The Calling

TWENTY-EIGHT

AGAIN, WE SNUCK IN the rear. That’s the advantage of living in a forest—every yard in Salmon Creek backs up to it.

The Tillson place was only half empty. The St. Clouds must have been working in stages, first taking what people wanted most—personal items—then coming back to remove the rest and clean up.

The movers were still working on the upstairs, apparently. It really didn’t look much different from what I remembered from visits with Nicole. I suppose that’s because the only person whose personal belongings had to be taken was Mrs. Tillson.

I thought about that. I guess I hadn’t realized it before. Mrs. Tillson thought her entire family was gone. Her husband dead, only child killed in the same crash, along with the niece she’d been raising.

“She took my stuff,” Sam said.

“Hmm?” I turned.

“My stuff’s gone.”

“Well, yeah,” Corey said. “She didn’t expect you’d want it.”

“No, I mean…”

Sam shook her head and looked away, and I understood what she meant. Mrs. Tillson had removed mementos of Sam, just as she had her own daughter’s. I could see in Sam’s face that it meant a lot.

She found her phone hidden under her bed, turned off. “I’m going to call her. Sorry, guys, you can go next—”

“Yes, you go first. We’ll…” I motioned the guys out. “I’ll get washed up.”

The guys had already cleaned up. Or done the best they could with a quick wash and teeth brushing at Corey’s. There hadn’t been any spare toothbrushes, so I’d done mine with my finger and tried not to look in the mirror. One glance had told me that no amount of touch-ups was going to help. I needed a twenty-minute shower.

“And this clothing is getting burned,” I said as I raked a comb through my tangled hair.

“There’s a fireplace downstairs,” Corey said. “I’ll take it for you right now.”

I gave him a look. “Once I have something to wear.”

“Grab a shirt from Nic’s room,” Daniel said. “She won’t mind. It might be a little small but…”

“That’s fine,” Corey said with a grin. “I won’t mind either.”

It was good to see him grinning, even if there was a hint of desperation in his goofing around. We were all on the edge of panic, trying not to think about what happened in Salmon Creek, what happened to our parents, where we’d go from here.

Still, there was no way I was wearing anything of Nicole’s. I’d sooner put on Sam’s stuff, even if black really wasn’t my color.

I was about to ask Sam if I could borrow something when she came out, phone in hand. Her expression said she hadn’t talked to her aunt.

“There’s a signal, isn’t there?” I said. “They can’t block the whole town.”

“No, I’ve got a signal but…” She looked up. “Her cell number’s been disconnected. I tried a few times.”

I took the phone and called my mother. Then my dad. Both times rang through to a message saying the number was no longer in service. I tried a third number plucked from memory—a guy I dated last summer, I think. Someone answered. I hung up.

“The phone works,” I said. “But my parents’ numbers are disconnected, too.”

“Cutting off contact,” Daniel said.

I glanced at him.

“Who pays for their cell service? The St. Clouds, right?”

I nodded. “They’re on the corporate plan, like everyone—”

Everyone else in town was on the same plan, even if they didn’t work for the St. Clouds directly. That was one of the benefits of Salmon Creek life. Free cell service for all. Cell service that could be discontinued or monitored at any time.

“So why did they leave ours—” he stopped. Then he snatched the phone away from me. “We can’t use that.”

“What?”

“They didn’t disable our phones. They must think we could still have them. If we do, and they dry out after the crash…”

“We could use them and they could track us.” I dropped the phone onto the bed. “We need to get out of here.”

Sam picked up the phone and turned it off. “We didn’t talk to anyone. It’ll be fine.”

Daniel hesitated, then said, “We have to get to Maya’s place and check the shortwave radios.”

Sam’s leg wasn’t up to the walk. I’d suggested retrieving the truck and trying to zip into the park without being noticed. Daniel said it was too risky. He asked Corey to stay behind with Sam, but clearly Sam wasn’t comfortable with that. I suggested Daniel stay. She refused. I didn’t like leaving her behind, but that’s what she wanted, and she wasn’t budging. The moment I stepped into the park, my eyes filled with tears. It looked exactly as I’d left it. As we walked along the trail, other than the smell, there was no sign that there had been a fire. It had been veering south when we’d last seen it, but I’d barely dared hope that meant my park had been spared. I knew the animals in my rehabilitation shed were all safe—Mom had transported them to a facility in Victoria when the fire hit—but I was worried about every other creature out there, too.

When we reached the house, I stopped. The Jeep was gone. The windows were dark.

“They aren’t here,” I said, barely able to get the words past the lump in my throat.

“Let’s go in,” Daniel said. “Make sure.”

The front door wasn’t even locked. I stepped inside. The air was heavy and empty. Just empty.

Even Kenjii hung back, as if it was the home of strangers. She gingerly walked through and looked around, sniffing, then stood at the back door and whined.

“I’ll get her some food and water,” Daniel said.

Corey stayed with him. I went straight to my dad’s office. His computer was gone. So were his shortwave radios.

I headed upstairs. Nothing had been touched. My parents’ clothing was still there. My stuff was still there. A few drawers were open, in the bedroom and the bathroom, from when Dad must have packed our evacuation bags.

I stood in my parents’ room, looking at their hastily made bed, an empty duffel bag taken from the closet, then dumped on the floor, rejected. There was something else on the bed. Picture frames. Three empty ones.

In an evacuation, we weren’t supposed to take anything but an overnight bag. Most people would grab other stuff, though. A laptop. Jewelry. Whatever was important to them. My dad had taken their wedding photo and two baby pictures of me.

My eyes burned again. I hurried into the bathroom and turned on the tap. The pipes spit and hissed. Nothing came out.

“Hydro’s off,” Daniel said as he stepped into the open doorway. “For you guys, no electricity means no water. I found jugs under the sink for Kenjii. Do you want me to bring one up?”

I shook my head.

He moved closer. “We’ll find them, Maya. It’s just a matter of getting to your grandmother.”

“Only we can’t do that, can we?” I said. “The St. Clouds and the Nasts will be prepared for that. I need to let her and my parents keep thinking I’m dead until I can…”

I took a deep breath. “I don’t even know how to finish that sentence. Everything was about getting back here and telling my parents. But they aren’t here. I don’t know where they are. I have no damned idea what to do next.” I looked up at him. “Do you?”

“I … I have some thoughts.” He cleared his throat. “We’ll come up with a plan.”

I brushed past him and headed for the stairs.

“Maya.”

I turned. He stood there, looking as lost and confused as I felt.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “You’re right. We’ll come up with something. I just…” I looked through my bedroom door and out the huge windows at the forest. “I need to go outside for a minute. Just … for a minute.”

Corey was still in the kitchen when I got downstairs. I brushed past him. Kenjii tried to follow as I slid out the back door. I closed it with a whispered apology.

I ran into the forest. I planned to keep going, get in deep enough to relax and refocus and, yes, maybe feel sorry for myself for a few minutes before I faced the others again. As I was running, though, tears filled my eyes and I nearly flipped over a downed tree.

I swiped at my eyes and I looked at the tree, and I remembered the last time I’d seen it. Remembered who’d sat on it.

Rafe.

Fresh tears. I tried to blink them back, but it was no use. I looked at this place, this tree, and I saw Rafe. Heard his laugh. Felt his kiss. Even smelled him. I closed my eyes and the feeling was so vivid I swore I could just reach out and…

But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t ever again, and as I sat there crying, I didn’t think about what I’d felt for him and what might have been. I thought about him. The person, not the guy in my life.

I thought about everything he’d told me about his past, and I wished he’d told me more. I thought of what he’d said to me about his dreams for the future, what he wanted in life, and I realized how little of that I knew. He wanted to fix Annie. Beyond that? I had no idea. Was there a future he’d wanted? One he’d imagined? Or had he just concentrated on the present and getting through it?

Only he hadn’t gotten through it. He hadn’t fixed Annie. He’d come to Salmon Creek to find me for answers, and I’d gotten him killed. No future. Not for Rafe. Just … gone.

I looked down at the leather band on my wrist—his bracelet—and thought, I don’t deserve this. I was ready to pull it off, climb a tree, and leave it there, in his memory. Then I stopped.

I didn’t deserve his bracelet, but maybe I still could earn it. Find Annie, if she was still alive. Help her. Finish what he started.

I took a deep breath and touched the bracelet’s cat’s-eye stone. I’m going to fix this. I know I can’t—my breath caught—can’t fix it all, but I’ll do what I can. I promise.

I squeezed my eyes shut and I sent out the promise again, fingers on the stone. I sensed him close by. Felt him, smelled him—

“I knew I’d find you here,” a voice said behind me. “Sooner or later.”

My heart stopped and I knew I was hearing wrong, that it must be Daniel, come to find me, but my mind was still fixed on—

“Rafe,” I whispered.

I turned. He was walking out of the forest and he was grinning and … and there was no “and” because that was all I could think.

My eyes shut. I didn’t want them to. I didn’t care if it was an illusion, I wanted to see him one more time before the vision disappeared and I was left with that last horrible memory of him falling from the helicopter.

“I know I’m looking a little rough,” he said. “But I didn’t think it was that bad.”

His voice came closer. “Open your eyes, Maya,” he whispered. “It’s me.”