He came, but why? I don’t quite piece together what he’s saying. My thoughts are sluggish, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around him being here. Part of me can’t believe it, not with the way things ended between us.
“Why did you come?” I ask, needing to know more than I need shelter or to be saved.
If he only came out here to save me just so he can turn around and hurt me, then I’ll gladly stay out here in the wild and die. At least I’ll die with my dignity.
A shadow covers half his face, making it difficult for me to see what he’s thinking. “We have time to talk about this later. Right now, we need to get out of here. Can you walk or do I need to carry you? Wait… Did the pilot make it?” he peppers me with questions.
“No, he’s dead, and there’s no way I’ll make it to the truck. I’m pretty sure my leg is broken. It’s numb from sitting here the whole time, but every time I move it, pain slices through it and up my spine.”
“Fuck!” Quinton curses and looks around, shining his flashlight over the airplane rubble and through the trees. “Well, there’s nowhere for us to stay out here tonight, and the truck isn’t far. I think even if I have to carry you the distance, it’ll still be worth it. The worst thing we can do is stay out in the elements.”
I don’t like the idea of him having to carry me the entire way, but there isn’t much I can do about it. It’s being carried or stay out here, and with the rain picking up, that’s kind of the last place I want to be.
“Come on, let me carry you. We won’t get anywhere if I have to help you walk.”
“Thanks,” I huff sarcastically.
I bite my lip to stifle a scream of pain as we work together to get me to my feet, not realizing how hard I’ve bitten it until the copper taste of blood hits my tongue. My chest heaves, the numbness in my leg is now gone, and all I feel are tiny pricks of pain radiating up and down my leg.
“I’m sure you’re in a lot of pain, but are you okay?”
I’m not sure what to make of his question. He’s never cared if I’m okay, but it seems now the seriousness of this situation has changed his outlook.
“I’m…” My lips tremble, and I want to tell him everything. That I’m scared, hurting, afraid to return to Corium, but also afraid of being out here and dying.
Holding me tightly to his side to keep the weight off my bad leg, he cups my cheek, the warmth of his hand making me lean deeper into his touch, and even though I can’t see his eyes because of the darkness, I can feel his next set of words.
“We’re going to survive this and make it back to Corium. I won’t let you die out here, Aspen. I promise, okay?”
“Okay,” I croak, my voice cracking, giving away my emotional distress.
Quinton pulls his hand away from my face, taking his warm touch with him, and then he takes a step back. I teeter on one leg, worried I’ll tip over at any second.
Before I get the chance to complain, he swoops down and grabs me by the hips, lifting me onto his shoulder. I land with a huff, my leg protesting with the movement.
“Hold on to me!” Quinton yells, and I grab his jacket, fisting the fabric in my hand as we move.
Quinton’s strides are huge and eat up a lot of space, but not fast enough. Each step he takes sends a jarring ache up my leg. I don’t complain, mainly because he’s carrying me the whole way to the truck in the pouring rain, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.
Quinton lets out a grunt here and there, but nothing more to let on that he’s exhausted. Time slips past me, and the suffering from my leg slips to the back of my mind. I’m not sure how long we’ve been walking when I realize Quinton’s steps are slower now. I’m soaked to the bone with rain, so I know he is as well.
Lying over his back, I can’t tell if we’re slowing down because he’s tired or because we’ve reached the truck, but almost like he can read my mind, he stops.
“Are we here?” I yell, but instead of him answering me, he drags my soaked body down the front of his, gently setting me on my feet.
I’m disoriented and grab onto the nearest object, which is the side of the truck.
Quinton moves around me and opens the passenger door before scooping me up and placing me inside the backseat.
Inside the truck, I let out a sigh of relief and almost laugh. I’ve been through so much today; I can’t believe I’m even alive right now. The door on the other side of the truck opens, and Quinton climbs in, slamming it shut behind him. A shiver skates down my spine. We’re alone, more alone than we’ve ever been before, and while that should terrify me, it’s comforting. I spent the whole day thinking I was going to die out here, and then he showed up.
“I know it’s not the most comfortable of places, but we will stay dry in here and be safe from any animals.”
“It’s fine. It’s better than the rain, that’s for sure.” I try to smile, but for some reason, it’s still a frown.
Quinton makes quick work of his jacket, shrugging it off and hanging it over the driver’s seat. His dark eyes turn on me, and I start to undo my jacket, but my fingers are numb and trembling so much I fumble with the zipper. He brushes my hands away and undoes the zipper, helping me out of the jacket.
“Thanks,” I whisper, the moment feeling more intimate than it did before he carried me through the forest, for God knows how many miles.