Lone Survivor

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  “Real rangers? You’ve said those words twice. What do you mean?”

  The man frowned. “I’m going to jump to a bit of a conclusion, but the guy we talked to on the radio was no one I knew, and I thought I’d met all the personnel at the park over the past thirteen months that I’ve been living here. A bomb scare—and hopefully that’s all it is—would be just the sort of thing to empty out the main ranger station so that an impostor could sit in and wait for a woman running for her life to show up or reach out for help. I can’t think of another way to explain how a truckload of gunmen knew where to come for you less than twenty minutes after our radio call.”

  The strength suddenly left Karissa’s knees, and she plopped onto a wooden chair. “I can’t explain it another way, either.” Her voice came out as breathless as if she’d just finished her morning jog.

  She swallowed against a dry throat as the implications of the attack on them sank in. She’d assumed she was fleeing from a single, desperate murderer who was trying to shut her up about his crime, but a plot that involved a bomb scare, a fake ranger and a posse of killers was a much larger conspiracy run by someone with far-reaching resources and considerable ruthlessness and determination. Clearly, he didn’t even draw the line at killing an infant. Suddenly, it seemed that her cousin’s murder might be the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

  An opened bottle of water appeared under her nose. She blinked, coming out of her daze, and took the bottle from Hunter’s hand.

  “Thank you.” She gulped greedily then inhaled a long breath and let it out in short, quivering puffs. “All right then.” She gazed up at her protector’s sober face. “I can’t thank you enough for being here and knowing what to do. I’m so, so sorry for getting you involved in this.”

  “What exactly is this?” His tone was sharp, and his eyes narrowed on her.

  “I wish I knew.” Tears stung the backs of Karissa’s eyes. “Everything happened just as I told you. I went to visit a cousin I hadn’t seen in—well, forever, found her dead, grabbed the baby, ran away from the killer and here I am. I’m asking the same question you are. What in the world is going on?”

  His gaze seemed to sift through her, but at last his facial expression relaxed, and he nodded. “No need to apologize or to thank me. Thank God. This has to be more than coincidence that you showed up on my doorstep.”

  An indefinable something in his expression seemed to be trying to communicate a message beyond his words, but Karissa had no idea what that message might be.

  “You’re a Christian?” she asked.

  “Yes.” The word was terse in a way that almost negated the answer.

  Her rescuer looked away and set about lighting a nearby kerosene lamp, considerably brightening the room. Then he pulled a large rucksack off one of the shelves and plopped it onto a chair by the table. Karissa checked the baby in her arms and found him fast asleep. She gently laid him down on one of the cots.

  “I’m a Christian, too,” she said. “Fresh off the mission field in Belize, actually.”

  “Belize?” The man stopped transferring various supplies from the shelving to the rucksack and stared at her. “You’ve been out of the country? For how long? I mean, what caused you to go there?” The normal deep tone of his voice had morphed upward a few notes, as if the questions pushed through tightened vocal cords.

  Karissa’s skin prickled as she studied his tense posture. What had suddenly raised this cool-under-pressure Galahad’s anxiety level? Shouldn’t she try to find out more about this man she was trusting with her and Kyle’s lives?

  She forced a smile. “A bit late in our strange acquaintance, but may I get your name?”

  The man’s body went from tense to rigid, and his facial expression became one of someone bracing for a blow. “I’m Hunter Raines.” The pronouncement came in a fatalistic tone.

  Karissa furrowed her brow. What was the guy trying to tell her without actually telling her? Was the name supposed to mean something to her? Maybe this Hunter Raines had some sort of history that she’d know about if she’d been in the US in the past two years. Maybe she ought to be afraid of him. More afraid than of the killers who had tried to shoot and then incinerate them? Unlikely. Besides, he’d shown every sign of genuine caring and no sign of aggression. She’d lived her life thus far giving people the benefit of the doubt. Why stop now?

  She stuck out her hand toward her benefactor. “Hi, I’m Karissa Landon.”

  Hunter accepted her handshake, his palm rough, his grip strong without being overpowering. “Yes, you said so when we were talking with Remy on the radio, but I appreciate the formal introduction.”

  His expression had gone from defensive to bewildered. Amazing how little that beard hid his reactions when his eyes were so expressive. An intriguingly rich shade of gray, too. Not that she needed to be noticing something like that in this situation.

  “To answer your questions,” she said, “I was on the mission field for twenty-four months, living a dream of serving the poor in practical and spiritual ways. I came back three weeks ago on furlough, but, God willing, I plan to return to Belize in a year or so. While I’m Stateside, I wanted to connect with what family I have left...”

  The last sentence trailed off as the enormity of her cousin’s murder flooded over Karissa once again. Her head drooped as a soft sob choked her.

  “We’ll get through this.” Hunter’s voice was gruff. “And we’ll find out who did that to your cousin.”

  Karissa lifted her gaze. “Nobody is promised tomorrow or answers to their questions or even justice. Not in this life. I keep my sanity by clinging to faith that God sees and knows and understands and will bring everything right in the end. If I didn’t believe that, my heart would be withered to dust by now.”

  “You’ve been through some tough things, huh?”

  “You have no idea.”

  Hunter winced and looked away.

  “I sense you’ve been through a few things yourself,” she said.

  Karissa barely restrained herself from asking point-blank how he got his scars. But if he answered her question, fair play might make her feel obligated to tell him about her parents’ fatal car wreck and her sister’s tragic death in a fire, and how going on the mission field had been a sanity saver at a horrible time in her life. These were not things she wanted to discuss with an almost stranger.

  However, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something about her had this guy spooked, and that sense of something being off spooked her. Until she figured out what it was, she was going to have a hard time taking Hunter Raines—extraordinarily competent and courageous as he obviously was—at face value.

  * * *

  Hunter busied himself with packing the rucksack. The mundane chore gave him a little space to get his head together. He put in everything they might need for a few days of roughing it if they were for some reason unable to reach the destination he had in mind for them tonight. However, diapers were not something he’d thought to stock down here, and the closest he could get to formula was powdered milk. Who knew how the baby would ingest any milk since his bottle had been left lying on the side table near the couch and was now as incinerated as the rest of the furnishings. Hopefully, they’d find help sooner rather than later and wouldn’t actually be forced to camp out, but he intended to be as prepared as possible for whatever eventuality.

  Was it possible Karissa had never heard of him? She said she’d been in Belize for two years and had been back in the States for a few weeks now. The firestorm of media condemnation hadn’t broken over him until at least ten days after the fire, so it was possible that she’d buried her sister and left the country before his reputation had been publicly annihilated. Whether the condemnation was deserved or undeserved, he still wasn’t convinced in his own mind.

  Under initial questioning, after he awakened in the hospital, he’d been so sure
that he’d inspected the equipment right before the fire callout, but his initialed checklist was not on the clipboard or in the computer system like it should have been if he’d actually done it. In his dazed and suffering state, had he mixed up the memory of the inspection with the dozens of other times he’d performed that routine task? If his memory was faulty, and he hadn’t done the scheduled inspection, then he really was responsible for the equipment failure that led to the death of Karissa’s sister and his own serious injury. But if his memory was true, then what happened to the checklist? He had no answers, and the questions continued to torment him worse than his burns ever did.

  At least it was a small mercy—well, a rather large one—that she didn’t know who he was...for the moment. Her ignorance about him wasn’t likely to remain permanent now that she was back in the country. Someone would tell her about him. He’d have to be grateful for whatever reprieve he was given and hope that they were no longer in each other’s company when his identity was exposed.

  Hunter turned toward the chair where Karissa sat next to the cot watching the sleeping baby. He froze with a sucked-in breath. What was the matter with him? He’d seen women with babies hundreds of times and usually eyed them with a wistful expectation that one day he’d be a family man. Now, with that hope snuffed out by his ugly burns and uglier notoriety, what a cruel joke that the wish-I-had-a-family feeling should hit him like a truck at this moment with this particular woman as she sat smiling down at a sleeping infant that wasn’t even hers. The flickering lamplight drew out the warmth in her vivid hair and painted her face with pensive shadows that enhanced the natural beauty of her heart-shaped face, slim nose and delicately formed lips. He couldn’t be attracted to her. He would not allow that.

  She lifted her head, and her green eyes met his gray ones. The smile was gone. If he had to summarize her expression in one word, he’d say dread.

  “Do you think they’re still out there...? No, forget that question. You couldn’t possibly answer, and it was rhetorical, anyway.” Karissa visibly drew herself up straighter. “Thank you once again, by the way, for everything, and I’m really sorry about the loss of your cabin.”

  “Not my cabin. Belongs to the forest service. They might not be too happy.” He lifted one corner of his mouth and shook his head. “I’d like to say ‘my pleasure,’ but this isn’t a pleasant situation. However, I can say that I’m glad I was here and able to help.”

  More than you know. If only he could convince himself that saving her and the baby made up for the death of Karissa’s sister. But there was no possible compensation if his negligence had cost a life.

  Her gaze traveled the small room. “Is it usual for ranger cabins to come with a bunker in the earth below?”

  He forced a smile. “No, it’s not. Though after the rousing success of this one, it might become standard practice. I’ve been living out here over a year as a volunteer fire spotter, and last summer I had this idea about putting one in. Something to do to pass the time. My park-ranger brother got the go-ahead from the powers that be, since the project was going to be on my dime, and we worked on it together.”

  “He sounds like another hypercompetent guy like you.”

  Hunter cocked his head. “Is that how I strike you?”

  She pursed her lips. “Self-sufficient, for sure, or you wouldn’t live out here on your own.” Her gaze on him was shrewd, assessing.

  Was she asking him without coming right out and asking him if he was hiding from something? Maybe he was. If only he could hide from himself when the tormenting questions and memories attacked him.

  “Here.” He handed her an energy bar from his stash. “Better eat this, because we’ll be leaving here soon.”

  Her gaze skimmed the room. “How do we get out?”

  He pointed upward. “There’s a camouflaged double-hatch opening in the ceiling with a telescoping ladder that will take us outside near the edge of the forest. I’m a little nervous that my brother hasn’t shown up and knocked at the top hatch. He may be the only one in the forest service who knows exactly where the hatch is. If the forest service hasn’t come by to check on the cabin fire then it’s remotely possible our enemies may be observing the clearing for any signs of life. It’ll be dusk now, but the darkness will be part of our cover. Stick close to me, and you’ll be fine.”

  “Why don’t we just wait a little longer until the good guys arrive to check out the fire? Surely someone will come eventually.”

  Hunter shook his head. “If the cavalry was going to arrive, it would have done so already—my brother leading the charge.” His jaw hardened against the knot in his gut. “It could mean that things escalated at the power station.” Jace, I hope you’re all right.

  Karissa reached out and touched his arm. The gentle compassion in her gaze seemed to travel through her fingertips and touch his soul. “You must be so worried.”

  Hunter rent his gaze away from hers. Of course, she would feel special sympathy toward someone fearing for a sibling’s safety.

  He cleared his throat. “When we leave here, we won’t be heading for any ranger station or park outpost where hostile eyes might be watching for us. With the resources we’ve seen displayed so far by whoever is after you, I don’t trust approaching just anyone for help. We’re in for a long, rather uncomfortable night of walking, but I have a destination in mind. Are you up for it?”

  The woman squared her delicate chin and rose to all of her no more than five feet three inches of dainty height. There was nothing dainty or delicate in the flash of those green eyes. “I’ve marched up mountains, slogged through swamps and chopped my way through jungles. Bring it!”

  Warmth rushed through Hunter’s chest, and he couldn’t swallow his grin. This woman was in a class by herself. “You know what? I believe I’m the one who might have to struggle to keep up.”

  Karissa jerked a nod and turned away, but not fast enough to hide the small answering grin. She picked up a light blanket and began folding it in an odd way.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Making a baby sling for Kyle that will keep my hands free. Belizean women do this all the time.”

  “Good. The sling will help keep you and him warm, too. It’s summer, but the woods at night at this elevation can still be cool.”

  The intricacies of her sling and how she got the baby into it without waking him up were mysteries to Hunter, but soon they were ready to head up and out. He opened the bottom hatch door and the telescoping ladder slid into place, just reaching the ground at his feet. Above him was a cement tube around four feet wide and about three-quarters his height. He climbed up to the fireproof upper hatch, but his hand hesitated on the lock.

  God, please help us.

  Despite his earlier words about their attackers not waiting around for the real rangers to arrive, the fact that those rangers hadn’t come set him on edge. Their attackers could still be out there, waiting for them to pop their heads up like gophers. Then again, it was highly improbable that their attackers knew about the bunker. No doubt he was uneasy over nothing. Still, Hunter held his breath as he released the locking mechanism and shoved the hatch open.

  Smoke-tinged twilight air washed over him. An owl hooted nearby, and crickets fiddled their tunes. Hunter’s shoulders relaxed. If human beings were still lurking around out there, he wouldn’t be hearing those sounds.

  He looked down at Karissa, who stood directly below, gazing up at him with questions in her eyes. “All clear, I’d say. Hand me the pack, would you?”

  Her strained features relaxed, and she complied, handling the heavy article with ease. He thrust the pack, with the rifle strapped to its side, out onto the dew-sprinkled grass and climbed out of the tube after it. Sprightly as a spider monkey, Karissa climbed out after him, evidently not the least hindered by the precious cargo in her sling or her bullet wound.

  While
he donned the pack, Hunter’s gaze roamed the area. About thirty yards away, the remains of his cabin smoldered. Stray sparks winked at him from the burned wood. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of what would have become of all three of them had there been no bunker retreat.

  God, were You guiding me with that idea to build one?

  At the time, it had seemed like nothing more than a useful way to pass the abundance of time he had on his hands. Of course, if it had been an inspired idea, the providential point would have been to protect Karissa and the innocent baby. In surrendering his life to the Lord during the time period he was undergoing physical therapy, he’d been humbly grateful to squeak through the door of salvation for his soul in the next life. He didn’t expect or deserve anything more in this one.

  “Let’s get going,” he said to his petite companion and stepped up behind her.

  An angry bee zipped past his head. At least that’s what it sounded like. His heart squeezed into a fist as his brain kicked out the truth.

  Not a bee—a bullet.

  Hunter grabbed Karissa and the baby and shoved them ahead of him into the trees.

  “Run!”

  THREE

  How could this be happening again? She and the baby fleeing through the woods from flying bullets. At least she wasn’t alone this time. Hunter had taken the lead at what felt like a breakneck pace up and down the hilly terrain. Yet he always seemed to place his feet perfectly, despite the darkness, showing her safe passage around trees and avoiding potholes and forest debris. Karissa’s breathing came in sharp gasps, as much from fear as exertion, and the roar of her pulse in her ears held all other sounds at bay.

  God, help us!