Chapter 11 Aspen
Aspen
My heart is pounding so hard I can barely breathe.
“Harold!” someone calls from the trees.
Wolf.
Dylan is ahead of us now.
Buddy dragging him down the slope like a furry rescue missile.
“Dylan, wait!” I shout.
But Havoc is already moving.
Fast.
Effortless.
He catches Dylan in three long strides.
“Easy,” he says calmly. “We don’t rush downhill in the dark.”
I hear movement ahead.
Then a weak voice.
“…Joseph?”
My stomach twists.
That’s Grandpa.
I run forward before anyone can stop me.
“Grandpa!”
He’s sitting against a fallen log halfway down the slope.
Thin.
Shivering.
Looking confused.
Buddy reaches him first, whining and licking his hands.
“There you are!” Dylan cries.
Grandpa blinks slowly.
“…Tank?”
The name hits me like lightning.
Havoc freezes beside me.
For a moment no one moves.
Grandpa squints up at Havoc.
“…Tank, you finally came back,” he says.
My throat tightens.
“He thinks you’re Joseph,” I whisper.
Havoc crouches slowly in front of the old man.
His voice softens in a way I haven’t heard before.
“Hey, Harold.”
Grandpa studies him.
“…you’re not Tank.”
“No,” Havoc says gently.
“But we’re gonna take you home.”
Grandpa looks relieved.
“That’s good,” he murmurs.
“I got lost.”
Aspen kneels beside him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
“You’re okay,” I whisper. “We found you. I have your shoes.”
Behind me, Wolf mutters quietly to Saint.
“Dog deserves a medal.”
Buddy barks proudly.