We built an impressive fire. Or rather, Kate built it, and I sat there with my mouth hanging slightly open, like she was doing a magic trick. She had brought this flint striker that made fire production look effortless. Seriously, it was like she was peeling a carrot and then bam! Fire.
There was a huge risk of having a campfire, of course, but we needed warmth. The night chill descended fast, and we concluded it was better to be warm and mauled by robot zombies than freezing and mauled by robot zombies. We set up a few simple traps around us so we’d be warned if anything, or anyone, approached our campsite.
Pleasant crackles and pops filled the silence, so we ate our hermetically sealed dinners, drank our bottles of water, and stared upward at the bright moon in companionable quiet. If we were the only two people in world, would it be like this?
Kate threw a small handful of twigs into the blaze. “You think we have a chance?”
She meant winning the competition, but part of me wanted to think she was talking about us.
To answer both, I said, “We’re gonna win. K-A-T-E. That’s how we spell victory!” Oh God, why, Nate? Eyes fixed on the ground, I rubbed some dirt off my shoe, hoping she’d just ignore my mortifying cheer.
I stole a quick look at her, and she caught me midglance. My heart nearly stopped beating.
Shit.
She didn’t call me out, even though she totally should have. “When we win,” she said, pulling on her pendant, “I’m going to buy you something.”
“Really? Like a deluxe pyro flint striker?”
“Um, nooooo.” She smiled. “Your very own hand sanitizer.”
“Wow. I was going to say that next.”
Kate shivered. “After that, I’m going to New York. I’ve never been.”
“For winter break?” I asked softly.
She threw in more sticks but didn’t respond. But maybe she didn’t hear me.
“I need the money for my parents. But if I have any cash left over, I might put capital toward my business,” I said, louder this time.
“You have big dreams, Nate. I like that about you.”
I threw a broken branch into the blaze. “Well, when you’re poor, dreams are really all you’ve got.” I sighed. “I see my parents barely scraping by, and it makes me sad. There’s no way we could have afforded school without my scholarship.”
“Your parents seem happy, though,” she said. “At least, from what I know of them.”
“Yeah, but…Dad’s an IT consultant, and he’s out of work. If we win this competition, we can keep our house.”
Anguish flashed across her face. “I didn’t know finances were so tight. I’m sorry.”
I’d blathered on way more than I’d intended. But being around Kate was comfortable. Talking with her was easy. “What about you? What are you doing with our vast winnings after your trip to New York?”
From the jagged cliffs above us, an eardrum-piercing howl echoed. The hairs on my arms shot up straight.
“Maybe the coyote wants to visit New York too,” I said in a nervous whisper.
She giggled and gave a thumbs-up in the coyote’s direction. “I bet the coyote could eat all those subway rats I hear about. It’s perfect, actually.”
I grabbed a hunk of wood and poked at the fire, sending embers into the night air like fireflies. The only way to keep it going through the night was to take sleeping shifts to tend it. A way to stay even warmer was by sleeping together—not sleeping with each other in the biblical sense, but just, sorta, spooning without groping. Maybe I’d hold off on mentioning that.
Kate cleared her throat. “I’m wide awake, and I don’t know how I’m going to sleep. I’m a little wired. What about you?”
I nodded like a bobblehead on speed. She mentioned sleep arrangements first but didn’t suggest cuddling. Damn.
I stood to stretch my legs, which had stiffened from the uphill climb.
She reached both arms in the air and straightened her shoulders. “Well, maybe one of us should try to sleep.” Standing up too, she added, “I’ll go first. Since I made the fire and all.”
“Yeah, no problem.” I yawned.
“Um, one more thing.” Kate shifted, smiling awkwardly. “I’m actually moving to New York, not just visiting,” she said, resuming the conversation I thought we’d ended. “My dad doesn’t know. We’re not exactly talking right now.”
“So, you’re like every teen hating their parents?” I joked. Her smile turned sour. “Or, wait, how bad is it? Other than the fact that he wants to ship you off to Asia.”
It took her a while to answer.
“Well, for one, I blame him for my mom’s death,” she said quietly.
For one? There was more than that? That was a fucking big one. “Oh wow. How’d…how’d it happen?”
Kate crossed her arms and shivered again. “She had pneumonia. She got it from Dad.” She paused, her eyes brimming with tears. “She was a bit of a hypochondriac honestly, so she tried herbal supplements, but when none of her home remedies worked and she got worse, Dad didn’t take her to the doctor. He told her to sleep it off and went on another business trip. He said when he was sick he’d still gone to work and didn’t take any sick days. When her fever spiked to a hundred and five degrees, I drove her to the ER. I’d just gotten my driver’s license. She passed out in the waiting room.”
“Oh God, I am so sorry, Kate. That must’ve been so…I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say. Words weren’t forming. My brain was numb from the cold. I walked over to Kate and hugged her tight.
She sniffed. “Mom fell into a coma later that night. She died the day after my dad got back from his trip. It’s like she held on so he could see her go.” Her tears beaded on my chest and dribbled down my waterproof parka. “He should have been there,” she murmured. “For her. And for me. I miss my mom so much.”
We stayed like that for a while. Kate fit perfectly in my arms. She tilted her head up, and our eyes met. “I’m sorry I dumped all of that on you. I just wanted you to know why I needed to leave home so badly.”
Another howl echoed from above, but it was much closer this time. Directly behind us, a loud rustle came from the brush. Kate and I hugged and drew in close.
Her breath quickened. Mine stopped.
A tiny rabbit tore out from behind the bush. Then another one shot out and followed. Relieved, we laughed and relaxed our grips.
Two more rabbits ran past our camp area, skirting around the fire. We laughed again, but when the chilling realization hit me that the adorable bunnies were running away from something, I let go of Kate and hollered, “Shit, we have to go!” We hadn’t laid out our sleeping bags or tent yet, so I blindly grabbed things around me and shoved them in my backpack.
We bristled when the perimeter trap jingled around us. Color drained from Kate’s face, like she’d seen a ghost.
“GAAAAAAAAA!”
“GAAAAAAAAA!”
“GAAAAAAAAA!”
“GAAAAAAAAA!”
Shit, shit, shit. Nothing worse than a reeking zombie choir to ruin the night. They smelled worse than a hundred of Jaxon’s gym bags.
We grabbed our packs and ran deeper into the pitch-black forest, through the frigid, thick air. Tightly holding her hand in mine, we ran for our lives.
* * *
We eventually reached a clearing.
“Well, I’m certainly not sleepy now,” I huffed. We both chugged water because we had sweated so much. A hint of daylight lit the woods around us with a hazy, faint-peach glow.
My heart pounded so hard it nearly burst from my chest. By the sound of Kate’s panting, her heart was exploding too.
Though she’d been the one to suggest doing this competition—and, you could even argue, dragged me into it—I had a strong sense of responsibility to keep us both safe. Even though she was plenty capable on her own. Kate used her body weight to pull down two dead tree branches to make us makeshift torches while I waited on the trail. Was there anything she couldn’t do?
She’d been quiet since we abandoned our campfire. I figured that our encounter with zombies warranted her some uninterrupted “me time.”
I checked my phone for a signal.
Nope. Nada.
“That’s why we have these.” Kate’s tinny voice came through the speaker on my wristband. “Do you copy?” She shot me a mischievous grin.
“Roger that,” I responded by pushing the talk button. “Copy.”
She crouched and lit both torches with her flint. Handing me one, she said, “Let’s take advantage of our fright-induced insomnia and get moving.”
“We have flashlights, you know. And I think I packed a headlamp somewhere. We don’t need torches.”
She spun the tip of hers in a circle. “Yeah, but torches are badass.”
I swung mine like a Jedi.
She was right. Torches were pretty badass.