Gone Wild Read online

  "I was gathering stones, walking up the trail to get service—" I reached for my phone and realized it was gone. I'd lost it somewhere between then and now.

  "What did he look like?" Adam asked, running his hand over his beard.

  "I only saw his shadow, and maybe his leg as he turned around the corner of my house. I never saw him really."

  Adam nodded and searched my face. "I should go down there and check it out."

  "No!" I screamed, suddenly realizing how much fear I'd been pretending wasn't there. "Please don't leave me alone right now."

  He began to speak, but then shut his mouth and put his hands on his hips. "You're right," he said. "How about if we have some tea?"

  I had to wait a minute to make sure I heard him right.

  "Tea?" I asked in disbelief.

  "Yeah, tea." He strolled over to his kitchen like this kind of neighborly meeting happened all the time. I couldn't shake the surprise from my face. He filled a kettle at his sink and set it on the stove. He took tea bags and a plastic bear of honey from a cupboard, mugs from another, and then he set everything on the table and looked at me. I still stood by the mosaic, not having moved since I entered. "Come here," he said. "Let’s talk about it."

  "I've told you everything. I don't know what he looked like. Maybe I should have stayed and got a better look." I suddenly felt stupid for running away. Maybe the sun and shadows and wind had played tricks on me. Maybe the only wild thing running around this mountain was my imagination.

  "No, you did the right thing. The first thing you need to do is get to a safe place. That's self-defense 101. Just get away."

  I nodded and came over to the table. He watched me sit down in the chair adjacent to his and his crystal blue eyes focused on my hands, which I was attempting to fold in front of me on the table. I noticed then that they were shaking, and I used one to try to still the other.

  He handed me the teabags, which I unwrapped and placed in our mugs. There wasn't anything to do then but wait for the kettle to sing and think about the fact that there was a person in my cabin, a person who my landlord couldn't even believe was there. Instead of the shaking stopping, I felt the tremors moving up my arms. A tear dropped down my cheek and I squeezed my eyes shut.

  "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

  I shook my head no. My voice came out quiet and young-sounding. "I just hoped to get something real out of this trip. My friends told me I could think about my problems just as well in Jamaica with them this summer, but I wanted to be alone." The tears came heavier as I thought about how different this trip was turning out to be from my expectations. "This was supposed to be a couple weeks of self-discovery, but all I’m discovering is that I’m a total weakling." I shut my eyes and squeezed out a few more tears. When I opened them, Adam was smiling.

  "Are you laughing at me?" My tears halted as I stared at him in disbelief.

  "No, I'm—" The kettle whistled and he stood up and went to grab it so he could fill our mugs. He spooned honey into each and sat back down. "I fundamentally disagree with the idea that a total weakling would ever come out to this particular destination by herself. I'd say a person would have to be brave as hell to do something like that. That sort of person would interest me immensely." He was doing it again—smiling. It looked out of place on his face, but pleasant. I tried to smile back. It felt awkward through the tears.

  We drank our tea in silence, and I felt the fear subsiding as the hot drink and serene company calmed me. As I began to come to my senses, the fear shifted into something else.

  "Can you do me a favor?" I asked.

  "Sure."

  "Will you go down there with me?"

  "To, to your cabin?" He looked down at his mug and then back at me. "I'll go. You don't need to—"

  "I appreciate that, I do." As my hands were still trembling, I squeezed them tight into fists. I was in control here, I reminded myself. "But I want to be the one who does it."

  He stared at me for a moment, thinking. He looked toward the window then back to me. "Okay," he finally said.

  "You're not going to fight me on this?"

  He grinned. "I'm not your boss, Ina."

  *

  Before we left his cabin, he walked into a room off of the large open space and came out with a handgun.

  "What is that for?" I said, surprised at the shrill sound of my voice.

  "Always be prepared," he said while loading the gun with bullets.

  I swallowed and watched his hands deftly handle the weapon. He seemed to know what he was doing. I hadn’t even thought about bringing any kind of weapon with me to search the cabin. Even though I was scared of guns in general, I was grateful that Adam had one.

  As we walked down the trail toward my cabin, a lump began to form in my throat. It grew bigger until I couldn't swallow. My palms were cold and clammy, and my heart seemed to have petrified in my chest.

  The cabin came into view and the setting, the way the sun rays spilled through the trees and speckled the house's roof and the land around it with light, looked so peaceful. Birds tweeted in the trees above us and the hammock swung lazily.

  The door to the cabin was slightly ajar. Adam walked up to the window on the wall closest to us. The shovel still lay against the building where it had fallen that first morning. He peeked into the bedroom window.

  He turned back to me and leaned over to whisper, "I don't see anyone. Let's go in and check it out."

  Unable to speak, I nodded. He turned and took a few steps away from me. Then he turned back to me, smiled, and reached out for my hand. I slipped mine in his, and I followed him to the front of the cabin. I squeezed his hand as he climbed the few steps up to the porch, and he squeezed mine in return.

  Each creak of the stairs seemed so loud as we climbed them. One thought seemed undeniable to me as it repeated in my head. Had someone sneaked up these stairs and entered the cabin, I would have heard them. Maybe there was no one in there. Maybe it had all been a mistake. Oh god, if he didn't think I was a city slicker dumb ass before, he was bound to think so after this incident.

  Pointing the gun upward, he opened the door slowly. The squeak of the hinges reminded me of the sound I had heard earlier from the clearing. There had been someone, I assured myself. I kept going back and forth in my mind. Even I didn't know what to think. Adam searched the place with his eyes before drawing the gun back and leaning over to tell me he wanted to check the other rooms.

  I stood on the cushy throw rug and searched the room for anything out of place. The room looked exactly as it did when I had left as far as I could tell. I strained to remember if I left my sneakers where they lay, if the drawer under the coffeemaker had been opened when I left. I had no idea. Adam emerged from the bedroom.

  "No one's here now," he said. Noticing me staring at the counter, he added, "Is anything missing?"

  "No," I muttered stupidly. "I'm sorry. I guess I was mistaken." I tried to make the trepidation in my belly go away. It was silly to be worried about irrational fears.

  "What makes you think you were wrong?"

  I stared at him for a second. "No one is here. Nothing is missing. Why would someone break in to my cabin and then leave?"

  He didn't answer at first. He made a face as if the answer were obvious.

  "What?" I asked, shaking my head to show I was clueless.

  "Maybe what he wanted wasn't here."

  I stared stupidly until it hit me. "You think he wanted me?"

  His eyes moved from my eyes down the front of me. "It's not out of the question," he said. He set his gun on the counter. I stared at it.

  "I can leave that here with you," he said, shaking me from my daydream.

  "It was probably nothing," I said. "I don't want a gun."

  He didn't argue with me, surprisingly. He walked to the window over the sink and stared out at the clearing. He pulled up on the window then, making sure it was locked. He moved to the next window, pulling up and then pushing the lock tighter.
He made his way around the room, tightening every lock.

  "What were you doing with the shovel?" he asked from the bedroom.

  "Huh?"

  "Outside, I almost tripped over it." He pointed to the bedroom and I thought of looking out the window one morning and seeing the shovel leaning against the house.

  "I didn't do anything with it. It was there when I got here."

  "No, it wasn't," he said. Quickly, he walked right past me and out onto the porch. I watched him descend the steps and disappear without explanation. I followed behind him as he went to the trail and turned in the opposite direction of his own cabin. I had difficulty keeping up. He picked up speed as cabin two came into sight. He walked right past it. "Son of a bitch," he muttered to something I couldn't see.

  I walked to his side to see what he was staring at. A shed stood before us, but that wasn't the interesting part. A broken padlock lay in two pieces on the ground in front of the shed doors.

  Adam walked to the shed and pulled open the door, rifling through the contents inside.

  "What's going on?" I asked as I stepped into the shed. It was filled with everything anyone might need out here: tools, buckets, flashlights. It was helpful to know this was out here in case I did need something.

  "I'm guessing you didn't break the lock on this shed?" he asked while opening the drawer of a giant toolbox and sifting through its contents.

  "No, of course not." I noticed a broken beer bottle on the floor, the same brand I'd brought with me.

  "Well, someone did," he said, slamming the tool drawer shut. "They took rope, a machete, a shovel." Adam walked past me out the doors of the shed. He rested his hands on his hips and looked in both directions.

  He was blocking most of the sunlight. I walked outside and stood by his side, looking up into his face as he searched the woods around him.

  "Adam," I asked, shocked at how young and scared my voice sounded, "can I stay with you tonight?"

  Our eyes met. He stuck out his arm and pulled me close to his side. "I'm not letting you out of my sight."

  6

  I sunk back into the seat I'd been sitting in before we left to check on my cabin. Our mugs still sat on the table with the dregs of our tea inside. Adam scooped them both up in one hand and placed them in the sink.

  "Listen," he said, and I hoped he’d say some magic words that would zap this fear out of me. "I don't know what you saw, but I believe you. I want you to feel safe again, but if you don't feel safe, I want you to stay here until you do." His hand reached into a pantry and pulled out an unopened bottle of wine.

  There it was, the magic potion. Wine, if anything, could calm me down. I nodded and he placed the bottle on the table. He took a corkscrew from a drawer and two glasses from a cupboard. I noticed there wasn't too much in the cupboard, just a couple of glasses, bowls, and plates. The glasses he placed on the table were tall water glasses, not small wine goblets. He opened the wine and emptied half of the bottle by filling the two glasses. "How about if I make you dinner?" he asked.

  I nodded. I hadn't eaten anything but Spaghettios and fruit since I'd gotten here. I'd packed only camping food, so an actual dinner sounded nice. I wasn't picky either. Being that I wasn't a very good cook myself, I was impressed by pretty much any dish that had ever been prepared for me.

  Adam walked to the counter and flicked on a small radio. A ‘50s song doo-wopped through the kitchen and I smiled. I couldn't believe I was smiling given the circumstances. When I thought about being watched for the past few days, I shuddered. But I felt safe with Adam, and it didn't hurt that he didn't seem scared at all.

  I even found myself tapping my foot to the cheerful tunes. At college I always heard top 40, hip hop, and weepy guitars accompanying emo boys’ sad lyrics. There just didn't seem to be much variation in my classmates’ tastes even though most thought of themselves as non-conformist individuals.

  "Do you mind the oldies station?" Adam asked.

  "Not at all." I picked up my full glass and kicked my feet up on one of the other chairs. Then I took a gulp of wine.

  "Make yourself comfortable," he said. I glanced over thinking he was making fun of the fact that I was getting so comfortable, but his back was to me. I studied his broad shoulders and solid back. My vision swept down to his butt and I swallowed, remembering that dream I'd had. He turned around and caught me staring. My face must have been crimson, but he just smiled and went back to what he was doing without comment.

  Adam pulled items from his fridge, which was more packed than I thought it would be. For a bachelor living Davy Crockett style, he had a well-stocked kitchen. After asking if I ate meat, he defrosted and pounded out some chicken, sliced a ball of fresh Mozzarella, and cut some veggies. He placed a plate of sliced peppers, cucumbers, and carrots on the table in front of me, complete with a small bowl of dip, and he sat across from me.

  "What's your story?" I asked him. I was suddenly very interested in Adam's history, and the wine was making me brazen enough to flat out ask about it.

  "My story?" A pan sizzled on the stove and he turned to look at it, then got up to adjust the heat. He checked on all of the pots he had going. The complex aromas of whatever he was making filled the kitchen and my stomach rumbled, but I hadn’t forgotten my question.

  "Yes, your story. How did you become a modern-day pioneer, living on a mountain, and cooking dinners that smell like something I couldn't afford at a five-star restaurant?"

  He smiled. "You think it smells good?"

  "Um, yeah." I took a drink of wine. Surprisingly, I'd already downed half of it. He picked up the bottle and filled my glass to the brim. "Sorry," I said. "I'll slow down."

  He shook his head. "Drink up. I have a case in the pantry."

  "See, what kind of person keeps a case of wine in his pantry? I doubt you get too many guests out here." Ugh. My stomach dropped. What if he did get a lot of guests out here? What if he was some kind of woman-hating chauvinist who only lived out here so he could avoid the next day weirdness from his string of woodsy whores?

  "The kind of person who likes to sit on his porch nightly and drink wine, I guess."

  My god, that sounded delicious. I instantly felt guilty for thinking this was all a ruse to get unsuspecting nature-loving women into his lair.

  The song on the radio transitioned into a slower one. There was something so innocent and refreshing about this music. It was all about first love and simple rhymes and catchy melodies. I could feel my blood beginning to cool from the boil it had been at most of the day.

  "Well, I’m that kind of person too," I said, taking another drink of wine. "I mean, I guess I am. To tell you the truth, I am still trying to figure out exactly what kind of person I am."

  He nodded. “Aren’t we all?”

  Our meal was done fairly quickly, which surprised me, given how delicious it was. It may have been the best meal I ever had. I had worried about coming up with small talk during our meal, but it ended up not being a problem. I barely spoke at all between shoveling bites into my mouth.

  I was working on seconds when the song stopped abruptly in the middle of the chorus and Adam's gaze moved to the radio. I looked too. The red light shone brightly, indicating that it was still on. Papers shuffled on the air and the announcer's voice came over in a stern, serious fashion. His jovial DJ voice had vanished.

  "This just in, folks."

  I smiled at how even his presentation of breaking news seemed to be from another time.

  "Locals have been closely following the case of Sid "Roadsie" Roads, the prisoner who escaped from Mountain Retreat Maximum Security Prison a few days ago. Roads escaped, killing one guard in the process and injuring four more. Roads, believed to be armed and dangerous, is still at large despite multiple reports of sightings across this mostly unpopulated section of the state."

  The announcer continued his explanation, and I felt the need to listen. I sensed how important it was to know all of the facts about this particular st
ory, and yet I couldn't concentrate on the words. Instead, I kept repeating the name in my head: Sid Roads, Roadsie. Was that who had been in my cabin? Had I seen the tail end of him?

  I turned my gaze to Adam, who was staring at the radio as if he could get a visual just from the announcer's description. He turned to me. We stared at each other for a few seconds before Adam spoke.

  "Just a coincidence," he said. "The likelihood that this guy was in your cabin is not good. Mountain Retreat Prison is at least thirty miles away, and any escape prisoner who had half a brain wouldn't be hanging out on my mountain. He's probably on his way to California by now. Prisoners want one thing," he said as if he knew what he was talking about. I couldn't imagine what one thing he meant: sex? money?

  "To get away," he said. "As far away as fast as possible."

  I nodded. That made sense. I swallowed hard.

  For days, I'd shivered every time the wind blew. My body was clearly on high alert for every sound and vibration that could be misconstrued for an intruder. Maybe my mind had imagined that blurry dark figure in my cabin. Even as I thought it, my mind rebelled against the accusation. I had seen something. I had heard something. Deep down I knew it.

  "You're staying here tonight," Adam said, breaking into my thoughts. I looked at him. We had already established that, but I guess he felt the need to remind me. "You can stay here as long as you want."

  "Maybe I should drive home," I thought out loud. "I’m not cut out for this."

  "No," Adam said.

  I stared at his stern expression. I couldn't muster any response as my mind tried to sort out what it wanted. I'd promised myself this trip was about self-reliance, about figuring out a new me that didn't need a male counterpart. But the truth was I was scared as hell. I didn't want to give up my single girl escapade and head home, but I also didn't want to be shacking up with a guy I had difficulty not seeing as a sex object.

  "I don't know," I started.