The tension grows as I dash toward the border building. Better armed, we can make a run for it, and hide out until reinforcements arrive.
Only a mile from our goal, he hisses and rolls down the glass. “Move it, babe. It’s them.”
I stomp on the pedal. The engine whines. Cranking right, then left, I slide all over the icy pavement.
As the seatbelt bites into my neck, frigid air rushes in, chilling the nervous moisture rolling down my sides.
Crack!God, that was too close.My left mirror gone, pebbles pelt the side of the car.
“Fuck.” Arm braced against the door, Scott leans out the window, steadies his weapon, and returns fire.
I only took my eyes off the road for a second. Dammit, not the ditch. Not now. The tires skid sideways. All at once, the treads catch on the deeper-packed snow, and we lurch forward.
Unable to take my eyes off the highway, I ask, “Did we lose them?”
Hunter ducks back in the vehicle. “Not sure. Keep doing what you’re doing. We’re almost there.” Tone steady, he rests his palm on my thigh.
Grounded by his firm hand, drenched in sweat, I plow through the stoplight, slam on my brakes, and screech to a stop in front of the border building. Fingers numb, I unclench the wheel while wooshing out a long-held breath.
Holy crap, we made it.Inside the border building, the cat skitters under the desk.
“What’s going on?” Jeremy jumps up, eyes widening.
“No time. They could be here any second.” Safe unlocked, I toss firearms, bullets, and vests on the table. “Have you heard from Rob?”
“No, nothing.” The part-time agent stares, slack-jawed, his face unreadable.
Scott steps away from the front window. Stuffing his pockets, he grabs a rifle. “We were never here. Understood?”
The farmer nods.
Snatching the rest of our stuff, I give him a quick peck on the cheek, then bolt outside.
At the open hatch, I throw in our weapons and shut it hard. “Get out. I’m driving.”
The FBI agent opens his mouth and snaps it closed.Smart man.He sprints around the hood and drops into the passenger seat.
While we were inside, the snowflakes doubled in size and now fall twice as fast.
“Check the forecast, would ya?” I press the ignition.
My partner ducks and squints up at the threatening gray blanket of clouds. “Shit.”
He pulls out his phone. “Heavy snowfall. Over an inch an hour. Total accumulation two to three feet, depending on the elevation.”
As I ease onto the county road, I creep forward to the beat of the wipers. Thump-thump, scraaaape. Thump-thump, scraaaape. No one, not even a terrorist, would venture out in this mess.
“Anyone following us?” The heater blasts my face as I lick my dry lips and risk a glance over the cup holder.
Game face on, Hunt’s hands rest in his lap, his shoulders neutral. “Not a soul. Can I ask where we’re going?”
“Dante’s cabin, but first, we’ll need supplies. Can you hook my phone up to Bluetooth?”
One rushed call later, we beg Walmart to stay open. By the time we stow the survival gear into our new backpacks, six more inches have fallen. Visibility? Zero.
The trip takes four times longer than it should. At the base of the incline, I stare up at the endless white and question my sanity.
My voice comes out hoarse. “I’m not sure we can make it.”
