by Rachel Grant
“Why are you looking there?” she asked.
All at once, he realized his mistake. “I saw it on the table this morning.”
Had it been there? It had been dark in her tent with just a gray light penetrating the walls.
She said nothing, just turned to search for her laptop, which she found, but it was smashed beyond repair. She grabbed a few items of clothing—fleece and wool that would keep her warm—but left the rest of her belongings behind.
“Food is more important,” she said impatiently as he continued to search for Dylan’s phone. “We need to see what we can salvage from the cook tent. We can call from the village.”
He tightened his jaw. It was too much of a jumble for a complete search, and he couldn’t afford to freak her out more than she already was before they were safe for the night.
They moved on to Dean’s tent from there, where he salvaged a few items of clothing and grabbed his waterproof camera and all the batteries and spare storage disks. If the solar charger worked—and they got some sun—he could charge the batteries and stay in business, documenting whatever the hell was happening on Chiksook Island.
They did a spot-check of the other tents, but it was clear that everyone else had managed to gather their belongings before the blast. Their cursory search didn’t turn up any personal items.
From there, they went to the cook tent to see what could be salvaged. They found a box of ramen noodle packets that had been inside a sturdy storage box that survived.
“This is gonna be just like college. Ramen and electrolyte drinks.”
Fiona gave his joke a weak smile.
On impulse, he pulled her to him and wrapped her in his arms. “Hey. We’re going to get through this. We’ve got a sleeping bag and a vehicle with gas, plus ramen. A helicopter will come for us tomorrow. We’ll be fine.”
She hesitated, then leaned her head against him. For one brief moment, he felt her whole body relax into his, a surrender. A need for comfort so deep, she set aside her distrust.
It had been ten years since he’d held anyone with this kind of intimacy. Sure, he’d had sex, but never intimacy. Never this emotional exchange that could be felt through layers of rain gear, fleece, and wool.
He’d been buck-ass naked and inside women and hadn’t felt this kind of emotional exchange.
Not since Violet.
But then, after Violet, he’d never allowed anyone past the walls he’d built around his heart. Only Dylan had keys to that fortress.
And this was Dylan’s girl.
He released her and remembered his role. They had to get out of here. He had a bad feeling they weren’t alone, and every second they delayed was a risk.
She found a dozen protein bars and added them to their bag of goodies. “Dibs on the chocolate peppermint LUNA one.”
“No way. Everyone knows peppermint is the best. You want the best one, you’ve got to earn it.”
“Aww, can’t I interest you in a peanut butter fudge LUNA? We’ve got at least five of those.”
His heart squeezed. That was Dylan’s favorite. He managed to maintain his teasing smile. “We can arm wrestle for the peppermint one.”
She pursed her lips and squeezed his biceps. “I have a feeling you have a distinct advantage there.”
He gave a shallow grin and resumed searching by peeling sheets of burned plastic from the collapsed shelves. “It’s a risk you’ll just have to take.”
They found jars of instant coffee in addition to regular ground beans but opted for instant so they wouldn’t need to track down filters or a press. He grabbed a small pot for boiling water for coffee and ramen, along with bowls and utensils. Their travel mugs were already in the side-by-side from this morning.
At the other side of the pantry area, Fiona shoved aside a folding table and revealed a small, ancient freezer built like a tank. “Oh yes,” she said, reverence in her voice.
Dean knelt next to her, offering up his own hopeful affirmation. He wrenched it open, and his eyes feasted on the contents. Beef, chicken, and fish, frozen in solid bricks and sealed in airtight plastic. Frozen as they were, they would be easy to pack and would keep for a few days. “Hallelujah,” he said softly.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Fiona said. “This is better than peppermint LUNA.”
While she shoved the bricks of frozen meat into a canvas Pollux Engineering bag they’d found in the debris, he continued searching and found an old ammo box filled with small cans of Sterno cooking fuel. “Sweet. We can cook the meat and boil water with these if we can’t build a fire.” He grabbed the ammo box by the handle. No point in leaving any fuel behind, and the metal box could come in handy too.
Their bags—and arms—were overloaded. Between meats and other items, they’d managed a decent haul of food. From there, they moved on to the office tent.
But the office tent was no more. Had this been where the initial fire had started or the epicenter of the blast? The theme from Gilligan’s Island ran through his head, the line where it listed the luxuries they lacked, starting with “no phone.”
Thankfully, they had a motorcar. And it was time to get in it and get the hell out of there.
They piled their haul into the back of the side-by-side. The overflow went in the back seat. If nothing else, Fiona figured the frozen meats could be given to the Unangas as a thank-you for their assistance.
She kept telling herself they would be fine once they got to the village. There would be an easy explanation. It was all one horrible accident. A nightmare, sure, but not deliberate.
But deep down, she didn’t believe it. Not when Bill had lied about his expertise. Not when all communication was cut off right when she needed it most.
The rain had seriously pummeled the road. It was questionable as to whether they’d make it to the village, and they still didn’t have a tent. They’d checked the other side-by-sides that were parked by the pier, and none had a tent or sleeping bags. And their spare gas cans were gone.
But the most disturbing fact was . . . Fiona thought one side-by-side was missing.
But she could be wrong. It was possible the cook and maintenance team didn’t have a dedicated vehicle. But if they did, there should be five vehicles in camp, not the four that were accounted for.
The keys to all the remaining vehicles were nowhere to be found, so they would continue on with the side-by-side they’d been using all day. They had one full gas can, but that was it. With all their driving today, they’d used half the tank. They’d have to be judicious in deciding where to drive. Right now, the Unangax̂ village was their best bet. But if they couldn’t make it that far, where would they sleep?
They could probably find shelter in a rock overhang or the World War II ruins, but the World War II base was on the north shore, to the east of the volcano, easily a two-hour drive, given that the road there was worse than all the others. It used to be accessible via road, but between the lahar flow and several collapsed bridges, the main road could no longer claim the lofty title.
No, their best bet was to go straight to the village.
“Do you want me to drive?” Bill asked.
She didn’t, not really. She wanted to be in control. But she wasn’t good at navigating the sloppy, muddy ditches that threatened to snag a vehicle at any time. She sighed and handed him the keys. “It’s probably for the best.”
He surprised her by wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her to him again. His lips brushed her forehead. “I’m not a threat to you, I promise.”
She wanted to sink into him like she had as they stood amid the ruins of the cook tent, but she wouldn’t let herself. Something had happened between them in the kitchen. And it was unsettling, even though she didn’t know why. And now here he was, his words practically an admission she had reason to fear him by acknowledging her unspoken suspicions. Nothing made sense. Not his reassuring words or her desire to escape into the comfort he offered.
She shifted her body, and he dropped
his arms. Freed, she circled the vehicle to climb into the passenger seat. One thing was certain, as soon as they were settled into someplace safe and dry tonight, they were going to talk.
The road was worse than he’d imagined. For starters, it was a road—perhaps the only one on the whole damn island—that they hadn’t driven today, so it was completely unfamiliar. It was also straight-up terrible, a series of pits filled with water with the occasional boulder thrown in.
And then there was the fog. A thick fog reduced visibility to ten feet, then five, so he couldn’t see the pits and boulders until he was aiming for them. The side-by-side was more maneuverable than the Titanic, but not when there was only five feet of warning that the road was going to disappear up ahead.
If he went too slow, he risked getting mired in the muddy track. Too fast, and he’d play chicken with a boulder. Boulders always won.
Eventually, though, it was a water-filled mud pit that got the checkered flag. They’d only made it a third of the distance to the Unangax̂ village when he got stuck in a deep pit.
He rested his head against the steering wheel as he braced himself to step out into the fog. If Fiona drove and he pushed, maybe they could escape the mud.
But where would they go? There was no way they were going to make it to the village tonight. Not in this fog and rain and mess of a road.
“You drive. I’ll push.”
She met his gaze, and he saw the fear in her eyes. She hadn’t been comforted by his promise earlier that he wasn’t a threat to her. If anything, it seemed to make her concerns worse. He’d pointed out the elephant in the room before they’d had a chance to talk about it.
Once they had shelter, he’d tell her everything.
And she’d damn well tell him everything she knew.
Problem was, without a miracle, their only shelter might be this tiny side-by-side, and if that was the case, they needed to get it someplace sheltered and out of sight for the night. He still had the distinct feeling they weren’t alone out here.
He climbed from the vehicle. He had to fight the wind to close the door as she climbed across the console into the driver’s seat. “Punch it,” he said when she was settled.
The rear driver’s-side tire spun and spun, getting zero traction.
“Stop. Let me see if I can get some rocks in place. Give it something to grip.”
He trudged through the mud along the side of the road and looked for football-size cobbles. He found a few smaller rocks and tucked them into the muck in front of the rear tire. He hadn’t bothered with gloves because he wanted to be able to position the stones just right, and his fingers ached with the cold of the clinging mud.
He needed at least two more cobbles before they should make an attempt. If there weren’t enough, the ones he had found would just disappear into the mud, wasted effort. He returned to the side of the road and continued searching. He’d ask Fiona to help, but one of them should stay warm and dry, and she knew this island better than he did. She’d know where to find shelter. He needed her if they were going to survive, and that meant keeping her warm and functioning.
They’d been left behind on purpose. Did whoever blew up the camp know he was Dylan’s brother? Or had they just guessed he wasn’t who he’d presented himself to be?
Had Fiona guessed even before today? Had she told someone her concerns?
The radio and phone sabotage raised a helluva lot of questions.
Hell, could he even trust her? Maybe it was her job to make sure he missed the boat.
These concerns ran through his mind as he found and placed more cobbles in front of the rear tire.
There were enough now to give it a try. He positioned himself at the rear and to the side, so if the vehicle were to rock backward, he wouldn’t get caught and run over.
“Punch it,” he shouted again.
She did, and he pushed on the corner, giving the vehicle an extra nudge. The tires spun, then gripped, and it bounced out of the hole. She kept going, moving steadily to keep from getting stuck again, and he jogged after her, ready to jump in when they got past the low spot in the road that had collected so much rainwater. She neared the top of the hill, the vehicle slipped a bit, but she pumped the gas, and it made it up.
She might not like driving these muddy roads, but she was good at it.
The vehicle crested the rise and made it to the hilltop. He jogged after and reached the top—just in time to see the side-by-side disappear into the fog and rain.
THIRTEEN
She hadn’t planned on abandoning him; she’d merely seized the moment and kept going. But she hadn’t gone more than a hundred yards when guilt weighed on her. Leaving him out here with nothing was leaving him out here to die.
She couldn’t do that.
But she couldn’t stay with him either. Not when he could be the biggest threat of all.
If she could get to the village tonight, she’d send someone back for him, but there was no way she’d get to the village without his help. They would get stuck again, and getting out was a two-person job.
It was time for a new plan. She would take the supplies she needed and leave him the vehicle. He was, without a doubt, following on foot. He’d find the vehicle. He’d have shelter and food. She’d be gone with half their food and the sleeping bag. It was only fair she take the bag, since she was leaving him the shelter of the vehicle.
She even knew where she’d go. Not far from here, there was a Japanese airplane wreck she’d recorded during an earlier survey. It was tucked up against a rock face and covered in tall grasses and shrubs. The plane was big enough for her to take shelter in. She might even be able to build a fire and dry out her clothes. Smoke wouldn’t be seen in this rain and fog, and besides, she doubted Bill would pursue her once he realized he had the vehicle.
She just needed to get enough distance between them so she’d have time to grab what she needed from the back before setting out, but she couldn’t go too far or she was likely to get stuck again.
She found the perfect place to pull over and tucked the side-by-side behind a rocky protrusion covered in thick shrubs.
She reached into the back and grabbed a bag of food, swapping out bricks of meat for ramen and protein bars and making sure she had packs of powdered milk, powdered protein, and powdered electrolytes. She shoved what she could into her field pack, which she would strap to the larger emergency pack that held a first aid kit, among other basic necessities. There were mylar emergency blankets, flares, waterproof matches, a lighter, and flashlights as well. She would need all of that and more now.
Her gaze landed on the thick yellow bib rain pants in the back seat. The field pants she wore now were water resistant, but the resistance wouldn’t hold up for long in this weather. The yellow Helly Hansens would do a much better job, but they took too long to put on, and Bill would catch up to her soon.
She grabbed the pants, then dropped them back on the seat. No time. She’d just have to get wet and dry out in the plane.
She shut off the engine but left the keys in place and circled to the back of the side-by-side, buffeted by wind with every step. She grabbed the emergency frame backpack and dropped the food items that hadn’t fit in her smaller pack inside. She opened the ammo box and transferred several cans of Sterno into the frame pack, then stuffed the sleeping bag inside. She was about to cinch it closed when she spotted Dylan’s clipboard peeking out of one of the canvas Pollux bags.
Why had Bill been so eager to find the clipboard? It was the first thing he’d gone for.
And he’d been desperate to find Dylan’s phone. But at least that one made sense, as it might have been a working way to call for help, if they could unlock it.
She grabbed the clipboard and crammed it down the back of the already stuffed backpack. It was bulging, but the flap and straps would prevent anything from falling out, and the sleeping bag would remain nice and dry inside.
She quickly clipped her field pack to the frame of the la
rger pack, then hoisted the entire thing onto her back. Holy hell, it had to weigh at least forty pounds. But she’d deal. She had to. The plane was less than a mile from here. She could make it.
She closed the back of the vehicle and set out, taking a path that would leave the fewest footprints but knowing it was futile in the mud.
Hopefully, he’d be so grateful to have the vehicle, he’d decide not to pursue her. After all, she’d left him food.
The first part of the hike was the hardest—a steep, muddy hillside with a forty-pound pack in pouring rain. Her feet slipped and her muscles strained and she found it hard to get enough oxygen.
Maybe that was panic?
She couldn’t be sure; she just knew it sucked as she grabbed shrubs to keep her from sliding down and losing the ground she’d gained.
As she’d known would happen, her pants quickly soaked through, the icy water penetrating all the way down to her thermal underwear. At least her torso remained warm and dry.
She made it to the top and dropped to her knees to catch her breath, the heavy pack weighing on her, threatening to press her into the soft, muddy earth.
She’d been overly optimistic about her physical condition and ability to handle the heavy pack. But she’d made it. She had to give herself credit for that. She’d get to the plane and settle in. Dry out. Wait for the storm to pass. She had enough food to last a few days. Surely a helicopter search party would show up once the storm abated. She had a flare gun. She’d be found.
She pushed to her feet and forced herself to keep walking.
She followed the easiest path for the first fifty yards or so, then pulled out her compass to get a bearing. It would be easy to get lost out here, given the limited site distance, but she was fairly certain the Japanese plane was to the northeast of her position. If her phone worked, she could look up her field notes and get the exact UTMs. She also had paper maps and could plot her course if she could see enough features to triangulate. But right now it was more important to get distance from the side-by-side. She’d worry about finding the plane once she was certain Bill wasn’t following her.
