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I REALLY NEEDED TO get myself up and out of this mess. As I took a quick body inventory, I realized that minus the cactus needles and the broken arm, nothing else was hurting too badly.

I’d never been in such a spot. Young and agile, I knew how to make my way through the desert safely and intelligently. I didn’t do foolish things. I’d found a grabber, for God’s sake.

First things first. I would crawl out of here somehow some way, but I might as well find the item that had brought me back here in the first place. I looked around on the ground, patting with my one good arm while the other one flared and throbbed with pain that was going to get worse quickly.

I found the item next to my head. It was a camera, something like a GoPro. It wasn’t like the camera I’d had. This one was beefier, but it was also probably attached to an app.

I looked up at Jack’s branch. At the end of it, hidden from me on the patio side, was what was probably the mount for the camera, its rubber ring torn up by something that had made uneven cuts.

Possibly a talon.

The camera in my grip, I gritted my teeth and tried to figure out which way to turn now. I rolled onto the arm that wasn’t broken and screamed, yelled. Maybe someone would hear me, but it was doubtful. Unless someone was right on the other side of the patio wall, no one would have a clue I was back here. Even someone in the museum might not hear me.

I took three quick, deep breaths—in and out—to steel myself as I sat up.

That resulted in another scream, this one made of pure white hot pain. I was going to have to get myself out of there, though.

Three more breaths, I lifted myself up to my knees. This time it was all the cactus needles in my arms, back, and legs that sent searing pain throughout me.

As I worked to build up more breaths, I heard something. Was that the distant noise of an engine? Had someone heard me? Was I going to be rescued?

I squinted out into The Wild and spotted dust flying up as if behind a moving vehicle. Yes, that was it! Graham was out there looking for the next sculpture.

I just had to make sure he saw me. I opened my mouth to yell, lifted my good arm to wave, tried to stand, tried everything.

And then I fainted dead away.

CHAPTER

33

I SMELLED FIRE. I felt warm. Was it fire or was it just hot outside?

The pain came next and nothing else mattered. I yelled and groaned, my eyes propelling open and staring right into the flames of a campfire in the line of my vision.

What . . ?

“Hazel,” a man’s voice said.

Panic choked me as I tried to figure out where I was and who was with me.

I looked down at my jeans and shirt. I was covered in bloody spots, but I didn’t see any needles. My arm had been put into a tight sling. My whole body throbbed with pain once the immediate confusion mellowed, and I was woozy, like I’d been drugged.

“You’re going to be okay.” The man came into my view.

“Graham?”

“Yes, I got you.”

I looked around again. “And you brought me here? Where are we?”

“We’re right where we’re supposed to be.” He smiled.

My brain was muddled, my stomach roiled. The pain. The pain. I tried to focus on Graham’s face. He didn’t look exactly right. He was still him but different.

Were the flames, maybe bacteria from the cactus needles, playing tricks on my mind, or was it drugs?