by Sharon Dunn
“Then you think he’ll take up a position and wait for us to put our heads above the dashboard.”
Landon shook his head. “There are a lot of what-ifs and maybes going on here. This is what we know. This car is toast, it’s not going to get us to Anchorage. There might be one spare tire in the trunk, but we can’t change it with a sniper waiting to pick us off.”
“So you’re saying we should leave the car and take our chances out there in the cold?”
“He came in a car, too. It’s got to be parked somewhere. While he works his way down here, assuming that is what he is doing, maybe we can find his car. It’s our only hope. If we stay here, this car will be our coffin.”
She took in a breath. “Okay, tell me how that is going to work.”
“We slip out of my side of the car, so he doesn’t see us. I’m assuming he’s got a scope on that rifle that functions in the same way as night-vision goggles. Otherwise, he would not have been able to get such an accurate shot off. We slip around to the back of the car and then head up the hill, where he was, to see if we can find his car.”
The plan was rife with potential for them to be killed or freeze in the cold. They were assuming the hitman would change positions and work his way toward their car. They were assuming they would be able to find the guy’s vehicle. But it was the only plan that even gave them a fighting chance. “Okay, let’s go.”
He clicked open his door as little as possible and slipped to the ground. After zipping her coat up and putting her gloves back on, Natasha crawled across the seat. She placed her hands on the ground, angled her body sideways and pulled forward, pressing her body against the car and dragging her legs until her feet touched the ground, as well. Such an acrobatic act meant the door would not be open very wide, so if the shooter had even a partial view of that side of the car, he wouldn’t see that they were escaping.
She turned and shut the door as quietly as possible. She crawled down the length of the car. Landon was waiting for her, crouching by the back bumper. She slipped in behind him and he inched toward the edge of the car. The road dropped off into a ditch beyond which was the hill. There was not much to use for cover on their way up. An exposed rock here and there, a clump of snow-covered bushes.
They dipped down into the ditch.
Landon whispered, “Go slow. He’ll be looking for movement.”
She closed her eyes and said a quick prayer before crawling up the hill an inch at a time. She supposed if the hitman did fire in this direction, it meant he had seen them and figured out their plan. Natasha only hoped the bullet he fired wouldn’t be fatal to either her or Landon.
She reached a bush that allowed her to hide and catch her breath. She turned her head sideways, in the direction of the two shots, but couldn’t see anything. Despite her winter gear, a chill sank into her skin.
She turned her head to where Landon lay flat on his stomach, moving at a snail’s pace. She exhaled. A horrible realization sank in. It was so cold, the sniper would be able to see their breath.
The zing of a rifle shot broke the silence of the night. The shot had been aimed below her. At Landon.
Dear God, don’t let that bullet find its target.
The quiet settled in around Natasha as she struggled to keep her breaths as shallow as possible.
“He knows where we are. We might as well make a run for it. See those trees up ahead?” The sound of Landon’s soft voice was like music to her ears. “We both run at the same time. But stay far apart.”
“You got it. Let’s go.”
She burst to her feet and ran. The incline of the hill strained her leg muscles as her boots dug into the snow. She dropped to the ground. She could just make out Landon off to the side as he did the same thing.
Natasha jumped to her feet again and sprinted. The trees loomed in front of her. Though she wasn’t crazy about being target practice for a shooter, it bothered her that there were no more rifle shots being fired. That meant he might be moving closer to them.
Landon nearly slammed into her as he made it to the trees, as well.
“We can’t stay here. He might be swinging around and getting closer to line up a better shot,” he said. “He must be repositioning, otherwise he would have fired a shot.”
The cluster of short evergreens was maybe ten feet wide and five feet deep. The trees were their only viable cover. The hitman had to know that this was where they would run. “Do you suppose he’s waiting for us to come out on the uphill side?”
“Probably,” Landon said. “So we run in a straight line away from the trees, due south. The trees will shield us. It will take him a minute to figure out what we’ve done.” That meant they probably wouldn’t find the guy’s car, assuming he had parked it somewhere close to where he was positioned.
She burst from the safety of the evergreens, Landon’s footsteps crunching behind her. They were running into the unknown.
They ran for about ten minutes, their boots sinking into the deep snow. Her muscles fatigued, and she was out of breath. Both of them slowed, though it was hard to see much of anything. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw no moving shadows. All around her was snow-covered hills with only a little vegetation.
Perhaps they had managed to delay the assassin from catching up with them, but they still were not in a good spot. Even with the warm weather gear they wore, they could not stay outside for long without being affected by the cold. It was too far to walk back to the little town with the closed store.
A gust of wind blew snow at her. She walked even slower. The chill bore into her face and she zipped her coat up to the neck. “We have to find some shelter,” she said.
“I agree. Let’s move up the hill. That will provide us with view of more of our surroundings.”
As they worked their way to the ridgeline, she stared back at the way they had come. Their footprints were the only ones in the snow. Once the shooter figured out which direction they had fled, they would be easy to track.
As the cold settled into her bones, so did a sense of hopelessness. They had not avoided death, only delayed it.
* * *
Landon knew that it was just a matter of time before they were in the crosshairs of the hitman’s rifle again. He needed to come up with some sort of plan to keep them alive. They could continue to step out into the unknown and hope they would find help or shelter, or they could work with what they knew.
“Natasha, let’s head down to the road. We are more likely to run into someone down there.”
Without a word, she did an about-face and headed back down the hill. There was no way to cover their tracks. When he glanced off to the side, he still saw no sign of the shooter. He knew from experience that the man would not give up.
“I know you’re cold. I am, too. But we need to pick up the pace.”
Partway down the hill, they came to a grove of trees. They sprinted through them. Darkness and the canopy of branches made it hard to see. A least they weren’t contending with the deep snow. Once they were free of the cover of the trees, Landon chose a path that ran parallel to what he thought was the road. If the shooter figured out where they were going, he might just take a shortcut and wait for them there. They didn’t want to walk into an ambush.
Every few minutes, either he or Natasha glanced over their shoulders.
“It makes me more nervous when he’s not shooting at us.”
“Me, too. It makes me wonder if he’s come up with different plan.” Landon glanced higher up the hill at their backs. It was possible that, with night vision, the man with the rifle would just move to a high spot and wait, assuming that sooner or later he would see them.
They had not seen so much as a deer since they’d left the car. For someone with a keen eye, which this guy had, any motion would be easy enough to spot.
By the time they got to the road, both were
moving slower. At least the snow on the road was packed down. They had a choice to make. To move in the direction of the defunct car or to work back toward the little town they’d stopped to switch drivers at and hope they ran into someone.
Natasha stood beside him. “Going back to that little town would take a long time.”
He took out his cell phone. No signal. “We have a chance of finding help at the town. And I suspect if there is no cell service, someone will have a landline.”
Landon’s mind was reeling. It seemed strange that a shot had not been fired at them for so long. Though he kept the thought to himself, he wondered if the shooter had gone back to his car and decided to track them, knowing that eventually they would probably go back to the road.
“I’m tired and cold,” she said.
He gathered her into his arms and held her. “I’m tired, too, but we have to keep moving.” He directed her off the road to a place where they would still have a view of it as they worked their way through the brush that helped to conceal them.
She walked beside him. The padding of their boots in the snow was the only sound.
“Worst Christmas ever?”
The question surprised him. Maybe talking would keep them both from thinking about how cold they were. “Actually, second worse. I had to do a stakeout one Christmas Eve for a guy that never showed up. The coffee was cold. The doughnuts were rock hard, and I was by myself. At least I’m here with you. That makes it okay.”
She turned to face him. “You mean that? Even knowing that he’s out there waiting to put a bullet in each of us?”
“Yes, even with that.” Landon pulled his glove off and placed his hand on her cheek. She looked up at him. He felt drawn to her, wanted to kiss her again, but then sadness washed over him. There would come a time when they’d have to say goodbye...if they got to Anchorage alive.
“Freeze this moment in your mind because it’s precious,” she said. “Thank you, Landon, for all that you have done for me. Just want you to know that.”
Was she thinking that they weren’t going to get out of this alive? He leaned in and kissed her forehead. He pulled back and studied her face. “I don’t know what is going to happen, Natasha. We’re not in a good situation.”
“Kiss me even if it’s a goodbye kiss.”
She was right. No matter what, they would be saying goodbye. “Goodbye” because if they made it to Anchorage and were able to do the handoff with the marshal, they would never see each other again. Or “goodbye” because they might simply not make it out of this situation alive.
His lips pressed against hers, and time seemed to stand still. Her hand rested against his chest. He pulled back, not wanting the moment to end. Her eyes seemed to be searching his. Then she turned away. “Let’s keep going. I’m going to pray while we walk.”
“Me, too.” He prayed silently for God to show him what to do next. To bring shelter or a plan so they were not out in the cold all night. To find a way to be free of being hunted by the mafia’s hired gun.
The cover of the brush ended and they stepped out in the open. Though they were some distance from it, he could still discern the road. When he looked up at the hill they had descended, he saw a tiny light moving in a curving line.
“That has to be him,” he said. “It’s going to take him at least twenty minutes to get down to the road and a little while to figure which way we went. I say we double back to the car because it’s closer than that little town. We fix that tire and we take off.”
She nodded. “Let’s make a run for it. We can go up to the road for a while. It will be faster.”
She took off running at a diagonal toward the road. His feet pounded behind her.
It was the first time since they’d abandoned the car that he felt hope again. The fact that they had moved in one direction and then the other might throw the hitman off. Their tracks were not as obvious this close to the road. Maybe they had a chance. That was a big maybe. Though his spirits lifted, he knew they were still fighting for survival.
NINETEEN
As she ran, Natasha felt the fatigue leave her muscles. Knowing that they had a chance at getting out alive seemed to have renewed her energy. The memory of the kiss she and Landon had shared, and the power of the connection she felt toward him, still lingered in her mind.
Every once in a while, she glanced up the hill to see the tiny moving light and gauge where the shooter was. He was slowed by having to carry his rifle.
They kept running. She recognized some of the landmarks. A gnarled old tree that arched partway over the road. Their tracks in the snow leading up the hill when they had first escaped the vehicle.
The car came into view. She ran faster. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw the light far down the road. The sniper had tracked them to where they’d come out onto the road. It would take him a while to figure out they’d doubled back this way.
They made it to the car and Landon flung open the trunk. She had a moment of worry that there was no spare in there. He pulled out a tire. She let out the breath she’d been holding. Landon, as well, glanced nervously down the road. The light wasn’t visible at all.
Landon pulled his phone out and handed it to her. “If you could turn the flashlight on and angle it so I can see...?”
“Sure, I’ll crouch low behind you, so the light won’t be visible down the road.” She held the phone, and crouched close to Landon while he loosened the lug nuts on the ruined tire and then jacked the car up. He had taken his gloves off to give him more dexterity. He rubbed his hands together.
She peered over his head. Still no sign of the light coming toward them. All the same, her heart was pounding as a sense of urgency spurred her on.
Landon yanked the bad tire off and reached for the good one. She could tell his fingers were getting numb from the cold when he dropped one of the lug nuts in the snow. She shone the light so he could find it. Landon put the good tire on. He rubbed his hands together again.
She pulled off her gloves. “Let me take over. You can warm your hands up. You should be able to tighten the lug nuts with gloves. I’ll put them on and make them finger-tight.”
He moved out of the way and grabbed his gloves. She quickly put the lug nuts on, the cold sinking into her fingers as she twisted each one as tightly as she could.
After lowering the jack, Landon grabbed the lug wrench. “Go start the car. It’s been sitting for a while. I’m sure it will need to warm up.”
Natasha handed him his phone back and ran around to the driver’s-side door. She sat behind the wheel. They had been in such a hurry to escape, the key was still in the ignition.
She reached for the key, saying a quick prayer that it would start. The car revved to life and she breathed a sigh of relief. She heard the trunk close and then Landon slid into the front passenger’s seat.
“Let’s go.”
“Do you see him?” She craned her neck to look through the back window.
Landon shook his head. “If he’s still tracking us, he’s turned his flashlight off.”
Natasha pressed the gas and the car surged forward. The snow-packed road wound past forests and mountains in the distance. A sign on the road indicated that they were within fifty miles of Anchorage. Almost there.
A car whizzed by them, headed in the other direction.
“That is the first car we have seen since we left that little town,” Landon said.
Though the sky had turned a lighter shade of gray, there was still no daylight as they approached the city. Sunrise wouldn’t come until 10:00 a.m. The road widened to a paved two-lane. They started to see some houses and buildings as well as more cars on the road.
“Maybe we didn’t see the hitman’s flashlight behind us on the road because he figured out what we were doing and went back to his car so he could follow us,” she said.
“
I was thinking that, too,” Landon said. “Did the marshal set up a place for you to hole up until we can make contact with him.”
“I’m sure he did. We should have a cell signal by now. It would have been texted to your phone.” She could see the lights of the city up ahead. “It doesn’t feel like Christmas Day to me.”
“Me, either.”
Landon checked his phone. “You’re right. The Mercer Hotel. We are Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. He’ll text us where to meet first thing tomorrow.” Landon looked up the address of the hotel on his phone and turned on the GPS.
As she wove through the light traffic, it seemed there was very little for them to say to each other. Much of the city looked shut down for the holiday. Seeing the glow of Christmas lights lifted her spirits. The mountains in the distance dusted with snow were beautiful, as well.
Natasha pulled up in front of the office of the hotel. There were some cars parked by rooms but not much sign of any activity. She could see the front desk, but there was no one manning it. “Let’s go in together.” She turned off the engine and pocketed the keys and they exited the car.
Landon put a protective hand on her back as they entered the lobby. The place appeared deserted. They walked over to the front desk, still not seeing anyone.
“I imagine they have the bare minimum of people working today.” Landon tapped the bell on the counter.
She could feel the tension twisting around her torso. Standing there made her feel exposed and vulnerable. She glanced through the floor-to-ceiling window out to where their car was parked.
Landon dinged the bell again.
A woman emerged from a back room. She had dark short hair and looked to be about forty. “So sorry. I hope you haven’t been waiting long. What can I do for you?”
Natasha stepped forward. “There should be a reservation for Mr. and Mrs. Johnson.”
The woman stepped to one side to look at a computer monitor and then grab a paper from the printer. She tapped the keys. “Yes, here we are. You are in room 213. Just drive around to the side of the building.” She pushed the bill toward Natasha.
