“Go! Go! Go!” Baxter hauled her to her feet, almost launching her into the air. He kicked the table, sliding it forward far enough that they could run between it and the wall. At the door, she reached for the board, only then realizing that she still held the pistol in her right hand.
Her dad flung the bar to the side and yanked open the door. It was her turn to grab Baxter and shove him against the wall next to the opening. There were four sharp cracks of sound, and Ellie felt her dad’s chest expand in a shocked inhale as he heard the gunshots. The men outside must have been waiting for the door to open, hoping she and Baxter would come flying outside to be picked off like the proverbial fish in a barrel.
As soon as the shooting stopped, Ellie was moving through the open doorway, gun up and blasting as she ran into the night. She pulled the trigger over and over, until the pistol went quiet and she knew it was empty. Even with the deafening booms of her own shots ringing in her ears, she heard the scream. It was a terrible sound, like nothing she’d ever heard from a human throat before. She froze in her tracks, but Baxter shoved her from behind, making her stumble back into motion.
Her feet fumbled on the steps, and she almost pitched forward, barely preventing herself from falling face-first into the snow at the base of the stairs. Baxter gave her another push to the left.
“Go!” he yelled again, so she turned and ran, that awful scream still echoing in her head. The snow was deep, slowing her pace to a nightmare-worthy slog, and she fully expected to feel the impact of a bullet at any moment.
Instead, just as she reached the first line of trees, there was a bright flash that lit up the night. Ellie felt herself flying forward toward an evergreen, weightless for just a moment before she hit the prickly boughs. The branches bent under the impact, absorbing most of her forward momentum, and she landed fairly softly on her belly in the snow. As she sank face-first into the powder, the world went dark around her, and the snow swallowed her whole. The memory of the avalanche swamped her, and she was back there, torn off the mountain and dragged along with the cascading snow and rocks and branches, helpless to stop her descent. The worst had been at the end, when the snow had hardened around her in an encapsulating body cast.
She couldn’t move—then or now—not even an inch. The darkness had been so complete, and the snow had blocked almost all sounds. When something had jabbed her side, she’d cried out, more surprised than hurt, and then she’d heard the muffled but beautiful sound of George calling her name.
The thought of George jerked her back to reality, and she lurched to her hands and feet. She could move. The darkness was gone, the air lit with a dull red, and so was the silence, her sobbing breaths loud to her own ears. It’s over, she reminded her still-panicking mind. George dug me out. It’s over. Even as she calmed slightly, she realized that, despite being free of the snowy cage, she wasn’t safe.
Scrambling to her feet, she started to run again. The ground sloped up, adding to the difficulty until her jog turned into a fast walk. When the tree coverage thickened, she allowed herself to cower behind a squatty pine and peer through the branches at the house below.
Despite the darkness, it was easy to see the cabin, since the small structure was on fire. Flames climbed the walls and licked the roof, lighting up the area around the burning building.
A body was lying on the snow, either unconscious or dead. Another pair of men were standing at the edge of the circle of light. One had a gun pointed at the other guy’s chest. Her lungs seized when she recognized the unarmed man as Baxter.
Once she’d torn herself free from her momentary paralysis, she ran again, down the slope this time. The only thought in her head was to help her father. She’d just promised him that she’d have his back, but she’d run the other way, instead. If he was killed, she’d never forgive herself.
As she grew closer, logic crept into her brain, reminding her that she was out of ammo for her only weapon that hadn’t been blown to bits. She remembered the other handgun she’d tucked into her coat pocket, but a quick search came up empty. Disappointment surged through her as she realized it must have fallen out of her pocket, probably when the explosion had sent her flying. Slowing her pace, she stayed in the trees, circling around until she could approach the armed man from the rear.
Her foot caught on something in the snow, and she tripped, going down to one knee. When she pulled her foot loose, the end of a stubby, rotting branch emerged from the snow. She picked it up, testing the weight. It was light enough for her to carry without too much effort, but it was heavy enough to use as a weapon. Looking up at the sky, she mouthed a “thank you” before starting her silent jog again.
The fire was loud. She’d never known that before, but it roared, allowing her to creep up on the two men without being detected by the gun-holder. Baxter saw her. She knew because she saw his eyes widen in a moment of panic before he refocused on the stranger. Now that she was closer, she recognized the one called Anderson, so Wilson must be the man lying unmoving in the snow.
The memory of the horrifying scream flashed through her mind, but she quickly shut it down. If she had been the cause of Wilson’s death, there would be time later for guilt and regret and self-recrimination and whatever else she might feel. Now, she needed to concentrate on survival—hers and her father’s.
Anderson was talking, but she had to get very close to hear him over the noise of the burning cabin. When she got within branch-striking range, she wound up like she would at the batting cages but then paused.
“…said that you saw us on Second Street that night.”
Baxter was shaking his head, focused on Anderson’s face. Ellie figured he was trying not to glance over the armed man’s shoulder at her, not wanting to give away her presence. “I wasn’t even in Simpson that night.”
“Why would he have said you watched us make that sale if you didn’t? He said you were willing to testify against us.”
“Because he killed Gray.” Baxter’s calm, coherent persona was back. “And I knew. He wants me dead, and he’s using you to do it.”
Ellie saw Anderson’s back stiffen in shock. “The headless dude found in the reservoir?” Part of the cabin collapsed with a crash and a renewed roar of flames, drowning out what Anderson was saying. Once the noise died down, she caught just the tail end of his sentence. “…everyone thinks he’s a hero when he’s actually a fucking killer.”
When he shifted his weight, she was afraid he’d turn and see her, so she swung. The branch vibrated when it connected with his head, and she almost lost her grip. Instead of falling, though, he turned and squeezed the trigger at the same time.
At the roar of the gun, Ellie’s knees softened, nearly sending her to the ground. The pistol was swinging in her direction, though, so she stiffened her legs and swung the branch again, this time aiming at the hand holding the gun. There was a dark streak along the heel of his hand close to his wrist, and Ellie had a moment of disappointment that it looked like she’d only managed to nick him when she’d shot him.
Anderson blocked with his left hand. The piece of wood glanced off his forearm and connected with the barrel of the gun. It went off again as it rotated toward the ground, and Anderson yelped as it was knocked from his grip.
“You broke my fingers, bitch!” he snarled.
Taking a few scrambling steps back, she raised the branch onto her shoulder like a baseball bat. “You were going to shoot my dad, bitch.” Even though her voice shook, she was glad she’d managed any comeback at all.
His gaze flicked to where the gun had landed by his feet and then back to her face. After a few tense seconds, he crouched to grab the pistol. Ellie had been expecting it, and she brought the branch down on the back of his head, hoping she hit a more vulnerable spot this time. Going down on one knee, he dodged a second blow and rolled out of reach.
She saw that the gun was back in his hand, and time slowed as he raised it, the light from the burning cabin bathing him in a hellish red glow that illuminated the smug smirk on his face. He thought he’d won, and, in that moment, Ellie was pretty sure he was right.
In the fraction of a second that she stared at the pistol aimed at her, Ellie felt a jolt of sadness that she’d never see George again. Anderson pulled the trigger just as the wind settled and the fire quieted. In the sudden silence, there was a hollow click.
They froze for a startled moment, both staring at the jammed gun. Swearing, Anderson smacked the bottom of the grip and then yanked back the slide to clear it.
Move! A voice in her head commanded, and Ellie pivoted to run. The snow, half-melted by the heat of the fire, was slick underfoot, and she stumbled, falling to her knees in the slush. Turning her head, she saw Anderson was aiming at her again, and she clenched her teeth against a sob as she scrambled to her feet. How sad, she thought, to have been saved by a jammed gun, just to die anyway a few seconds later.
Movement to her right made her flinch and twist to face the newest threat. Despite the earlier awful scream and seeing a body lying still in the snow, she still expected Wilson to be standing there. Instead, it was Baxter, running toward Anderson.
Her dad tackled the bigger man, driving his shoulder into Anderson’s midsection. As both men hit the ground, the gun flew into the air, dropping into a slushy drift. Terror for her father dug claws into Ellie’s throat as she watched Anderson roll Baxter beneath him and land several solid punches.
Tearing her attention from the unequally matched fighters, she slogged through the melting snow toward where the gun had landed. The hole it had made on its way down was obvious, and she found it quickly.
As she shook off the wet chunks of snow, she sent a mental prayer that the gun would still work, and she aimed it at the two grappling men. Anderson shook off Baxter and rolled gracefully to his feet. As Ellie’s dad weakly attempted to stand, Anderson drew back his leg as if to kick Baxter in the ribs.
“Stop,” she ordered, but the word was swallowed by the renewed noise from the fire. “Stop!”
The scream worked, and Anderson spun around to face her. He ran toward her, closing the distance between them before she even realized he was moving. Her finger on the trigger tightened automatically, and the gun in her hands roared. His body jerked as if he’d been hit, but he didn’t stop coming.
“Bitch!” he yelled, and then he was on her, twisting the gun from her hands with humiliating ease. He drew back his arm, and she ducked as his fist swung toward her face. There was nowhere to go, however, and she cringed as she waited for the pain of the blow.
It never came.
Baxter was suddenly between them, pushing her back so his body physically blocked her from Anderson. He landed a punch to Anderson’s belly that doubled him over. A second hit to Anderson’s jaw sent him to his knees. Landing strike after strike, Baxter looked possessed, his expression wild and painted in firelight.
“You do not hit my baby girl.” Baxter punctuated each word with another blow. “You do not hurt my Eleanor.”
Anderson tried to regain his footing, but Baxter’s foot connected with the other man’s throat, sending him to the ground and making Anderson lose his grip on his gun yet again. Hearing Baxter’s ragged breathing even over the noise of the fire, Ellie feared her dad was tiring.
Although Anderson looked dazed, he definitely wasn’t done. His clenched fists were swinging with more and more accuracy, and a pained yelp from Baxter drove Ellie toward the pair. Her boot slid on a rock that had been exposed by the melting snow, and she reached down, grabbing a stone about the size of George’s fist.
Running the last few steps toward the fighters, she swung the rock toward the back of Anderson’s head. It connected but didn’t knock him out. Ellie pulled back her arm to try another hit, but he lurched to his feet, throwing her off-balance and making her stumble back a few steps.
With a roar like a wounded bear, he swung an arm, knocking Baxter off him and sending him flying. Ellie clutched her rock, trying not to drop it as her fingers started to shake.
Anderson’s gaze focused on her, his expression turning ugly and angry. “You fucking shot my baby brother. I’m going to make it hurt when I kill you, bitch.”
“No.” Baxter spoke clearly, although his breath was coming fast. “You won’t.” He stepped closer to her, brandishing the branch she’d initially used as a weapon. Anderson’s gaze flicked back and forth between father and daughter before finally stopping on Ellie.
“I will kill you.” Anderson sounded like he was making a vow, and she braced herself for an attack, holding the stone in her hands more tightly. Instead of advancing, though, he backed toward the trees where he was quickly swallowed by the shadows beyond the reach of the firelight.
Ellie kept a tight grip on the rock as she moved a step closer to Baxter. “You okay?”
“Fine, baby girl.” His gaze didn’t leave the spot where Anderson had disappeared. “I’m just fine.”
Something collapsed in the burning cabin, and the flames shot higher with a roar that made Ellie jump. It was impossible to see beyond the circle of firelight, and she shivered, feeling horribly exposed. “We need to go,” she said in a hushed voice that shook with cold and a waning adrenaline rush.
“Yes.” Baxter moved his head jerkily as he stared in one direction and then the other. “Yes, we need to move. He’ll be back, baby girl. He’ll be back, and I don’t think I can protect you.”
“You did great, Dad,” she whispered, taking a few steps away from the fire and then pausing when she realized she had no idea where to go. Without replying, Baxter moved in the other direction, and Ellie followed, grateful that she didn’t need to come up with yet another survival plan. Her body and brain and courage were just about spent.
They slogged through the snow at a jog, heading away from the cabin. The ground slanted upward, and the rocky footing was slick, slowing them to a rushed walk until they reached a limestone outcropping edged with stunted bristlecone pines. When Baxter stopped, Ellie almost bumped into his back.
“Don’t we need to keep moving?” Although her words weren’t loud, Ellie winced at the clear note of panic in them. Her fear overcame her need to be tough, however. “Dad? Shouldn’t we go?”
“Need to wait for help,” he said. “Can’t keep you safe, Eleanor. I can’t, but George can. We need to be here when he gets back.”
As much as Ellie wanted to be George’s welcoming committee, she needed to run until she couldn’t feel Anderson’s hateful stare burning into her back. The long night stretched in front of them, and they wouldn’t be there when George arrived if Anderson managed to kill them before morning. “But, Dad—”
“We’ll hide.” His unusually firm tone cut off her argument. “I know this place, baby girl. I know this place, and that’s how I’ll keep you safe.”
After a long second, she sighed. “Okay.” Even as she agreed, the knots of anxiety in her belly twisted tighter.
“Okay.” Baxter smiled, his teeth reflecting a tiny bit of light in the darkness. “Okay. Good. This way.” He started climbing the nearly vertical side of a boulder, and Ellie, biting back a very bad word, followed. It was more manageable than she’d expected, with a rough surface that provided decent hand- and footholds. Baxter looked back to check on her often, and she managed to scramble to the top of the boulder right behind him.
Panting and sweating under her coat, she resisted the urge to unzip, knowing her temporary body heat would soon dissipate.
“This way,” Baxter said in a low voice as he stepped onto a narrow path, barely wider than her feet. On one side was a wall of rock. On the other, the trail dropped off abruptly, diving into the darkness. Ellie peeked over the edge and immediately jerked back, wishing she hadn’t looked. She couldn’t see the bottom of the drop-off.
Her breath was coming painfully fast, but she ignored it, fighting the urge to yell and stomp and throw a complete tantrum. She didn’t want to step onto a skinny ledge. She didn’t want to fall off the mountainside to her probable death. She didn’t want to be out in the cold another night, especially without George. She didn’t want to be without George at all. She didn’t want Anderson to be stalking them. She didn’t want Baxter to be in danger. She didn’t want to be in danger. So many things had gone wrong and were continuing to go wrong, and Ellie was sick of it. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do except to step onto a skinny, slick, rock trail and follow her mentally ill father into the darkness. It was her only chance to survive the night.
Her heart beat so hard that it actually made her chest ache as she inched along the slick path. Baxter moved with surprising ease, pulling so far in front of her that he became just a shadowy outline.
“Dad!” she hissed, trying to make her feet move faster without losing her balance. Her foot slipped, only a tiny slide, but it was enough for her to flatten her back against the rock forming the safe side of the trail, her fingers searching blindly for handholds.
“It’s okay, Eleanor.” Baxter made his way back to her. “Almost there. Almost there, baby girl. Just…just a few more steps.”
Although she strained her eyes, Ellie couldn’t see the “there” about which her dad was talking. Despite her doubt, she forced herself to leave the safety of her position and start her slow shuffle along the trail again.
“Here,” her dad said. It had been, Ellie felt, quite a bit farther than a “few more steps.” The trail widened, opening up to a flat area not unlike the one next to the cave where she and George had spent the night. Hope of another, similar space like that cave rose in her as Baxter slid through the opening between an evergreen and the rock face.
Baxter shifted to the side, and Ellie got her first glimpse of their hiding spot. She came to a dead stop. “No.”
There was no shallow, open, non-claustrophobia-inducing cave. The hiding spot that Baxter had led her into was a stone hole, no more than four feet high and deep enough that the back of the space—if there was one—was hidden by blackness.
“No,” she said again, her voice rising with a sharp note of hysteria.
“Shh,” Baxter warned, his gaze darting around nervously. “He could… He’s out there. He’s hunting us, baby girl.”
Anderson suddenly seemed like the better option. “I can’t, Dad.” Her voice broke, and she had to look away from the narrow opening between two huge rocks. “I can’t.”
“You can, Eleanor.” As before, the more upset she got, the calmer he stayed. “I need you to be safe. You’ll be safe in there. Hidden.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be with you.”
Her gaze was drawn to the space between the rocks, and she shuddered. “Can’t we just stay out here?”
Even before she finished asking, Baxter was shaking his head. “Too exposed.” His hunted gaze scanned the rock rising above them. “Too easy to take us out if we stay here. Please, baby girl?”
The thought of Anderson “taking out” Baxter stiffened her spine. “Fine.” She forced out an exhale, frustrated by the way it quavered. Her gaze never leaving that terrifying dark entrance, Ellie moved closer and closer to the hole, her breath coming in quick pants. As she reached the rocks, she didn’t hesitate—she couldn’t or she’d lose her nerve. Dropping to her hands and knees, she crawled into the darkness.
It took every ounce of courage she possessed to keep feeling her way into the inky space. Each time she reached forward, groping for any obstacles—rocks, holes, or hungry bears—she had to force her hand to move. Her entire being wanted to flee, to get out of this hole as fast as possible and run away.
The only thing stopping her was the man entering the claustrophobic space behind her. If she told him she couldn’t do it, Baxter would let her leave. Then he’d stay outside with her, sitting ducks for Anderson to pick off during the long night. Her dad was the only reason she was able to keep shuffling forward on her palms and knees.
Her gloved fingers brushed something. A scream grew in her throat, and she clenched her teeth to hold it back. Stay calm, she told the part of her—a very large part of her—that was barely clinging to reason. It’s not alive. It’s not going to hurt you. It’s just stone.
“I think we’re at the back,” she said, not even caring anymore that her voice shook. She was just happy that she wasn’t running screaming through the night.
“Seems about right,” Baxter responded, still sounding unusually calm. “It’s been a while since I found this place, but I remember it being pretty shallow.”
Ellie held back a semi-hysterical laugh. It didn’t feel very shallow to her. In fact, it felt like the mountain had swallowed her, and the open air was very far away. Her breathing started to get too fast, and she consciously tried to calm herself. Shifting to sit on the uneven, rocky, and so-very-cold ground, she pushed away all thoughts of being trapped in the rock or under several feet of snow. There was a quiet rustling sound next to her as her dad sat to her left. She realized that, if she looked directly at the entrance to the cave, she could see outside. The night was lit by the dull red cast from the fire, and the sight of it took the most urgent edge off her panic.
“Sorry about Grandpa’s cabin.”
“Not your fault, baby girl.”
They fell into silence. “Who brings a bomb camping?” she finally asked. “Although I guess they weren’t out here to get in touch with nature.”
“Looked improvised,” her dad said. “Could’ve had some kind of fuel on them from a camp stove or something.”
“Oh! There was a stove in George’s pack, the one they stole.”
Baxter hummed thoughtfully. “Runs on white gas, probably. That could’ve done it.”
Ellie was so tired, she started seeing odd shapes and halos in the darkness. Her body swayed until her shoulder rested against her dad’s.
“Try to sleep, baby girl,” he said. “I know it’s not the most comfortable spot, but see if you can get a few minutes of shut-eye.”
“What about you?” she asked, her words slurring from exhaustion. “Do you need to sleep?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“But what if—”
“Sleep.”
The moment she rested her cheek on her dad’s shoulder and closed her eyes, she slipped into a strange half sleep. Instantly, she was back to being trapped under the snow, locked in place, unable to see or hear or move. The darkness was unrelenting. She tried to fight her way back to consciousness, but her body refused to wake completely, leaving her stuck in the horrifying memory.
Although it felt like an eternity, it could’ve been hours or mere minutes before something startled her and she sat up with a jolt. When she realized she was still trapped in the dark, Ellie tried to bolt to her feet. Only Baxter’s hold on her arm kept her from standing and bashing her head into the low rock ceiling.
“Eleanor,” he soothed in a hushed voice. “Baby girl, it’s okay.”
“Dad?” The uncertainty in her voice made her sound like she was ten years old again. Trying to shake off the panic that wanted to cling to her, Ellie sank back to sit on the ground. Reality was returning slowly, and the close-in walls of the cave weren’t helping her twitchy nerves.
“Yeah, I’m here.” Once she’d sat back down, he released her arm, giving it an awkward pat first.
She missed the contact once it was broken. “What time is it? Do you know?”
“Almost sunrise.”
Her entire body went loose with relief. The sun would light up their hiding spot. Even though the narrow cave would still be too close for her liking, the brightness would help. Best of all was that George would be there soon. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Ellie gathered her courage to blurt out the question she’d come all the way to a remote cabin in the Rocky Mountains to ask him..
“Dad, will you come back to Chicago with me?”
He went still next to her. “They’ll lock me up…lock me up, baby girl.”
“Yeah.” She didn’t even try to lie to him. “It’ll just be for a short time, though, while they figure out your meds and a therapy plan.”
Baxter’s silence sounded like a definite no, and her throat felt tight.
“Please, Dad? Don’t you want to know who the real bad guys are and which ones are just in your head?”
“I know.” From the sound of it, he was rubbing his forearm over his coat sleeve, and Ellie dropped her head in defeat. “You think I don’t know, but I know.”
“I thought you wanted another chance to be a dad—to be my dad?” Tears burned her eyes, making her voice thick. “You can’t have my back if you don’t even see me.”
His breath caught audibly. “Baby girl…”
“Dad. Please.”
He didn’t agree, but he didn’t say no. They were silent for a long time, watching the opening to the cave as the light outside changed from black to charcoal.
The cold from the rock underneath her was permeating her clothes. Ellie started to shiver, and she wrapped her arms around her middle, desperate to hold in the heat. It didn’t help that every sound made her jump.
The fact that Anderson was…somewhere, possibly close and very likely angry, did nothing to settle her nervous stomach. She worried more that he’d ambush a returning George than she fretted about Anderson finding her and Baxter, although that nightmarish scenario did run through her mind, as well.
“Sun’s coming up.” Baxter lifted his chin toward the cave entrance. Through it, she could see a portion of a dramatic sunrise, with a red band outlining the peaks and adding a streak of color to the dark gray sky. They were the first words he’d said since their talk about him getting medical help.
“Good.” Whether or not he’d go with her to Chicago, she couldn’t stay mad at him. He was who he was, and she loved her dad. It would just be easier to love him if he’d stay on his medication. “That’ll warm up things.”
“Cold, baby girl?”
“Of course.” She gave him a rueful smile, which he returned, looking relieved. It was wonderful being able to see him again in the dawn light. “It’s my permanent state of being nowadays.”
Cold and hungry. Her stomach had started to hurt from emptiness as well as nervousness. She would’ve gratefully eaten one of Baxter’s nasty MREs at that point.
“Soon,” she muttered. “George’ll be here soon, and I’ll make him take me out for pizza as soon as we get back to Simpson.” She frowned. “If Simpson has a pizza place.”
“Talking to yourself, baby girl? Thought I was…I was the crazy one.” One corner of her dad’s mouth quirked up as he gave her a tentative sideways glance.
She smiled back. “I think I’m suffering from delusions brought on by extreme hunger.”
Shifting closer to the cave entrance, Baxter peered outside. “Want me to do some hunting? I could probably dodge Anderson long enough to get us a rabbit.”
“You shouldn’t risk going out there.” She made a face. “Also, gross. And if I still find the thought of eating bunnies disgusting, then I’m not even close to starving. I’ll let you know if that idea starts getting appetizing.” Another thought occurred to her, making the idea of having Thumper for breakfast even less appealing. “Plus, we can’t start a fire in here, even if we did have a way of starting one.”
Her dad glanced out the entrance again. “There’s probably still some smoldering pieces of the cabin. We could use one…one of those.”
“If we’re still here tonight, then maybe.” The idea that they’d have to spend another night in the dark, stifling confines of the cave made her fight down panic. She wanted to leave the claustrophobic hole and the ruins of the cabin and a possibly lurking Anderson and the memory of how she’d killed a man, and return to civilization—and pizza. But Ellie knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Her memories wouldn’t be burned along with the cabin. They’d stay with her for the rest of her life.
An odd noise made her raise her head. “What’s that sound?”
Baxter listened intently for a moment, and then met Ellie’s eyes. A huge grin spread over his face. “That’s a helicopter.”
After a shocked moment, she returned his smile with interest. “George.”
Her dad gave a happy laugh. “George.”
With relieved excitement bubbling through her, it was hard not to abandon all caution and hurl herself down the trail to the remains of the cabin. Ellie had to keep reminding herself that Anderson was still out there, and the helicopters were still just tiny dots in the sky. They weren’t safe yet.
As she cautiously followed her dad out of the cave, Ellie let out a long breath. She felt like she’d held it the entire time she’d been stuck in that dark hole. It had kept them safe, but she’d hated every second.
Baxter was serious and watchful as they emerged, his gaze constantly moving. In her excitement over help arriving, she’d forgotten the treacherous journey the night before. The narrow trail was both easier and scarier in daylight—although she was more confident about where to put her feet, Ellie could see exactly how far she’d fall if she took a wrong step. Descending the nearly vertical rock face was even scarier, although it helped to have Baxter standing at the base beneath her, quietly calling where to reach for hand- and footholds.
By the time the trail widened and headed downhill toward the blackened shell of the cabin, she was sweating and dizzy from nerves. The last part of their route was the worst. As the trees gave way to an open stretch behind the cabin’s remains, Ellie felt exposed and vulnerable. It was too easy to imagine Anderson watching them from one of the many concealed hiding places, waiting for his chance to take out both her and her dad.
The two helicopters were louder now, although they were still quite a distance away. As Ellie and Baxter circled around to what had been the front of the cabin, she saw a dark shape on the ground. Ellie’s worries about their safety were temporarily forgotten as what she’d done hit her like a kick to the belly. Her boots felt weighted, but she forced them to step forward, one at a time, until she stood by the side of the man she’d killed. Darkly stained snow surrounded his body, as he’d been far enough away from the cabin that the heat hadn’t melted the snow.
His eyes were fixed and cloudy, staring into the distance. There were two holes in the front of his coat.
“Center mass,” she murmured, and then jumped when Baxter spoke behind her.
“Good shooting, baby girl. I…I would’ve ran right into a storm of bullets if you hadn’t pulled me to the side.”
“Was it good shooting if someone’s dead?”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation in her dad’s voice. “You get to go home, baby girl. That’s definitely good.”
As she looked at the person she’d destroyed, it didn’t seem like a good thing. They stood there a long time, until the helicopters were almost overhead.
In the clear light of morning, she eyed the dead man’s stained jacket. “Why is his blood orange?”
“It’s frozen. That’s the color it turns when blood freezes.”
She allowed her dad to tug her away from her victim. “I think I would’ve been fine never knowing that blood turns orange in the cold.”
Baxter’s mouth grew grim, and he kept his gaze on the helicopters above them. “And I would’ve given a lot for you to have never known.”