spoon. He looked us over briefly and shook his head.
“You two must have a death wish. No flashlights or anything? Once the sun goes down, you can’t see shit.”
As usual, his hair was unbrushed, his jaw obscured by a scraggly beard, flecked with what appeared to be the remnants of breakfast. His faded jeans and gray flannel were the same he’d worn the last two days. Suddenly, I was glad for the aroma of the stew.
His bloodshot gaze zeroed in on Lucas. “And where’s your gun? How many times have I got to tell you? There are plenty of natural predators ’round here. I know, you don’t shoot living creatures,” he said, when Lucas started to protest, “but you might change your mind if push comes to shove. At the very least, you could fire a warning shot to scare them away. Mountain lions and bears don’t much like the sound or smell of gunfire.”
“Hey, I’m eating your nonvegetarian meals without complaining, aren’t I?” Lucas responded. Tim stared him down and Lucas sighed. “Fine. I’ll take a gun. But one of you two had best show me how to use it, so I don’t shoot off my good foot.”
Tim, apparently satisfied, turned back to the stew. “Don’t know how you escaped hunting weekends with Dad, anyway.” That came out as a mumble; I wasn’t even sure he intended us to hear.
Lucas shrugged. “Oh, that was easy. He didn’t want to risk being bogged down by his special needs,” he said matter-of-factly. Then, his lips curved into a wicked smile. “That, and the fact that I endlessly printed up anti-hunting articles off the internet and left them all around the house, in his car . . . taped to the deer heads. I’m pretty sure he was disgusted by my lack of manliness.”
Tim grunted, muttering a few words under his breath. Not loudly enough for Lucas to catch them, but loud enough for me.
“Better than the alternative.”
I felt a ripple of sympathy for Tim. Hard to believe how very differently the two brothers had turned out. Suddenly, I was even more thankful for Lucas’s solid presence beside me.
We piled the wood by the fireplace before settling into the dated but comfy stuffed chairs. A faint scent of cinnamon and vanilla lingered in the faded brown fabric.
I noticed Lucas winced a little as he adjusted his position.
“Your leg?” I asked.
“It’s healed up fine. Just gets a little stiff sometimes.”
I bowed my head, guilt gnawing at me, but then it snapped back up when I heard Lucas say my name.
“Stop worrying, Mila. No regrets,” he whispered.
Lucas had taken a bullet back at Holland’s lab in a last-ditch effort to buy Mom and me time to escape. He’d risked his life for us, even though he had no reason to. From day one, nothing about me seemed to faze him.
He stood. “I need to check on something. Be right back.”
I watched him retreat to the first doorway on the left, where he slept in a room on a tiny twin bed that was surrounded by loads of his computer equipment. I could hear the humming, even from outside.
Tim went to the food cooler and unwrapped a packet of cheese, sniffed it, then shrugged and dumped the contents onto a plate. “Don’t take it personal. He always was socially awkward,” he said in an overly loud voice, and without a hint of irony.
“I heard that!” Lucas called out from around the corner.
“Whatever,” Tim said with a smirk. When he caught me watching him, his jaw tightened and he slunk back over to the stove.
I turned my back and reclined in the chair. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled, his forlorn cry ringing through the still night air. An answering call yipped from the opposite direction and a sudden chill crept up my arms.
“They’re on the trail of something,” Tim mused from the kitchen, almost wistfully.
I pulled a blanket over myself and huddled under it, trying not to think of my own set of predators.
Tim spoke again, over the sound of silverware clanging into metal camping bowls. “I’m no good at conversations.”
Was that an olive branch? Or something else? “That’s okay. I’m not either.”
“Not true. You and Lucas talk nonstop.” He said it casually, but the sounds from the kitchen had silenced.
“Do we?”
Tim didn’t know why I was here, actually. In fact, Tim had specifically requested to be spared the details. He was bright enough to realize we were probably hiding and neck-deep in trouble,