"Since… since he saved my life. See, if I slept with you tonight, our first night together, I'd be disrespecting him, see? And that would ruin any chance we had with him later on."

"I don't care. I hate the bastard worse than you hate Angus, now take off yer clothes, I need tae feel you inside o' me."

The boat swayed beneath us again, and I panicked like a bear caught in a trap.

"What? Do ye no' want tae be wi' me then? Is that it?"

"No, I mean I do, I swear—"

"What's wrong then? Ye're as pale as a ghost, an' ye're tremblin'. Come on, we'll lie down."

"I… I need some air!" Pulling up my jeans, I tore up the steps, the main deck spinning in my head as I half leaped, half tumbled over the stern rail, landing awkwardly on the dock.

"Zachary Wallace, where do ye think ye're going?"

I looked back, the dark waters swirling on either side of me. "I'll call you! I'll come by tomorrow!"

Not waiting for a reply, I stumbled down the boardwalk until I made it back to the parking lot, then kept running until I reached a grove of trees.

Lying back against the trunk of a pine, I closed my eyes, my limbs trembling as I hyperventilated like a frightened deer.

… in the case of an island, or of a country partly surrounded by barriers, into which new and better adapted forms could not freely enter, we should then have places in the economy of nature which would assuredly be better filled up if some of the original inhabitants were in some manner modified; for, had the area been open to immigration, these same places would have been seized on by intruders. In such cases, slight modifications, which in any way favoured the individuals of any species, by better adapting them to their altered conditions, would tend to be preserved; and natural selection would have free scope for the work of improvement.

—CHARLES DARWIN, THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES, 1859

Chapter 10

Underwater… can't see… can't breathe. Cold, scared. Kick with the free leg, twist and kick, don't swallow. Throat burns, ears popping, suffocating, keep kicking… twist, struggle…

Free!

Swim, kick, my ankle hurts so bad. Gurgling growls… rising beneath me! Oh, God, Zachary… get to the light!

I lashed and kicked, tearing the sheets from the mattress, flinging the suffocating wool blanket from my face as I flew off the bed and barrel-rolled out the front door of the lodge cabin as if on fire.

Breathing, shaking, quivering, the mountain air chilling my sweat-soaked boxers and T-shirt, the cold helping me to awake.

You're okay… you're okay… you're okay.

I looked around, panting. The woods were quiet, the solitude heavy in the predawn light. And then my eyes caught movement.

It was old man MacDonald crossing through the forest. Seeing me, he paused, hiding behind a clump of birch trees.

"Mr. MacDonald?"