by Lara Lacombe
Too bad.
With a shake of his head, Quinn started to walk back toward camp. He’d gone only a few steps when he heard a soft rustle behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he had the distinct sensation he was being watched. He glanced behind him, but saw nothing.
Probably just an animal, he thought. Hopefully, not a mountain lion on the hunt; he was easy pickings for a big cat, alone and defenseless on the trail. He’d left his gun in his pack, not thinking to bring it along on such a pedestrian trip. Maybe that had been a mistake...
He quickened his steps a bit, eager to make it back to camp. The rustling sound followed him, getting louder this time. Quinn’s stomach sank and his heart began to race as he realized he was being followed. Why had he left the gun back at camp? It was a stupid oversight, one that might cost him dearly. Determined to find something to defend himself with, he thrust his hand into the bag he carried and withdrew the spade. It wasn’t much, but if he had to fight back, it was better than nothing.
He kept moving, pretending to ignore the sounds behind him. Then, without warning, he whirled with a shout, the spade lifted high in defense.
He’d expected to find an animal on the trail—a wild pig, or perhaps a young cougar. Instead, he saw a man a few steps behind, his features obscured by a dark bandanna.
Quinn stumbled back a step, his mind racing. Who was this, and why were they following him? He hadn’t seen anyone else on the trail today, so where had this guy come from?
He lowered the spade, uncertainty setting in. He couldn’t very well attack a man for walking behind him. But then Quinn saw the flash of metal in the darkness and realized his mistake. The man had a knife, and it looked like he wanted to use it.
Quinn took another step back, trying to maintain distance between them. “I’m not looking for any trouble,” he said. He tightened his grip on the spade, his muscles tensing in anticipation. The man didn’t reply, but continued to approach. Quinn planted his feet, refusing to give any more ground. Rebecca might be back at the camp by now—he wasn’t about to lead this man to her and risk her safety as well.
“What do you want?” Quinn challenged. He squinted, trying to determine the color of the man’s eyes. “I’m not afraid of you, Harry,” he said, throwing out the name on a guess. Had the young man realized he and his friends were being watched? Perhaps he’d come to intimidate them into leaving.
The man stopped a few feet away, still silent. He looked a little smaller than what Quinn remembered of Harry, but maybe the kid had lost weight? His loose layers of clothes made it difficult to really gauge his build. Quinn shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, ready to move. “Go back to your friends,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of their camp, but never taking his eyes off Harry. “I’m sure they’re missing you by now.”
The stranger cocked his head to the side, as if considering the possibility. Then he lunged forward, knife extended, quick as a striking snake. Quinn barely had time to jerk out of the way, but the knife still found him. A searing line of pain bisected the side of his ribs, and he realized with a sense of shock that he’d been cut.
He yelped and thrust blindly. The man let out a grunt as the tip of the spade made contact with his flesh, but it wasn’t enough to slow him down. He struck again, this time slicing across Quinn’s shoulder blades.
Quinn kicked out, aiming for the man’s knee. He realized with a growing sense of desperation that his only chance was to hobble the man so he could get away. The spade simply wasn’t going to be enough of a weapon in the face of the knife.
The assailant dodged his first kick, but Quinn got lucky the second time and landed a glancing blow that set the stranger stumbling back a few steps. Quinn pressed his temporary advantage, advancing quickly to stab at the man with the point of the spade. He drew blood, but it wasn’t enough. Another swing of the knife connected with Quinn’s chest, and he jerked away, out of range.
Quinn’s shirt clung to his skin, wet and sticky, as the blood saturating the fabric began to cool. His heart raced in his chest and his tongue felt thick in his mouth. His head began to swim, but he stubbornly clung to consciousness. If he passed out, he was dead.
He stood in the middle of the path, swaying slightly as he and the stranger stared at each other. The man was bleeding freely from Quinn’s earlier attack, but he didn’t seem bothered by his injuries, at least not in Quinn’s fuzzy view. He eyed Quinn up and down, as if assessing his chances of another successful attack. Apparently, the stranger liked what he saw. He tightened his grip on the knife and stepped forward.
Quinn planted his feet, knowing this was his last chance. He had to make it count.
He was so focused on the man in front of him, he didn’t hear anything else. Then suddenly a woman’s voice rang out behind him and the scene was flooded with light.
“Freeze!”
The stranger jerked to a stop, apparently just as startled at the intrusion. He squinted at the unexpected illumination, throwing up a hand to shield his eyes. Quinn took advantage of his confusion to strike again, this time making contact with the man’s forearm. The stranger grunted and lashed out, landing another blow with his knife. Quinn yelped in pain, trying to retreat out of the man’s reach. The stranger stepped forward, his knife raised to deliver the killing blow.
A thunderous boom split the air, and Quinn felt a gust of wind pass by his arm. The man froze, then turned and ran, bounding down the trail like a gazelle.
Quinn dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. Everything hurt—his body felt shredded and raw, throbbing with pain like an exposed nerve ending. But he couldn’t afford to let down his guard. The man was gone now, but he’d be back.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Rebecca’s face, worry etched in the lines of her frown. “My God,” she whispered, running her gaze over him. “What happened?”
Quinn tried to respond but could only shake his head. He was still trying to figure that out for himself.
“Never mind,” she said. She rose to her feet and tugged on his arm. “We can’t stay here. Let’s get you back to camp so I can take a look at you.”
He found his voice. “No,” he said, the word jagged and harsh. “Too dangerous. We have to move.”
“You’re not in any condition—”
“There are small caves in the mountain,” he interrupted. “We need to find one and hide until help arrives.” He fumbled for the radio clipped to his belt, pulling it free. Rebecca could contact the ranger station and let them know what had happened. They’d have to spend a few hours out here alone, but as long as they could hide, they should be okay until reinforcements arrived.
He passed her the radio as they moved down the trail, back toward their supplies. She kept her arm around him as they walked, supporting him as he lurched along. Every step was exhausting, but Quinn knew he couldn’t afford to give up now. Rebecca was strong, but there was no way she could drag his limp body to safety. And since she was too stubborn to leave him if he passed out, his only option was to keep moving forward.
It seemed to take an eternity, but they finally made it back to the tent. Quinn collapsed into one of the folding chairs, his muscles giving out after the exertion of the walk. “The supplies,” he said, his voice shaky to his own ears. “Get the bags.” It wouldn’t take Rebecca long to gather their two packs of supplies. They’d need all the food and water while they waited for help, and there was a small medical kit in his backpack that she could hopefully use to stop his bleeding. His head swam as he watched her move in the moonlight. Her face was tight with worry and fear, but she didn’t fall apart. She gathered their supplies, slinging one pack onto her back and strapping the other to her chest. Quinn felt a spurt of pride at her actions—if he had to deal with mystery attackers in the wilds of Big Bend, there was no better person to have by his side. A strange sense of calm fell
over him as she approached, determination shining in her eyes. He was hurt badly, but he knew Rebecca would take care of him. If there was anyone who could handle this emergency, it was her.
“Let’s get moving,” she said. She bent forward, draping one of his arms across her shoulders. Then she stood, pulling him up out of the chair. He helped her as much as he could, but he could tell from the soft “oomph” she let out that his weight was heavy for her.
“Take the packs first,” he suggested. She could find a place for them to hide with the supplies, then come back for him.
“No,” she said simply. He couldn’t see her face, but he imagined her expression was determined.
He sighed, knowing it was pointless to argue with her. Better to save his energy for the walk ahead.
Her hand found the slice across his ribs, sending a fresh jolt of pain through his body. His breath caught in his throat, but he didn’t complain. If anything, the pressure of her touch would help slow the bleeding.
“Which way?”
He nodded south, toward the path they’d used earlier to arrive at this site. “There’s a small fork in the trail about thirty yards back. We’ll take it and head farther up the mountain. I know of a small cave not far off.” Hopefully, he could make it there...
Rebecca didn’t reply. He felt her chest rise as she took a deep breath, and the two of them set out into the darkness together.
Chapter 12
Keep moving. Just keep moving.
Rebecca silently repeated the mantra as she and Quinn half walked and half stumbled up the trail. She didn’t know how badly he was hurt, but his shirt was wet underneath her hand and the coppery tang of blood filled her nostrils and coated her tongue, making her want to gag. Quinn’s breath was a series of harsh gusts against her ear, and she wondered how much farther he could go. He’d said the caves were close, but could they make it there before he collapsed?
“Almost...there,” he gasped, as if he’d read her thoughts. She didn’t know if he was trying to reassure her or himself. Either way, his words gave her a jolt of hope. Ignoring the burning protest of her muscles, she pushed on, running off a potent cocktail of adrenaline and fear.
Quinn gave her directions, guiding her off the path and across a rocky stretch of terrain. It was rough going, but they took their time. Quinn’s determination was an almost palpable support, propelling him forward. Neither one of them acknowledged the silent truth—if he fell now, he might never get back up.
The thought sent a jolt of fear down Rebecca’s spine, and she tightened her grip on his side. He grunted softly. “Sorry,” she whispered, realizing she’d hurt him.
He didn’t respond, but gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze of acknowledgment. She glanced at the wall of rock to their left, peering in the darkness for any signs they might be getting close to the cave Quinn had in mind. The mountain was a study of shadows, with overhanging rocks and stubby trees and bushes casting dark patches across the uneven surface. She spied some small, narrow entrances and her imagination took off, picturing sharp teeth and bright eyes watching as she and Quinn hobbled past. A sharp, high scream pierced the air, sending her heart into her throat and making her jump.
“Mountain lion,” Quinn said, confirming her worries. An instinctive, bone-deep terror gripped Rebecca as she realized they were in danger of becoming prey. Never before had she questioned her position on the food chain, but here in the dark, with the smell of blood thick in the air and the call of a predator echoing in her ears, she felt a primitive fear that made all the hairs on her body stand on end.
“She’s not that close,” Quinn said, apparently recognizing her reaction. “But we don’t need to linger.” His words were labored—it was clear he would soon be out of energy.
“Save your breath,” she advised. She needed Quinn to stay conscious for as long as possible. Not just to guide her to the cave, but to instruct her on how to survive the rest of the night. Once they’d arrived at a safe place, she would call for help. But it would take a while for anyone to find them, and she didn’t want to pass the time alone. Talking to Quinn, even if just about silly little things, would help keep her calm while they waited.
After what seemed like an eternity, Quinn pointed at a large shadow ahead. “Just there,” he said. Rebecca squinted at it, but saw nothing unusual about this spot—it looked like any of the other millions of dark patches they’d already passed. But she didn’t argue. She headed for it, and just as she thought they were about to walk into a wall of rock, the darkness deepened and seemed to embrace them.
“We made it,” she said, relief making her feel a little giddy.
Quinn reached for the wall of the cave, using it for support as he slid down to land with a grunt. Rebecca kept her gaze on his face, illuminated by a narrow shaft of moonlight. He looked dazed and pale, even in the silvery glow of light. She quickly shed the backpacks and began hunting for the first-aid kit she knew he’d brought. Now that they had stopped, she could see to his injuries.
She flicked on the flashlight and her breath caught in her throat as she got her first good look at him. She swore softly as she surveyed the damage—his shirt was soaked in blood, plastered to his body in several places. Jagged tears split the fabric, providing glimpses of angry red marks on his skin—shallow cuts that had already crusted over with dried blood.
For an endless moment, she couldn’t move. She simply stood there, staring at Quinn as memories of Brandon’s death assaulted her from all directions. The description of Brandon’s injuries ran through her mind, and as she watched, Quinn’s features transformed into Brandon’s face.
She began to shake, her muscles trembling as anxiety threatened to overtake her. She hadn’t been able to help Brandon, hadn’t even known he had been attacked until after the fact. She’d sat in front of her computer, blissfully unaware that her fiancé was dying thirty miles away.
Was history about to repeat itself? Was she doomed to lose another man she’d grown to care for, thanks to a violent attack? A wave of helplessness crashed over her, stealing her breath. Quinn was badly hurt, that much was clear. But she didn’t know what to do to help him. He wasn’t alone like Brandon had been, but given her lack of medical knowledge, he might as well be.
“That bad, huh?” Quinn’s voice cut through her rising panic, bringing her back to the moment. He tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace.
Rebecca shook her head, digging deep for a confidence she didn’t feel. Even though she was way out of her depth, she wasn’t going to let Quinn know. She’d do whatever she could to help him. “I’ve seen worse.” She bit her bottom lip, hoping he hadn’t noticed the tremor in her voice.
Rebecca kneeled next to him and gently peeled away his shirt. His chest, shoulders and arms were crisscrossed with wounds, most of them superficial. But there was a deep gash on his side that still oozed blood, and as she leaned around to look at his back, she saw another across his shoulder blades. They looked incredibly painful, but Quinn didn’t flinch even as she gently probed the edges of the wounds with her fingertips.
“I think these need stitches,” she said, her hands trembling. He wasn’t gushing blood, but she knew a slow leak could be just as damaging over time. She fumbled through the first-aid kit, her stomach sinking as she realized there was no suture kit.
“Butterfly strips,” Quinn said softly.
“What?”
“You’ll have to cut the tape into butterfly strips,” he said. “Then you can use them to close my injuries.”
The creeping sense of panic receded as Quinn instructed her on how to prepare the tape. Soon, she had a collection of small strips ready to apply to the wounds.
“Let me clean these first,” she said. She grabbed a water bottle and poured it over the gash on his side, then dabbed at it with gauze. Working quickly, she pressed the edges of the wound together and applied a line of
the makeshift strips to seal it closed. She held her breath as she removed her hand, hoping the tape would stick... If not, she didn’t know what else to do.
A few small drops of blood appeared in the spaces between the tape, but the bandages held. Rebecca sighed with relief and smeared a liberal amount of antibiotic ointment on a large square of gauze, which she then taped over the site before moving to the injury on his back. She tried to be gentle, but she could tell from Quinn’s shallow breathing he was in a lot of pain.
It took a few minutes to finish patching him up. Quinn didn’t speak while she worked, and she didn’t know whether to be thankful for the lack of a distraction, or worried that he didn’t have the energy to talk. After bandaging the worst of his injuries, she carefully cleaned the shallower cuts and applied antibiotic ointment to each one. It was a little thing that probably wouldn’t make a difference, but it helped her to feel like she’d done something. Then she retrieved a clean shirt from his pack and draped it around his shoulders.
“You should lie down,” she said, pulling a blanket from the pack. They’d left their sleeping bags in the tent at the campsite, but she could make him a crude pallet on the rocky ground. Given the amount of blood he’d lost, it would probably be better for him to stretch out flat rather than stay sitting up.
“You need to call for backup,” he said, his voice scratchy. “Do you still have the radio I gave you?”
She reached for her belt, frowning when her hand came up empty. In the chaos of the moment, she’d stuck the radio there before grabbing Quinn to keep him from falling. She hadn’t given it a thought since then, taking for granted it would still be there when she was ready to use it. But now she realized it was gone, and she didn’t have a clue as to where she’d lost it. Back at the campsite? Or had it fallen off somewhere along the trail, its escape from her waistband unnoticed in the rush to get to safety?
