Chapter 10 #2
“Here, where?”
“To Oakleaf, to this town.”
“How do you know that?”
“He showed me photos on his phone. I remember now that one of them showed a slice of valley taken from a dam. Had to be the Cotton Flower.”
“So Aaron was here? I’m not sure I understand the implications.”
Mackenzie felt her throat clog. “I . . . guess it’s more evidence that you were right and he lied to me. He really was a drug dealer, working for Bullseye.” The cold and pain and exhaustion felt like an avalanche. “That’s the only reason I can think of.”
“Likely he never met Bullseye, though, being lower down on the food chain. He might have come here for a vetting process, or maybe to pick up his stashes sometimes.” He paused. “Is it possible he got to know people here in town?”
“He was gone a lot. Every few weeks. He said he was away on business, but his car would come back filthy as if he’d been somewhere rural.” Here, to Oakleaf. She was sure of it.
“Every few weeks? That’s a vigorous schedule.”
She fell silent. “I look like my brother.”
Gideon gave her a peripheral look. “Spitting image. So?”
“People who knew him would see we were related.”
“Yes,” he said slowly.
“Kevin stared at me for a long time. I thought it was because of the weird circumstances, but what if he was a friend of Aaron’s?”
“Why wouldn’t he say so?”
She considered. “If Aaron had an ally here in town, I sure wish we knew who it was, because the forces against us are multiplying by the minute.”
He urged them on, up the steep hillside, and she lugged herself after him. What did it mean, that Aaron had been in Oakleaf? “Trust me.” What if he had a trustworthy acquaintance or friend in town? Someone not loyal to Bullseye? Maybe that was how his phone had changed hands?
Was there someone in this treacherous situation they could actually rely on?
They stopped to drink in the shelter of a pine.
A hundred yards from their position, a river plunged along a rocky chasm toward the valley below.
It was full, raging even, and she imagined what it would be like to be swallowed up, like she’d almost been in the prison van.
She would not have the fight in her to resist next time.
The air had grown thinner as the altitude increased, leaving her panting. Every second was precious. As she stepped over a twisted root, a stream of pebbles shook loose and rolled down the slope.
They both felt the vibrations.
Helicopter, she thought, stomach flipping. But the roar that filled the air was much bigger than the sound of rotor blades. The rumble sounded like the end of the world.
They locked eyes.
“It’s ten o’clock,” Gideon said, his face pale under the splotches of mud.
Her throat went dry. “Have we made it high enough?”
“We’re about to find out.”
The situation was bizarre, almost inconceivable. Wordlessly, she moved with Gideon, inching backward until their shoulders pressed against a pine tree with a trunk as big around as a tractor tire.
At first, it appeared only as if the river was bubbling due to a violent wind, slapping and swirling, the incoming flow too subtle to be detected. Moment by moment the level increased along with the turbulence, the volume of water burgeoning as if they were watching a time-lapse film.
The approaching surge gobbled up the streambed and reached almost to the lip. How much more could the riverbed accommodate before it spilled over to devour more ground, including the patch they stood on?
Her nails bit into her palms as they waited. The mass held steady for a moment and she thought they might be okay—until it slopped over the channel, first in a tiny ripple that soon morphed into a wall of water flooding over.
Her brain told her to run, claw her way up the rocky slope, climb the tree, do whatever was necessary to escape the wave of destruction, but she knew it was futile.
She reached for Gideon’s hand, their intertwined fingers tight.
Closer the water crept, making the ground disappear. Solid one moment, covered the next.
Like a liquid avalanche it sped toward them in a terrifying rush, pooling briefly in dips of the terrain before overflowing and continuing its mad progress.
Now only yards separated them from the flood.
Now feet.
The relentless progress left them no choices, but Gideon tugged at her elbow.
“Up.” His voice was raw as he cupped his hands and bent over. She stepped into his palms, and he boosted her up to the lowest branch. Painfully she hoisted herself over the limb and into a crouch before she reached down to grab for him.
“I’m too heavy. I’ll pull you off,” he said, refusing. The water was racing toward him, seconds away.
She grabbed his wrist, and before he could protest, began to pull him up.
His weight almost took her over, but she looped an elbow around a side branch of the sturdy limb. Muscles and bones protesting, she held on until he’d swung up next to her.
The water raged higher, gobbling the tree.
Gideon looked above them, his expression desperate. The higher branches were widely spaced, likely too flimsy to hold their weight even if they could reach. Clinging to the rough bark, they watched and prayed as the flood began to reach their position.
She’d thought going over the bridge in the van had been the scariest moment of her life, but this was worse because she was witness to the whole event—the inch by inch march of deadly water. They’d swim, both of them, fight with every last breath, but it was unlikely they’d survive.
She looked at Gideon, the amber of his eyes, the tumbled dark hair.
He’d said she was beautiful. Would he still think so as the water invaded his lungs and stripped his life away?
The pine needles dancing on the surface of the water twirled and tangled, and she suddenly realized the water was no longer rising. Or maybe it was a trick of her eyes? But the wondrous expression on Gideon’s face helped her believe it.
“Thank you, God,” Gideon said with a pump of his fist.
Her brain was turning in circles trying to comprehend that the massive flow was not going to overwhelm their perch. Her fingers were rigid from her death grip on the branch, and she had to force them to relax their hold.
“I’ll second that.” She stared at the glittering surface and the circling pine needles. “Is it . . . is the water getting lower or am I dreaming that up?”
“No, you’re right.”
Gradually, incrementally, the gurgling swirl receded a few feet.
“Finding its way, settling into whatever creeks and gullies aren’t already full. We’ll wait a little while and see how it all levels out, okay?”
An excellent idea since her body felt paralyzed with the shock of their escape.
She straightened cautiously so she could sit with her back against the trunk, astride the branch as if she were riding a horse.
He sat opposite her, one hand holding the stubby limb she’d used minutes before to help him climb up.
He carefully maneuvered to extract a packet that he handed to her. “Protein bars. My last two. I was saving them for a special occasion.”
She laughed. “We’re really going to have a snack while sitting on a branch?”
He tore open his own protein bar wrapper and took a bite. “Really, can you think of a more memorable place to share a meal?”
She couldn’t.
“As a matter of fact . . .” He grabbed his phone and extended his arm, leaning his face close to hers.
“Are you taking a selfie?”
“Say cheese.”
With a giggle she complied. Was this actually happening?
Two days ago she never would have conceived of the things that had taken place, not the least of which was the fact that in that moment she was pleased to be taking a selfie with the man she’d recently detested.
Gideon had enabled her to see the truth about Aaron, and though it stung like battery acid, it helped to know that Gideon loved her brother too, in spite of what Aaron had run away from in high school, and regardless of his work for Bullseye.
Gideon examined the photo, pleased.
The words came rushing out. “Gideon, I’m sorry about how I’ve treated you.”
He cocked his head at her. “You’ve said you’re sorry. You’re forgiven.”
She saw in his face that he meant it. For some inconceivable reason, he actually seemed to have moved past his own anger. He was a better person than she—more forgiving than she’d ever realized, more kind than she’d allowed herself to believe.
How did she feel about him now? He wasn’t to blame for what happened to Aaron or for not helping her when she’d asked, and she’d been wrong to pin her fury on him.
So what exactly was she doing in a tree, risking both their lives?
Everything inside seemed to go wobbly at that moment, and she clenched her fists to remind herself of her mission.
The swirling water offered a distorted reflection back to her. She and Gideon looked like two thrill-seeking teenagers as they sat above the floodwaters, ate protein bars, and tried to figure out what their next step should be.
****
He should have been uncomfortable, concerned, obsessing about their newest predicament, but Gideon felt an illogical sense of euphoria sitting on that tree next to Mackenzie.
There could be no stranger situation. Since he’d told her the truth about the fire in high school and they’d voiced aloud their conclusion that Aaron was likely dealing for Bullseye, he felt unburdened, light, that he could share space with Mackenzie with no lies between them.
And she appeared a bit less guarded with him, or so he imagined. Perhaps even welcoming of his presence? His young adult crush, sitting with him in a tree, sharing a smile with him.
Doesn’t mean she feels any kind of way, Gid. Don’t fool yourself.
He wouldn’t.
This wasn’t a path forward with a woman he’d pined for in his boyhood.
This was survival. Period. But at least they weren’t enemies anymore.
Next steps. He surveyed the submerged terrain. “Water’s only a couple feet deep now. We can drop down and veer to the east. It’s drier there, more stable.”
“Ugh. More water.”
“Unavoidable.”
“I was hoping you had an inflatable raft stowed in your gear.”
“Sadly, no.”
She finished her protein bar and shot a wary glance at the clouds. “Do you think they’ve moved on to search a different area? Or decided we got swept away in the water release?”
“That’d be great but honestly unlikely. They’re pretty committed to the cause.”
“The cause of killing us.”
“Bullseye made that pretty clear. I think he’s the type to require visual proof that we’ve been eliminated. Until then . . .” He let the sentence remain unfinished as he cinched his pack and pointed to the ground. “On three?”
She scooched to the edge of the limb with a shiver. “And I just started to dry out.”
“The clothes in our packs should be drier, and if we packaged them well, they’ll be okay to switch out as soon as we get out of this valley. The phones are bagged again too.”
“Are you always so cheerful when slogging through the wilderness?”
Only with you. He stopped himself a split second before that fell out of his mouth. Bad enough he’d already told her he thought she was beautiful. Remember forty-eight hours ago when she drove away your client and took your wallet?
He settled for a shrug. “Doesn’t hurt to keep up morale. It’s a key factor in survival.” That sounded pretentious enough. Before he could add anything else, he jumped off the limb and landed waist deep in water so cold he almost screeched.
“Chilly?” she teased.
“Balmy. For a polar bear.”
She splashed down next to him with a squeal. He trudged off and she followed. The watery slog lasted about a half hour until they climbed high enough to leave it behind. On the positive side, the rain had diminished to occasional drizzles as they dropped down onto the other side of the valley.
“The main road would get us to the bridge in two hours, but . . .”
“I know,” Mackenzie said. “We have to take the less obvious path.”
“Stealth for health.”
“I’m beginning to dislike these witty slogans,” she grumped.
They stopped to change out their sodden clothes for the almost dry ones in their packs. It was a chilly process, even with the trees for a windbreak. When she emerged from her turn, she shook her phone disconsolately.
“No signal for me either,” he confirmed. The journey was taking far too long as the cold sapped their strength.
Their trek felt endless, his limbs wooden. Twice they feared they heard the helicopter returning, but it didn’t come close enough for them to spot it. The trees were working in their favor.
Their rest periods grew longer and longer, and their pace slowed to a creep until they neared the winding road that would take them to the bridge.
Mackenzie brightened. “Almost to the Jeep.”
“There’s a hiking trail between us and it. One more set of switchbacks and we’ll be at the bridge. Probably another two hours.”
She huffed out a breath. “Two hours is not ‘almost there.’”
“Sorry. Trying to stay positive.”
She chewed her bottom lip. “What if they moved your Jeep? Towed it away?”
“I don’t think they’d bother since the road is closed and I wasn’t obstructing anything. If they did, we’ll be close enough to town to get another ride, if there’s anyone left to hook us up. What about your car? At the hotel?”
“I left it at the train station in Clover and took a cab.”
“Thought you might have grown a tail?”
“Can’t be too certain. Lots of people seem to be on the lookout for me.
” She frowned. Was she thinking about the fact that the cops would be eager to take her back into custody?
The thought occurred to him that it might be the safest thing for Mackenzie, if they were to encounter an officer.
Hopefully she’d be protected in jail, from Bullseye and from herself.
He was still thinking about the notion when a brown bird streaked from the bushes five feet ahead. He stopped abruptly. “Something startled it.”
But the forest again subsided into quiet broken only by the dripping leaves. When there was no more indication of danger, he moved on, but his nerves stayed knotted.
Something didn’t feel right.
The moments blended in an uncomfortable blur, their plodding pace making the hour stretch endlessly on. They stopped only briefly for sips of water and sprinkles of quick-energy sugar from the packets he’d taken at the lookout. Neither wanted to prolong the agony by stopping too long.
The Jeep. Once he got it back, they’d have a much better chance at survival.
They approached another switchback, and the faint hiking trail they were following vanished into a turn screened by windblown trees.
When she stopped to adjust her boot, he touched her shoulder. “Wait here. I’m going to check ahead.” She nodded wearily.
He hadn’t made it more than fifteen feet when an ATV appeared around the turn.