It didn’t take him long to find them. And they were close enough that he could actually make out their faces. Two hundred feet away, at most. The big, hulking one—the one with the gun—was unmistakably Randall. Next to him, another rifle in his hands, was Logan. The only other one in the gang who had any brains.
Beyond them, the other two cousins in the group were bending over and gazing at the ground, as if they were tracking something.
“Dammit,” he breathed to himself.
He’d been hoping to leave the area before Randall and his gang got here. Instead, they were already within a mile of his home—and moving in his direction.
14
When Angie awoke, I was already getting ready for the day. I had most of our things packed and had taken a pencil to a piece of paper to try to sketch out something that would work as a sled for her. No matter how much she pretended otherwise, she wasn’t going to be ready for any walking anytime soon. I wouldn’t even have moved her if I didn’t have a choice.
But I didn’t have a choice. That was the problem. I’d shot a man who was trying to kill me and wounded his cousins. He would be coming after me—and I doubted that had changed his mind about wanting to use Angie as a trade with her uncle. And, as it turned out, we were also sheltering with someone who Randall blamed for his wife’s death.
Hell, if he hadn’t hated us before, he would hate us just by association.
I snorted at the thought, my humor macabre enough for me to appreciate the irony, and then bent back to my sketch.
“What are you doing?” a faint voice said from behind me.
I turned to Angie, taking in her color—slightly better this morning—and the clarity of her eyes.
“Feeling better?” I asked, moving to the side of the bed and running my hand along her forehead. No temperature. That was a good sign. I’d seen wounds like hers go bad before, and I’d been worried that we might have blood poisoning on our hands, given how long it had taken us to actually clean the wound.
“Much better,” she said, leaning into my hand. Then, as if her mind had suddenly caught up, her eyes flew open and she stared up at me. “We have to get out of here. When are we leaving?”
Right. Well, enough of her feeling better, then.
“I’ve spoken with Marlon about just that. We’re only ten miles from Ellis Woods, but they’re going to be a hard ten miles. And with you out of commission, it means I have to build you a sled. One we can tow by hand. Marlon has vehicles here but they’re not working, and we’re going to have to hoof it.”
“And in a hurry,” she said, back to her old self again and already full of plans. “How long do you think we have before Randall finds us.”
“Hopefully long enough to get the hell out of here,” I answered with a grin. “Marlon is out checking his game traps now. Once he returns, we leave.”
Her eyes slid down to the drawing in my hand. “I hate that you’re having to take care of me like this. Hate that I can’t help.”
I leaned down, pressed my nose to hers, and stared into her eyes. “Stop thinking like that. I’m your husband now. And that means it’s my job to take care of you. Right? Right?”
She sighed, but I could see her mouth quirking to the side and knew she was going to give in.
“Besides,” I continued, throwing a map into her lap and pointing at the spot I’d marked with a red pen. “I need you to handle the mapping. Far as I can tell, this is where we are. This—” I moved my finger to the left, to the circle labeled Ellis Woods. “—is where we need to go. You’re the outdoors woman here. Figure out the fastest way to get from Point A to Point B. I’ll be outside building your carriage.”
I shot her a quick, tight grin, trying to make the whole thing into a joke—and knowing that I was failing—and then turned and left the room before she could reply. I had a sled to make, and I needed to do it in a hurry.
I didn’t know how far Marlon had gone or how many traps he was unloading, but I knew for certain that I didn’t want to be caught only half-ready when he returned. I had an injured wife to get to a hospital, and a kid to rescue back home. This was no time to relax.
I shot up the steps to the front door and out into the bright white of the outside world, and stood for a moment, letting my eyes grow accustomed to the glare. Then I headed for the forest, my eyes scanning the ground for branches of the right size and shape. The first one was easy, because it didn’t have to match anything else, and I found it quickly—about ten feet long, so I could build the shelter for Angie and have skis in front of and behind it, and already smoothed out by having lain in the snow for some time. There were no smaller branches stemming from it, which meant less work for me, and I was glad to see that it already had a curve to it.
Perfect. Now to find others that matched it.
I found a second branch and turned back toward the house, but then caught sight of something blue and plastic-looking sticking out of a bank of snow and dead leaves. I dropped the branches and dropped to my knees to uncover it, then almost shouted in joy.
It was a toboggan. One of those store-bought kinds that kids played with every winter. What the hell was it doing out here, in the middle of the forest? I looked up at the house, wondering, but then shook my head and started uncovering the sled. It must have been Marlon’s, I thought, and no matter how many guesses I took, I would probably never be able to figure out why he had it.
Or why he hadn’t told me about it.
I wiped it off to find it was in excellent condition. And it would be perfect. It saved me from having to build anything—which gave me more time to make sure Angie was ready and that we’d have everything we needed.
When I got back to the house and started toward the door, I found another sled leaning against the house. A red one this time. It was in rougher shape, with a couple of cracks in the bottom, but when I laid it over the blue one, they fit together perfectly.
And that worked just fine for me. The blue one would be on the bottom, the red one on top, and Angie on top of that. It would give her more protection, keep her up off the cold of the snow. I couldn’t figure out what Marlon was doing with them—did he have kids or something?—but that didn’t matter. No matter why they were here, I thought he would have welcomed us to them.
After all, he wanted to get out of here just as much as we did. And he certainly understood why we needed to do it in a hurry.
I undid the knots on the red sled’s steering rope and one end of the blue’s, then knotted the two free ends together to make one long rope for pulling. I threaded the end through the blue sled’s rope hole, counting on that sled to be the stronger of the two, then stood back and admired the construction. We’d put sleeping bags and quilts down under her, and more quilts over her, and she’d be just fine. She’d even be able to sit up and watch where we were going.
Keep an eye out for anything that seemed out of place. She could be our lookout—who also happened to travel with us.
I’d only been back in the house for ten minutes when there was a banging on the front door. I rushed toward it, already assuming the worst—that Randall had found us and was there at the door, insisting on being let in. When I arrived and looked out the window, though, I saw Marlon there, his eyes wide and his mouth tight with concern.
I made quick work of the locks on the door and threw it open.
“Marlon, what is it?”
I looked at Angie, who had managed to hobble out of our bedroom at the banging and was looking at us with eyes as big as saucers.