And the mountain was no longer the only thing closing in.
Chapter 11
The sound of approaching vehicles grew louder, threading through the trees and up the mountain road in a low, relentless swell. Annie’s heart sank as she counted the distinct engine notes. At least four. Maybe more. Too many to be coincidence. Even if some of them belonged to law enforcement responding to the gunfire, there was no way to know which vehicles carried help—and which carried more of Sarah Mitchell’s men.
“We can’t wait to find out who’s coming,” she said, the decision settling in her even as she spoke it. “We move now.”
Jack nodded. His face had gone pale beneath the grime and sweat, the blood loss finally beginning to show, but his eyes were still clear, still focused. “The drainage ditch leads to that old access road I mentioned. It’s our best shot.”
Annie moved to his side and helped him to his feet. He leaned into her harder than he had before, and the motion confirmed what she’d already seen. Dark stains had spread across his shirt despite his efforts to ignore them, the wound in his shoulder bleeding more than he was willing to admit.
“How bad is it really?” she asked quietly as she braced him.
“Bad enough that I’m not going to be much use in a fight,” he said. “If we run into more trouble, you’re going to have to be the one who gets us out of it.”
The words landed heavier than the gunfire echoing through the trees. Jack had always been the one between her and danger, the one who knew what to do, where to move, how to survive. The idea that he was now depending on her to carry them both unsettled her in a way she didn’t have time to examine.
“Then I guess it’s time for me to return the favor,” she said, surprised by the steadiness of her own voice.
They moved under the cover of darkness toward the drainage ditch while the surviving guard continued to fire sporadically from behind the pickup truck. The shots were less controlled now, more desperate, and Annie could hear him shouting into his radio between bursts—calling for backup, for medical aid, for anyone.
The ditch was deeper than she had expected, cut by decades of mountain runoff into a narrow trench that offered welcome concealment. Cold, muddy water surged around their boots almost immediately, soaking through fabric and stealing warmth with ruthless efficiency. Each step became an effort, the slick stones beneath the surface shifting without warning.
“This way,” Jack whispered, pointing downstream toward where the ditch disappeared into a concrete culvert. “That pipe runs under the old logging road and ties into the main drainage system.”
Annie tightened her grip around his waist and helped guide him forward. The water numbed her ankles and calves, but she barely noticed. Behind them, the gunfire had faded, replaced by shouted commands and the chaotic noise of multiple vehicles arriving at the logging station.
“They’re organizing a search,” Jack said under his breath, listening. “We’ve got maybe ten minutes before they figure out which direction we went.”
The culvert loomed ahead, a round concrete mouth just wide enough to swallow them. Inside, darkness pressed close and complete. The sound of their movement echoed off the curved walls, magnified until every step and breath seemed too loud, too exposed. Annie had to force down a rising wave of panic as they crouched and entered.
Don’t think about the weight of the mountain above you, she told herself. Think about Eleanor. Think about why you’re here.
But it was difficult to focus on anything beyond the cold water creeping higher with each step and the sound of Jack’s breathing behind her—ragged now, controlled but strained. How much blood had he lost? How long could determination carry him before his body failed him?
“Almost there,” he said, though the confidence she was used to hearing had thinned.
The culvert stretched on, a concrete vein running through the mountain’s heart. Time lost meaning inside it. Distance blurred. Then gradually Annie felt it—a subtle change in the air. Less stale. Cooler. Moving.
“I see light,” she said, and couldn’t keep the relief out of her voice.
They emerged onto another drainage pad, this one choked with weeds and cracked by years of neglect. Above it ran the broken line of what had once been a logging access road, the asphalt split and sinking back into the mountain.
“Which way?” she asked as she helped Jack climb free of the ditch.
“Downhill,” he said, leaning into her again. “It connects to Highway Nine. About two miles from here.”
Two miles might as well have been twenty. Under any other circumstances it would have been an easy walk. Tonight, after the caves and the climb and the blood he was losing, it felt impossible.
One step at a time, she told herself. That was how you survived burning buildings. How you made it down cliffs. How you lived through things that shouldn’t be survivable.
They started down the abandoned road, Annie taking as much of his weight as she could manage. The surface was uneven, choked with gravel and roots, but it was still easier than the forest floor. Still easier than the mountain.
“Annie,” Jack said after several minutes. “There’s something I need to tell you. About Lily.”
“Jack, you don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do.” His voice was weaker now. Each word cost him. “Because if I don’t make it off this mountain, I need you to understand why I left. Why I was so afraid.”
