Chapter 24
Jack
The sound bounced off the walls and filled the cut until it was impossible to tell exactly how far away it was.
Too close. One machine was coming from the south, steadily edging toward them.
The other was in this wider section and barreling down on them.
So close Jack could feel the vibrations.
And somewhere else, in the distance and faint, but still there, was the third machine.
The snowdrifts were lower here, maybe three feet and wind-scoured.
Climbable. A few trees were on the other side, taking advantage of seasonal runoff water to put down deep roots.
Beyond that, he didn’t know. He assumed there’d be more forest. But it could be open ground where they’d be unable to reach cover quickly or easily.
“We have to go.” Jack kept his voice below the engine noise.
“We’ll go back to the other fork. It’s narrower. They can’t follow us.” Steph was already moving. He caught her arm.
“Take it and find some place to hide.”
She stopped and looked at him. “Jack— ”
“Listen.” He tilted his head. The engine was still coming, closing the distance. “There’s no time. You take the skinny fork, get to a place you can shelter, curl up in a ball, make yourself completely invisible and send a beacon message. Tell them we need help now. We’re out of options.”
She shook her head. “We stay together.”
“Make sure your bear spray is where you can reach it.” He checked the pistol. He considered giving it to her but didn’t know how comfortable she was with guns, and that might be a worse mistake than being unarmed.
“We aren’t splitting up.”
“Steph.” He turned to face her. The engine sound was filling the cut. “There’s no argument left to have. We are out of time.”
She grabbed his arm. Her grip was solid even through the layers. Her eyes were on his, and they were clear and certain and furious.
Jack put his hands on her face and kissed her. She kissed back. Her grip on his arm didn’t loosen.
He pulled back just far enough to see her eyes.
“We’ll be together,” he said. “Soon. I promise.”
He didn’t give her time to answer. He turned, broke her grip, and ran straight across the gulley.
The far wall was steeper than the side they’d come down.
He hit it at a run and drove his feet into the packed snow and went up, punching through the crust, grabbing the top of the drift with both hands and hauling himself over.
His damaged shoulder screamed from the effort.
He ignored it. He got over the top, rolled onto the open ground, and came up to his feet.
He turned.
Steph was standing in the gulley, looking up at him. Not moving. From up here, the engines were even louder. Three distinct sounds. All the poachers were out hunting for them.
He motioned. Go.
She shook her head.
He motioned again, sharper.
For a long second, she didn’t move. He could see the argument still on her face, the part of her that was going to win this one way or the other.
Then she turned and ran up the narrow branch, staying low against the wall, her steps quick and deliberate.
Pure Steph. He watched until she rounded the bend and the branch took her out of his line of sight.
He breathed out a sigh of relief, and then he moved. The sparse trees lining the gulley gave way to a thin open area, possibly a two-track road during the summer months, now snow covered and drifted.
“Great,” he muttered.
Jack took a breath and wondered if he’d made a mistake.
Maybe Steph was right. Staying together was common advice in deadly wilderness situations.
But this was different. This was the only way he could possibly keep her alive.
And it meant he needed to not only get out into the open but to also make sure the snowmobile driver caught sight of him.
How to do that and not get himself killed in the process would be the challenge.
He turned toward the left branch where the snowmobile was still coming. He stayed in the trees lining the gulley, searching for it.
Jack hadn’t gone far when he noticed a flash of light in the gulley. He stopped moving and leaned against the tree. Another flash of light—a headlight.
With the snow blowing around him, and the dark of night, he doubted the driver would easily see him. He reached into the pocket on his jacket where he had stowed his headlamp.
“Here goes nothing.” He took it out and turned it on. Jack flashed the light before covering it. He did the same thing three more times, hoping it would seem as if he was making his way through the trees.
The snowmobile’s light was now in full view. The roaring engine dropped to an idle. Had he been spotted? Jack wasn’t sure. He lifted the light again.
Bark exploded from the tree beside him. Jack ducked as the repercussion cracked across the gulley. Yep. He’d seen him.
Time to move.
Between the gulley and the tree line stretched a broad, flat strip of open ground, every step of it exposed. He knew that. He also knew he needed to lead the man away from Steph, give her time to find a place to hide.
He couldn’t risk the man losing sight of him, so he flashed the light again, then covered it while he moved. At the edge of the trees and the open area, he flashed the light again.
Need to make sure he knows which way I’m going, he thought. With the light covered, he stayed against the trees and headed in the direction of the snowmobile, where it sat idling.
C’mon, dude. What’s the issue here? Follow me.
He flashed the light again. The response was another shot. Jack crouched down.
“Okay, okay. I can take a hint,” he said softly. “Can you?”
The engine revved. The light on the snow machine bounced up and down. Jack held his breath while he tried to determine exactly what the driver was doing—continuing on toward Steph, or taking the bait?
“Yes!” Jack pumped his arm as the light disappeared from view. The machine was backing up. Bait taken.
Now the challenging part. He needed to make sure the driver had a good enough idea of where Jack was to think he had a chance of finding him, and yet Jack needed to evade him. He intended to keep Steph safe, but he didn’t intend to get himself captured—or killed—in the process.
Jack wasn’t sure exactly how long it would take the driver to maneuver out of the gulley and up onto the flat. Depending on the sidewalls, he might not need to go to the mouth but could climb out if it wasn’t too steep or there was a washout area.
He surveyed the open space between the forest and the trees lining the gulley. It wasn’t very wide, maybe thirty feet. The trees on the other side appeared to be packed fairly tight. He couldn’t see through them, suggesting a decent patch of forest.
Best to get across now while it’s clear. Easy enough to wait for him in the tree cover.
The snow was uneven, wind-packed in places and soft in others, and he adjusted his stride as the surface changed under him.
He was halfway across when an engine roared.
Not from the area he expected, where he’d seen the headlight moments before.
From the other direction—one of the other machines.
Either the one that had driven up the gulley from the south was now out and on the flats, or it was the third one that had been circling.
Either way, two machines after him were double the trouble.
A second thought settled over him: If they are after you, they aren’t after Steph.
The first snowmobile crossed the open ground at a speed that closed the distance fast.
Jack put his head down and ran. A rifle cracked. He cut right. Another shot. A hard cut left without breaking stride.
Too close. The shots were too close.
He ran. The trees were near now. Behind him, the machine gained, the engine climbing as the operator drove it hard across the packed snow. Another shot cracked. Jack drove his legs faster, pulling more out of them than they had left.
The man was shooting from a moving machine. At a moving target. At a distance. Jack reminded himself of this because it was the thing that kept him alive. The variables were stacked against a clean shot. Keep moving, keep cutting, make the angle change.
He was also aware that the variables narrowed as the distance did. The engine sound was closer than it had been. He didn’t look. Looking would cost him stride, and he needed every stride he had.
Jack reached the tree line as bark exploded from a pine tree next to him.
He dove into the trees, hitting the ground hard, rolling and coming back up on his feet.
The engine sound changed. The trees were too tight here for the machine to follow.
The operator would have to go around. Neither option was a problem Jack was upset about.
He kept moving until he was deep in cover. He checked the pistol, controlled his breathing, then looked at the timber around him and the lanes between the trunks, where sections were darker than others, where he might find a place to hide.
Now what? That was the question. An even bigger question was, what about Steph? Was she safe? Did she find her own hiding spot? He prayed she had.