by H. L. Wegley
“Are you all right, Jenn?”
“I’m OK.” She stood. “But, Lee, we’re back on the trail. We need to—” She gasped and pointed towards their planned path of escape.
Two men loped along the trail, guns in hand.
So much for hiding in the forest or running back to the car.
“Lee, they see us!”
Jennifer pulled him forward and they sprinted down the trail towards Rialto Beach, towards more falling trees, and beyond that, something much worse.
Somewhere in the western sky, above all the clouds, the sun was shining.
Until the sun set, they could be seen for nearly two hundred yards. That was another reason to avoid the beach.
“We can’t go onto the beach. It would give them easy shots at us.”
“We’ve got no choice.”
“Then we have to create another choice.” Lee pulled the .38 from his coat pocket and turned to face their pursuers.
Her wide eyes and drawn face displayed her horror. “Please, not yet. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”
She was right.
They would be gunned down where they stood.
He dropped the gun into his coat pocket.
There was another fear Jennifer didn’t yet understand. It frightened him more than facing men brandishing assault rifles when he had only Jennifer’s little weapon.
With all her strength, Jennifer was pulling him nearer to that fear.
He gave in and ran behind her down the trail towards—his mind refused to picture what lay ahead.
Trader and his cohort still pursued them, nearing gunshot range.
Somewhere the trail had ended, and now they plowed into the thick undergrowth. It tore at their legs and ripped their raincoats. When they stopped, Jennifer stood beside him on top of the rocky ridge above the Hole-in-the-Wall.
The deafening boom of the waves reverberated in his chest. The forces unleashed and the sheer violence of the scene couldn’t be assimilated in one glance.
The driftwood logs normally lining the beach bobbed in the water. Eighty-mile-per-hour winds, with gusts probably to one hundred thirty, created thirty-foot storm-surge waves. When the waves broke at the shore line, three-ton logs flew into the air like toothpicks. When that happened, there was no more water visible, only a broad expanse of foam.
Jennifer buried her face in his chest. She shook so hard he feared she would collapse. Would she choose to turn and face the men with the assault rifles after seeing the huge waves?
He closed his eyes. “Please, God. Show us the way.”
At his words, Jennifer’s shaking stopped. She spoke into his ear. “I sought Him. He heard me and delivered me from my fears. It’s His word and it’s true. We have to go to the beach. We’ve got to trust Him to protect us.”
Lee looked behind them.
Guns ready, their pursuers moved in slowly and deliberately for the kill.
He tried, but couldn’t make the decision to run towards that violent scene on the beach.
But Jennifer pulled free and ran to the edge of the rock. Before he could reach her, she slid down the rock onto a high, partially sheltered section of beach on the south side of the Hole-in-the-Wall. She stood ankle deep in foam, but her position was momentarily sheltered from both the logs surfing the thirty-foot waves, and from the guns.
He slid down beside her as a wave washed around the edge of the large sea arch, burying them thigh-deep in water and white foam.
They had twenty or thirty seconds until the men above could move into position to open fire.
Several thoughts coalesced to form a plan, a plan as desperate as their situation. With his arms around Jennifer, he counted the time between successive waves. About eight seconds.
They had hiked this beach several times last summer. Split Rock, the next place of shelter, was about eighty yards away.
In ideal conditions, a good high-school sprinter could cover the distance on a track. This beach was anything but ideal. To save time, they would have to start running before the backwash of the previous wave.
“We’ve got to run to Split Rock between waves. We’ll go right after the next one.”
Her questioning gaze said she knew they couldn’t make it before the next wave broke on them.
But maybe they could get close. Maybe there would be no logs in the part of the wave that would hit them. Maybe the current of the wave, as it washed around Split Rock, would carry them to safety. Too many maybes, but they were out of options.
The wave they would follow leaped up to its full thirty-foot height as its base encountered the ocean floor.
“Right after this one breaks!”
“I love you, Lee!”
He kissed her forehead and grabbed her hand.
The ground trembled when hundreds of tons of water pounded onto the beach in front of them.
The deep rumble resonated in his chest, making it hard to draw a breath.
The wave pushed water and foam up to Jennifer’s waist and pushed them towards the beach, off their path.
He gripped her hand tighter and started towards Split Rock. His legs churned in slow motion in the waist-deep water. As the wave washed back out, Lee gained speed. Soon, they both sprinted on packed sand.
Hope surged.
A small log rolled down the beach towards them. Jennifer tried to jump over it. It clipped her foot. She fell, yanking Lee off his feet. The fall broke their hands apart. They jumped up to run, but the water now bore down on them.
The mountainous wave towered above them. It broke early. With a deafening roar, it claimed them. Then it buried them.
No logs battered, but an overpowering current of water pushed him under. Lee surfaced. He stood on sand in two feet of water. He scanned the foam and water for Jennifer. He spotted her floating on the water several yards behind him.
The wave’s backwash pulled her farther away. It drew her towards the Hole-in-the-Wall, towards deeper water and the next wave.
The approaching swell hit the underwater sandbar and leaped upward more than thirty feet, sucking all the water from the beach, claiming the water for itself, claiming Jennifer. The wall of water contained logs of all sizes, entire trees recently taken down by the storm. The huge wave lifted Jennifer to its crest. Her body disappeared. Then the wave slammed onto the beach in an explosion of water, logs, and foam.
In the twilight, standing in a partially sheltered area by Split Rock, Lee scanned the foam and the logs while the wind and waves continued their assault on the beach.
Jennifer was gone.
The fuse for a guttural eruption, an emotional bomb, burst into flame deep inside. When the fuse was consumed, it exploded from his mouth. “Nooooo!”
He needed to find her. To help her.
He ran through thigh-deep water to the base of Split Rock and clambered up its sheltered backside.
A horrifying scene played in his mind. It threatened his sanity. A picture of driftwood logs pulverizing Jennifer and the storm surge hurling her broken body onto the beach. His heart rejected it, but the nightmare remained in his mind.
He scoured the surf for Jennifer, wave after wave. He felt no imminent danger from the waves or from Trader, only an incapacitating pain in his heart. A dark fog settled over him. The fog displaced all hope, robbing him of everything except the unbearable pain.
****
When Lee came to his senses, he had been sobbing. Darkness had fallen.
Where was God?
Where was Jennifer now? In His presence? No. That would be premature, wrong. She was so beautiful, so full of life, love, and compassion. Especially compassion for the kidnapped girls. All of that served what purpose? It made no difference now.
After a while, a measure of rationality returned. Only one thing could possibly salvage any meaning—the least bit of good—out of his loss. He must kill Trader and his henchmen and stop the girls from being sold.
Whether he died in the process or not, he would kill
these men.
Eventually Peterson would reach Forks with his team, and the human trafficking and drug smuggling would stop. But Trader would die, and the scheduled exchange would not happen.
He would do whatever it took to accomplish that. It’s what Jennifer, the only soul mate he had ever known, would do if she was in his place.
He reached for Jennifer’s .38 in his pocket. It was gone. That placed him at a greater disadvantage, but it didn’t matter. Without a weapon, he wouldn’t survive.
But neither would Trader.
He was ready to die. Death was his only path to Jennifer. But he had to live long enough to see her mission through.
First, he needed to get from Split Rock back to the ridge above the Hole-in-the-Wall. From there, he could backtrack to the other fork in the trail and see if it led to the place where Trader held the girls.
The wind had decreased somewhat. Occasionally, beams of light from a half moon slipped through slits in the clouds. The sporadic moonlight, the shelter of Split Rock, and the eight-second wave interval would allow him to run directly away from the beach to safety.
Fifty yards would take him beyond the reach of the waves and the embedded logs that still battered the shore. The final twenty-five yards would take him through a tangle of bushes, shredding his clothes and raincoat. That was no concern now.
Moonlight shone briefly, illuminating a twenty-foot wave ready to break.
He crouched on the rock. The wave broke, and then passed his position. Lee jumped down onto the beach and ran towards the shore with the rushing water.
Clouds covered the moon. It was dark again, so he could only hope no logs were rolling towards him in the backwash of the wave.
Something ripped at him. He fell forward into the water. A large, rolling log tore the skin from his left leg. The abrasions stung sharply in the salt water.
He fell onto his face. Would a second rolling log bash in his head? That might end his misery, but he couldn’t allow it. Not yet.
Instead of a second log, he felt only the rush of the backwash, a deep sense of loss, and a deepening resolve.
Trader was a dead man.
15
The rushing water ahead of the next wave captured Jennifer. The strong current pulled her seaward. “Lee! Lee! God, please protect me. For the girls’ sake, and for Lee.”
To fight the ferocious current would only waste strength. She turned towards the roaring sound.
A forty-foot wall of water bore down on her.
Jennifer swam hard directly into it.
The storm had embedded entire trees and large pieces of driftwood in the wall of water.
The verses from Saturday’s devotions washed through her mind, cleansing it of panic and terror.
Lord, You alone are my rock and my salvation.
Her stomach flipped like on a carnival ride when the giant wave lifted her body to its crest. One moment she was on top of the monstrous wave, directly beside the Hole-in-the-Wall. The next, she was falling. Falling.
A stunning blow to her forehead. A flash like lightning—
****
Jennifer became vaguely aware of her body rasping against something…a rock. Some force pulled on her arm. It hurt, but she seemed detached from the pain. There were voices, and then everything reverted to blackness.
A bright light stabbed her eyes as it shined through her eyelids. Something, or was it Someone, told her she must keep her eyes shut.
She was cold and wet. Her head ached and her mind spun like a centrifuge.
The wind howled. Waves crashed and roared, and there were human voices.
Danger! The alarm sounded in her mind.
“You think this is the girl who spied on us? Are you sure?” the gravelly voice asked.
“She was with the guy. They were clever, resourceful. Dangerous. If she wakes up, we need to find out what she knows, and then get rid of her,” the deep voice said.
The deep voice was one she had heard before, but where? As the fog in her mind dissipated, she matched the voice with a person. It was the voice from the cell-phone recording.
Trader’s voice. The realization shot through her like electricity. Jennifer tried to steady her breathing. No startled gasp could escape her lips. Her eyes must remain closed…for now.
It had to be three-fourths of a mile to the place where the girls were held. How far would they be willing to carry her before they decided she was too much trouble—too much dead weight? Until they wanted her dead?
Trader threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and started walking up the trail towards the forest.
Her weight obviously wasn’t an issue. What about being too much trouble? She needed to avoid causing trouble if she wanted to see the girls.
The gravel-voiced man spoke. “Did you take a good look at her?”
“I inspected the goods. Top quality,” Trader said. “But if you’re talking about who she is, I’m sure she’s the girl we saw at the mill and again in the rainforest. She’s wearing the same raincoat.”
Jennifer knew what they meant and was glad she was unconscious. She was barely beginning to understand the filthiness and moral depravity of human traffickers, but even that bit of insight was enough to turn her stomach.
“If we cleaned her up, she’s more than top quality. The other three aren’t even in her league. I’ll bet she’s sixteen, maybe seventeen, at most. I know a certain prince who would pay a small fortune for her. If he won’t commit to the deal, Boatman will pay the usual amount.”
The gravelly voice confirmed what Jennifer thought. Goods to sell to a middleman, or perhaps a consumer like the prince. That’s all young women were to them.
It was providential that she left her ring in the car. She needed them to continue believing she was sixteen, frightened, and naïve. The frightened part she didn’t have to pretend.
“You might be right,” Trader spoke slowly. “Getting rid of a body isn’t easy. Even knocking her in the head and tossing her back into the surf has certain risks, especially if her body is found anytime soon.”
“More risk since we’re not absolutely sure the guy died. But it looked like that big wave got him. If we sell the girl, we’re home free,” the gravelly voice said.
They had to be wrong about Lee. She survived the big wave, and he was in a more sheltered spot than she’d been. She had to believe that, otherwise her heart would be broken. Lord, protect Lee…
“Home free, unless they called someone when they passed through Forks.” Trader voiced a legitimate concern.
“We need to get her to talk. I can manage that without damaging the goods.”
What would they do to her? The realization that they could do anything they wanted brought panic, panic that threatened to overwhelm her.
“How do you plan to do that?” The gravelly voice asked.
“If she wakes up, I’ll demonstrate my methods when we get back to the shack.”
Trader’s words verified Jennifer’s suspicions. She would soon see the girls, become one of the girls, at a place they called the shack.
She must conceal her age, her knowledge, and her experience. If she was going to help rescue the girls, she would need those resources, plus the element of surprise, plus Him.
You alone, Lord, are my rock and my salvation. You are my fortress, I will never be shaken. You saved me from the waves when I should have died. Now show me what I need to do.
Her chest was pressed against the back of Trader’s shoulder. Less than twelve inches from her heart another heart was beating. A heart with a completely different nature, unregenerate, bent on evil of the worst kind, enslaved by its own proclivities and the forces of darkness—Trader’s heart. She had told Lee she wasn’t into irony. But here, irony reigned supreme.
Jennifer tried to formulate a plan to save the girls. Lee escaped the big wave that the gravelly voiced man mentioned. She would operate on that premise, that her soul mate was alive and would be doing something to res
cue her and the girls, if he could. Did he see Trader pull her from the water, or did he believe she was dead? What would he do next?
It was a silly question. Lee would try to save the girls. Knowingly or unknowingly, he would also be trying to save her.
That thought brought hope. It surged in her heart. But what must she do? Only one answer crystallized in her mind. Buy time. The longer she could keep the girls alive and in the shack, the better their chances of rescue.
Peterson’s team was on its way. Though they didn’t know its precise location, within a few hours, the FBI would find them. Lee would come, too.
Before tomorrow night, there would be an attempt to rescue them. She needed to be ready to assist whoever made the rescue attempt. The girls also needed to be confident and ready. That’s what she must do. Instill hope and prepare them for the rescue. Any further details would have to wait until she saw the shack and the girls.
Lord, please don’t allow Trader to isolate me from the girls. Maybe it’s time for me to wake up now.
16
The rolling log swept Lee off his feet. He plunged headfirst into the cold water, shoving his hands out to protect his face. He caught himself with a jarring impact that threatened to break his wrists.
He came down on something hard, bruising the heel of his hand. It wasn’t a rock. His fingers had closed around a familiar object. When he stood to run, he held Jennifer’s gun. But would it fire, or blow up in his face?
In the darkness, he stumbled away from the violent water. Probably away from Jennifer’s body, too. But he couldn’t dwell on that.
The gun wasn’t cocked, so he slipped it into his raincoat pocket.
Now out of the cold water, thorny bushes shredded his raincoat and ripped deep scratches into the backs of his hands. When the thorns ended, he stood at the base of the hill. He followed the hill towards the ridge, praying that when he reached it, he could find the trail.
A shaft of moonlight beamed down between the clouds flying across the night sky. The light was too brief to help him, so he stumbled ahead through the low bushes until he reached the base of the ridge.
