they wanted to know who I was working with.”
Lucky didn’t go into the details of how they questioned him, tortured was the more accurate word, but it didn’t matter what you called it. What mattered was the end result. He hadn’t broken, hadn’t betrayed Chase. And, although his heart had stopped and he’d been clinically dead for several minutes, he had survived.
“When they were finished, ready to kill me, one of them came to…” He trailed off, remembering the sour taste of fear and the fierce determination to live that had consumed him during those awful minutes. “I fashioned a homemade knife, and I used it to kill him.”
She didn’t need to know how he’d taken the boots from the dead man’s feet, it was either that or make his way through the snow, down a mountain in nothing but his boxers. “I escaped,” he finished. “But so did The Preacher.”
Ryan reached out a hand, touched his arm. “You lived. You’re going to make it out alive this time, too.” The gleam of her smile was the only bright spot in the darkness that shrouded them. “Lucky.”
They’d covered a lot of ground, he noticed, the car was long out of sight when he looked behind them, his eyes now accustomed to the darkness. His shoulder didn’t seem to hurt as much either.
“Thanks,” he said, but she gave no sign that she heard.
She continued leading the way, her steps sure and confident over the irregular, snow-covered terrain. She moved like a wild animal, as if she belonged out here in the wilderness.
They came to a small wooden box mounted on a post. Ryan stopped, waited for him to catch up. “Here we are, the Lost River trail,” she announced.
Lucky looked at her. “Weren’t we already on the trail?”
“That? No. That path is shared by the handicapped accessible nature trail and a short, three mile loop. It just leads here to the trail head, the real trail.”
He looked back the way they had come. It had been fairly flat, free of obstacles beneath the snow. Handicapped, huh? He’d barely kept up with her. Lucky had a sinking feeling that this was going to be a lot harder than he thought.
“This is why I hate the country,” he muttered.
She ignored him, turned the beam of her flashlight toward a marking on a tree. A blue horizontal line had been painted across the trunk.
“If we get separated, follow the blue blazes down the mountain. Don’t try to cross the gorge without me.”
Lucky nodded, sure whatever. The tiny ribbon of light seemed so puny against all this utter blackness.
Snow spun through it, almost drowning the faint illumination. For the first time he wondered if they’d even make it through the night. Wouldn’t that be a kick? The Preacher’s gang chasing through a blizzard only to find two popsicles, frozen stiff out here on the side of mountain.
“Two blazes,” Vinnie continued and he yanked his attention from the gruesome image of the two of them locked into an eternal frozen embrace, snow surrounding them. “One on top of another means the trail is taking a turn, so look for the next blaze, be certain you’re heading in the right direction.”
“Won’t gravity pretty much take care of that?” he asked. They were on top of a mountain, after all.
“Gravity will also get you headed down into the gorge. It’ll be days before you could get back out of there. So what do two blazes mean?”
Ah jeez, this wasn’t kindergarten. “The same as a middle-fingered salute during rush hour traffic on DuPont Circle—get the hell out of my way, ‘cause I’m turning. Can we go now?”
She shrugged her pack into better position and headed north on the trail. He trudged after her and immediately regretted leaving the path they were on previously. Even following in her footsteps it was tough going, and he wasn’t the one having to break through over a foot of snow.
“I hate to ask,” he huffed, his breath turning into a cloud of vapor, “but aren’t we
Lucky didn’t go into the details of how they questioned him, tortured was the more accurate word, but it didn’t matter what you called it. What mattered was the end result. He hadn’t broken, hadn’t betrayed Chase. And, although his heart had stopped and he’d been clinically dead for several minutes, he had survived.
“When they were finished, ready to kill me, one of them came to…” He trailed off, remembering the sour taste of fear and the fierce determination to live that had consumed him during those awful minutes. “I fashioned a homemade knife, and I used it to kill him.”
She didn’t need to know how he’d taken the boots from the dead man’s feet, it was either that or make his way through the snow, down a mountain in nothing but his boxers. “I escaped,” he finished. “But so did The Preacher.”
Ryan reached out a hand, touched his arm. “You lived. You’re going to make it out alive this time, too.” The gleam of her smile was the only bright spot in the darkness that shrouded them. “Lucky.”
They’d covered a lot of ground, he noticed, the car was long out of sight when he looked behind them, his eyes now accustomed to the darkness. His shoulder didn’t seem to hurt as much either.
“Thanks,” he said, but she gave no sign that she heard.
She continued leading the way, her steps sure and confident over the irregular, snow-covered terrain. She moved like a wild animal, as if she belonged out here in the wilderness.
They came to a small wooden box mounted on a post. Ryan stopped, waited for him to catch up. “Here we are, the Lost River trail,” she announced.
Lucky looked at her. “Weren’t we already on the trail?”
“That? No. That path is shared by the handicapped accessible nature trail and a short, three mile loop. It just leads here to the trail head, the real trail.”
He looked back the way they had come. It had been fairly flat, free of obstacles beneath the snow. Handicapped, huh? He’d barely kept up with her. Lucky had a sinking feeling that this was going to be a lot harder than he thought.
“This is why I hate the country,” he muttered.
She ignored him, turned the beam of her flashlight toward a marking on a tree. A blue horizontal line had been painted across the trunk.
“If we get separated, follow the blue blazes down the mountain. Don’t try to cross the gorge without me.”
Lucky nodded, sure whatever. The tiny ribbon of light seemed so puny against all this utter blackness.
Snow spun through it, almost drowning the faint illumination. For the first time he wondered if they’d even make it through the night. Wouldn’t that be a kick? The Preacher’s gang chasing through a blizzard only to find two popsicles, frozen stiff out here on the side of mountain.
“Two blazes,” Vinnie continued and he yanked his attention from the gruesome image of the two of them locked into an eternal frozen embrace, snow surrounding them. “One on top of another means the trail is taking a turn, so look for the next blaze, be certain you’re heading in the right direction.”
“Won’t gravity pretty much take care of that?” he asked. They were on top of a mountain, after all.
“Gravity will also get you headed down into the gorge. It’ll be days before you could get back out of there. So what do two blazes mean?”
Ah jeez, this wasn’t kindergarten. “The same as a middle-fingered salute during rush hour traffic on DuPont Circle—get the hell out of my way, ‘cause I’m turning. Can we go now?”
She shrugged her pack into better position and headed north on the trail. He trudged after her and immediately regretted leaving the path they were on previously. Even following in her footsteps it was tough going, and he wasn’t the one having to break through over a foot of snow.
“I hate to ask,” he huffed, his breath turning into a cloud of vapor, “but aren’t we
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