Page 122 of The Unlikely Pair
I stop talking because Harry’s kissing me, and that’s far more important than continuing to mock him.
It’s a fierce kiss that I know contains so much of his anxiety, but then it smooths out to something tender and sweet.
Kissing Harry makes me feel stronger.
I don’t know how to describe the confidence I have in myself now.
I’ve gone from pure fear to “I can do anything with Harry on my side.”
I’m buoyed by adrenaline. I want to live. I want to survive.
But equally, anger is fueling me. That cabin was our home. These people kidnapped us for whatever nefarious reason, stranded us in the wilderness, and now have taken everything we had away from us.
I reluctantly break away from kissing Harry.
“Right, I think under the cover of darkness will be our best bet.” I look up at the clear sky. “It’s going to be a clear night with an almost full moon. We should have enough light to navigate.”
“Do you think we could find something to knock them out?”
“It’s a pity the cabin burned down, or we could have used your unwashed socks,” I reply.
“I don’t think getting into a debate about whose stenches are the worst would be particularly productive to our task,” Harry replies.
I rub my beard with my hands.
“What have we learnt out here?” I ask slowly.
“A lot of things.”
He’s right. I can’t begin to catalog everything I’ve learned out here, everything from catching a fish to making fire to how to choke down fried rabbit liver.
But what I’ve learned the most about is Harry. I know this man’s strengths and weaknesses, just like he knows mine. And out of everything we’ve learned, I have the feeling that is what will come in the most useful. Together, that makes us a pretty indestructible force.
My mind ticks back over the list of things we have at our disposal.
“I think we forgot some essential items in our stock take,” I say.
Harry’s forehead rumples. “What did we forget?”
“The game and fish we caught today.”
The creases in his forehead deepen. “You want to attempt to cook food now? The smoke will attract the terrorists.”
“No, I don’t want to cook anything. But what did we learn happens if you don’t dispose of leftover food properly?” I ask.
“It attracts scavengers,” Harry says.
I give a wolfish smile. “I think it’s time to start planning.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Harry
Toby and I spend the next hour devising the fine details of our plan.
It’s not perfect. In fact, it’s so far from perfect that it could almost be mistaken for a Labour Party policy.
But I see from the grim determination etched on Toby’s face that he knows, just as I do, that this is our only chance.
