Page 78 of Unorthodox
Then he drops his hand from my face and nods toward the woods, Dante nearly at the edge of the trees. “Shall we?”
My thoughts freeze, and I hope for someone to explain to me what the fuck is going on. I hope for a delay that’ll prevent us from going into those woods. I hope for things that don’t come, and as Dante disappears into the trees, I have no choice but to move.
Max offers me a small smile, but it isn’t comforting.
Whatever is going to happen in this forest, I know that we’re not going to walk back out the same way we walked in.
Each step brings more foreboding. Sweat drips down the back of my neck with the heat. No one says a word.
When Max and I slip into the woods, we’re shielded by the sun from the trees overhead, and I lick my lips, glancing around for Dante.
It doesn’t take me long to find him.
He’s sitting with his back against a tree trunk, his head in his hands.
Despite the heat, my blood runs cold.
“Max.” My voice is rough. “What are we doing here?”
Max is beside me, staring out into the woods. At nothing.
Nothing.
Dante is silent, head still in his hands.
“Don’t ask questions.” Max’s reply.
I wrap my arms around myself, rocking back and forth, trying to bite my tongue.
Then I hear something in the distance, coming from deeper inside the woods. Maybe from a road beyond the forest?
It sounds like the whine of an engine.
A car?
It’s a faint sound, but it grows louder with each passing second. Then I see it coming toward us, slowing, navigating around the trees. It’s a 4-wheeler, painted red with big black tires.
The man atop it—in a black, full-face helmet, visor flipped up—parks in front of us, adjacent to where Max and I are standing.
My confusion mounts as I see there’s a trailer attached to the ATV. It’s covered with a tarp, another one lining the bottom so I can’t see what’s through the mesh-like metal.
I turn to Max, but he’s staring at the driver, who turns the ATV off. I smell gas from the vehicle and for some reason, I hug myself tighter.
The man gets off, leans against the 4-wheeler as he nods toward Max in greeting. I can’t make anything out about his face, only his eyes are visible and even those are just two dark pits. He’s dressed in all black like we are, and his body seems fit and strong beneath his clothes, but I have no idea how old he is. With black gloves that disappear beneath his black, long-sleeved shirt, I can’t even make out his ethnicity. The skin below his eyes appears tan.
“Is it dug?” Max asks the man.
The man nods.
“Come back in twenty.”
Another nod, then the man just…walks off.
We stare at him for a while, until he disappears into the woods, and my heart is pounding too hard in my chest. It’s almost painful.
When the man is gone, Max turns to me. But as I meet his gaze, though, I quickly realize he’s looking past me.
At Dante.
