Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Outside, the world turned from pitch black to thin gray. The coal in the stove had burned out sometime during the night. Ethan’s breath clouded the air with every exhale. Outside, a bird was practicing the same two notes over and over.
Mei Lin slept tucked against his side, one hand fisted in the front of his shirt.
He’d been awake for hours, since Mei Lin’s sleepy mumbles had grown louder and sharper. Half asleep, he’d grabbed the flashlight from beside the bed and swung it around the room, looking for whatever had spooked her.
Just another nightmare—she’d never suffered them during two blissful weeks after the wedding and before he’d needed to return to the States. Last night, he’d pulled her close and whispered in her ear. “You’re safe, sweetheart. You’re safe.”
After more whispers and more prayers, she’d settled again, and when he failed to do the same, he watched her sleep.
The dim light eased the hollows under her eyes and softened the line between her brows.
She looked younger, more like the girl he’d met on that mission trip, competent and confident.
She’d learned enough Spanish to communicate, and even when she didn’t know the words, her kindness was multilingual.
After they’d crawled into bed the night before, he’d kissed her.
He’d meant for it to be a quick goodnight kiss, but her fingers had slid into his hair, and his breath had caught, and for a few seconds he’d forgotten the cabin and the mountain and all the people tracking them down. He’d forgotten everything.
Half of him wished he hadn’t remembered.
He’d pulled away, kissing her hair and mumbling something about morning coming early.
He hadn’t needed to see her face to know he’d hurt her, but she didn’t ask, just settled against his shoulder and fell asleep.
Before Ethan let their kissing go farther, he needed to tell her about Holly.
He squeezed his eyes shut, imagining how the conversation would go.
While you were in a prison cell, I decided to move on. He worked the sentence over in his head. There was no good version of it. I prayed for you. Then I gave up on you. Then I started seeing somebody else.
The secret was eating at him, and now it was gnawing at the connection between them, the one they were both attempting to rebuild.
He had to tell her today, before they left this mountain, before whatever came next. Mei Lin deserved to know the truth.
The light at the window had gone from gray to silver. More birds had joined the first, creating a symphony.
He felt a shift.
Mei Lin’s eyes were open. She was watching him.
What had she read on his face?
“Good morning.” His voice was croaky, and he cleared it.
“Hi.”
“We should move.”
“Mm.” She let her eyes drift closed. “Must we?”
“I’m afraid so.” He pushed up onto his elbow. “I’ll deal with the stove. Can you start packing?”
“Okay.”
They got up and changed into warmer clothes. While Mei Lin folded the blanket, Ethan banked the coal and swept the ash, then filled the water bottles from the barrel. He put the protein bars and what remained of the candy in her backpack, in case they got separated.
He stared at the map on the wall and tried to commit it to memory. He had a plan…or the first half of a plan, anyway. Or maybe the first quarter. Tenth.
Whatever. He had a direction. He snapped a picture of the map, though he doubted it would help much.
Mei Lin had frozen.
“What?”
She lifted a hand, and he listened. Nothing but birdsong.
Then he heard it.
An engine, far off. It could be anything. A logger, a farmer, some local just passing through. Except there was no passing here. The road ended at this cabin.
The engine was getting louder, closer.
Mei Lin turned her face to his, her eyes wide.
“Hurry.”
While she shoved on her sneakers, he snatched the last of their things, then swept his gaze around the cabin. It was the same as it had been, but they’d disturbed the dust and the staleness of the place. Whoever that was would know.
Nothing for it now.
Zipping her jacket, Mei Lin stepped outside, and he followed, locked the door, and hid the key under the rock where he’d found it. They crossed the clearing to the narrow, barely-a-trail they’d navigated two days earlier.
Picking their way through the forest, they moved as fast as they could with the trees and bushes fighting them.
He kept one hand out, prepared to steady Mei Lin if she stumbled.
The ground that had been squishy with rain two days earlier was dry and crispy with ice this morning, making silence impossible.
They didn’t need to be quiet yet, not until that engine stopped.
The engine grew louder behind them. Thank God Mei Lin had heard it. Thank God they’d been awake and nearly ready to go.
The trail dropped off to the right, climbed to the left. The trees were close, the underbrush thick. It would take them hours to go a couple of miles. This wasn’t the plan.
The thought made him stop.
Mei Lin must’ve realized because she did, too, turning to look at him. “What—?”
“Wait.”
Stepping beside him, she looked at him like he’d lost it. Maybe he had. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Michael’s suggestion the day before.
He scanned the slope above them. “We need to go back.”
“What?” Her voice stayed low, but the pitch climbed.
“To the road, not the cabin.”
“They came in on the road.”
“If we go this way, the only towns we’ll know how to get to are Fuyin and the village I reached yesterday, and we need to avoid both of them. We need the road.”
“We will go toward the village and find a road there. We don’t have to go into the village, just skirt around it.”
“There’s no road out to the north. The only road leads back to Fuyin.”
“How do you know this?”
“From the map on the wall.”
“But roads have cameras.”
“There are threats in the forest too. We need the road.”
Her mouth was pinched closed, but then she nodded, trusting his judgment.
Father, don’t let me get her killed.
They cut left, off the trail, working through the underbrush at an angle. The ground rose before it dropped. Branches dragged at his jacket, but he held them back for her where he could. A pine bough whipped his cheek, the pain sharp in the frozen morning.
If they didn’t find the road, they’d wander these woods until they froze or starved. These mountains were vast, and winter was coming.
Had he misjudged? Were they even more lost now?
Then the trees opened, and there it was, hardly more than a rutted track, gray and empty in the early light.
He was about to step out onto it when the engine noise—now above them—cut off.
The world was all birdsong and whispered breezes again.
They ducked into the trees and listened.
Whoever had been on that vehicle had parked. They must be inside the cabin now, finding the disturbed dust and the warm coal.
Ethan took her hand. “Come on.”
They stepped onto the road and hurried downward. Their feet were quiet on the packed dirt.
“Ethan.”
“Mm.”
“You know where we’re going?”
“Yup.”
She made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “What is the plan?”
He didn’t want to tell her. She’d try to talk him out of it, but he couldn’t see a better way off this mountain. First, he needed a landmark, something he’d be able to find again.
They were rounding a wide corner when he stopped. A boulder rested off the dirt road, taller than he was and almost as wide.
“This way.” He pulled her behind it.
“What are we doing?”
When she was hidden, he said, “You need to stay here.”
“Why?” She looked around as if she might find a clue to his unusual behavior.
“I’ll be right back.”
She grabbed his sleeve. “Ethan, don’t leave.”
“Mei Lin.” He cupped her face and rested his forehead against hers. “I will never leave you. I’ll be back in five minutes, maybe ten. Stay low, stay quiet, stay hidden. If you hear anything strange, anything at all, go deeper into the trees and wait for me. I will come back.”
“Where are you going?”
He kissed her forehead. “I love you. Trust me.”
He could see her wanting to argue. Instead, she said, “Five minutes.”
“Give me ten before you start to worry, thirty before you panic, okay?”
“Do not be gone thirty minutes!”
He grinned. “I’m aiming for five.” He left her crouched behind the rock and started back up the road, keeping close to the edge where he could hide if he heard anyone coming.
Unless you counted a Snickers bar he’d taken from his best friend’s Halloween bucket when he was eight, he’d never stolen anything in his life. And he’d felt so guilty about the candy that he’d confessed a few days later and given his friend every penny in his piggy bank.
But yesterday, standing in the shadow of the temple after he’d ended the call with Gavin and Michael, he’d searched for instructions. How to hot-wire a car. And then, How to hot-wire a moped, because there were far more of those in China than cars.
Knowing he might not have cell service, he’d taken screenshots. Then, he’d put the phone away and not thought about it again. Until now.
He had instructions. His hands were steady. His wife trusted him.
Lord, I never thought I’d ask for this, but help me steal a car and get us out of here.
Ethan kept to the edge of the road, ready to drop into the trees if he heard so much as a footfall. The sun had climbed enough that the ruts threw shadows.
When the cabin came into view through the pines, he ducked into the woods.
It wasn’t a car but a moped, which didn’t surprise him, considering the whine it’d made and the narrow road. The moped leaned on its kickstand near the cabin.
The front door was open.
He crept through the underbrush, easing each foot down slowly on the frozen leaves and twigs, closing the distance to twenty yards. Fifteen. He hid again, this time behind a wide tree trunk, and watched.
The driver could be inside, or he could be outside somewhere out of view. Ethan wouldn’t move until he knew which.
The birds were twittering their morning worship, covering the sound of his pulse, which seemed loud enough to be audible to anyone within a mile. He’d told Mei Lin he’d be back in five minutes. He was already late.
He pulled his phone out and thumbed through the screenshots. Wires, color codes, a diagram of an ignition switch.
He was glad he’d taken Michael’s question to heart. He wished he’d taken Grant’s advice to heart as well.
Do you have a weapon? A knife will work in a pinch. Find one.
If Ethan had had half a brain, he’d have lifted a knife from the cabin. He’d planned to, but then they’d rushed away so fast that he’d forgotten. Now, he was unarmed.
What was he thinking? Was he going to murder an innocent man to steal a moped?
He was not.
But he might’ve threatened it.
A man stepped out of the cabin. He was average height by Chinese standards.
He wore a thick canvas jacket and a wool cap.
Ethan couldn’t see the guy’s face or guess his age.
He stretched and scanned the trees, but not nervously.
Maybe he hadn’t realized anyone had been there.
He walked around the far side of the cabin and out of view.
A moment later, the outhouse door slammed.
Ethan hurried out of the brush and crossed the clearing in long quiet strides. No keys hung from the moped’s ignition, so he’d have to hot-wire it. Unless…
He looked at the open cabin door.
He didn’t have time to debate. He stepped inside, which was just like they’d left it, except now it held the scent of tobacco. A tin cup rested on the table beside a phone and a key on a brass ring with a red plastic tab.
He snatched the key and started to leave. But that phone…
He picked it up and brought the screen to life.
It had service—three bars. He could use it to navigate them out of there. Except phones could be tracked.
He shoved it in his coat pocket and started for the door.
But the man was there.
They both froze.
He looked confused, and then seemed to realize what was happening.
No time to think it through.
Ethan barreled forward, leading with his shoulder, and tackled him. They went down together in the dirt.
The man was small but made of muscle and bone and a lifetime of hard work. He got a hand under Ethan’s jaw and shoved, hard, and Ethan’s head snapped back. An elbow caught him in the ribs, and his breath whooshed out on a grunt.
He hooked the man’s leg with his foot, swung his weight over, and rolled on top of him. The man bucked, aiming a fist toward his eye.
Ethan shifted and caught the blow on his cheekbone. White flared in his vision.
He pinned a wrist. Got the other one and bore down.
The man spat something at him in Mandarin.
“I’m sorry,” Ethan said. “I’m sorry.”
He held him there a beat, until the man’s breathing changed. His fight stuttered, his eyes shifting from rage to determination. He wasn’t giving up, he was calculating.
Ethan had no choice.
Forgive me.
He drove his fist into the side of the man’s skull, one short clean blow. The man’s eyes rolled, and his head went slack.
Ethan pushed up off him and bolted for the moped.
He swung a leg over, jammed the key in. The engine caught on the first try, and he lifted the stand, turned the bike, and twisted the throttle.
Dirt sprayed behind him. He didn’t look back. He took the road down the mountain too fast, fishtailing on the corners, leaning hard.
A curve. Another. The cabin disappeared behind a screen of pines.
Lord, send him help.
He twisted the throttle to speed up.
Just not yet.