11. A Man #2
Addy drifted in and out of a restless half-sleep, the faint hiss of wind outside mixing with the occasional pop from the stove. Sawyer sat by the window, rifle propped across his lap; the pale light of the moon served to outline the tension in his shoulders.
He hadn’t moved in over an hour.
Then it happened: a sharp clang from somewhere beyond the treeline.
Sawyer was on his feet before Addy had even opened her eyes. The sound came again: metal on metal, a short rattle that didn’t belong to the wind.
Addy bolted upright, her pulse slamming against her ribs. “Sawyer?”
“Stay down,” he ordered, voice low but calm. He crossed the room in two strides, snatching his coat and rifle.
“That was one of your traps,” she whispered.
He nodded, already listening hard. “The west side. Closest to the path we came in on.”
Addy’s stomach turned. “You think it’s—”
“I don’t know yet.”
The sound came again, fainter this time, as if whoever, or whatever, had triggered it was trying to stay quiet now.
Sawyer’s expression hardened. He moved toward the door, but Addy caught his sleeve. “You can’t just—”
He met her eyes, and she saw it again: that strange calm he wore like armor. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “Lock it behind me. Don’t open up to anyone but me, do you understand?”
She wanted to argue, to make him stay inside, but the steadiness in his voice rooted her in place. Slowly, she nodded.
He slipped out the door, closing it without a sound.
Addy threw the bolt home and pressed her ear against the wood. Her heart pounded in her throat as she strained to listen.
Outside, the forest swallowed him whole.
The seconds dragged. Then, crunch. The faint, deliberate sound of boots on frozen earth. A low voice she couldn’t make out. Another clang.
Then silence.
Addy’s breath caught. She gripped the handgun Sawyer had left on the table, her palms slick with sweat despite the cold. The cabin felt smaller by the second; the walls too thin to keep anything out.
Minutes passed, or hours; she wasn’t sure. And then, suddenly, three sharp knocks hit the door.
“Addy,” Sawyer’s voice called softly. “It’s me.”
She hesitated just long enough for fear to flicker through her chest before unlocking the door. Sawyer stepped inside, rifle still raised, his eyes scanning every corner before he finally exhaled.
“What was it?” she whispered.
He shook his head. “Don’t know. Whatever tripped the line was gone by the time I got there. But it wasn’t an animal.”
Her throat tightened. “You saw someone?”
He nodded once. “Maybe. A shadow moved between the trees. Too far to follow without giving myself away.”
Addy swallowed hard. “You think it was the same man as before?”
Sawyer didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the door, his jaw working. “I think,” he said slowly, “someone wants to figure out how safe we really are.”
He turned, checking the window again before meeting her eyes. “And we just told them we’re still here.”
* * *
Sawyer waited for first light, his mind made up long before the horizon started to pale. He leaned over Addy and brushed a light kiss across her forehead.
“Hey,” he whispered. “We need to move. We’re being stalked; it’s not safe anymore.”
Her eyes snapped open, alarm replacing sleep. She sat up quickly, reading the seriousness in his face. “Now?”
“Yeah. Grab your pack.”
They moved fast, shoving food and ammo into their bags, stuffing maps and spare clothes into what space remained. Every sound felt too loud: the rustle of fabric, the creak of floorboards, the quiet clink of Sawyer’s rifle strap.
Then Addy froze. “Sawyer,” she whispered, pointing toward the window.
Two men were approaching from the treeline, moving slowly but with purpose. They weren’t wandering or lost. Their eyes were locked on the cabin.
Sawyer’s stomach tightened. “Get down.”
Addy crouched behind the table, her heart pounding. Sawyer crept to the window, just enough to see their movements: one hanging back near the truck, the other walking straight toward the porch. Both carried rifles slung at their sides; their posture was too confident to be desperate scavengers.
“They know we’re here,” Addy murmured.
“Yeah,” Sawyer said grimly. “The question is, what do they want?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He crossed to the door, his voice low and steady. “If I tell you to run, you don’t look back you go out the back door fast. Understand?”
Addy stared at him, her throat tight. “What about you?”
He gave her a small, almost reassuring smile. “I’ll be right behind you.”
He cracked the door open just enough to step halfway onto the porch, his rifle raised but not aimed. His voice rang clear and sharp across the clearing.
“That’s far enough!”
The man closest to the cabin stopped, his head tilting slightly. Then he smiled, a slow, deliberate smile that made Addy’s skin crawl.
The second man shifted, his hand brushing the stock of his rifle.
Sawyer’s finger tightened on the trigger. “State your business.”
The closer man called back, his voice rough and mocking. “Didn’t know anyone was still breathing out here.” He gestured lazily toward the cabin. “You got supplies? We could trade.”
“Not interested,” Sawyer said flatly.
“Don’t be like that,” the man said, still smiling. “We’re all friends here.”
Behind him, the second man started to move wide, flanking.
Sawyer’s pulse spiked. “Back inside,” he hissed to Addy. She didn’t hesitate, slipping behind the door frame, clutching the pistol so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Before Addy could even step away from the door, the two strangers drew their weapons with practiced efficiency. Sawyer’s rifle came up in one fluid motion as he retreated into the cabin’s protective darkness.
He made his decision in less than a heartbeat.
He grabbed Addy by the arm and pulled her toward the back. “We’re not fighting here,” he said. Grabbing their packs as he propelled her forward. “They’ll burn the cabin down trying to flush us out.”
As they reached the back door, the first gunshot cracked through the air, splintering wood inches from the front window.
Addy gasped, ducking low as Sawyer shoved her through the doorway and into the cold.
“Run,” he ordered. “Stay low and keep moving!”
She stumbled forward, heart pounding, while behind her Sawyer turned, his rifle steady and eyes sharp, the soldier in him fully awake again.
The gunfire came again — closer this time, wood splintering from the cabin door frame as Sawyer pushed Addy ahead of him.
“Move!” he barked, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Branches snapped against Addy’s arms as she stumbled into the trees, breath ragged. The cold air bit at her face, but she barely felt it, only the rush of panic, the pounding of her heart, and the sound of Sawyer’s boots right behind her.
Another shot cracked through the air. Bark exploded beside them. Sawyer spun, dropped to one knee, and fired twice into the treeline. The echo was deafening.
“Go!” he shouted.
Addy kept running, her boots slipping in the frozen dirt. She could hear the shouts of the men behind them now, angry and close. Whoever they were, they weren’t just scavengers; they were organized, moving with purpose.
Sawyer caught up to her, grabbed her arm, and pulled her behind a downed pine. They crouched low, breath coming in visible clouds.
“You hit them?” she whispered.
“Maybe one,” he said. “They’ll be cautious now.” He checked his magazine, jaw tight. “We need distance before they regroup.”
Addy nodded, though her legs were trembling. “Where do we go?”
“Back toward the ridge,” he said. “There’s an old service road up that way. If we can find it, we might lose them.”
They started moving again, slower this time, crouched, careful. Sawyer moved first, scanning ahead, every sense sharpened by instinct. Addy followed close, doing her best to place her boots where his had been.
After a few minutes, he raised a hand, and she froze. Voices, faint but clear, drifted through the trees behind them.
“Spread out!” One yelled. “They couldn’t have gone far!”
Sawyer looked back at her, his expression calm but intense. “If they spot us, don’t stop. No matter what happens.”
Her throat felt tight. “What about you?”
He gave a faint, grim smile. “I’ll make sure they don’t follow.”
She wanted to argue, but before she could, he was already moving again, leading her uphill through the thick underbrush. The forest swallowed them, branches clawing at their clothes, frost crunching underfoot.
When they finally broke through to a narrow clearing, the sky had gone pale and cold above them. Sawyer stopped long enough to scan their surroundings, then turned back to her, his breath quick and white in the air.
“Are you okay?”
Addy nodded weakly, though she wasn’t sure she meant it. “I think so.”
He stepped closer, his voice dropping low. “Listen. If we get separated—”
“We won’t,” she said quickly.
His eyes met hers, steady and unreadable. “If we do, head north. Keep the ridge on your right. Don’t stop for anything.”
She swallowed hard, but nodded.
A branch cracked somewhere below them, closer this time. Sawyer’s expression changed instantly.
“They’re tracking us,” he whispered. “We keep moving.”
He took her hand, not out of tenderness, but to keep her from falling as they started up the slope. His grip was strong, sure, unyielding.
Behind them, the voices grew louder.
“Over here! I see tracks!”
Sawyer turned, raising his rifle. “Go!” he said, firing once, twice, into the trees before grabbing her hand again. They ran until the sound of gunfire faded into the wind, until Addy’s lungs burned and her legs threatened to give out.
Only then did Sawyer stop, pulling her behind a fallen log, both of them gasping for air.
He met her eyes, sweat freezing on his temples despite the cold. “Those men,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, “they’re tracking us like animals. They won’t quit until they find us.”
Addy stared back at him, her breath shaking. “Then we don’t stop either.”
Sawyer’s gaze lingered on her for a heartbeat longer, then he nodded.