Page 85 of Wreckage

Nothing.

I checked all the traps a second time, some part of me desperate for a miracle.

Fucking nothing.

I resisted the urge to kick the nearest tree, to scream my frustration into the frigid air. I needed something. I had no choice but to reset the traps and hope. But hope was a weak strategy.

And if this kept up…

I forced the thought away, swallowing against the nausea rising in my throat.

I knew what I’d have to consider if things got worse.

Dean.

The thought made my stomach turn violently, but I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

I was praying it wouldn’t come to that, that we’d be found before it ever became a real option, but if we had another week of dwindling food and empty traps, what choice would we have?

I trudged back toward the plane, my mood significantly darker, my mind spinning with calculations.

How long would we survive like this?

Back inside,I went through everything again.

Every cupboard, every hidden storage space, my bag—anything that might have been overlooked.

I found a half-eaten cereal bar I’d stuffed in my pocket before we left for the trip and had completely forgotten about, along with another box of crackers, shoved into the back of one of the storage compartments.

It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

I sat back on my heels, running my tongue over my teeth, doing the math.

If we rationed everything, we might have enough food for a week. Maybe less if our bodies started demanding more. I pressed my fingers against my temples, trying to think of other options.

Deer?

Possibly, but we didn’t have a rifle.

Fish?

Not unless we found a water source that wasn’t frozen solid. The only other option made my stomach tighten all over again.

I sat there, staring at the food in front of me, my chest heavy with frustration and dread, when I heard Adrian stir.

He sat up with a groggy sigh, rubbing his face before blinking at me through the dim morning light.

“What time is it?” he muttered.

I snorted. “You think I have a clock out here?”

He grunted, stretching before carefully checking on Elena, who was still curled up peacefully.

He met my gaze, noting the look on my face, and immediately sat up straighter.

“What?”

I hesitated. There was no sense in beating around the bush.

---