Wilderness, p.20
Wilderness, page 20
A tornado of butterflies swirls in the pit of my stomach, and my heart threatens to erupt from my chest with each pounding pulse. I’ve thought about this moment every second of every day since we were rescued. Me and Kekoa alone. Since we were separated and locked away, I never got the chance to apologize. But now, as I stand here next to her, everything I’ve planned to say vanishes from my brain. Like a wave washing over a footprint in the sand, her emerald eyes wipe my mind clean.
But I need to say something. With a shaky breath, I start. “So I wanted to talk about—”
Kekoa starts at the same moment. “I think we need to talk—”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt—”
“My bad, you were saying—”
We stop talking over each other at the same time, long enough to share an anxious giggle. Kekoa digs a nervous thumb into the palm of her other hand. “This isn’t easy for me, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to start.”
That’s never good. Here comes the ‘I never want to see you again’ speech. Might as well rip off the Band-Aid. “Go for it.”
Kekoa takes a deep breath. “Back at the cabin, after Meadow almost… I was so angry and scared. I didn’t know what to do. Everyone was fighting and I couldn’t take it anymore. I snapped. I wanted to hurt something. Especially you. I think because you remind me of someone I have unresolved anger issues with. But that’s not an excuse for the things I said. You aren’t a freak or a coward. You laid your life on the line to protect us. You gave us hope. You’re the bravest person I know. Cody, I’m so sorry.”
A tidal wave of relief washes over me. She doesn’t want to ban me from her existence. She wanted to apologize. With the anchor of dreaded anticipation cut free, my apology pours out. “No, I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter what you said—I never should’ve tried to hurt you back. Especially with that. It wasn’t my truth to tell. I took away your chance to tell the others in your own time. I’m so sorry for betraying your trust like that.”
“Yeah, that sucked,” Kekoa agrees. “But to be honest, once I got past being pissed at you—and I was pissed —I realized I felt relieved. I was glad the others finally knew. After keeping it from everyone for so long, it was like a weight had been lifted. Maybe that means I’m ready to talk about what happened. All of it.”
A genuine smile crosses my face. “I’m happy to hear that.”
For all the anticipated outcomes of this conversation I played out in my head over the last week, this wasn’t one of them. As I stand next to Kekoa, my smile shifts to an awkward grin. Where do we go from here?
“You coming or what?” Haylee calls out to me from the foyer doors.
I guess I’m going home with my family, but what about Kekoa? I don’t think her dad’s going to make the flight to come pick her up. I try to break the awkward moment, the words coming out before I can think them all the way through. “Do you need a place to stay?”
The instant blush on her cheeks and dimples in her smile launch my soul from my body with burning-hot embarrassment. There aren’t enough nurses or doctors here to drag it back in. I’d rather die.
“Actually I got one,” Kekoa smiles.
“Where—” but before I can even get the question out, a tall woman with long flowing black hair sprinkled with streaks of gray steps into the lobby. “Wait, that’s—”
“My mom,” Kekoa beams. “She came as soon as they released our names. We’ve spent the last week catching up on a lot. Turns out my piece-of-shit father has been keeping all the letters she’s been writing me. He didn’t even bother showing up, so I’m going to be staying with her for a while. You want to meet her?”
Before I can respond, Kekoa waves her mom over. Even though her mother is a decade older than what I saw in the cabin, Kekoa is the spitting image of her. Not just with their hair and athletic build, but even their confident walk and aura. Kekoa’s mom is both casual and strong, with a pair of dark aviators on top of her head, holding back her long flowing raven hair; a tan leather jacket accentuating her broad shoulders; and form-fitting jeans over a pair of well-worn combat boots. Her only jewelry is a woven string necklace with a hand-carved wooden triangle with serrated edges hanging from the bottom that bears a rough resemblance to a shark tooth. Kekoa called her a “beautiful badass.” Now it makes sense.
As she gets closer, I can’t help notice her crystal-blue eyes. Eyes just like mine.
Then something saunters out from behind her that makes the air catch in my throat. I stare at the light spectral with shock, awe, and a bit of fear. I’ve never seen anything so majestic and powerful. At first glance, it looks like a panther. Its long sleek build flows with energy, crackling with each powerful step. Its beautiful cat eyes scan the other spectrals, all of which have stopped to stare at it. Instead of a mouth, this spectral has an eagle’s beak. And fur. No, not fur—feathers. Rippling like a field of golden wheat in a gentle breeze.
Kekoa’s mom smiles and shakes my hand. “Hey there. I’m Lani Makanani. You must be Cody. My daughter has told me a lot about you.”
Lani winks at Kekoa, who glares back at her, but I swear she’s blushing too.
I try to respond but have a hard time taking my eyes off the large wingless griffin spectral preening its feathers.
Lani sees me staring and smiles. “She’s breathtaking, isn’t she?”
“Mom!”
“I’m not talking about you.” Lani turns back to me. “This is Hoku, my familiar.”
At the mention of her name, the large spectral’s ears perk up and it strides over to Lani’s side. Within petting distance, I have to force my hand from reaching out.
“Is that a uhane ?” Kekoa asks. I can only imagine how strange her mother and I look, staring at what would be empty space.
Hoku looks me right in the eyes. There’s no fear, no worry, just a powerful sense of tranquility. Then, before I can move, Hoku steps away from Lani and brushes against my hip.
A static charge of electricity courses through my leg. I feel the energy from Hoku jolt through my body. The only sensation I can compare it to is the feeling of pure excitement on Christmas morning seeing presents under the tree. Joy, excitement, love, happiness—all in one burst of energy.
“She likes you,” Lani says with a hint of surprise.
“And for those of us who can’t see what’s going on?” Kekoa interjects.
“Sorry,” I say, pulling my eyes away from the spectral. Hoku returns to Lani’s side to continue preening. “What’s going…? How can you…? A familiar? I have so many questions.”
Lani smiles at my inarticulate stumbling. “I’m sure you do. To answer one: a familiar is a spectral partner for clairvoyants. Those of us with the vision. Like you. Hoku and I have been together for a long time. Longer than you and your previous…companion.”
I stare back slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Lani’s smile grows wider. “I’m a clairvoyant?”
“There’s so much for you to see, Cody. So much to learn.” She scratches Hoku behind her ear. “It’s a magical world full of mystery and wonder, made of beautiful dreams and terrifying nightmares. If you’d like to see all it has to offer, to experience its breathtaking splendor, reach out to me. It’s the least I can do since you saved my daughter.”
“Yeah, I’d like that,” I croak out.
“Wonderful.” Lani reaches into her pocket and pulls out a homemade bracelet of onyx black cordage with white pearls. “Before I go, I’d like you to wear this.”
I take the bracelet from her and put it on. The pearls are cool against my skin.
“It’s a little something a colleague of mine put together. This should help keep that aura of yours hidden from most dark spectrals. Don’t want a repeat of—”
“Mom…” Kekoa warns.
Lani stifles a smirk. “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Cody. I’ll leave you two to it.”
As she turns to leave, she leans to Kekoa and whispers, “He’s a cutie.”
Kekoa turns sunset red and purses her lips. “Bye, Mom!”
I try my best to hide it, but my face is on fire. “So, uh, that’s your mom? She seems nice.”
Kekoa lets out an exasperated sigh. “Not the subtlest person you’ll ever meet.”
“I was wondering where you got that from.”
She punches me in the shoulder. “Oh, shut up. We’ve got some stuff to work through, but we have time. I’m just happy she’s here. Listen, since I’ll be on the mainland now, don’t be a stranger, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” I blurt out as the heat in my face rises and my heartbeat roars in my ears. Kekoa stands there, staring at me with those intense green eyes, and I find an interesting crack in the floor. “So I guess I gotta get going.”
“Oh, uh, yeah. Okay,” she mumbles. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
“For sure.” I want to slap myself. Do something! I beg, but my body has forgotten how to function. Instead, as I stand there, Kekoa starts to follow her mom. She glances over her shoulder and gives me a quick wave. I give a feeble one back.
I turn and see my family waiting for me by the front door. I absolutely, completely, and utterly blew that. I’m a sorry excuse for a human being. I had it—the perfect moment to tell her how I feel—but I just stood there. I can face my demon, but when I try to tell Kekoa the truth, I freeze.
As I kick myself with each step, a soft hand turns me around. Without a word, Kekoa pulls me close and kisses me. It's the longest, happiest, most exhilarating second of my life. Then, just as fast as it happens, it stops.
Kekoa pulls back, beaming. “Call me.” She turns and runs down the hall to catch up to her mom. Lani waves goodbye to me again, and they disappear down the hallway.
My heart feels like it’s going to burst from my chest and dance around the hospital foyer. My cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. I turn and see my family staring at me.
“Oh, my God, that is soooo gross,” Kaylee yells, then starts gagging.
Haylee makes kissing sounds and sings, “ Cody and Kekoa, sitting in a tree …”
“Leave him alone, you two.” My mom tries but fails to hide the huge smile on her face.
I don’t care. Kaylee keeps pretending to throw up, and Haylee sings her song on repeat, but at this moment, although I’m a little embarrassed that it happened in front of my family, everything is perfect. I could take on a hundred Mr. Shadows and not even break a sweat. For the first time since I can remember, I feel pure, absolute, complete happiness.
When I step outside and feel the sunlight on my face, it takes a moment for the world to come into focus. I shield my eyes, and when they adjust, I’m amazed. The world before me is vibrant and alive with spectrals of all shapes and sizes. It really is a world full of mystery and wonder—and I can’t wait to see it all.
Acknowledgments
Wilderness was born from my time teaching at a dual-diagnosis residential adolescent treatment center—a place often misunderstood, like the teens it served. I arrived carrying the same assumptions many do: that these were “bad kids.” I couldn’t have been more wrong. They were some of the most remarkable, resilient young people I’ve ever met. Misrepresented, underestimated, and deeply human, they inspired me to write a story where anyone—especially those who feel overlooked—could be the hero of their own journey.
To every student who walked through my classroom door: thank you. Your courage, humor, and honesty left a mark on me, and your stories live in these pages more than you know.
To Morgan, Sarah, Nathan, Robert, and all my incredible beta readers: your passion, curiosity, and feedback helped turn this dream into something real.
To my family: thank you for a lifetime of support, for reading every strange story I ever scribbled, and for always encouraging me to grow.
And to Carissa, my partner: thank you for embracing every half-formed idea with excitement, for being my sounding board, anchor, and teammate. You gave me the space to be brave and the courage to let go. This story made it into the world because you believed it should.
About the Author
Hunter Swanson’s debut novel, Wilderness , is the first in a planned five-book series. The story was inspired by two defining experiences: years spent studying story and years spent living it—particularly as a teacher at a dual-diagnosis residential adolescent treatment center. The strength, vulnerability, and humanity of the students there became the heart of this book.
Hunter holds a BA in Literature, an MA in English, and an MFA in Screenwriting, where he graduated as valedictorian. His work has earned recognition in international competitions and won multiple awards in the horror and thriller genres. For the past eight years, he has also built a career as a creative copywriter, telling stories professionally in a different arena.
When he’s not writing fiction, Hunter can usually be found rewatching classic horror films, playing Dungeons & Dragons with friends and family, wandering with a notebook and fishing pole, or dreaming up new ways to terrify readers—while still making them feel seen.
To learn more, please visit: hunterswansonbooks.com.
Excerpt from Tundra
Before I hop off my perch to return to my family, I notice the Christmas lights at the distant campsite flicker and fade, leaving just the bonfire's glow to stave off complete darkness. A shadowy wave sweeps across the campgrounds, engulfing every source of light in its path. One by one, the lampposts blink out. The air, once filled with the twang of country music, now hums with a chorus of confused groans and slurred complaints. The thickening darkness advances toward us. Maybe they killed the power for the meteor shower?
The ambient temperature plummets, sending a chill through my bones. Temperatures drop at night in the desert, but this is different. An alarm blares in my mind, a sense of dread that is all too recognizable. Something is here. I need to get my family out of here, but I can’t freak them out. If I come charging in panicking about an impending darkness, Mom will think I’m having an episode and try to talk me through it, but then it’ll be too late. I have a minute, maybe less, before the darkness reaches us.
Mom is instructing my sisters on the perfect golden marshmallow when she spots me. “You okay, sweetie? You look like you’ve seen a...” She catches herself.
She’s not far off, so I run with it. “To be honest, I’m not feeling good. Probably something I ate. I don’t think I’m going to make it. I really appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I think we should call it. This was a great first step, but it’s time to head home.”
The twins snap around in their chairs. “What about our wishes?”
“You’ll be able to make all the wishes you want in the car,” I answer.
But Mom won’t give up that easily. “Dr. Hane warned us it was going to be tough. It is for me too. It’s my first time camping since… Maybe your stomach ache is in your head?”
She’s wasting time. “I don’t want to do this anymore. We can camp in the backyard or something. I’m not ready for this, okay? Please, let’s go home.”
Three beams of light cut through the darkness near the boulders, revealing the father and son from the motorhome as well as a wire-thin woman dressed in a puffy camo vest over an orange wool hoodie and weathered jeans tucked into worn combat boots. With her mess of curly brown hair in a high bun, she’s almost as tall as her son.
She greets us with a wave. “Howdy, neighbors. Sorry to intrude. We just lost our power. Seems like it’s going out everywhere. We didn’t get a fire going,” she gives a sharp look to her husband, “so can we warm ourselves here a sec? We’ll be out of your hair in a jiffy. Promise.”
Mom flashes her trained bank teller smile. “Of course. If you want, you’re more than welcome to grab some of the coals and—”
“Best keep to the light,” the rotund man interrupts, warming his hands near the fire. “Wards off any dangerous animals. You know, mountain lions and the like. Never know what’s hunting out there in the dark.”
The woman catches him with an elbow to the ribs. “Don’t mind Mark, he’s just a grumpy old fart who’s forgotten his manners. I’m Judith by the way and this is our son, Logan.”
“Stepson,” Mark clarifies.
The tall teen hangs back, more interested in the sky than pleasantries.
Mom puts a protective arm around the girls. “You’re welcome to whatever you need to get your fire started, but this is a special evening with my kids and I’d like to keep it that way.”
A series of harsh chirps and whistles chime from the spectral above. I’ve never heard a spectral like that before. Most sound melodic or serene. This one, however, seems a warning.
“She’s right,” Logan says, turning from the sky. “Let’s leave them alone and—”
The halogen light above our tent blinks out, plunging us into near darkness. The dying glow of our fire casts long shadows that dance across the ground. Goosebumps prickle along my forearms and an icy tremor races up my spine, settling at the base of my skull.
“Looks like it’s time for the meteor shower,” Mom says with a conversation-ending shrug. “If you don’t mind taking what you need and heading back, we’d really appreciate it.”
But Judith and Mark aren’t listening. Both shine their flashlights into the dark desert. Judith turns to me, her polite facade replaced with an intense stare. “Cody, get your family outta here. Now.” Before I can even process how she knows my name, Judith grabs my mom’s elbow and starts dragging her to the car. Haylee and Kaylee stay latched to Mom’s side, unnerved by the sudden shift in the stranger’s demeanor. Mom struggles against her grip, but Judith holds fast.
A twig snaps behind us. The drunk college guy in a pink sweater stumbles out of the darkness. A dark splash soaks his right collarbone and drips down the front of the Greek letters. His movements are erratic, like the signals to his muscles are short circuiting. He opens his mouth to speak, but black ichor pours out. The scent of sweet metal permeates my brain. Blood. Struggling to move his arms, his panicked eyes plead for help.
