Chapter 39
39
Since there was nothing to do about Sarah—unconscious, surrounded by guards—Ruth ran. She knew how to be invisible in the wilderness, how to step over branches that might snap and move from one thick tree trunk to another. How many times had she and her siblings played hide and seek in the woods around the compound? When she didn’t want to be found, no one found her. Undisputed champion.
She also knew how to watch for signs of other humans. A startled bird calling to its mate. A squirrel setting off the alarm with frantic chitters. Heavy footfalls or stumbles from someone unused to mossy rocks and rotting logs. For a while, someone followed her, but then he turned back. She thought she caught the sound of a scratchy radio voice just before he stopped.
They must have their own private communications system, and the man following her had been ordered to stand down. She wasn’t that important, after all. The only way she could disrupt their plans was if she made it to the outside world in time for someone to stop this insanity. That was impossible. The road to Blackbear was many miles away, through forests and ravines and high ridges. It too would be blocked, so she’d have to stay in the woods. It would take her days and she didn’t have the supplies for such a journey.
Shivering, she stopped for a quick drink of water and took inventory of her backpack. Granola and cheese from Martha’s house, half a bottle of water, an extra pair of socks, and a jacket. It could be worse. The water in the creeks this high in the mountains was clean and safe to drink. If she had to eat berries, she could find plenty, although currants and cloudberries wouldn’t exactly fill her up.
But that wasn’t the main thing making her drag her feet the farther she got from Thunder Pass. It felt…wrong. Sarah was still back there, with all those maniacs, and the last glimpse she’d gotten of Gunnar was him collapsing to the ground. How could she just leave them behind?
But what else could she do on her own without any weapons? All she had was a knife and a lighter.
The cabin.
If she could locate that cabin again, the one belonging to Gunnar’s father, maybe it would have a radio or some other way to contact the outside world. What would she say?
SOS. My father and a Russian militia are holding our town hostage and they have my sister…help! Also there’s a goldmine!
She could work on that part later.
She changed course so she was headed in the general direction of the tiny structure she’d spotted tucked into a birch grove. Just because she’d seen it from across the meadow didn’t mean she could locate it now. She could be stumbling through these woods and meadows for hours looking for it. Her feet were already feeling the effect of their hike up to the pass, and her shoulder hurt from where the guard had wrenched it.
But it was her only shot, and besides, she knew how to survive discomfort and misery.
The ballroom was filled with elegantly dressed guests holding champagne glasses, and none of them were saying a word as Ruth glided across the dance floor to the king and queen seated on their gold thrones.
She was supposed to curtsy and bow her head. Instead, she stood straight and tall, ignoring the way the guards’ hands went to the hilts of their swords.
“How dare you play with people’s lives the way you did? How dare you treat us like pawns? Why didn’t you care about us as people?” Her voice didn’t shake, but her hands trembled. She gripped them tightly together, her hands damp inside her ivory satin gloves.
King Luke and Queen Naomi simply gazed at her in shock. The king gestured for the guards to move toward her, but Ruth raised one hand and he stopped.
“Why did everything fall on me when you left? Do you know what I went through when I was having to make all those decisions, after never getting to make any?”
The queen started to speak, but Ruth cut her off.
“And then he came back and I was supposed to pretend that nothing had changed? Do you think I don’t have a mind of my own? A will of my own? I’m not just your minion. I’m not just your subject. No one is. No one should be!” She swirled around and included everything in the ballroom.
“Why don’t I get to have my own life filled with the people and things that I love? Shouldn’t everyone have that? What gives you the right to dictate other people’s lives? Don’t you think they have value too?”
The king rose to his feet and brandished his scepter at her. “You will be quiet!”
“I will not be quiet! Never again!”
“Then you will die!”
The guards surged toward her, but then an amazing, miraculous thing happened. The ballroom guests, at first just a few, then more and more, until it was a stampede, stepped to her side. “Let her live!” came the cry. “Leave, you tyrants! We don’t want you anymore!”
As one, they rushed the thrones. The sheer mass of the throng was too much for the guards, and they fell back. The king and the queen stumbled off their thrones and fled for the door, with the guests in hot pursuit.
Ruth raised her hand to gain their attention, and they all paused. “We don’t need to worry about them anymore,” she announced. “Their time has come and gone. This is our ballroom now. Shall we sing and dance?”
A guard emerged through the crowd, pushing a cart that held a karaoke machine. Ruth grabbed the microphone and started singing. “Love. Love Will Keep Us Together.”
Joy filled the ballroom as the guests boogied down to the sound of her singing, and then other people took their turns, and whether they could sing or not, everyone had fun forevermore and into the everlasting…
Ruth stubbed her toe on something and came out of her fantasy with a jolt. She looked down and saw that she’d tripped over a rusty hinge embedded in the dirt. A hinge—that implied construction by human hands. The cabin must be close by.
A few moments later, there it was.
The cabin was built into the ground, the way the Ahtna used to build their winter shelters. Someone had painstakingly excavated enough dirt to snug in a twelve by twelve foot wooden structure. From three sides, it could barely be seen, except for the smoke stack, which was how she’d spotted it from across the meadow. From the front, the unpainted boards, weathered and gray, blended in with the rest of the forest. No glass windows or metal roofing to catch the light; just moss-covered wood, like the old trapper cabins.
And the view. As she tiptoed around the cabin, looking for signs of occupation, she saw that it offered a sweeping panoramic vista that included every bit of Thunder Pass, from the steep mountainous rise to the north, to the wooded slopes to the south, and the spectacular granite outcropping the rock climbers loved. And yet, from most viewpoints below, the cabin would be nearly impossible to spot. Perfect for spying.
At the northern end of the pass, a flash of white caught her attention. From here, she could see even more of the tents and ATVs and helicopters down there. Maybe she could find some binoculars inside the cabin.
She stepped cautiously toward the front door, which was nothing more than a sheet of thick plywood with hinges, not even a doorknob to be seen.
“Stop right there,” came a low voice behind her. She spun around. Anthony Amundsen stood before her, a gun aimed right at her heart.