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THE NIGHT WAS NOW EERILY quiet. No breeze. No rustling of leaves. No indication that just minutes earlier, the entire woods had threatened to collapse in on itself like Roger’s rickety log cabin.
Kennedy knew where to go. She told herself that each time she second-guessed her footing and wondered if she was following the right trail. It felt like she and Willow had run a mile during the earthquake, but if Willow had spotted the cabin from Roger’s place, it couldn’t be nearly that far.
She wouldn’t get lost.
Shining Willow’s cellphone flashlight in one direction and then another, Kennedy thought back to all the wild animals that might live out here in the Alaskan wilderness. Polar bears weren’t this low beneath the arctic circle, were they? No, if this part of the state was known for its polar bears, Willow would have mentioned it sooner.
What about other kinds of bear, though? Hopefully anything out here would be deep in hibernation, but what creature could have slept through an earthquake like that? Kennedy was still dizzy, still trying to walk on shaky ground. It reminded her of the way she felt as a kid coming home after a full day at the waterslide park. She’d lie in bed, and her faulty proprioception would make her still feel like she was being tossed from side to side.
Faint moonlight shone on the debris from the cabin. Kennedy couldn’t tell if she was trembling from cold or fear.
Get in, find the radio, get out. That’s all she had to do. The radio, their coats, and a few cans of food. Hopefully something with a hint of nutrition. She could picture Willow starving before agreeing to taste spam.
After trying it earlier that night, Kennedy couldn’t blame her.
She held her breath as she stepped onto the first creaky log of what used to be Roger’s cabin. Half expecting his hand to reach out and grab her, she shined the flashlight all around, on the lookout for any sign of life. She wasn’t sure which she was more terrified to discover — that the men who had attacked her and Willow were alive or that they weren’t.
Beneath her, wood splintered loudly with each step she took. She scanned the debris. Where was the radio? She walked toward where she thought that shelf had been. What if the radio, their only connection to civilization, hadn’t survive the quake?
No, she wouldn’t panic. Not yet. It wasn’t like they were in some remote island in a developing nation. This was the United States, with FEMA and all those other organizations meant to assist in situations like this. And wasn’t the national guard involved too? Help would come. Kennedy would find their coats and the radio and anything else they’d need to make it through the night, and first thing tomorrow morning they’d be rescued.
They had to be.