Chapter 22
Jack
Jack pressed his back against the rock. His breath was heavy as he struggled to pull his pistol from the chest holster.
Steph was pressed against the rock beside him, her breath coming hard and fast from the run. She looked at the gun with a nod.
The engines hadn’t stopped. They were crossing the open area, the tracks eating up the snow without the issues he and Steph experienced.
He looked toward the gulley. A drift had built up between the rocks and the edge of it, wind-packed and steep, maybe four feet of snow piled against the drop. Beyond the drift, the gulley cut down into the earth, dark and deep, the trees on either side of it close enough to offer cover.
“We can’t stay here.” Steph’s voice was low and controlled, even with the effort of the run still in it.
“They know where we came in.”
“So we need to be gone before they follow us.” She motioned toward the edge of the rocks, where there was enough space for a machine to enter. “They drive up here and . . . that’d be it for us.”
He quickly scanned the area. The rock formation gave them cover on two sides, but she was right. They could come through and start shooting. He and Steph would be like fish in a barrel.
From the engine sounds, he knew there were two machines in the clearing.
They’d reached the rock face as one popped out of the trees.
He found it interesting that the poacher had felt comfortable shooting at them not only from a moving snowmobile but while he was still in the trees.
Either he was confident about his abilities—which was concerning—or he was reckless.
If he was reckless, that might be even more dangerous.
He looked at the gulley again. “If we can get down into the gulley, maybe we can lose them.”
“If we go down there, we’re going to have a serious problem getting back out.” Steph shook her head. “The snow is too deep. We’d be wading through it and completely exposed trying to climb out.”
“But they can’t follow on the machines.”
She looked at the mound of snow, calculating.
“It’s possible they could. The gulley opens up about half a mile to the south where there was a washout.
They could drive up it, at least part of the way.
It’s pretty narrow in places, and I think they’d get hung up.
And the trees lining the edge mean they can’t drive right next to the edge.
But they can come in on foot. And if we’re waist deep, trying to get out the other side, we’re easier targets, not harder ones. ”
He looked at the snowbank. She was right about the depth. From what he could see, the gulley was maybe eight feet wide in this section, and no doubt the snow inside was unpredictable. It could be deep or it could be bare, depending on how the wind was hitting.
Chances were good they’d be post-holing in too many places, and it would slow them down. And she was right about getting out. That could be a true challenge and put them back to being fish in a barrel.
“What happens when the gulley opens up?”
The engine sound shifted before she could answer, adding another one to the mix somewhere in the distance. All three machines? Not good.
“They know the area,” she said. “They’re cutting off the gulley.”
“What do you want to do?”
“If we go into the gulley and they cut off the exit, we’re trapped.”
“So we go the other way. What’s that like?” He gestured toward the north.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Not for certain. The road’s that way.” Steph pointed in the general direction of the snow-packed highway. “It might run into it or it might curve and keep going. It might flatten out or it might be steep, depending on the erosion.”
“So that’s an option. We have choices.”
“Either way we have to move. If we stay here— ”
“They’ll come around these rocks eventually. We’re not hidden, and they know where we are. We’re running out of time.”
Steph pressed her lips together. She looked at the open ground between the rocks and the tree line, then at the gulley, then back at him.
“We need to go.”
“You go first,” he said. “Over the bank and down. I’m right behind you.”
“If you go first, you can help me over. You’re taller— ”
“Steph, you know this terrain. I don’t. You go first, and I follow. That’s how we’ve done this all night, and it’s worked.”
Something moved across her face. She gave a single nod.
“Stay low when you get inside,” he said. “Don’t stop moving until you’ve got cover.”
“Same goes for you.”
The engine was closer. It wouldn’t be long until it appeared to their right. “Now,” he said.
Steph moved. She hit the drift at a run and went up and over it in two steps, her legs punching through the crust at the top, and then she was over the edge and dropping into the gulley. He heard her land, heard the snow compress under her, and then her voice came up. “Hurry.”
He went over the rock and crossed the six feet of open ground.
The snowbank was harder than it looked, wind-packed solid near the surface and giving way without warning underneath.
He punched through on the second step, lurched forward, then caught himself with both hands and scrambled over the top.
The gulley dropped away sharply on the other side. He slipped down its slope. The snow came up to his thighs, and he drove forward toward where Steph was already pressed against the gulley face, chest heaving.
He got to her and turned.
The drift above them blocked the sightline from the open ground. For the moment, they were invisible. The noise from the other machine was louder now. If he wasn’t in the gulley, he was close to the mouth.
He looked up the gulley wall. The trees on either side leaned in close, their branches heavy with snow. Enough cover to matter if they moved carefully.
Steph looked at him. He looked at her.
The engine above them stopped.
Neither of them moved. Neither of them made a sound. He kept the pistol in his right hand and his back against the wall and watched the top of the frozen divide.
A long moment passed.
Then a voice—male, flat, and carrying over the snow with no effort at all—said, “I know you’re in there.”