Two Alone

He recapped the flask and tossed it down along with the books of matches, a travel sewing kit, and the extra clothing she had accumulated. He didn’t remark on how well she’d do

ne. Instead he nodded down at the small suitcase she was carrying. “What’s that?”

“That’s mine.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He yanked the suitcase from her hand and opened it. His large hands violated her neat stacks of pastel silk thermal underwear, nightgowns, and assorted lingerie. He pulled one set of leggings through the circle he made of his index finger and thumb. His gray eyes met hers. “Silk?” Coldly, she stared back at him without answering. His grin was downright dirty. It insinuated things she didn’t even want to guess at. “Very nice.”

Then his grin disappeared beneath his mustache and he tossed the garment at her. “Take two sets of long johns. A couple pairs of socks. A cap. Gloves. This coat,” he added, piling a ski jacket atop the other garments he’d selected. “One extra pair of britches. A couple of sweaters.” He opened the zippered, plastic-lined travel bag she’d packed her cosmetics and toiletries in.

“I need all of that,” she said quickly.

“Not where we’re going you don’t.” He rifled through her cosmetics, heedlessly tossing a fortune’s worth of beauty-enhancing creams and makeup into the rotting, wet leaves. “A hairbrush, toothpaste and toothbrush, soap. That’s it. And, just because I’m merciful, these.” He handed her a box of tampons.

She snatched it out of his hands and crammed it back into the cosmetic bag along with the other few items he had allowed her.

Again he grinned. The juxtaposition of his white teeth and wide mustache made him look positively wicked. “You think I’m a real son of a bitch, don’t you? You’re just too nice to say so.”

“No, I’m not.” Her russet brown eyes flashed hotly. “I think you’re a real son of a bitch.”

His smile merely deepened. “It’s only gonna get worse before it gets better.” He stood up, glancing worriedly at the darkening sky. “Come on. We’d better get going.”

As soon as he turned his back, Rusty slipped a colorless lip gloss, a bottle of shampoo and a razor into the bag. He might not need to shave before they reached civilization, but she was sure she would.

She jumped guiltily when he turned back and asked her, “Do you know how to shoot one of these?” He held up a hunting rifle.

Rusty shook her head no. Only yesterday she’d seen a beautiful Dall ram being brought down with a rifle just like that. It was a distasteful memory. Rather than celebrating the kill, her sympathies had been with the slain animal.

“I was afraid of that,” Cooper muttered. “But you can carry it anyway.” He hooked the heavy rifle over her shoulder by its leather strap and placed another, presumably his own, over his shoulder. He shoved a fearsome-looking pistol into his waistband. Catching her wary glance he said, “It’s a flare gun. I found it in the cockpit. Keep your ears open for search planes.”

By seaming up the neck of a sweater with a shoelace, he had fashioned a backpack out of it. He tied it around her neck by the sleeves. “Okay,” he said, giving her a cursory inspection, “let’s go.”

Rusty cast one last sad, apprehensive look at the wreckage of the airplane, then struck out after him. His broad back made an easy target to follow. She found that by keeping her eyes trained on a spot directly between his shoulder blades, she was able to put herself into a semitrance and ward off her memory of the bodies they had left behind. She wanted to lapse into forgetfulness.

She plodded on, losing energy with each step. Her strength seemed to be seeping out of her with alarming rapidity. She didn’t know how far they had gone, but it couldn’t have been very far before it seemed impossible for her to put one foot in front of the other. Her legs were trembling with fatigue. She no longer swatted aside the branches that backlashed, but indifferently let them slap into her.

Cooper’s image grew blurry, then began wavering in front of her like a ghost. The trees all seemed to have tentacles that tried to catch her clothes, tear at her hair, ensnare her ankles, impede her in any way possible. Stumbling, she glanced down at the ground and was amazed to see that it was rushing up to meet her. How extraordinary, she thought.

Instinctively, she grasped the nearest branch to break her fall and called out weakly, “Coo...Cooper.”

She landed hard, but it was a blessed relief to lie on the cool ground, damp and soggy as it was. The leaf mold seemed like a compress against her cheek. It was a luxury to let her eyes close.

Cooper murmured a curse as he shrugged off his backpack and let the strap of the rifle slide down his arm. Roughly, he rolled her over onto her back and pried her eyelids open with his thumbs. She gazed up at him, having no idea that her face was as pale as death. Even her lips were as gray as the clouds overhead.

“I’m sorry to hold you back.” She was vaguely surprised that her voice sounded so faint. She could feel her lips moving, but she wasn’t sure she had actually spoken aloud. It seemed imperative to apologize for detaining him and being a nuisance in general. “I’ve got to rest for just a minute.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine, uh, Rusty. You rest.” He was working at the hook and eye buried deep in the fox-fur collar of her coat. “Do you hurt anywhere?”

“Hurt? No. Why?”

“Nothing.” He shoved open her coat and plunged his hands inside. He slipped them beneath her sweater and began carefully pressing his fingers against her abdomen. Was this proper? she thought fuzzily. “You might be bleeding somewhere and don’t know it.”

His words served to clarify everything. “Internally?” Panicked, she struggled to sit up.

“I don’t know. I don’t— Hold it!” With a sudden flick of his hands, he flipped back the front panels of her full-length coat. His breath whistled through his teeth. Rusty levered herself up on her elbows to see what had caused him to frown so ferociously.

The right leg of her trousers was soaked with bright red blood. It had also made a sponge of her wool sock and run over her leather hiking boot.