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CHAPTER 14: WATERFALL

  16 years old

  The rumble of the waterfall is loud, even from far away. As they come into view of the wild beast, Summer wonders how they’ll cross the raging waters without floating down stream. She can’t swim and doesn’t know how to convey this to anyone. Regardless, even in the dark, the waterfall is beautiful with its flowing water cascading down, mist rising into the air. She can see a moonbow reach high into the water vapors. It’s more stunning here than when she sees it over the ocean. There is just something mesmerizing about it.

  They stop before the rampant waters; Gage sets her down and keeps an arm around her for support. She begins to tremble, her eyes are as wide as quarters, and the rapids reflect in her shining eyes. Cameron approaches the water, wades in a foot, and pulls out a device that clicks and draws a graph on the screen as she dips part of it into the water.

  “Burr! This water’s cold—the spring feeding it isn’t far off.” Cameron motions at the top of the waterfall.

  This only makes Summer’s shaking more violent, and Gage glances sideways at her. “What’s wrong?” He looks at Jaden who shrugs and then back to her. Her eyes jump from the water to Gage in hopes he understands. This only confuses him, and he offers his palm to her. She begins to glide her finger across his palm and writes, “I can’t swim.” Apostrophe and all.

  “You can’t swim?” he immediately questions, and his eyebrows draw together.

  “Really?” Jaden asks with a chuckle. “You lived on a ship!”

  It astonishes Summer that he comprehends this form of communication instantly. She tried it with Landon once, and he thought she was writing “I like tea” instead of “It’s a key.” An hour later showed no results, so notebooks were stashed all over the ship just in case she needed them. This only makes her miss Landon even more.

  She grips Gage’s hand more firmly and does it all over again, this time trying out a longer sentence. “They never let me leave the boat.”

  “So this is your first time on land since . . . ?” He doesn’t finish the question.

  She taps once into his palm.

  “Oh, wow. There’s so much you haven’t seen.” His eyes show amazement and opportunity.

  Cameron exits the water and tucks the device she was using into her complicated belt. “There’s plenty of iron under the stream.”

  “There won’t be any swimming,” Gage explains to Summer.

  Blank stares greet his words, and he points to Cameron who holds out two pieces of metal in each palm. “Activate,” she commands, and the metal unfolds until each are several times bigger. She drops them to the ground, steps on them, and her feet cover them perfectly. “Fasten.” Tiny hooks expand out the sides and dig into her boots. It looks just like the implants in their ears, just on a larger scale. “Mobilize,” she commands, and then she lifts into the air. “Steady.”

  Jaden and Summer gape at her as she floats a foot off the ground.

  “Please tell me you have extra?” Jaden squeals with delight.

  “I’m sorry,” Cameron answers with a frown. “They are made specifically for our weight range, body type, and our center of gravity. We’ll have to be especially careful when we go across the water with each of you in tow.”

  “Damn, there go my fantasies.” Jaden snaps her fingers disappointingly.

  Summer giggles. All eyes swivel in her direction; eyebrows raise, mouths drop open, and eyes go wide. She covers her mouth and practically runs backwards out of Gage’s grasp. She trips on something, flies backward, and falls roughly on the ground. Her breath leaves her when her back smacks a tree trunk, and then her head slams into it forcefully. Water trickles down her neck. Her head immediately begins to pound. This dazes her for a second, but she still knows she made a mistake, and now she fears the consequences. The only person she has ever audibly laughed around is Landon—another slave. But these people aren’t slaves. They make it so easy to forget.

  Gage rushes over, and in the dark she can’t see the expression on his face. Is it anger? She automatically throws her hands up to protect herself from any blows—even though this could also mean punishment. Her legs curl to her chest to absorb any impacts to her chest and stomach. Part of her wants to trust him completely, but she doesn’t know him. This could all be a ploy to convince them not to run away. Maybe under the waterfall is a tunnel to these Outlander camps.

  When his footsteps abruptly cut off, it only makes her quiver more forcefully. “I . . .” he trails off.

  “Maybe I should . . . ?” Jaden offers and then says, “Okay.”

  The waterfall’s endless stream of water almost conceals the sound of Gage’s footsteps as he carefully moves forward and crouches in front of her. She sees his knees under her arms. He gently touches her raised arm, and she jerks away, expecting where he touched to start hurting. But it doesn’t.

  “Hey,” he says softly. “I won’t hurt you. Ever.”

  She wants to believe him so fiercely—she drops her arms and meets his eyes guardedly. In the background she hears, “Oh, that’s just sublime.” It’s Cameron, and her voice is disgusted. “Why don’t you act that way?”

  “Because she was treated differently and had a different master than I did,” Jaden replies.

  Gage reaches forward again. Summer flinches, and the sore spot on the back of her head hits the tree, which makes her face convulse in pain. It causes her to forget the man in front of her as her hand scrambles to the back of her head and gently holds the sore spot. When she pulls her hand away, she notices it’s coated with blood, almost black in the night.

  “Cameron,” he shouts. “Summer’s hurt.”

  It’s not water that flows around her neck and under her clothes—it’s blood. Cameron rushes over to them while Gage removes his pack. It matches their green and black uniforms. “It’s her head,” he explains quickly. There isn’t anything recognizable as Cameron pulls out supplies. Finally, she opens a bag and pulls free another smaller bag. The label is unreadable in the moonlight.

  “We aren’t going to hurt you, Summer,” Cameron promises. “We have to see your head so we can patch it up. Once we are on the other side of the waterfall we’ll do a quick scan to make sure there is no internal damage.”

  Gage holds out his palm, and she taps once into it. “Thank you,” he whispers. She grabs a hold, and his fingers wrap around her small hand. He gathers her awkwardly into his arms when she scoots forward. Every muscle in her body strains at the contact for a few seconds, and then she finally relaxes when it’s apparent he isn’t going to punish her for giggling aloud, or holding her arms up in protest. He doesn’t let go as he holds her closely to his warm body and rubs her back gently. The butterflies are back, and she wishes her body would just decide how it really feels already.

  Cameron delicately moves her dirty blonde hair away from the wound and pours something over it. It stings, and her teeth grit to stop a cry from escaping. But then the pounding in her head stops, and the pain fades. Then she begins to feel overly tired and her eyes droop. She places her forehead on his shoulder and physically and mentally calms.

  “It’s probably a little too much for her weight, but the tranquil side-effect won’t hurt,” Cameron explains.

  Whatever she did to Summer, she can’t find a reason to care about it. She reaches for Gage’s palm, and he immediately complies. “Don’t hurt Jaden” is what she writes before sleep consumes her.