I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved; he that keeps thee will not slumber.
The first three verses of Psalm 121. King James Version. Eric turned onto his back in the lightweight sleeping bag and stared at the stars through the branches of a cottonwood tree. He should be sleeping while Morgan kept watch, getting ready for their shift change at two, but he couldn’t. He was...floored. Broken.
What was that word his great-grandmother had been so fond of using? Gobsmacked.
He was gobsmacked. Or maybe more appropriately, God-smacked.
He’d smile if the situation wasn’t so mind-blowing. He knew those verses by heart straight out of the King James Version. Hannah had gone to the military surplus store and had a patch made before his first deployment, one he’d carried with him ever since. Even now, the well-worn scrap of fabric lay tucked into the top flap of his backpack.
The same words he’d received from a stranger who had not only searched for Hannah but was doing some serious praying on her behalf, as well.
He hadn’t discovered it night one or night two on the trail... But on night three. In the exact spot where Hannah had vanished, where he needed it most.
Eric dragged both hands down his face, palms scraping against stubble. Since he’d read Angel’s message, peace reigned, almost as though God was telling him it would be okay, no matter what the circumstances said.
With all of his heart, Eric wanted to believe his sister was alive. His mind knew the chances were slim. Even without flooding rains, Hannah was two weeks in the wild without provisions.
Eric sat up, sleeping bag pooling at his waist. No. Absolutely not. He couldn’t abandon her. Everyone else had. Recovery had become the byword, but he’d find her. He’d bring her home again.
This was the thing he’d wrestled with for months as he embraced the suck in Afghanistan and prayed to make it home with his buddies in one piece. Was it time to separate from the army? Time to move home and be closer to Hannah so she wouldn’t have to worry about losing him, too?
He tried to close his eyes and breathe deeply but uneasiness crept in and stole his rest. It was like those times overseas, moments before the bad guys pulled something terrible. Those weird, back-of-his-mind feelings that said something was wrong, even when logic said there was nothing to worry about.
The day’s events had him too charged, too tightly wound to rest.
With a huff, he kicked off the sleeping bag. Since he was awake, he might as well stand watch and let Morgan rest.
A thud and a scrape drifted from the creek.
Eric scrambled to his feet and ran before he could fully process the sound. Maybe it was simply nature being nature, a bobcat pouncing on prey, anything other than Morgan in danger. He didn’t dare call out to her, not when a stranger might be out there.
Sharp rocks and twigs jabbed at his bare feet as he rushed to the creek’s edge, where Morgan stood watch. Thick clouds hid the moon. Nothing moved except the creek, whose waters trickled over rocks loud enough to dampen every other sound.
Morgan’s water bottle was there, but she was gone.
So much like Hannah.
Eric jerked his head from side to side, trying to see, trying to hear. He should have brought a flashlight, but—
A small sound behind him and the world vanished as something covered his head. Felt like canvas. A force pulled the rough material against his face and dragged him backward.
Dark. Too dark.
Eric fought with every evasive maneuver he knew, but the darkness and lack of air muddied his mind. His body ached. His lungs screamed for air. It was too hard to tell if the darkness was from without or within as his brain screamed for oxygen that came in thin, hot wisps.
Not enough.
Eric shoved an elbow backward and made contact, but the jab was weak. He struggled against growing darkness.
He was slipping. Slipping...
It was too quiet.
Morgan had been antsy since Eric disappeared to his sleeping bag, the silence around the creek too heavy. Nothing moved. No creatures had anything to say. Restless, she’d walked to the bend in the creek, listening, searching...
It wasn’t right. Something always scurried in the darkness, particularly near water. Yet for the past half hour, the only sound had been the creek trickling over rocks.
Thick clouds obscured the moon, but her night vision had adjusted after hours in the darkness and afforded her enough sight to keep her flashlight off. Turning it on would give away their position if anyone was looking for them.
Highly unlikely, but still...
Glancing at her watch, she headed toward the makeshift campsite under the cottonwoods. It was close to time to wake Eric for his watch, but it seemed cruel to do so. It was likely she wouldn’t sleep anyway, not when all she could envision was a rifle-toting shadow around every corner.
Rocks crunched under her feet as she neared the spot where she’d left her water bottle, but another sound layered over everything else.
Shuffling. A sharp grunt. A muffled shout.
Morgan reached for her pistol as she ran toward the campsite.
Two men wrestled in the semidarkness, one hooding another’s head with what looked to be a small backpack.
Two men. Fighting. One had to be Eric, but from a distance it was impossible to distinguish the tangled figures.
Drawing her sidearm, she held it aimed at the ground. Morgan edged closer as quickly as she dared, hoping to keep the element of surprise, heart pounding.
The man whose face was covered dropped to his knees, his energy clearly waning. For the first time, she got a view of the assailant’s shape in the near darkness and it wasn’t Eric. He was too short, too slight.
Morgan bolted into action, raising her weapon. “Park Service! Let him go!”
The world froze. The fighting hesitated, then Eric’s attacker shoved him in a tumble toward the creek and ran north into the scattering of trees.
Morgan took two steps in pursuit but stopped. Running headlong into the night would be foolish. No light, no trail, no idea who was out there or what they were capable of.
And Eric nearly motionless by the creek...
She skidded to her knees beside him, then eased him to a sitting position and pulled the bag from his head.
He gulped in lungfuls of air and shook his head as if to clear it.
Morgan’s fingers trailed his face, then down tight muscles in his neck, searching for damage. “You okay?”
“Shaky, but good.” He pushed away, leveraging himself against the ground to stand.
Morgan rose with him. He was not fine. His hands shook and it was clear he’d been close to unconsciousness...if he hadn’t been completely out.
He could have been killed while she was roaming the area instead of standing watch the way she should have. She’d missed all of the signs. Nothing had changed. She was a disgrace to her badge.
She was a ranger. Trained. Trusted. Better than allowing her “partner” to be sneak attacked in the night. “Eric, I’m calling for help as soon as the skies clear. You’re not well.”
“I’m fine. And we need to follow him.” Eric straightened, wavered for a second, then seemed to get his bearings. He stared to the north, in the direction his attacker had fled. “I’m going after him.”
“No way. He’s got a decent head start, we don’t know if he’s armed and we can’t use flashlights because they’d pinpoint our location.”
Eric marched a few feet away, hands on hips, his back a solid wall. He was probably debating whether to listen. She was familiar with his stubbornness, his need for action.
Well, this time he was wrong. This time, he’d almost been killed.
Adrenaline robbed her strength. He’d almost been killed. Her knees threatened to go soft on her. If he’d died, it would have been her fault.
“Fine. I won’t follow him. But you’re not having me carted out of here like some wisp of nothing who can’t get over thirty seconds without oxygen. I can hold my breath.”
“You were nearly unconscious.”
“I’m okay.”
Morgan’s jaw tightened. They could stand here and argue or they could take action. “Fine.” She turned and strode toward their makeshift campsite and her pack. Maybe she’d be able to get a signal on the satellite phone, though the sky was obscured. “I’m still calling this in. The sooner we get other rangers on this, the faster they bring in whoever this guy is.” Even if she managed to get a signal, it would be morning before a search could start, but Morgan didn’t care. Her deepest hope was the guy didn’t try again.
But something was wrong. If he was armed, he’d have shot Eric rather than try to suffocate him or drag him away. “Why the canvas bag?”
He stopped, staring toward the campsite as she stepped beside him. “What?”
“Assuming this is the same guy who fired on us earlier, why not kill you? Why waste the time trying to render you unconscious? Why struggle with you instead of taking you out?” In training and over her years in law enforcement, she’d learned small details were the most telling, and nonsensical things were important things.
She started walking, urging Eric forward. “We need to get out of here, get moving before he returns and brings friends with him.”
Eric merely walked beside her and a half step ahead, probably aware she’d never let him take point in front of her.
Under the trees, Morgan stomped to her sleeping bag and reached for her pack, which she’d set by the opening.
It was gone.
Surely she was missing it.
But there was enough light to make out shapes in the area. She made a slow circuit, then faced Eric, stark realization taking hold. “My pack’s missing.”
All of her communication and survival gear were gone.