Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“That’s going to make travel difficult,” Aubrey says, feeding the last of our firewood into the rejuvenated flames. “Especially without the horses.”
The reminder of our lost mounts sends a pang through my chest. I hope Jeopardy made it to safety, to open ground where he could outrun any pursuit. He’s a smart horse, knows these mountains almost as well as I do. If any horse could make it back to the ranch, it’s him.
“We need more wood,” I say, eyeing the dwindling supply. “Fire won’t last much longer on what we have.”
I survey the cabin’s sparse furnishings—a rickety table, three chairs, a few shelves bolted to the walls, perhaps a bed in the loft. All potential fuel, if it comes to that. And it will, if we stay another night.
“How’s our food situation?” Aubrey asks, already digging through our packs.
“Not great,” I admit. “Some jerky, a few energy bars, a bag of trail mix. Maybe enough for a day, two max.”
She nods, cataloging our meager supplies with the same methodical efficiency she’s shown throughout this ordeal. “And our options? What do we do?”
I consider the question carefully, weighing the dangers against our dwindling resources. “We have three choices, as I see it. We can stay here, hope the hungry ones have lost interest…”
“Or maybe someone comes looking for us.”
I give her a sharp look. “You said the FBI didn’t know where you were.”
“They don’t. But you had to have told someone we were here.”
I shake my head, wishing I had at least told Margaret, wishing I had stopped by to see my mother before we left, like she asked me to. “Didn’t tell a soul. You understand now why. Anyway, no one is coming to save us. We can try to make it to Sugar Bowl, which is the nearest outpost, though that’s a hard trek in this snow without horses. Or…”
“Or we can go where they were herding us,” she finishes for me. “To the caves.”
“That’s suicide,” I say flatly. “Those caves are their territory.”
“Yes. Maybe. But it’s also where Lainey disappeared,” she points out. “Where we might find answers about what happened to her. About what’s happening to Eli. About all of it.”
The caves might hold answers, but they also hold death. I know she thinks she’ll find Lainey there, or answers to what happened to her, but I know she’s not going to like what she finds, and I know neither of us will be walking away.
“We need to think about this carefully,” I say, moving to break apart one of the chairs for firewood. The aged wood splits easily under my boot, providing enough fuel to keep the fire going a few more hours. “What about our weapons? How’s your ammunition?”
“Four rounds,” she says. “Only have the one mag.”
I get up and go over to Eli, searching his pants. No gun. Probably lost it in the snow.
“He’s got nothing. I have maybe three in my rifle. We have the axe, a hunting knife, the hammer…”
We fall silent, the crackling fire and Eli’s labored breathing the only sounds in the small cabin. Outside, the world is quiet, the storm’s passing leaving behind an unnatural stillness that’s almost more unsettling than the howling wind had been.
“We should eat,” Aubrey says finally. “Keep our strength up while we figure out what to do.”
We share a meager breakfast of jerky and trail mix, rationing carefully to ensure Eli will have something when—if—he wakes. The food is barely enough to take the edge off my hunger, but it’s something. A reminder that we’re still alive, still fighting.
As we eat, I catch Aubrey watching me with an unreadable expression. “What?” I ask, self-conscious under her scrutiny.
“Just thinking about what you said earlier,” she replies. “About wanting to be a better man when this is over.”
I feel heat rise to my face, embarrassed by my earlier vulnerability. “If we get out of this alive,” I remind her. “That’s a damn big if.”
“We will,” she says with surprising conviction. “We’ve made it this far.”
Just then there’s a knocking at the door.
Both of us stiffen, eyes wide with shock as I carefully get to my feet, staring at the door.
Neither of us make a sound.
The knock comes again. It’s faint, four raps.
I can see Aubrey shaking her head out of my peripheral. I grab my axe and head toward it.
“Don’t!” she hisses.
I raise my hand to tell her to be quiet. I’m not about to open the door, she don’t need to worry about that.
I slowly walk across the room, wincing as the floorboards groan, until I’m at the window. The curtain doesn’t cover the whole pane, so I carefully peer outside, expecting to see Hank or Cole or someone on the other side of the door.
But I see no one.
I crane my neck to get a better look and then I see the culprit.