Earthbound

Quinn … Quinn … My thoughts get quieter as pain envelops me and I let go.

I clap my hand over a scream as I try to make out my dark, unfamiliar surroundings.

Reese’s BMW.

I’m safe.

I’m alive.

Settling back against the seat, I lie in the darkness as waves of emotion wash over me, swirling into eddies that shake my body from within. Fear, longing, and desperation in an overwhelming blend.

Not simply desperation for Quinn, but for answers, explanations. I know nothing, and it traps me as surely as an iron chain.

Outside the car, something flutters in the darkness. The windows are fogged from the heat of our bodies, and I lift my sleeve to clear a circle in the misty glass.

Something moves.

They found me! My entire body tenses up and I’m about to elbow Benson awake when I see a flash of golden hair.

“Quinn.” The real Quinn. His name escapes my mouth in a barely audible whisper as he draws nearer.

He’s close to the window now, his eyes boring into mine. He crooks his finger at me and then turns and walks out of sight.

I click the door locks, and the sound seems deafening in the quiet interior. Thankfully, Benson doesn’t stir. I try to slip out without waking him, but as soon as the door opens, light from the dome floods the car. “What’s wrong?” he asks in a scratchy voice, pushing up on his elbows.

“Gotta pee,” I lie. “Go back to sleep.”

Benson’s eyes are already closing as I slip out, the cold air hitting me like a slap after the warmth of our bodies in the car. It’s snowing hard, and the world around me has that intense hush that only heavy, powdery snowfall brings.

I clasp my arms around myself and peer into the darkness, through the huge lacy flakes, but I don’t see Quinn.

I hope I’m not making a mistake. Quinn wouldn’t lure me out into danger, though; I know it! Nonetheless, I peer into the darkness around me and my chest is tight as I see nothing but stillness.

I glance back at the car. Benson will worry if I’m gone long. Determined to get my answers as quickly as possible, I take off in the direction I think Quinn went. The snow is already an inch or two deep and I look down at my tracks. I can follow them back if I’m fast.

My head is low, studying the camouflaged ground, when I hear it. “Miss. Miss?”

Miss? My head whips around, and for a moment I see nothing. Then a flicker of movement in the trees makes my heart race. A face emerges and, if anything, my pulse speeds even faster.

He’s beautiful in the moonlight, a dark, snow-spotted coat wrapping him from his neck to his ankles, his face soft and almost expressionless.

“I knew you would come to me.”

The wind carries the soft words to my ears, and for a moment I think I’m back in my dream. He lifts his hands as though to reach for me—exactly like he did in the dream—and I have to stop myself from running to him, from burrowing into his arms with the same abandon I felt in that illusionary forest.

When I hesitate, he lets his hands fall and the moment is gone.

Why didn’t I go to him? I’m not sure I know the answer.

Quinn turns his head before I can see if there’s disappointment in his eyes.

“I … I dreamed about you.” My words are a low murmur, but they sound loud in the stillness around us. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

His jaw tightens. Answer enough.

“You made a rose in my dream,” I say, and my chest is tight in anticipation. “You’re like me. You … you make things.”

Again he doesn’t answer, but I’m sure I’m right.

“Quinn, please, what am I? What are we?” The word Earthbound flashes through my head again, but it brings more questions than answers.

“I have things to show you,” he says simply. “This way.” He turns and heads directly into the woods without looking back to see if I’m following.

The same words. That weird cadence. I have things to show you. Not I have something to show you. I hesitate before I step into the spidery shadows of the branchless trees. It’s like every horror movie I’ve ever seen. The kind where the stupid girl ends up dead.

But isn’t this what I wanted? Didn’t I drive all the way up here to find him?

I search my feelings, straining for something—a sign, an omen, I don’t know—but even though my head is spinning and my fingertips tingle, it’s with anticipation, not fear.

With one more glance at the dark car where Benson still sleeps, I pull out my phone and turn it on. Four new messages: three from Jay and one from an unknown number. I close the notification and activate the flashlight feature before plunging into the blackness of the forest, following Quinn. Remembering the darkness in the dream, I rub my arms and shiver.

Quinn is like a will-o’-the-wisp, always ten feet ahead no matter how fast or slow I walk. I’ve given up trying to catch him; it only makes him go faster. Better to focus on not running into bushes or low-hanging branches—I already have one stinging scrape on my cheek.

The fear I pushed away when I started following Quinn is back. Even if Quinn won’t hurt me, I’m completely exposed. Not to mention that I’ve left Benson totally unprotected. If anyone found the car—Sunglasses Guy, Elizabeth, hell, who knows how many people are looking for me—they could easily off Benson and then put a bullet in my head from behind.

Worst of all, in this forest, my body might never be found.

The thought sends a new chill up my spine and I clench my fists and force myself to pick up the pace. It’s too late to turn back—I’m just going to have to deal with the consequences.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

We walk—Quinn heading roughly back in the direction of Camden, but still deep within the trees—for what feels like hours. With nearly numb fingers I check the time on my phone.

I left the car almost an hour ago. I’m so cold I can hardly move my toes, and it’s snowing hard enough I can barely see Quinn just a few feet in front of me.

“Quinn,” I call softly, jogging forward to try to catch up with him yet again. “I can’t go on much longer,” I say, surprised when he lets me draw close. “How far is it?”

But he’s silent, still. I look around, my light flashing narrow beams over the dense forest. We’ve got to be almost two miles from the car, but other than that, I have no idea where I am. I try not to think about how cold I’m going to be by the time I get back.

Or how far up the sun will be.

“There are people—” I stagger and have to take a second to right myself. “People following me. Shooting at me. I can’t just wander off like this. My … friend Benson is still back at the car. Quinn!” I whisper-yell, but my voice is muffled by the fresh powder.

A mound of earth covered in snow, with withered grass barely poking up through it, catches my attention as my light skims over it, and even as I take a step toward it, Quinn is moving with me.

“This way,” he whispers. He gestures to the small hill and I walk, leaves and snow crunching beneath my feet.

Suddenly my feet break through some kind of weedy covering and I fall on my butt, with my legs sunk to my knees in foliage.