Dead of Summer - Page 128

“Carter?” I call, stumbling over loose rocks on the shore of the river. “Carter!” My voice carries, echoing off the trees, but I get no reply. When I’ve checked both sides of the river where we cross, I glance up, only to see that Shawn has disappeared from view behind the outcropping.

Well, it’s not like he’s much help, anyway.

Without hesitating, I stride into the river, the freezing water swirling around my knees. Being in the water is the easiest way to move up and down the river, and I’d rather get wet than cut myself up in the briars and close-together, tiny trees that line the shore on either side.

Though when I make my way up the river for about a half mile, then back down, I start to think we’re looking in the wrong place.

Thankfully, Shawn is waiting for me about fifty yards from where I’d splashed into the river in the first place, staring up through the trees at the sky above us. “Hey, Shawn,” I call, picking up my stride. “I think maybe he went somewhere else. I’m not seeing a damn thing down here, and he’s not answering me.”

But Shawn doesn’t reply. His narrowed eyes just study the canopy of trees, and he tilts his head one way, then the other.

It’s weird as hell, even for him.

“Shawn?” I prod, slowing to a stop in the rough water beside him. “Are you high?” I can’t really hold it against him, if he is. Not when Kinsley supplies me with a steady stream of edibles that I take to sleep or to calm my nerves when they’re needed.

But I don’t get high when we’re doing something with the kids.

“I just remembered something.” Shawn’s head tips down to me, his gaze narrowed. “Well, I remembered it while you were off splashing downstream.” His gaze flicks down to my mud-streaked legs, and it feels like he’s judging me when I’m the only one who looks like she’s been actually searching.

“Yeah?” I don’t know how to take his words, or this sudden attitude shift. “Would you like to share with the class?” My steps bring me closer to him, and I shove my hands in my pockets, waiting expectantly.

Shawn looks me over, a humorless grin touching his lips. “Absolutely. Just had to wait for the class to come back. You look tired, by the way,” he adds casually.

But it’s so frustrating, and I glare at him, still breathing heavily from jogging through the river. “Yeah, I’m fucking tired,” I agree vehemently. “I’ve been in the river looking for your camper while you apparently stare into the damn sun. I hope you go blind, by the way.” It’s not a nice thing to say, and a little ridiculous, but God, I just can’t stand Shawn.

“I remembered the last time I saw Carter,” Shawn remarks, turning to look at me fully with the waters of the river eddying around our legs. He’s closer than I prefer, and I consider taking a step back before deciding against it. I don’t want Shawn to think I’m afraid of him.

“You already told me.” My words are slow, and my brows knit together in confusion. “You literally told me you saw him here at the river. That’s why we’re, you know, here at the river.” I’m starting to think this is some kind of stupid prank, or that Shawn has sunstroke. Either seems like a viable option, given the way he’s acting.

“Yeah, I think I remembered wrong, actually. I’m sure I did. See, now that I’m thinking about it?” His wide, earnest eyes find mine, and I barely register when he shifts a step closer. “I saw him this morning.”

“Okay? Does that help us know where to look for him?” Befuddled is an understatement to how I feel as I glare at him. This is just stupid, quite frankly.

“Yep.” He nods again, looking pleased with himself. “I know where to find him. I’m sure of it.”

“Where’s that?” I’ll take anything to get me out of this river and lead us to his camper.

“The cabin.” The words don’t quite make sense, and I look at him quizzically. “Where I said he could stay after he started puking this morning.”

…What?

My mouth opens to ask what in the world he means, but Shawn lunges forward suddenly, hand around my throat as he shoves me backward off balance. I scramble, trying to stay on my feet, and panic goes through me when my feet are no longer on the ground. There’s a second where I’m airborne, until my back hits the rocks of the riverbed hard, knocking the breath out of me.

And the fight.

I gasp just as my head is shoved under, and river water floods my mouth and lungs. That only makes it worse, and I fight to cough it out, only to find no relief. Not when I’m being held down with Shawn’s hands on my throat.

He’s speaking. Saying something I can’t hear over the roaring in my ears, the protests of my lungs, and the rushing river water. I scream, or try to, frantically making things worse every time I open my mouth.

My legs flail in the air, and I’m so fucking close to the shore that I can feel the grass under my shoes anytime my feet make contact with it in an attempt to push him off of me.

Stop, I beg him silently, eyes open. My nails scratch at him, movements becoming panicked and frenzied as the water sears my lungs.

Only belatedly do I see the blackness at the edges of my vision, and notice the dark spots blinking in and out to obscure his face. My struggles redouble as the blackness grows, and I writhe while my brain screams for me to figure this out.

Because if I don’t, I’m going to die here. One of my hands comes up to grip his face, slipping and sliding against his skin as I dig my nails in. He tries to shake me off, though not very hard, but I maintain my harsh, biting grip as much as I can.

The pain and fear war for first place in the ‘worst of the worst’ contest, and nausea bubbles in my stomach. My mouth remains open, and every attempt I make to expel water just lands me with lungs that ache more and more black spots in front of my eyes.