Chapter 1 #3
The wind sliced through her jacket again, an icy reminder of how exposed she still was. She wouldn’t last long enough to hike back to her motel, even if she could find the trail.
“Where are we going? Who are you?” she pressed.
A plume of cold air bloomed with his sigh. “Look, I’m military. Let’s get you out of the blizzard, then we can talk.”
Military. So why would she need to wear a hood? Was this one of those military bases—the ones that studied aliens in underground bunkers she’d seen so many conspiracy theories about?
Another gust of wind rocked her on her feet, and she barely caught her breath. She only hesitated a beat longer before grabbing the hood. She pulled it on, and the world went from blinding white to pitch black. “If I ‘disappear,’ I’m haunting you.”
“Noted.”
He took her by the arm and guided her another step. “I’m helping you onto the snowmobile now. Lift your right leg.”
She did, and his gloved hand wrapped around her boot. He guided her onto the vehicle, and she settled in the seat, totally disoriented and so out of her depth that her pulse raced.
When he grasped her hand, she jolted. His voice was a low rumble as he leaned close. “Here’s a handle. There’s one on each side.” He guided her hand to a grip.
She wrapped her fingers around it and felt for the other. A moment later, the machine rocked lightly under the man’s weight as he took the seat in front of her. The engine roared, and they took off.
The hood blocked everything, leaving her with no sense of direction.
She couldn’t see any landmarks and only felt the vibration of the machine and the wind tearing past them.
She tightened her grip, trying to anchor herself in the seat even as she wondered why the hell she’d agreed to go with this stranger.
She’d raised two savvy boys and a girl, gotten them through their teen years unscathed.
And she’d completely failed all the lessons she’d taught them. Rule one: always let someone know where you’ll be, who you’ll be with and when you’re expected home. Rule two: keep your phone accessible. Rule three: know how you’re getting home before you go.
How could she be so dumb? She was going to be murdered and tossed behind a tree. In a decade, some hiker would stumble over her bones if she wasn’t devoured entirely by wolves.
Panic made her breaths come faster, and pretty soon, she was dizzy. She flailed out an arm and struck the man in front of her. His hand covered hers and he pulled it around his middle.
“Lean into me,” he called back to her.
She had no reason to trust him, but she needed to live through this ordeal, so she held on tight.
His body moved with the machine, firm and hard, layered with muscle.
And she could hear low, muffled voices when she leaned close to him, words breaking through the wind and engine in clipped bursts that didn’t belong to either of them.
It took her a second to realize it wasn’t in her head—he wore a device in his ear, and she was pretty sure he wasn’t listening to a podcast.
“…got her?”
“Yeah,” her rescuer replied.
More voices followed, overlapping.
They took a sharp turn to the right, and she caught herself, stiffening her body and clenching her thighs to keep from falling off the snowmobile.
“Don’t lose her—”
“You hood her?”
“…of course he did.”
The snowmobile slowed eventually and finally stopped. Hands steadied her as she climbed off, her feet on more solid ground now.
“Can I take the hood off now?”
“In a minute.” He grabbed her hand and led her forward. The terrain changed beneath her feet as she passed from snow onto…concrete?
“You can take the hood off now.”
She pushed it back immediately, gulping for air as if she were suffocating even though she could breathe just fine. Light hit her, along with warmth, wrapping around her as she blinked at her surroundings.
She didn’t know where she was. She was just…inside.
The blank walls didn’t give any indication of her location or sense of how far they’d traveled or what direction they’d come from. There weren’t any windows to orientate herself—or offer a means of escape.
Her rescuer stood next to her, and two more men gathered in the big open room.
“This isn’t unsettling at all,” she murmured.
A huge guy wearing all black who looked like he stepped out of a war movie held out a mug to her.
She stared at the offering before darting a look at his face.
His features were just as hardened as the rest of him, and he didn’t exhibit the usual signs he was an alien—rubbery skin, huge black eyes. He looked human.
“Cocoa,” he said, looking at the mug.
“Um. Thanks.” She took the cocoa but had to use both hands because her hands were so frozen she’d lost the ability to grip. And she definitely would not be drinking the cocoa. Rule four had been mostly for her little sister but it applied now: don’t drink anything someone hands you.
The scent of warm, rich chocolate and marshmallows threw her for a loop. Suddenly, she didn’t know if she’d stepped into a war flick or an animated kid’s movie.
She snapped to reality—at least her reality.
She shifted the mug to one hand and fished her phone from her pocket. The instant she had it out, the man who’d rescued her plucked it from her grasp.
She gaped at him. “I need to call my siblings! They’re going to be worried.”
The man stepped closer. “You can’t contact them, but we will inform the authorities you were found safe and that you’ll be in touch with your family soon.”
She gaped at him. “What? No. That’s not enough. They check in every day. They’re going to think something happened.”
He shook his head and pocketed her phone. “You’ll get your phone back when it’s time for you to leave.”
A stutter pushed up her throat as she fought to find words. “W-what? But— How long?”
“A few days.”
She shoved the cocoa back at the man who gave it to her. “That’s unacceptable.”
Another man stepped forward then—older, controlled, exuding the kind of presence that gave the impression he was in charge.
“My name’s Cannon.”
“You’re military?” she managed to ask even though her chest was beginning to tighten in panic.
He gave her a simple nod.
“Where am I?” she asked again. “What is this place?”
Cannon drew her attention. “You’re on our base and you’re safe.”
“When can I leave?”
“Getting you out isn’t that easy, but trust me, we will.”
Her body wouldn’t accept that as truth yet—her veins buzzed with gallons of adrenaline.
“Where did you come from?”
“Chicago.”
Cannon registered her response. “Where are you staying?”
“A motel in Alder Ridge.”
Cannon turned to her rescuer. “Archer, take care of her.”
The man who rescued her unzipped his coat to reveal a chest as solid as she guessed it was when her arms were wrapped around him.
She studied his face for some indication that this was some big joke and they were all messing with her. Maybe someone would even jump out with a camera and announce this was just a stunt for a TV show.
But looking around at these huge men…she didn’t think so.
“What’s your name?” Archer asked, draping his coat over his arm.
“Jolie. Jolie Simms.”
“Well, Jolie, there’s a whiteout and we can’t get you out until it passes.”
She sputtered, trying to make sense of a situation that had none. She didn’t know where she was, and just because they claimed they were military didn’t mean they were. She needed answers—like why she had to be hooded to come to their frat house or base or whatever this place was.
Sure, she was warm and alive.
But she was completely cut off.
If she was going to be stuck here, she needed to figure out exactly where here was.
And who, exactly, she’d trusted enough to follow into it.