Adrenaline

Okay, where's your clutch?"

I pointed to the lever on my left handlebar, but as I let go of the handle to do so, the bike wobbled dangerously, and I scrambled to grab it again.

"It won't stay up," I said, glaring down at it.

Jules laughed. "It will when you're moving. Now, where's your brake?"

"Behind my right foot?"

Jules shook her head vigorously. "No—don't worry about that one for now. Your brake is here." She put her hand over mine, curling my fingers around the lever just above the throttle.

I wanted to argue, but as I'd already had fifty points deducted from my total as a true man when Jules discovered just how little I knew about operating a motorcycle, I decided to hold my peace.

Jules continued, "Throttle?"

I twisted the right grip.

"Gearshift?"

I tapped it with my left leg.

"Okay," she said. "Good. You've got all the parts down now, I think. Now all that's left is to get you moving."

"Yeah," I said, wishing I could sound enthusiastic, but the word came out more like a squeak. Pure terror had grabbed a hold of my stomach, and it felt like it was contorting it into various shapes like a gob of Silly Putty. I told myself I was being stupid. I'd already lived through the worst thing that could happen in my life, hadn't I? I should be able to look death in the face and laugh.

My stomach wasn't buying it.

I stared down the long stretch of dirt road, bordered by walls of thick misty green on each side. The road was sandy and damp, but at least that was better than mud.

"Now, hold down the clutch," Jules told me. "Don't let go of it for anything. Pretend it's a live grenade, and the only thing keeping it from exploding in your face is that you're holding down the spoon."

I wrapped my hand around the clutch, squeezing so tightly I felt sweat break out on my palm.

"Okay," she said. "Next step is to kick-start it. Can you do it?"

Wordlessly, because most of my concentration was on keeping the grenade from exploding, I tried to lift my foot to come down on the pedal, but the whole bike teetered beneath me, and Jules had to catch the handle to keep it upright.

"Never mind, I'll do it for you this time," she said. She took a step back, then stomped down hard on the pedal.

The force of the movement sent the bike tilting again, and again she grabbed the handle to keep me from falling over.

"Still have the clutch?" she asked.

I nodded without speaking, my face probably white as a sheet. If Jules was keeping track, I would be losing a lot more man-points for this.

"Okay, I'm going to try again." She waited until I had both feet planted firmly on the ground, then put a hand on the back of the seat, and another on the handlebar, wrapping her fingers around mine to ensure the bike stayed steady, then stomped down again. She had to try it three more times after that before the ignition finally caught and the engine roared to life. I could feel the bike shuddering beneath me, growling like an angry animal. My grip on the clutch tightened.

"Now the throttle," she said. "Take it slow at first, not too much. And whatever you do, don't let go of the clutch."

Hesitantly, I twisted the right handle. In response, the bike snarled beneath me, and I swallowed, but Jules smiled broadly, looking satisfied.

"Now, put her into first gear. You remember how?"

I nodded again.

"Okay, do it."

I sat there for a long minute, before Jules reminded me, "It's your left foot."

"I know," I managed through gritted teeth.

Jules studied my expression uncertainly. "You sure you really want to do this, Beau? You look like you're going to be sick."

I nodded, teeth still clenched. I finally lifted my foot and kicked the gearshift down a notch, then quickly put my foot back on the ground.

"Okay, good," said Jules. "Now—very, very slowly, ease up on the clutch." She took a step back from the bike.

I blinked. The last thing I wanted was to let go of the grenade.

When I sat there for another minute, Jules finally said, "You're not going to move if you don't let go of the clutch."

I didn't say that not moving actually didn't sound so bad right now. I took a deep, steadying breath. This was why I was here. Sure, people got killed on motorcycles all the time, but that was when they were out on the highway, weaving in and out of traffic at seventy miles an hour. Not on the first day of training. Or at least I hoped.

I shook my head, then steeled my resolve.

Carefully, very carefully, I let up, letting my death grip slowly loosen.

"This is ridiculous, Beau."

The voice came out of nowhere, and I sucked in a sharp breath in shock. In reflex, my hand came off the clutch.

The bike bucked like a startled horse, jumping forward then falling sideways. I hit the ground, the bike coming down half on top of me.

Jules ran up to me, jerking the bike off of me, looking a little alarmed. "Beau? Beau, are you all right?"

But my head was no longer on my surroundings.

"This stunt is idiotic and infantile. What exactly are you trying to prove?"

Jules was leaning over me, shaking my shoulder and looking anxious. "Beau? Are you okay?"

"Fine," I managed to mumble. "Great." I felt better than fine. I felt elated. The voice I'd heard in Port Angeles was back. Maybe I should have been expecting it—the last time had been when I'd felt like I might be in danger, and when the danger had passed, the voice had faded. But I hadn't consciously made the connection until now. It was the adrenaline—the adrenaline brought on these hallucinations.

It was like I'd gone for weeks without eating or drinking, until I was so exhausted I was past the point of feeling hungry anymore, and suddenly I had something in me. Now strength blazed to life in my limbs again. I felt ready for anything.

Jules was helping me to my feet, and she brushed the sand off my shirt. "You okay?" she said again uncertainly. "Did you hit your head or anything? You look a little unsteady."

I shook my head. "No, I'm okay." My eyes went back to the motorcycle. "How about the bike? I didn't damage it, did I?"

"No, it's fine. You just stalled the engine. That's what will happen if you let go of the clutch too fast." She still had a supporting hand on my back, and was eying me with concern.

"Okay," I said, feeling the excitement bubbling in my chest. "Let's go again."

"You sure?" Jules said uncertainly.

I shot her a grin. "Positive."

This time I tried to get the kick-start myself. It was tough; I had to really jump down on the pedal, and every time it made the bike try to fall over on me again. Jules hovered nearby, ready to grab the handle if she needed to.

When the engine finally caught, keeping my hand on the clutch, I twisted the throttle a touch, and heard the motorcycle rev beneath me. I glanced at Jules and grinned, and she couldn't help but grin back, eyes bright.

"Just go easy on the clutch," she reminded me.

"You're going to get yourself killed," the other voice snapped, a voice like satin. "Is that what this is about? Suicide?"

I felt my grin stretch wider, and I was consumed by a feeling of recklessness. This was great, this was wonderful.

"You don't want to do this," the voice said. "Go home, Beau. Remember Charlie, and go home."

"Ease off slowly," Jules repeated.

"I will," I said, and I almost laughed when I realized I was answering both of them.

This time I made sure to focus, not allowing the voice in my head to distract me. I carefully relaxed my hand, and then the gear caught, and I was off.

I felt the wind against my face, pushing my hair back in a wild tangle. Adrenaline coursed through my system as the trees blurred past me in a wall of misty green, and again I laughed aloud.

This was only first gear. I wondered what second gear could do.

"No, pay attention Beau!" the voice commanded, a mixture of fury and alarm.

Too late, I realized the road was starting to curve toward the left and I was still headed straight. My instincts took over, and my right foot slammed down on the back break, just like I'd do in my truck.

The bike suddenly shuddered and gave an unsettling wobble beneath me, tilting wildly toward one side, then the other. I was still headed toward the trees. I turned the handlebars sharply in reflex to avoid collision, and the sudden shift of my weight was too much for the already unsteady bike. Still moving, it tipped onto its side, falling on top of me just as we struck something solid, bringing us to an abrupt halt.

I laid where I was amidst underbrush and greenery, dazed, and over the confusion of the snarling of the engine, I could hear a frantic voice yelling in my head.

As that voice faded, another drifted down to me as though from a long way off. "Beau!"

The roar of the engine suddenly stopped, and I felt a weight lifted from my leg. I rolled over, breathing deeply.

"Oh wow," I mumbled. "That was...that was something."

Jules's worried face sharpened into focus, and she had a hand on my shoulder. "Beau—Beau, are you okay?"

I sat up, grinning like a maniac. "Oh yeah. That was awesome! Come on, I'm ready for another go."

"Beau, I think we should get you to the hospital," Jules said, looking uncharacteristically serious. "You've got a huge cut on your forehead."

I put a hand to my head, and felt something wet and sticky. I couldn't smell it yet, so I wasn't sick. I tried to concentrate on the heavy smell of the damp moss of the forest.

"Sorry," I said.

"We better go." She slid an arm under mine and set my arm up around her shoulders. She helped me to my feet with surprising ease. "Don't worry, I'll drive."

"Okay," I said, handing over the keys. However, I glanced down. "What about the bikes?"

Jules thought for a moment, then leaned me against the tree I had run into for support. "Wait here," she said. Then she paused, biting her lip as she stared at my head wound again. "And here, you better take this."

She grabbed the edges of her large white T-shirt and began pulling it off.

I flushed. "Hey—You don't have to—"

However, before I could get my protests out she already had it off and offered the wad to me. Underneath she had on a skin-tight, sleeveless black muscle shirt, which left the russet skin of her strong arms exposed.

"It's bleeding really bad," she told me.

Wordlessly I took the shirt and pressed it to my wound, watching as she gunned the engine of her bike and raced back up the road to where the truck sat. She handled it with the ease of a pro, satin black hair whipping out behind her.

I was a little startled to see how far I'd gone in that little ride, the truck far back in the distance, and Jules hard to make out when she reached it. I watched her throw the bike quickly onto the truck bed, then run around to the driver's side door and start the engine.

I felt perfectly at ease as I watched her, and doubted my cut was as serious as it looked. Head wounds just bled more than most. I'd had worse.

Jules got out and rushed back to me, again putting an arm under mine and draping my other arm over her neck. "Okay, let's get you to the truck," she said.

"What about my bike?" I asked.

"I'll get it, don't worry." She frowned though, as though I really shouldn't be worrying about that right now. "Let's get you taken care of first."

"I'm really fine," I said, her shirt still pressed to my head. "It's just a little blood."

"Beau, I think you're going to need stitches," she said as she helped me in through the passenger door. "We should get you to the hospital straight away."

"Hold on," I said. I reached out and grabbed her arm, so she couldn't go back for my bike just yet. "I can't go to the ER looking like this—" I gestured down at the blood caked on my shirt—"Charlie will be sure to find out about it, and he'll ground me for life. Here's a plan—we'll go back to your house first, drop off the bikes, then go back to my house so I can clean up a little. Then we can go to the hospital."

Jules hesitated. "What about your dad? Won't he be there?"

"He has work today."

Jules did not look at all happy about the plan. Her eyebrows had pulled together, and her mouth was tight. However, I could see she knew that my way was the only way that wasn't going to put me under house arrest for the next decade. At last she nodded slowly.

As we headed back to Forks, I stared out the window, Jules's shirt still pressed against my head. I was smiling a little to myself. I considered today a great success in many ways. I'd gotten to be reckless, and pay back a broken promise for a broken promise. And then that hallucination—not just experiencing the hallucination, but uncovering the secret to what caused them. Which meant I might just be able to induce more.

"Beau?"

I glanced over at Jules, still smiling like an idiot. "Hmm?"

Jules was frowning. "I'm disconnecting your foot break tonight."

I winced. "Yeah, that might be a good idea."

I looked back at her, she staring straight ahead as she drove, brow still furrowed. Her arms were still bare, as was her collarbone, and her black shirt clung so tightly to her frame that I could see her figure more clearly than I had before. The powerful muscle stood out clearly on her arms, but she was still somehow slender, with the wiry, sinuous build of a gymnast rather than a female lineman. And the shade of her deep russet skin was nice against the black of her long satin hair.

I realized I'd never really appreciated before now just how...sort of beautiful she was.

Jules noticed me staring. "What?" she said.

I blinked and looked away, embarrassed. "Nothing. Just—aren't you cold?"

I was shivering in my jacket, and I reached forward to turn up the heat.

She shrugged. "Not really." Her eyes returned to the road.

I leaned back in my seat, turning my own gaze back toward the window.

I had to get seven stitches. I told Charlie I'd tripped in Jules's garage and hit my head on a hammer. He seemed to buy that just fine. However, he was a little more skeptical when I showed up in the ER again a week later, and Dr. Gerandy called Charlie to warn him I might have a concussion, and to wake me up every two hours through the night.

"Maybe you should just stay out of the garage," he suggested that night over dinner, frowning pointedly.

The possibility Charlie might try to forbid me from going down to La Push altogether had me thinking quickly. "This one didn't happen at the garage," I said. "We went out hiking today...I just kind of tripped over a tree root."

Charlie knew I wasn't the hiking type, but then, I wasn't the hang-out-in-a-car-garage type either. However, he still seemed suspicious.

"Okay," he said, still frowning. "But if you kids are going to be out hiking, make sure you stick close to town. We've been getting a lot of wildlife complaints. The forestry department is checking into it, but it could be dangerous if some of those reports are true."

I stared at him. It took me a second to get it. "You mean that bear I've been hearing about? You really think there's something to that?"

Charlie shook his head. "I don't know if it's a bear, but there's something out there, that's for sure. Stick close to town, Beau, I mean it."

"Yeah, sure, we will," I said. However, Charlie continued to watch me closely through the rest of dinner, still frowning.

"Maybe we should cool it with the bikes for a bit," Jules suggested. It was after school on Friday, and I'd just told her about Charlie's mounting suspicion.

The idea wasn't my favorite. I was addicted to the voice of my hallucinations whenever I got on the bike, and the anticipation of hearing them had also made the nightmares more endurable, too. Now, even though I still had to face the sense of nothingness, in the dream I always knew it was going to end. Hope was a powerful, if temporary, anesthetic.

However, I did see her point. If Charlie did find out what I was doing behind his back, I'd probably never see the bikes again.

I frowned, folding my arms. "What should we do then?" I wondered if there was anything else dangerous we could do that wouldn't give me so many bruises.

Jules grinned cheerfully. "Whatever you want. Your call."

I tried to think. And then, a certain place flickered in my memory. My favorite place in the world, at least once upon a time.

I didn't know what it would do to go there again—if it would be wonderful, relieving, like hearing that familiar voice in my head, or if it would rip my wounds open afresh. But maybe seeing it would help keep the memories solid, keep locked in my head what I was so afraid to forget.

I remembered what Charlie had said about sticking close to town, and my new irresponsible, reckless streak flared. That decided me.

"Well, there's this place," I began. "I'd like to find it." The corner of my mouth turned up in a slow smile. "I don't suppose you'd be up for a little hiking?"

For the first time in my life, I used my twenty-percent discount at Newton's to buy some gear. A backpack for a few light supplies, some good hiking boots, a topographical map of the Olympic Peninsula, and a compass. My college fund took another hit.

As McKayla rung me up, she eyed me curiously, and asked me—trying to be casual, I could tell—what sort of plans I had. I answered with something vague and evasive, and hurried out.

Saturday afternoon, I gathered everything together and hurried down to La Push.

We couldn't start right away, as Jules had to make up our plan of attack. She thought we could find my meadow if we searched in a grid pattern, and she drew a series of complicated lines on my map while I sat on a kitchen chair and made conversation with Bonnie. To my surprise, she didn't seem at all concerned about our plans. In light of the fuss people had been making about the bear sightings, I would have expected a little more resistance.

"I'm hoping we'll get a glimpse of the bear," Jules said with a laugh as she drew a particularly winding line across the forest. "If we get a picture, maybe it'll make us famous."

I would have rather she didn't bring it up and test our luck, but apparently I didn't have much need for worry, as Bonnie remained relaxed, not responding at all as I knew Charlie would have. "Maybe you should carry a jar of honey in that pack, just in case."

Jules grinned. "Good idea. If we can get it to come close, we can get a good shot."

I snorted. "Oh yeah. If we see a megabear running at us, let's stop and get a picture. That's what anyone would do."

Jules winked at me. "It's all in the interest of science. Sometimes you have to take risks."

I shook my head, though I couldn't help smiling just a bit.

Jules finished putting the last line on the map, then folded it up and slid it into the back pocket of her jeans. "Okay, that's it. Let's go."

"Have fun," called Bonnie lightly, wheeling toward the refrigerator. I watched her slack, relaxed posture with some surprise.

Charlie was normally pretty easygoing for a parent. But by comparison, Bonnie made him look like a dictator. I'd always thought Bonnie would be the stricter of the two, but maybe I'd just read her wrong.

I drove us up to the very end of the dirt road, exactly where I remembered going before, coming to a stop just beside the sign that marked the beginning of the trailhead.

I felt memories teasing the edge of my mind, making my stomach tighten nervously. This could be a bad idea. I'd been fairly pain free the last while, besides at night and the inevitable nightmares, and I had no desire to throw myself back down to where I had been.

But now that the idea was in my head, I couldn't seem to get it out. I had to go see it. If I was lucky, I might even hear her voice again.

I climbed out of the truck, slamming the door behind me, then scanned the forest line. I knew the place we had gone before immediately, as though it had been yesterday.

"There," I said quietly, pointing. "It was there I went before."

Jules raised an eyebrow. "Really? You didn't take the trail?"

I glanced back at the clearly marked trail, then back at the spot we had gone. I shook my head. "No." I forced myself to smile a little. "I'm a rebel, remember? It's one of my true-man attributes."

Jules snorted, then drew out our map and went to work with the compass, figuring out which way was north.

We walked for a while in the shade of the trees, Jules whistling cheerfully and checking the map and compass every so often. She seemed oddly comfortable out here, doing this, as though she were experienced with terrain navigation, too. Maybe she was. I wondered vaguely if that should add or subtract from her lady points total—My lack of knowledge definitely subtracted from mine.

I found my thoughts wandering, and they eventually wound back to the sea cliffs. I'd been thinking about that a lot for awhile, waiting to see if Jules would bring it up again. But it seemed like I was going to have to say something if I was going to find out if there had been any developments.

"Hey...Jules?" I said tentatively.

"Yeah?" she said, using her finger to trace something on the map, then glancing up at our surroundings again.

"What's going on with Em? Have you been able to talk to her at all yet?"

Jules stopped walking, and she stared straight ahead.

"...No," she muttered at last. "Still the same."

"Still hanging with Samantha?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Just like a cult."

I was standing just behind her, and her hand, hanging at her side, moved a little back, reaching back to grip my hand. She continued to stare out at the forest ahead of us, her face troubled.

"Nothing else has changed, either," she said. "Sam's still watching me. And my mom still hasn't been any help."

I squeezed her hand. "You can always come stay with us."

She laughed. "That would go over well with my mom. Going to live with a couple of bachelors. Forks would have something to gossip about for years."

We both laughed then, and the moment of darkness seemed to pass. We started going again, Jules whistling and occasionally breaking the silence to make some joke.

We halted when Jules said we'd gone about six miles, cut west for a while, then started back along another line of the grid. As far as I could tell, everything looked exactly the same as it had on the way in, and I was starting to think the quest was pretty much hopeless. However, Jules's confidence didn't seem in the least shaken.

"As long as you're sure we're starting from the right place, we'll find it," she said. "Just be patient, these kind of things take time."

The sun had nearly set by the time we made it back to my truck, and we made plans to come back and search a few more lines of the grid tomorrow. I decided I would have to invest in some flashlights for next time, I could barely seen in this light.

"Well," said Jules, "we didn't find it yet, but we will. Hope at least we see that bear tomorrow, I'm sort of disappointed about that."

"Yeah," I said, rolling my eyes as we both climbed into the cab. "Maybe we'll get lucky and one of us will get eaten."

Jules laughed. "Bears don't eat people. Maul us when we get too close to their cubs, sure, but they don't eat us. We don't taste that good."

She turned and grinned at me across the seat. "Course, you do have a low true-man count. So you might be an exception. Tender meat."

"Thanks," I muttered. My eyes drifted back to the window, and it occurred to me that Jules wasn't the first person to tell me I'd taste good.