Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Harry
“What do you mean something’s wrong?”
I find myself at a loss to explain it. I just know something is wrong. I can feel it in my bones.
The air is silent, still. Unnaturally so.
“All the birds have stopped chirping,” I say, finally identifying what’s different.
Toby’s eyes widen as he comes to the same realization.
Something has disturbed the wildlife.
A chill runs down my spine. Surely it can’t be Kade and his companions after all this time?
Silently, I motion for Toby to follow me as I veer off the path leading back to our cabin. He falls in step behind me without question.
We creep through the trees, straining to pick up any sounds or signs of trouble. That’s when I spot it—a broken branch on one of the saplings. Someone or something has passed through here recently.
I hold up the branch to show Toby, raising my eyebrows in grim confirmation. His jaw tightens and he gives a barely perceptible nod.
A bear or elk is the only thing large enough in these woods to create that damage.
But something tells me it wasn’t a natural inhabitant of the forest.
Hope battles with fear inside my chest.
Could it be a late-season hiker or camper passing through? Perhaps even a search party that has tracked us down after all this time? The thought makes me lightheaded, the idea that potential rescue could be so close.
A flicker of hope lights Toby’s eyes, and I know he’s thinking the same thing. His hand gives mine a reassuring squeeze.
I give a subtle flick of my head to indicate we should head up the slope away from the cabin, and Toby nods. We head up the hill, our movements cautious and quiet. We’ve learned to navigate the forest with far more care now, so as not to disturb the animals, and it shows.
Finally, we come to a rocky outcrop partway up the slope of the hill. Staying low, I creep to the edge and carefully peek out. Toby’s pressed in tight behind me.
That’s when I see them. Three armed men converge on our cabin’s location with purpose. Their black fatigues and militaristic movements are all too familiar.
My stomach plummets.
A hand clamps down on my shoulder, and I look back to find Toby’s face drained of color.
“They’ve found us,” he whispers.
I have to clear my throat before I can muster a reply. “Yes. It appears so.”
Toby’s breath is ragged, and I wonder if he’s experiencing the same sense of violation I am watching the men enter our cabin.
The cabin where they’ll find a bed with sheets still rumpled because, after extensive mocking from Toby, I’ve abandoned the regimented make-the-bed routine I’ve carried out every morning since Dentworth.
The cabin where they’ll find the almost finished liners I was making for Toby’s boots to help keep his feet warm through the winter ahead.
The cabin that has been our home for the past few weeks.
What’s more, it is the cabin that contains everything we need to survive.
I feel slightly dizzy, my limbs suddenly weak and unsteady.
Toby and I watch the cabin closely, but it appears to have swallowed the terrorists because they don’t re-emerge.
“They’re waiting for us inside. It’s an ambush,” Toby says finally.
“So, what do we do now?” I ask.
“We can’t go fleeing into the woods with no supplies.”
He’s right. As tempting as it is to put as much distance between us and these men as possible, we know enough now to know that blindly setting off into the forest is not a good idea.
I take a moment to assess our current situation.
We have three hares and a squirrel we’ve retrieved from the snares.
We have the clothes we’re wearing, which fortunately, due to the crispness of the morning, means we are in possession of warm jackets.
I have the multitool securely in my pocket, which contains our ferro rod, and what remains of the spool of wire.
But we are lacking in waterproof equipment. We don’t have our remaining intact survival blanket or other essential items from the survival kit. We don’t have any fishing gear besides the potential to retrieve our set net in the lake.
It is now early November, and the temperature continues to drop with each passing day. Running off into the woods would be tantamount to a death sentence.
“All we need is for them to give up, to go searching for us, then we sneak back to the cabin and grab what we need,” Toby says.
The thought of relinquishing the safety of our cabin makes my throat constrict, but he’s correct.
“If we grab the axe by the lean-to, we can always construct another shelter to get us through winter,” Toby says.
Remaining here, waiting for the terrorists to vacate our cabin, is not the most optimal plan.
But it’s the only plan we currently have.
Toby’s worry is palpable. I can see it in the tense lines of his shoulders, the set of his jaw.
I am gripped by fear.
I’ve had to face my own mortality out here, and I’ve come to terms with the idea of death. I’ve accepted I may not make it back to civilization.
But depriving the world of Toby Webley…somehow, that’s what I find unfathomable. I can’t imagine the life force that is Toby Webley snuffed out of this planet. I will fight with everything I possess to prevent that from happening.
“How do you think they found us?” Toby asks in a low voice.
I shrug. “I haven’t the foggiest idea. Perhaps they were returning to retrieve the plane and spotted the smoke from our cabin? Maybe they’ve been surveying the area. Who can say for certain.”
Toby straightens. “Wait. They’re coming out.”
We both watch as all three men emerge from our cabin. But they don’t look like they’re preparing to search the forest.
Instead, they begin moving our firewood from inside the cabin to outside onto the porch.
Toby’s forehead scrunches. “What are they doing?”
There’s a pause as one of the mercenaries rummages in his pack. When he straightens, he’s holding a red plastic fuel canister. With almost casual indifference, he begins dousing the firewood stacked on the porch.
“Oh no…” Toby’s pained whisper is barely audible as we both realize their intention.
My heart drops into my stomach as I see them splattering fuel on the porch and steps, the liquid seeping into the wood.
Toby tenses next to me, shaking his head almost imperceptibly as we’re forced to remain motionless and watch.
One of the men tosses a lit match onto the fuel-soaked firewood. It takes a moment, but then bright flames lick upward with hunger, rapidly engulfing the side of the cabin facing us.
An anguished sound catches in my throat at the sight of the fire voraciously consuming the cabin. Toby squeezes his eyes shut, turning his face away as smoke begins billowing out the windows in thick, acrid plumes.
As it quickly spreads around the cabin’s outer shell, eating away at the roof and walls, I have an irrational urge to cry out in denial at what I’m seeing.
Everything we’ve scraped together to carve out a life and survive is being obliterated in flames before my eyes. Our meager possessions, our sense of shelter and safety, our…our home.
Gone.
The fire rages for an eternity, hungrily consuming our cabin down to smoldering embers while the men stand there and watch.
Finally, there is nothing left to burn.
Lifting their packs onto their backs, the three figures disappear into the forest towards the east.
“What do you think they’re going to do now?” Toby asks.
“Wait to ambush us somewhere in the forest, I guess,” I say.
Toby scrubs a hand over his face wearily. “What are we going to do? We don’t have shelter or food…”
“We still have each other,” I say.
Toby takes a shaky breath.
“We still have each other,” I repeat.
Toby's gaze drifts to the forest around us. As he stares at the pine trees, something in his expression changes, a subtle shift from despair to contemplation.
His brow furrows in thought. “You’re right. We still have each other. And those men have never had to face what we’ve gone through in the last few weeks.”
“No, they haven’t.”
“So maybe we’re thinking about this the wrong way,” Toby says slowly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, right from the start, we’ve been trying to escape them, right?”
“Yes. That is correct.”
“Well, maybe it’s time to change our strategy.” A slow, predatory smile spreads across Toby’s face as he meets my gaze. “Maybe this time we should start hunting them back.”