The Last Resort

by Janice Kay Johnson - His Best Friend's Baby

  Guessing himself to be close, he finally said, “Leah?” All he could do was hope he wasn’t too close to the road—and that Higgs hadn’t been smart enough to have men walking it, listening and watching for any indication that someone was in there and not dead on the rocky bank of the low-running river.

  “Spencer?”

  “Hold still.”

  She didn’t answer. He stepped forward carefully. He felt renewed irritation at himself; if he’d had his phone, he’d have also had a flashlight—although he wouldn’t have dared use it now.

  He put out a foot and found only space, teetering before he drew back.

  A woeful whisper came from the darkness. “I fell in.”

  Spencer crouched. His eyes had adjusted well enough for him to see fern fronds waving wildly. Presumably, they disguised a hollow. Maybe a giant tree stump had rotted into nothingness; who knew?

  “I’m here,” he murmured. “Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Okay.” Relief flooded him. He held out a hand. “Can you see me?”

  “Yes.” More stirring among what he thought was mostly lush clumps of sword ferns. A slim hand seized his, and he exerted steady pressure until she scrambled out of the hollow and fell against him.

  Her arms wrapped his torso even as he held her tight, ignoring the pain in his wrist.

  Against his chest, she mumbled, “I was so scared! And afraid I couldn’t find you, and—”

  Exhilarated because they had found each other, he chuckled. Her hair stirred against his cheek.

  “I was getting a little worried myself,” he admitted.

  Her head came up. “What happened?”

  “The Jeep sailed over the cliff and exploded when it hit the rocks at the bottom. Last I knew, the SUVs coming up behind us stopped there. I heard voices. Whether they bought it entirely... I don’t know. I’m betting they don’t find a way to get to the Jeep until daylight, though. Whether they’re taking into account the possibility we weren’t in the Jeep, I don’t know.”

  After a moment she nodded. “Now what?” she asked, sounding as if she was running through options in her head.

  That was an excellent question. From where they stood, downhill would take them southeast. They’d almost have to hit the highway. Even so, he’d give a lot for a topographical map. And, hey, food, warmer clothes, possibly a sleeping bag, the flashlight and phone, the absence of which he’d already regretted, and probably a lot of other things that hadn’t yet occurred to him but would as soon as he or Leah needed them.

  He winced. Like the bottle of pain meds. Except, he’d stuck two of them in his pocket, meaning to take them with dinner but decided not to show his vulnerability so publicly. He’d hold out as long as he could before taking them one at a time.

  Preferably after they came on at least a trickle of water.

  Right now...

  “Two choices. Keep going, away from the road. Or hunker down for the night. If we’re going to do that, you found us a great place to hide.”

  He kind of thought she made a face before saying, “I agree. What’s your preference? You okay?” She glanced at his still-bandaged wrist.

  Reluctantly, he said, “I’m fine. I think we move on. We’re too close to the road here. By morning, if not sooner, they’ll be looking for us. I haven’t had the impression that any of them are real outdoorsmen. A few say they’ve hunted, so maybe I’m wrong. Still, most outdoor experience doesn’t prepare you for a temperate rain forest.”

  “Have you ever spent any time in the north Cascades?”

  “Yeah, did some climbing here years ago.” Over the course of several leaves, a buddy, Aaron, and he had ascended seven mountains altogether, from the Rockies to the Teton Mountains and here in the Cascades. Spencer hadn’t gone climbing since Aaron had been killed in a firefight.

  “What about bears? I know what they can do, remember.”

  He decided not to remind her about porcupines, also nocturnal. “They’re rarely aggressive with humans, as you know.”

  After a minute Leah straightened away from him. “I’m ready.”

  Conscious of his many aches and the sharp pain in his side and thigh and wrist, he’d have liked to sleep for a few hours. But he wouldn’t feel any better tomorrow morning, the next day, or the next. Even a little distance covered tonight would give them a head start tomorrow.

  He nodded and led the way, hoping like hell he was going approximately in the right direction—and that they wouldn’t stumble out on the winding road where someone might be waiting for them.

  The parable about the blind leading the blind crossed his mind. Aesop? Just as well he couldn’t remember how that story ended.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Because of his recent wounds and undoubted pain, Leah insisted they take regular breaks to rest. He didn’t argue, but gave away his tension by regularly pushing a button on his watch to check the time. She didn’t bother asking how long they’d been on their way, and he didn’t offer the information. The day’s stresses had caught up with her ages ago—and if she found out that was really only half an hour ago, she might scream—but really she was grateful to be so tired; she couldn’t do any concentrated worrying. She just followed in Spencer’s wake, knowing at least that she wouldn’t tumble into another hole unless he did first.

  The ground was soft and uneven, though. Squishy in places, more from the depth of the moss and decomposing organic matter. They clambered over and walked around fallen trees, some that might have come down last winter, others already rotting and serving as nurse logs for saplings. In some of those places faint rays of moonlight found them, and she glimpsed tiny distant stars. Much of the time enormous trees reared above them, blocking out the sky. She had a vague memory of Uncle Edward talking about some true old-growth forest close by and wondered if that was what this was.

  It might be, because at some point the walking became easier since they weren’t having to fight the ferns and salmonberries and who-knew-what that scratched and tripped them. The darkness was almost absolute, the boles of standing trees enormous. Not that the ground didn’t remain uneven, the extreme dark hiding obstacles that would cause Spencer to growl under his breath before he helped her around or over them.

  She walked right into him when he stopped.

  “I’m beat,” he said. “I suggest we get on the other side of this log and try to sleep a little.”

  Since she was very close to sleepwalking, Leah thought she could do that. And she knew Spencer must be dead on his feet to actually admit to needing a rest.

  They had to go around this time. Taking her hand, he guided her. The trunk must have been six or eight feet in diameter. Even decomposing, it reared above her head. On the back side, he advanced slowly before stopping, seeming to feel his way. “This looks as good as anyplace.”

  Looks? She couldn’t see a thing, but she wasn’t about to quibble, either.

  Once she’d squatted and then plunked down, she tried very hard not to think about what insects inhabited a rotting log. Would there be snakes around? Not poisonous ones, she was pretty sure. Her hand bumped something that sort of...crumbled. Recoiling, she made out a lighter shape against the dark backdrop of loam and moss. Mushrooms. Now, those could be poisonous, but she didn’t plan to eat one.

  She heard a groan as Spencer carefully lowered himself beside her. Oh, heavens—she should have helped him. Given the possibly broken wrist, he wouldn’t lean any weight on that arm, and the gash in his thigh had to hinder him.

  Too late.

  “God, this feels good,” he said after a minute.

  “Uh-huh.” Except she felt herself listing sideways until she came up against his big, solid body. “Can we lie down?” She was slurring.

  “We can.”

  They shifted, she squirmed, he wrapped her in his arms
and they ended up prone. He spooned her body from behind. His arm made a perfect pillow. Her eyelids sank closed, she mumbled something that was supposed to be “good night” and fell asleep.

  * * *

  CRADLING THIS WOMAN he suspected he loved, Spencer wasn’t as quick to drop off to sleep.

  When things went to shit, it happened fast.

  If not for the damn fight, he’d be in a lot better physical shape and thus more confident that he and Leah would make it safely out of this densely wooded, uninhabited forest. If he’d had even ten or fifteen minutes’ warning, he could have filled a pack with food, first-aid supplies, flashlight and more. As it was, they were screwed if either of them so much as developed blisters on their feet. His boots protected his ankles, while Leah’s athletic shoes were fine for walking, but wouldn’t keep her from turning an ankle.

  They just about had to move during the daytime rather than at night even though they might be spotted. Especially given their physical condition, they had to be able to see where they were stepping. In fact, they were lucky no disaster had already occurred with them blundering around in the dark.

  He cast his mind back to that brief encounter with Dirk. Spencer had had no idea he’d been seen pocketing the key. If it had been anybody but Dirk...if Dirk had told Higgs, or when he saw Spencer at the Jeep had opened his mouth and yelled... No point in going there now.

  He hoped Dirk had kept his mouth shut and did find a way to take off.

  His thoughts jumped again.

  How the hell had that idiot Fuller stumbled on the photo?

  He actively tried not to be photographed. With the press sticking their noses in everywhere, he’d been unable to completely evade them given that he had to testify in court. Most outlets were good about not publishing those pictures, but he knew of a couple that had made it into newspapers or TV news stories. There were undoubtedly more online. In fact, the one Tim Fuller had described in Leah’s hearing had to be one of those.

  His ascendancy in Higgs’s estimation had rubbed Tim, in particular, wrong for months. But had he made mistakes that gave away his law-enforcement background? Spencer shook his head slightly. He had no idea, and at this point that was irrelevant. Permanently irrelevant, if he declined to go undercover again.

  Tim had to have sensed/heard/seen something to make him do that kind of online prowling. Or, hell, had he contacted a friend who was more of a computer wizard? Maybe, Spencer concluded.

  For all that things had gone to shit, he and Leah had made their getaway and, right now, were fine. They wouldn’t starve to death in the next two or three days.

  The tricky moment would be when they had to approach a road.

  He nuzzled Leah’s silky hair and let sleep claim him.

  * * *

  HIS BODY’S DEMAND awakened him before Leah had so much as moved. In fact, it didn’t appear either of them had made any of the restless shifts in position normal to sleepers. Her head still rested on his biceps; he still spooned her.

  He’d have enjoyed the moment if he didn’t need to empty his bladder, and if his body wasn’t reporting multiple other complaints. His shoulder ached, his arm was stiff, his wrist felt broken, his thigh throbbed and his whole left side was on fire. In a general way, he felt like crap. What if he was coming down with a cold or the flu?

  Stuffing a groan back down where it came from, he gently shook Leah. “Time to rise and shine.”

  She whimpered, stirred and whimpered again. “I’m stiff. Although I don’t know why I’m whining. You’re the one who is injured.”

  He didn’t say so, but he dreaded getting up.

  Leah did get to her hands and knees, then to her feet. She suddenly said, “I need—” and bolted for a nearby tree.

  Since he’d rather she not see him dealing with his infirmities, he got up, too, in slow increments. Water or no water, he was taking one of those damn pills. Just as she reappeared around the tree, he shuffled toward a different one.

  There, he used the facilities, then did some stretches before returning to Leah.

  “Turns out GrubHub can’t find us to deliver that Denny’s breakfast,” he said. “Guess we’ll have to do without.”

  Her smile rewarded him. “There are berries ripe, if we can find a clearing.”

  “Stumble on one, you mean.”

  “At least we can see.”

  That was an improvement, he’d concede.

  He started out. He got the pill down, but was left with a foul taste in his mouth. Walking loosened muscles, and the pill did some good, too, but he felt as if someone was stabbing his thigh with a red-hot poker. All he could do was block out what he couldn’t change and go on.

  By the time sunlight made it to the forest floor, it was diffuse, soft, even tinted green-gold. He still had to watch carefully for the best places to set down his feet, which made for slow going. Common sense did battle with a sense of urgency; what if finding out they were being dogged by the FBI inspired Higgs to launch an early attack?

  Helplessness didn’t sit well with Spencer, but practically, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to prevent any immediate action Higgs took. He doubted a bomb had actually been built, but the debacle during the Boston Marathon had demonstrated how much damage could be done by really primitive bombs. He was afraid Ken Vogel, with his bomb squad experience, could put together any number of lethal explosive devices even without input from a budding physicist with an interest in nuclear fission.

  Until he got his hands on a phone, he had no way to alert his office that the operation had blown up on him.

  Then focus on the moment. Except for my aching body. Best not to think about that.

  Deciding it was time for a short break, he spotted a moss-covered rock more or less the right height to let them sit.

  Once they did so, Leah looked at him with worry in her eyes. “What do you think they’re doing?”

  “Right now?” He checked his watch. “Struggling upriver to the wreck. That’ll take them at least a couple of hours from the best place to leave vehicles.”

  “And then?”

  Trust her to echo his concerns.

  “I think there are two logical options for Higgs. One is to pack up and leave, probably have the others disperse until he can line up an alternate place for them to train. The other is to go for an immediate attack.”

  “Immediate?”

  “Once he realizes we’re on foot, he may decide to have the men hunt us for a day or two. Catching us would solve their problem with timing.” He didn’t have to say, executing us. “Otherwise, he could pull together a plan for an attack that might not be quite as spectacular as he intended, but those rocket launchers alone give him the firepower to threaten a gathering of politicians or even the president himself.”

  “You know him. Which is more likely?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Dispersing. He likes the pieces to fit together. He’ll want the big bang, so to speak. To accomplish that, the attack was to take place on a lot of levels. Bomb or bombs, rocket launchers, snipers picking off counterattackers or survivors trying to get away. Maybe even sending in a squad of men who don’t have the range to be snipers to mow people down.”

  Leah looked more horrified by the minute. “That’s why he wanted you.”

  “He needed a sniper to train others. That’s what I was doing.”

  The urgency tapped on his shoulder, and he rose to his feet. “I’ll stiffen up if we stop for long. Let’s get going.”

  They continued in silence, Spencer straining to hear any sounds unnatural for the forest. Every now and again, a bird would flit by, most unidentifiable, a few common enough he recognized them, like the crow and later a jay, although that had unfamiliar coloration. They weren’t plagued by a lot in the way of insects. Mosquitoes and even flies would prefer moist areas, butterflies open meadows with flowers. T
he rotting logs were no doubt rife with crawly things, centipedes, sow bugs and the like. Nothing that stung, as far as he knew.

  And, on a glass half-full note, it wasn’t raining. He knew from experience that rain wasn’t uncommon here even in July and August. Some water to drink would be welcome; in fact, thirst was increasingly making itself known. But getting wet and having to keep going, pants chafing their legs, even socks soaked, that could be miserable.

  “I hear something,” she whispered.

  He stopped and cocked his head. Speak of the devil. That had to be running water.

  He turned, held a finger to his lips and progressed with even greater care. The small stream they found took enough of a tumble over rocks to have caused the delicate rippling sound. A deer that had been drinking saw them and bounded away.

  “Oh, my.”

  “This water will likely make us sick,” he told her, dredging through his memory. “Giardia is the problem, as I recall. If we could boil it...”

  She wrinkled her nose. “No stove handy.”

  “Nope. I don’t think symptoms will catch up with us for at least a week or two.” He hoped that recollection was accurate. “We’ll need to ask for treatment once we have a chance to see a doctor.”

  If she doubted that time would come, she didn’t comment.

  Spencer splashed his face to cool it, and wished for a water bottle, too.

  If wishes were horses...

  His head had begun to throb. He debated taking the last pill now versus waiting, deciding on the latter. He might need it more come morning.

  * * *

  LEAH’S STOMACH GROWLED. She pressed a hand to it, hoping Spencer hadn’t heard. He had enough to worry about, and given the toll his injuries took, he needed fuel for his body even more than she did.