Something Wilder

All eyes swung to the backpack at Terry’s feet. Tangled in the zipper was very clearly the yellow leather string that wrapped around the notebook Leo had seen Lily occasionally holding over the last few days.

Terry bent, trying to shove it out of view, but it was obvious to everyone what had happened: He’d taken Lily’s journal.

“Are you crazy?” Walter asked, letting out a confused laugh.

Lily took a step forward, but Terry stood abruptly, grabbing the backpack and shuffling a few steps away. “Hold up.”

The earth went completely silent as everyone grappled with what was going down. Dust kicked up around Terry’s legs, and he slowly slid the backpack strap over his shoulder. He glanced away, like he might make a run for it.

“Uh,” Bradley murmured, looking around at the rest of them, “what the fuck is going on?”

“Terry,” Lily said, frowning, “that’s my journal.”

“It’s your dad’s journal,” he corrected.

At the sinister timbre of Terry’s voice, Leo put the puzzle down, ignoring the metallic click of the pins sliding back into place. Uneasiness spread in a queasy rush through him.

“Well, it’s mine now,” she said pointedly but calmly, “and I’d like you to give it back.”

Terry’s expression was an eerie paradox: eyes flat, jaw tense, wooden smile, nostrils flared. “I was just reading it.”

“Right.” She nodded slowly. “Without my permission.”

“Still don’t see what the big deal is.” He shrugged. “I was just looking at some of Duke’s maps. I don’t think you even use them, do you?”

“Who’s Duke?” Walt whispered.

“Her father,” Bradley whispered back.

“Guys,” Leo hissed.

Walt ignored this, asking Bradley, “How’d you know that?”

“Terry told me.”

“Guys.”

“When did—”

Halfway through Walt’s question, Terry let out a scoffing “Idiots,” and moved to brush past them.

Struggling to understand whether Terry was serious with this nonsense, Leo bolted forward, catching him with a hand around his shoulder. “Hey. We’re not done here. Give Lily her journal back.”

But instead of complying, Terry wheeled on Leo, hooking a fist into his jaw. Pain cracked across the side of Leo’s face, and he stumbled back, weathering the shock and impact of the punch.

Surprised voices burst out from all sides, and Leo moved into action, stepping forward and shoving Terry’s chest. “What the hell was that?”

“Jesus Christ,” Terry said. “None of you have any idea how much money is out here, do you? Just keep going along with this fake—”

Walt shocked everyone by dashing in, swiping the bag off Terry’s shoulder, and, like it was on fire, throwing it to Bradley, who threw it to Leo.

Terry charged forward, but Bradley and Nicole held him back as Leo moved several steps away. He ripped open the zipper, and his stomach dissolved the second he saw what else was in there, just beneath the journal.

“Terry,” Leo said flatly, passing the journal to Lily and looking up at Terry in stunned confusion. “Man, what do you need with a gun?”

“You brought a gun?” Walter shrieked. “I couldn’t even bring my bidet!”

When Bradley leaned forward to look, Terry broke free of their hold, lunging for Leo. Ripping the bag from Leo’s hands, Terry backed up, pulling out the gun. Looking around wildly, he reached for Nicole, and before Leo could process what was happening, Terry roughly grabbed her arm and jerked her back against his chest.

Lily let out a broken cry, and a spiraling shimmer of panic shot through Leo.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Bradley said, hands up and voice high with shock. “What’s happening?”

“Terry,” Lily said, her voice quaking violently. She immediately tossed the leather-bound notebook onto the dusty ground between them. “Terry. Hey. Take it. You can have the journal. It’s fine. Just put the gun down.”

Leo held his hands up. Fear scaled his chest like a jagged sheet of ice. “Let’s calm down. We just wanted to know what’s going on.”

“What’s going on is you’re being a nosy little bitch.” Spittle flew out with Terry’s words, getting trapped in his mustache. “Go chase after the hot daughter some more, Leo, and just forget about this.”

“Someone skin this man alive,” Nicole seethed, gritting her teeth against the press of the gun.

“Nic,” Lily whispered, “be quiet, honey.”

“You’re not going to shoot her, come on,” Bradley said. “This is just a big misunderstanding. You’ll put it down, and we’ll keep the trip rolling along like before. We’ll pretend this never happened. Right, Lily?”

Lily swallowed. “Of course.”

“It’s not that simple,” Terry said. His eyes roved the scene: over their faces, across the landscape, behind him where the lip of the canyon loomed far too close. Scrambling forward, he bent awkwardly around Nicole’s body and grabbed the journal before scooting away from the rest of them.

“Lily,” Walt murmured, “what the hell is in that book?”

“It’s just my father’s notes,” she said, and swallowed. “He can take it. It’s fine.”

“Okay,” Leo said placatingly. “Terry, you have the journal. Let Nicole go.”