What if someone did?
A sizzle of lightning lit up the sodden meadow and the rocks beyond. A plume of something drifted through the air. Another belch of ash from Mount Ember. Cullen came into view, a pale shadow. Her heart sped up, relieved, until she realized he was moving fast, jogging toward the rig, slipping and skidding in spurts, sinking shin-deep into the debris before yanking himself free.
She flung the door open for him and he scrambled in, wet rivulets of muck dripping from the raincoat.
“What’s wrong?”
He peeled off the jacket and thrust it at her. “We gotta bolt for my truck. Put this on. You can shelter Tot inside, keep her dry as best you can.”
She was summoning a question as he jerked a look around.
“You packed. Good. I’ll carry the duffel.” He stopped his rapid-fire commands when she seized his wrist.
“I’m not leaving my rig.”
“No choice.”
“I—”
He cut off her answer by taking her elbow and propelling her to the driver’s side window. Crammed shoulder to shoulder, they stared through the fractured glass.
“I don’t see anything,” she whispered, unsure why she spoke in a hushed tone.
“Watch.” His murmur tickled her ear, the chill of his cold cheek against hers prickling her skin. Her searching gaze found only an impenetrable sprawl of velvet night.
He pressed one wide finger to the window glass. “There.”
Above them, where a sliver of road was visible before it became lost by the steep slopes of Mount Ember, two gold pinpricks trailed down the mountain, flickering in and out of view as the terrain rose and fell.
Her breath caught.Rescue.
“Headlights,” he confirmed. “Saw them during my trek. Never did get a signal either.”
They were lost, out of contact with the outside world. But maybe not. “It’s probably the police or the National Guard.” She pressed an eager palm to the window. They’d be rescued. She could call in a desperate favor and get her truck towed. The baby would be all right. The National Guard or park service could find the missing mother.
“I don’t think so, Kit.”
They stared as the vehicle moved steadily down the mountain, no strobing lights yet, but maybe that wouldhappen shortly. She could feel the tension in the muscled wall of his chest pressed against her shoulder.
Again they sank into silence, gazes drawn to the appearing and disappearing headlights. They caught sight of them again on a short stretch of road before the vehicle sank out of view.
“He’s probably two miles from here before the road takes the plunge. No emergency lights, not an official vehicle.”
The baby stirred on the mattress, whimpered.
One more time the car appeared, moving toward them at an unhurried pace. As they watched, the headlights flicked off, the moonlight catching the darkened vehicle for the briefest of moments until the clouds sealed out the light again.
Her stomach contracted, her fantasies of rescue popping like soap bubbles. There was no good reason why someone would want to approach without being seen. Only bad ones.
“Not cops.” Cullen looped the duffel strap over his shoulder. In a fog, she shrugged into the wet jacket, grabbed the teddy bear and travel alarm clock, and stowed them in her pockets before she scooped Tot up. The baby protested being zipped against Kit’s chest inside the rubberized raincoat.
Cullen turned off the flashlight and shoved it in his back pocket. Wordlessly, he led her through the dark belly of her truck to the passenger side.
Too fast.
It was all happening too fast.
She followed, the baby an alien weight pressed againsther. Each step was torture. How could she leave her rig? Her everything?
