Catching it now seems ludacris. Was Ky the noise I heard by the water? Or is it merely coincidence that we’ve run into him now? There is no time to think or ask because a fourth person emerges from thick growth that surrounds us. My jaw drops when I see her. She is not an exile. She is not a member of our group. She is no one we know. Without so much as a glance our way the woman pushes the chicken toward the hollowed out stump of a tree. In what must be a practiced motion she squats to the ground, loops her hand around the delicate ankles of the bird and flings it upside down.
“One more time chickadee and you’ll be barbecue,” she says, holding the chicken up so that the two are eye to eye. With a jolt of her head she motions toward Ky to follow her. Seeing people beside him seems to have no effect on her. Is she like the chicken? Accustomed to seeing people on this part of the island.
Ky grabs me by the wrists and pulls me to my feet. “Come on. You have some explaining to do,” he barks then lifts his chin toward Cade. “You too.”
I know that Cade does not want to follow Ky. The two of them were constantly at odds with one another. I’ve seen them scramble in the dirt, fist colliding with flesh and cartilage, words turning to war in seconds. The only relief of Ky’s exile was that he took Cade’s anger with him. Now the two are older, stronger, and from the hardened look in Cade’s eyes, more driven than ever to oppose one another.
What choice do we have though? We left camp to find people and though Ky is not what we are looking for, maybe the woman is? Maybe she knows where others are or more importantly where we can find access to medical supplies. Without waiting for Cade to make a choice, I follow Ky and the woman deeper into the forest. The woman moves quickly and with purpose.
A few short moments later she pulls back the leaves of a giant plant to reveal a small camp. I can’t help it, my mouth pops open in awe. This is no camp for nomads. They live here and have for some time.
I immediately recognize items from the plane. Two plastic dishes with the little covers to keep the heat in, a pile of scratchy wool blankets I remember hating on the plane, but worshiping when I realized they would be our only warmth back at camp. There are other things too. Things that are more personal. A bag that Eli lost on a hunt a few years ago. A knife Tanner swore he left in a tree, but had gone missing when he returned for it later that day. I can’t tell if Cade sees them as well. His face is stone and his lips are silent.
He’s been watching us. Stealing from us and not once did any of us suspect it. I know with certainty that it was him by the water and instinctively I reach up to touch the pendant that hangs around my neck. I can feel the woman’s eyes on me as she tosses the chicken in a makeshift cage at the end of their camp. There are three other birds in the enclosure and she stoops down to clasp the gate, an intricate weaving of sticks and straw.
My mouth waters looking at the three chickens that hop around the enclosure. They aren’t like farm chickens, rusty red and fat on a daily ration of seeds, but my stomach growls at the thought of them all the same.
Given the woman’s reverence for the chickens and the fact that she is still crouched beside their cage speaking to them, I push the thought of meat away and accept the idea that maybe, just maybe there will be eggs. Real eggs and plenty of them.
The woman turns from the cage and straightens up. “What is this?” she asks, gesturing at the two of us. Her voice is thick with an Australian accent and I know right away that she isn’t some unknown passenger that slipped away from the group early. She was here before us and her presence unsettles me.
I try to imagine what we must look like to a stranger. There are no full-length mirrors in the wilderness, the most I have seen of myself is the small round image in Lynn’s compact. I’ve grown into a woman in the outdoors. I’m not soft and beautiful the way the women in my books are described or the way I remember my mother. I am slim and muscular with wild hair that hangs down past my waist and curls and angles free of a comb. From the compact I know that my nose and forehead are dotted with freckles and the roundness of my cheeks has been replaced by crisp angles. I have full lips though, desirable lips, and I hold onto that as my one bit of indisputable beauty.
The woman across from me is somehow better taken care of, like she has access to things we don’t, and I want to steal them so that I too can face Cade with long smooth hair pulled back into a ponytail and clothes that don’t look like they’ve been handed down from one filthy person to another for the better part of a decade.
She is older than all of us though. The crows feet by her eyes give that away. My guess is that she is in her early forties, but it’s hard to say out here. Ky can’t be more than twenty-eight now, and already he looks much older than that. I can’t help it. I scan the camp to verify that there is only one bed but am shocked to spot two small tents made of heavy canvas peeking out from the trees.
“They're just kids,” says Ky, his eyes drifting from me to Cade. “Wandering too far from the group.”
“The group that exiled you,” reminds the woman. “We should feed them, why? Allow them to stay, why?”
When Ky doesn’t answer the woman steps closer to Cade, drinking him in from top to bottom.
“You don’t look like a child to me. How old are you?” She places her open flat palm on his chest and looks him straight in the eye. Jealousy burns hot in my chest as I imagine ripping the limb that touches him from its owner.
“Twenty-one,” answers Cade. He looks directly in her eyes, no hesitation, no fear. “Far from a child.”
Ten
Far from a child. The phrase runs over and over again in my head. What does that mean, and why didn’t he push her hand away the way he rejects each and every touch from me?
I watch closely as Cade starts a fire, the woman perched at his side. Her laugh travels across camp, a sweet tinkling sound that doesn’t seem right coming from a woman in her forties who has just looked a chicken in the eye and threatened to kill it.
She leans over him. Her tight fitting shirt is made of some kind of animal skin and barely covers her breasts. He doesn’t seem to mind the exposure. In fact, he is so distracted by it that he can’t seem to get the kindling to light and next thing you know she is crouched beside him, blowing in his ear while she demonstrates how to get the kindling to catch. He doesn’t think to tell her that he’s started hundreds of fires. That this whole week it has been he who starts our fire each evening. Cade is receptive to her every move, and the jealousy I felt earlier burns even brighter. If this were civilization it would be the equivalent of watching the man you love as they are approached by a sexy stranger in a bar.
I should intervene and claim my territory, but I have no practice. I’m afraid instead of a smooth show of strength I’ll end up tumbling around on the floor shrieking and pulling the woman’s hair until either Ky or Cade intervene.
Ky comes back from his trip out to use the restroom and hands me a cup made from a hollowed out branch. Chasing the chicken and everything after has left me thirsty and I eagerly bring the cup to my lips and gulp down the liquid. Only it’s not water as I expected and I spit it out as what is left burns it’s way down the back of my throat.
Ky laughs, clapping me on the back with a firm smack of the palm.