* Blog Tour / Excerpt * HOME TO STAY by Kate James

 

EXCERPT:

It must have been just past dawn. The sky was tinged with the first weak rays of sunlight, and a hazy mist shimmered across the water’s surface. Meg and his mom, both early risers, weren’t up yet.

Where was Dylan?

Sawyer’s heart pounded so hard, he was surprised it didn’t slam right through his rib cage.

“Dylaaan!” he bellowed. “Dylaaan!”

His gaze was drawn to the small lake that their campsite edged, and his heart stopped.

“No. Please God…no,” he mumbled as he ran toward the water. He’d been teaching Dylan to swim, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have wandered into the lake and… No! He wouldn’t think about that.

“Dylan!” Sawyer shouted again as he waded in.

A hand latched on to his arm and tugged him back. Too big a hand to be Dylan’s.

He turned and stared into Meg’s huge eyes.

“Sawyer, what are you doing? Where’s Dylan?”

“I…I don’t know where he is.” He noticed his parents standing a few feet back at the edge of the lake. “Dylan wasn’t in his sleeping bag…” His voice cracked, and he willed himself to stay calm.

“Dad, dial 911!” Meg, obviously thinking more coherently than Sawyer, called to their father. “And the park ranger.”

As his father hurried to his parents’ tent, Sawyer shook off Meg’s grasp and took a few more unsteady steps into the lake. Other than the ripples he and Meg had created, the water’s surface was smooth as glass. No disturbance…no air bubbles. He turned and brushed by Meg, hurrying toward his mother. She, too, was looking anxiously about, concern furrowing her brow.

Sawyer yelled Dylan’s name several more times, then he, his mother and Meg stood motionless and quiet, hoping for a response. Only birdsong filled the silence until his father returned. “The park ranger’s on his way. The San Diego Police Department is also sending someone,” he said.

“Okay. Okay,” Sawyer murmured, trying desperately to think coherently. “Mom, you stay here. Wait for the ranger and the cops. “I’m going over there.” He gestured vaguely toward the left. He pointed again. “Meg, you look in that direction. Dad, can you search back there, behind the camp?”

Not waiting for replies, Sawyer raced back to his tent, pulled on his running shoes, then took off at a run.

He had to find Dylan. The thought of his son alone in the woods, frightened, maybe injured, terrified him. He didn’t know how long Dylan had been gone.

Animals, including coyotes and mountain lions, inhabited the forest. He remembered reading in the guide book that the California mountain king snake lived in the park, too. He couldn’t recall if the book said the snake was venomous.

“Dylaaan!”

His voice was hoarse from shouting his son’s name. Occasionally, he heard Meg or his father calling out, too, but without response.

Never a response.

They had to find Dylan.

Tripping over an exposed tree root, Sawyer landed hard on his hands and knees. He pushed back up to his feet, absently brushed at the grime and the blood, and moved on.

He hadn’t bothered with his watch when he left, and he had no idea how long he’d been stumbling around in the forest. He was barely aware of the cuts and scrapes he’d sustained running through dense growth and falling a couple of more times.

An incongruous sound caught his attention. Was it a rustling in the brush?

He paused to listen and began to wonder if he’d imagined it.

Then he heard it again. It was his name.

His mother was calling him. Her voice was faint but distinct.

Elation surged through him. Dylan must’ve found his way back to the campsite.

“I’m coming, Mom!” he shouted and thrashed through the forest, running as fast as he could.

The thorns and branches clawing at his arms and legs didn’t slow him. He ran full-speed in the direction of his mother’s voice. His muscles screamed and each breath was agony, but the thought of Dylan, safe and sound in his mother’s arms, propelled him forward.

What seemed like an eternity later, he hurtled through the brushwood bordering their campsite.

His energy gone, he bent over. Panting, trying to control his nausea, his eyes landed on his mother sitting at a picnic table. He swept his gaze around, searching for Dylan.

He saw his father and Meg talking to a couple of park rangers, but he didn’t see his son. Limping over to his mother, his voice gravelly, he asked, “Where’s Dylan?” But he knew the answer. Her tear-streaked face, swollen eyes and red nose said it all.