Chapter 10
TRENT
Dutch’s cabin came into view as we rounded the final bend in the trail.
A weathered structure of stacked logs and corrugated tin, it hunkered against the rimrock like it had grown there naturally over decades.
My tactical assessment kicked in automatically—elevated position, clear sight lines to the valley below, multiple egress routes through the rocks behind.
Defensible. I adjusted Sophia’s weight in my arms, feeling her small body still trembling against my chest. Her eyes were open but distant, seeing things no five-year-old should ever have to see.
My left shoulder throbbed where I’d dislocated it earlier. The joint felt loose, unstable, each shift of Sophia’s weight sending fresh pain down my arm.
“Home sweet home,” Dutch announced, fishing a set of keys from his pocket. The ring was attached to a faded rabbit’s foot that had seen better days. “Ain’t much, but it’s off the grid and built to last.”
Evelyn moved closer to me, her hand automatically reaching to stroke Sophia’s hair. The little girl hadn’t spoken since we’d left the school, her voice locked away somewhere behind the trauma of her teacher holding scissors to her throat.
“How long have you had this place?” I asked Dutch, my eyes cataloging the solar panels angled on the south-facing slope, the rainwater collection system, the carefully stacked firewood under a protective overhang.
“Going on forty years.” He unlocked the heavy wooden door, which I noted had been reinforced with metal plating. “Started building it during the Cold War, kept adding to it every time the world went crazy. Turns out the world goes crazy a lot.”
The door opened into a main room with a wood stove at its center, a kitchen area along the eastern wall, and a worn couch and table marking out the living space.
Gun cabinet. Radio equipment. Shelves lined with canned goods and supplies.
Two doors on the back wall led to what I assumed were two small bedrooms. Dutch had been preparing for the end of the world for decades.
Had he imagined it would look like this?
Not nuclear war or natural disaster, but an entire town of blank-eyed neighbors moving in unison. Probably not.
“Water pump’s out back,” Dutch explained, lighting a kerosene lamp that cast warm shadows across the walls. “Propane stove works. Got a composting toilet in the lean-to. Solar runs the essentials.”
Essentials being security, from what I could see. A small monitor displayed feeds from strategically placed cameras around the perimeter. “Motion sensors?”
“You know it.”
“Careful. My boss might try to recruit you,” I said, actually impressed by his setup.
Dutch snorted. “Military wanted me back in ’73. Told ‘em to fu—” He broke off and glanced at Sophia in my arms, then corrected, “Told ‘em I work better alone.”
Sophia whimpered against my neck, her small fingers digging into my sore shoulder.
“She needs food. And rest,” Evelyn said softly, her own exhaustion evident in the shadows beneath her eyes. “And to get cleaned up.”
Dutch nodded, moving to what passed for his kitchen area. “Got some canned soup. Crackers. Water’s clean here. No worries about that.”
I moved to set Sophia down on one of the wooden chairs, but she clung tighter, panic flashing across her face. “No, Vigi, no,” she whispered, the first words she’d spoken since the school.
“It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere,” I assured her, settling into the chair with her on my lap. Pain flared through my shoulder as I shifted her weight. “Just giving my arms a break. You’re getting pretty big, you know.”
She didn’t smile, but some of the tension left her small body. Evelyn’s hand found mine over Sophia’s back, a brief point of contact that communicated more than words could have.
While Dutch heated soup on the small propane stove, Evelyn found a basin and filled it with warm water, adding a splash of biodegradable soap she’d found on a shelf.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweet pea,” she said, bringing the basin over. With gentle hands, she washed Sophia’s face and hands, talking softly the entire time. “There we go. Doesn’t that feel better? I know it’s been a scary day, but you’re safe now. We’re all together.”
The girl’s lower lip trembled. “Not Mr. Hoppy. He’s not with us.”
The name hit me square in the chest. Mr. Hoppy.
The stuffed rabbit I’d picked up at a gas station somewhere in Nevada, knowing she’d lost the original somewhere in the chaos of our escape from Hope’s Embrace.
I’d handed it to her without ceremony, just set it on her lap in the backseat while Evelyn slept.
She’d named it immediately. Mr. Hoppy. Had talked to it for the next three states, asking it questions and answering in a squeaky voice she assigned to the toy.
Six months, and she still had it. Still remembered.
My throat went tight.
“We’ll get Mr. Hoppy back,” Evelyn promised, her voice steady despite the exhaustion written across her face. “When this is all over, we’ll go home and get him, okay?”
Big tears slid down Sophia’s cheeks, but she nodded against my chest.
I watched Evelyn continue cleaning her daughter's face and hands, talking softly the entire time. Even exhausted, even terrified, Evelyn had this bottomless well of strength when it came to Sophia. She’d survived an abusive marriage, a cult, and now this. Never breaking, never giving in.
She was amazing.
The soup came in mismatched bowls, some kind of vegetable beef that smelled better than it looked.
Dutch cut thick slices of slightly stale bread to go with it.
Simple food, but warm and filling. Sophia stayed on my lap while Evelyn held the spoon to her lips, coaxing her to eat small bites.
Between us, we managed to get most of a bowl into her.
“She’ll need a place to sleep,” Dutch said, eyeing the little girl. He crossed the room and opened one of the back doors. “Not fancy, but it’s clean.”
Evelyn nodded, fatigue evident in every line of her body. “Thank you. For everything.”
Dutch just grunted, uncomfortable with gratitude. He busied himself checking locks and peering through the window at the darkening landscape. Night was falling fast, the temperature dropping with it. He stoked the wood stove, adding another log that popped and crackled as it caught.
When it came time to put Sophia to bed, she refused to let either of us out of her sight.
The room where Dutch had set up the cot was too far, too separate.
In the end, we let her sleep on the couch in the main room, where she could see both of us from her pillow.
Even then, her eyes were wide with fear, darting between Evelyn and me as if we might disappear if she closed them.
“I’ll stay right here,” Evelyn promised, sitting on the floor beside the couch and taking Sophia’s small hand in hers. “I won’t leave.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” She stroked her daughter’s hair back from her forehead. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
I stood watching from a few feet away, torn between giving them privacy and my own irrational need to keep them both in sight. Sophia’s eyes found mine over her mother’s shoulder.
“Vigi stays too,” she said, not a question but a statement.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I told her, meaning it more than I’d meant almost anything in my life.
Slowly, Sophia’s eyes grew heavy. The combination of trauma, exhaustion, and her mother’s gentle touch finally overwhelmed her fear. Evelyn continued stroking her hair, humming softly, the same melody I remembered from the Hope’s Embrace compound.
I moved to the doorway, giving them space while staying in Sophia’s line of sight.
My shoulder ached in the cool air, a dull throb that matched my heartbeat.
Watching Evelyn with her daughter twisted something in my chest. Six months ago, I’d walked away from them, telling myself it was for their own good.
Now, seeing them together, I couldn’t imagine making that same choice again.
Evelyn looked up, catching me watching them. In the lamplight, her eyes held no accusation, just a bone-deep weariness and something else—a fierce determination I recognized from our time at the compound.
She wasn’t running anymore.
Neither was I.
I waited until Sophia’s breathing deepened into the rhythm of sleep before unpacking my satellite gear.
The familiar ritual of assembling equipment grounded me—power source connected to transmitter, transmitter to the encrypted laptop, antenna positioned toward the southern sky through Dutch’s narrow window.
I favored my right arm, keeping my left close to my body.
The shoulder joint felt wrong, grinding when I moved it certain ways.
No doubt if Alistair were here, he’d be cursing my stupidity and forcing me to wear a sling.
Dutch watched from his position by the wood stove, arms crossed over his chest, his craggy face unreadable in the amber light.
“Fancy stuff,” he commented, nodding at the compact unit that had fit easily into my duffel.
“My team doesn’t mess around with comms,” I replied, entering encryption codes from memory. “Signal’s bounced through seven satellites before it reaches headquarters. Untraceable.”
He grunted. “You black ops?”
“Something like that.”
Evelyn’s fingers brushed Sophia’s hair one last time before stepping away from the sleeping child. She joined us at the table. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, but her gaze was sharp, focused.
“Will they have answers?” she asked quietly.
“They’d better.” The connection was established with three soft beeps, and the screen flickered to life.