbed Cade's shirt and dragged him inside. Everything stretched at wrong angles. Their sneakers squeaked on the faux-granite floor, high-pitched screams that dogged their escape.

A wave rushed up behind them, a human one. Already, their narration rang out, breathlessly describing the scene.
Shocking attack. Flurry of violence.
There was a story now. They wouldn't stop coming.

But Dara let adrenaline lead her. She had a plan. It wasn't a good one, but she had it, they just had to run. Lock in. Call Dad. It was that easy.

They just had to stay ahead.