72 Hours Read online

  I squirm out of Noah’s grip, and he does nothing to stop me.

  I push to my feet, needing to use the bathroom. I move past Noah without a word and find a tree to settle behind. A flittering thought comes into my mind: Is he watching even this? I choose to pretend he isn’t. The sun is out today, the rain clouds having disappeared. I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.

  I don’t know what Noah’s plans are, but the clock is ticking. We only have today and tomorrow left before our world turns into a nightmare. We need to figure something out before then—or better yet find a way out of this hellhole. I finish up going to the bathroom and make my way back to Noah. He’s studying the trees, the ground, anything that moves. He’s like a hawk, eyes zooming in on anything out of the ordinary.

  “What exactly are we looking for today?” I ask.

  My stomach makes a loud rumbling sound and I realize, despite it all, I’m hungry.

  “First, food,” he mutters, not looking at me. “Then we’re going to see if we can find a boundary, maybe get an idea of where we are. We need weapons; I’ll have to make them but it’s better than having nothing.”

  “Weapons? How are we going to get those?”

  “It’s not hard to make a knife from a piece of solid wood, a few sharp rocks, and a steady hand. It will do the job.”

  God.

  I’m not hungry anymore. The sickness is back.

  “Let’s find the stream. There were some coconut palms close by. Come on.”

  We walk in silence through the forest for about an hour until we come to a small stream with clear water trickling through it. It isn’t deep, probably not even deep enough to bathe in, but it seems to go on for miles. I wonder if it leads to something bigger, deeper maybe? We use it to wash our faces and our bodies; then we cup our hands and drink as much as we can. Noah studies the trees, squinting to see what we’ve got to work with.

  “Sick fuck,” he mutters.

  I look up. “What?”

  “I’m just pissed that he gave us the one food source that is hardest to get. Coconut palms.”

  “Are coconuts all we’ve got?”

  “Yeah,” he grunts.

  He walks over to the palm tree and starts shaking it, his big body pulling the thin base back and forth. The coconuts don’t budge. Growling with frustration, he finds a big stick and starts hitting it, over and over until his muscles are bunching and his face is an angry red. He looks beautiful like that, so masculine and strong. I hate myself for that thought. It should be the last thing I think about.

  “Do you want me to climb another tree and see if I can reach over and shake it, or get a coconut?”

  He stops shaking the tree and looks at me. “If I don’t have to risk you getting hurt right now, I won’t. I’ll get one.”

  “But—”

  He ignores me and keeps shaking the tree. Giving up on that, he finds a big rock and throws it. I expect him to miss, but he hits one of the coconuts square-on and it drops from the tree. He lets it fall before going over and picking it up. He shakes it, nods, and then walks over to a log lying across the ground, an old tree that’s snapped. He puts the coconut on the log, then starts hunting around for a sharp rock.

  I feel helpless.

  While he uses a rock to peel the first layer of the coconut, I wander around, trying to find something to carry water. There is very little. Nothing that is deep enough, strong enough, or durable enough to hold water for any amount of time. Frustrated, I kick some old shriveled green coconuts around. Then it hits me. We might not be able to carry large amounts of water, but we can carry enough to get us by until we come across another stream by simply using an empty coconut. I lift four and bundle them into my arms, walking back to Noah.

  “Can we put a hole in the tops of these?”

  He lifts his head from the coconut he’s peeling and studies me. “They’re probably old. We can’t eat them, Lara. I would have picked them up already if we could.”

  “I know that,” I say, my voice peevish. “I was thinking of emptying the contents by making a hole and filling them with water to carry.”

  His brows go up.

  “So do you have the strength or the right equipment to make a hole in the tops of these?”

  “It’ll take a while, but yeah. Put them down next to me and come over here. You can crack this while I put a hole in them.”

  I walk over, dropping the coconuts, and extend my hand for the one he’s already peeled right down to the little brown ball in the middle.

  “Find a sharp rock, a stick, whatever you need to use and hit it until it cracks open.”

  I nod, taking it from his hand and walking around until I find a sharp, jagged rock poking out of the ground. I lift the coconut and bring it down over the rock. Not a single thing happens. Frustrated, I do it again, and again, and before I know it I’m slamming the coconut on the rock, anger bubbling in my chest, rage coursing through my veins.

  What the hell is happening to me?

  With a pained cry, I hit it harder and harder, crying out when it won’t break. I slam it down again and again until my shoulders ache with strain.

  “Hey,” Noah says, stopping me with a hand to my shoulder. He pulls me back. “Slow down, Lara. Fuck.”

  He takes the coconut from me and effortlessly brings it down over the rock. It splits first. That makes me angrier. I turn and scream into the forest. “This is complete and utter bullshit! We’re being hunted by a psycho killer,” I scream, “and I can’t even crack a fucking coconut!”

  Noah doesn’t say a word, and when I turn around, he’s studying me. Our eyes meet and my breath catches in my lungs. He’s looking at me like it’s the first time he’s seen me in a long time. Or maybe it’s the first time he’s really truly seen me. His face is soft, his eyes are intense, and he hands the coconut back to me.

  Just before he turns his back to me, he says in a soft voice, “I was wondering when the Lara I knew would show herself. Keep it there, Lara. On the surface. We might just have a chance of escaping if you do.”

  My heart twists and I swallow the lump in my throat.

  He turns and goes back to doing what he was doing, but I’m standing there, my body numb.

  * * *

  We fill the coconuts with water after a solid two hours of stabbing sharp items like rocks and sticks into them to make a hole big enough. It works in the end, and we fill our bellies with water before refilling and carrying them with us. We eat one coconut and take another with us. Noah tells me to drink the water from the middle of one; apparently it’s hydrating.

  You learn something new every day when you’re being stalked by a psycho.

  We walk for hours on end and my feet have gone from sore to numb. I no longer feel the sharp rocks and jagged edges of the sticks stabbing into my skin as we venture deeper and deeper into the thick shrubbery surrounding us. The trees that were once mostly spread out are now squashed together and surrounded by tiny bushes. There is a small poorly formed track worn through and I have no doubt who created that.

  Noah and I argue about it, because I say the smart thing would to be to go off the man-made track and into the forest, but Noah tells me that we’ll barely get a mile through those thick trees before we’re exhausted from shoving and cutting branches. He claims that Psycho—as we’ve dubbed him—made it so we’re almost forced to stick with his created track.

  Whatever.

  At least it takes our minds off the looming reality that we only have one more day after this. And so far we’ve found nothing. No way out. No sign of life. Zero. Nothing. Noah is frustrated, and he’s letting it show. He swears at every second tree and spends a majority of his time in brooding silence. I can’t really blame him; I know he’s suffering. We both are. If we don’t find some way out soon, we’ll die.

  It’s that simple.

  Afternoon hits like a painful reminder, but we keep walking, keeping our eyes peeled, looking for some sort of end to this wilder
ness, maybe a sign of life. Anything to give us hope. When the sun starts to lower on the horizon, we face our worst fears. We’re pushing through the forest, not speaking, both of us exhausted, when we come into a small clearing; ahead is a fence. It’s not any old fence. It’s big, super high, and topped with barbed wire. But it’s a fence.

  “It’s a fence!” I scream, running toward it. “Look, Noah, a fence!”

  Freedom. Escape. We just have to get over it. I’ll cut my own leg off if it means I get out of here. I’ll do anything. Relief floods my heart and tears run down my cheeks as I charge toward it.

  “No,” Noah roars. “Lara, stop!”

  Stop? Why the hell would I stop? There is a fence. He must have lost his mind. My heart pounds and I pump my feet harder, shoving trees out of the way, leaping over logs, and running like I’m being chased. I’m about three feet away when a hard arm wraps around my waist and hauls me backward. Before I know what’s happening I land on my back on top of Noah’s chest, his arm still around me. He makes a loud oomph and rolls us to the side.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I screech. “Jesus, Noah.”

  “Do you want to fucking die?” he bellows, flipping me over so I’m on my back and his big body is looming over me.

  “What are you talking about? Let me go,” I cry, squirming. “It’s freedom. It’s a way out.”

  “It’s pumped with electricity, Lara. Jesus Christ, you just about fried yourself.”

  I blink. “What?”

  “It’s electrified in a big way. Fuck, can’t you hear it?”

  I go silent. Beyond my breathing and pounding heart, I can hear the tick tick of the fence. Everything comes crashing back down, all my hopes, all the freedom I felt, the relief—it slams back into my body and all I feel is the piercing sting of disappointment. God, we’re never getting out of here. With every step we take, it feels like there isn’t a single thing we can do about escaping.

  Keep fighting. At least try.

  I close my eyes and lift my face up to press into his hard chest.

  “We’re going to be okay,” he says, cupping the back of my head and holding me against him. “We’re going to find a way out, Lara.”

  “There doesn’t seem to be a way out, Noah.”

  “Then we’ll kill the fucker.”

  I flinch. “Noah…”

  “If fighting is all we have left, then that’s what we’ll do. I haven’t seen a single fucking way out of this place, so the only option is to fight. There are plenty of logs and rocks we can use to carve weapons. It’s not over, Lara.”

  Fear courses down my spine. “Yes, you’re right—but what if that’s not enough?”

  “Look at me,” he demands.

  I drop my head from his chest, meeting his eyes. “I won’t let anything happen to you, do you understand?”

  I nod, taking a shaky breath.

  “I won’t leave you alone out here.”

  I know I should believe him, but I don’t know what the hell I believe anymore.

  I just hold his eyes, and something inside me sparks to life. This man, whoever he is, put Noah and me out here thinking we’d make things harder on each other, but he was wrong. Noah and I, we’re not going to let this beat us. I lick my bottom lip and move my eyes away from his, because if I stare into them a second longer I’m going to do something I shouldn’t. Seeing this side of Noah takes me back to the way he was with me when we first met. God, he protected me so fiercely.

  “I’m going to get another drink.” I smile, leaning up and kissing Noah’s lips.

  “Okay, baby, don’t be long. That dress, those shoes, you’ll have the entire bar looking as soon as you step out of my arms,” he growls into my ear.

  I shiver and smile up at him. He’s so beautiful. Perfect in every way. I love him so fiercely.

  “I won’t be long.”

  I turn and saunter through the crowd, stopping at the bar. To my left are two men, who stop talking the second I lean over the solid wooden counter and order my drink. I glance at them and they’re both looking at me, leering. Ugh. When did men become so blatant? Whatever happened to actually talking to a girl before checking her out?

  “I won’t be long,” the bartender tells me.

  I nod and smile.

  “Hi there.”

  I smother an eye roll and turn to see the man closer to me, smiling. He’s not handsome, but he’s not terrible, either. Just your average Joe. It’s always the average Joes that are the biggest creeps. I’m not entirely sure why, but they seem to think they’re God’s gift to women.

  “I’m taken,” I say, turning back to the counter.

  “Whoa, I was just saying hello.”

  “We both know you weren’t,” I mutter.

  “I like a challenge.”

  I turn and glare at him. “I don’t. Now go bother someone else. I’m taken.”

  He reaches over, taking a strand of my free-flowing hair into his hands and tugging it enough to make it sting. “Sassy little thing, aren’t you.”

  Another hand comes into the picture, curling around his wrist and twisting. A harsh cry leaves his mouth and he looks up at the same time I do. Noah is standing there, angry expression on his face, hand wrapped so tightly around the other guy’s wrist that his face is going quickly red with pain.

  “Why the fuck do you have your hand on my woman?”

  “I was just, ah, she had something in her hair, man,” the other man squeaks.

  “Funny, I’m certain I heard her tell you to go away. So why”—Noah leans in close, twisting his hand even more—“the fuck didn’t you go away?”

  “Sorry, man. No harm meant.”

  Noah twists harder and the man cries out, bottom lip shaking with pain.

  “I suggest you leave. Right fuckin’ now.”

  Noah lets him go and he stumbles off the bar stool with his friend. When they’re gone, he turns to me. I reach up, grabbing his face and crushing his lips against mine. I kiss him deep and I kiss him hard.

  “I love it when you get all caveman,” I murmur against his mouth.

  Noah pushes off me and stands, snapping me from my memory. He runs his hands through his hair, and I glance away awkwardly. He leaves his back to me for a few minutes before turning around and reaching out for my hand. I hesitantly take it, and he pulls me to my feet. “We’ve got tonight and one more day before this fucking crazy lunatic comes after us. We need a plan, Lara. Let’s find somewhere to stay for the night and work out what we’re going to do next.”

  I nod. I have no other words. My memory has stirred up hidden emotions inside me, emotions I thought I was doing a good job of keeping concealed.

  I guess not.

  He keeps hold of my hand and pulls me back into the thick forest.

  I turn and watch the fence disappear from my view, my heart sinking a little more with every step.

  I just don’t know if we’re going to get out of here alive.

  I laugh hysterically as he tackles her to the ground.

  Granted, I don’t want her to die that quickly, but the very idea that she might have leapt onto that fence and cooked herself is such a good thought, I can’t help but wish it had happened.

  Imagine the look on his face if she had the life ripped out of her by a fence. I mean, how hilarious would that have been?

  He’s all macho, trying to protect her, and she goes and runs into an electric fence.

  I laugh again.

  God, she’s so fucking stupid. She just doesn’t think. It’ll get her killed, that I’m certain of.

  Oh wait, I’m certain because I’m going to be the one to kill her.

  I think I might just kill her first. I’m starting to think Noah will make for a very interesting game when she’s gone.

  The decisions. Oh the decisions.

  EIGHT

  We find a small overhanging rock and decide it’ll be the best we can find before sundown. We fill our coconuts at a passing stream and then
find ourselves a comfortable spot on the ground, close to each other for warmth. Noah’s big thigh is pressed against mine, and it’s so warm I want to shuffle closer. My heart pounds being this close to him, and my pathetic, weak side is begging me to climb onto his lap and find the comfort I so desperately need. My stubborn side is refusing to give in that easily.

  I feel guilty for having that thought. I shouldn’t be so stubborn. Maybe, just maybe, it’s what got me into this mess in the first place.

  I’m beginning to see that I’ve been going about this all wrong. I’ve been shutting Noah out because I couldn’t bear to hear that he didn’t want me anymore, that I wasn’t good enough for him. It was my punishment for getting Nan killed. But now, being around him, seeing him these past few weeks, I’ve realized how much I’ve missed him and am ready to hear his story.

  But people aren’t mind readers. They don’t know when you’re wishing with everything in your body that they’d touch you, or pull you into their arms, or kiss you. Noah has always been an open man, always affectionate with that edge of broody.

  And tomorrow could likely be my last day on this earth. What have I achieved?

  My heart breaks.

  “Noah?” I croak, voice small and weak.

  “Yeah?”

  “That day I walked in, and that woman was on your lap. What happened?”

  He goes silent for so long, I wonder if he’s fallen asleep or hasn’t heard me.

  “You choose now to ask?” he mutters.

  I exhale a shaky breath. “We might die, that’s the cold hard truth of this situation. I never gave you a chance to explain and that wasn’t fair, I know that now. I think I need to hear it.”

  He makes a sound in the back of his throat, but starts speaking. “Her name was Amy and she used to come in and help out with paperwork at the fire station, as you know. She had a crush on me, I knew that but I didn’t think she’d do anything. That day she came in and was delivering her usual weekly report and she just walked over and threw herself onto my lap. She kissed me and to be honest, I was in fucking shock. I had no idea what to do.”