Thank you, Lord.
She uncoiled herself and threaded her torso through the open window. If any more of the mountain came down,they’d be smothered. She decided to move slowly, which worked fine since her legs were quivering.
“Watch yourself,” Gideon called. “Everything’s unstable.”
“Story of my life.” When her pack was on her back, she put a foot on the open window edge and eased herself upward.
“I’ll grab whatever essentials I can reach and follow you,” he said.
She hoped the peanut butter and marshmallow supplies would be on the essentials list. It required all her power to heave herself from the Jeep and onto the most stable surface she could find, an overturned maple tree that had broken off and lay like a bridge atop the sludge. She shimmied along its length. Gideon followed and joined her there, frowning at the landscape. All around them was oozing, bubbling mud.
“Upward is no longer an option,” he said.
That was an understatement. What had been a steep hillside was now an even sheerer drop that looked as if it would unload more material at any moment.
She followed his pointed finger in the other direction.
He swiped at a pine needle that floated down into his hair. “I don’t see that we have much choice. We’ll have to skirt the debris as best we can and recalculate once we’re clear since we don’t have access to a vehicle anymore.” His gaze drifted to the smothered Jeep behind them.
She saw the sad pinch of his mouth. “I’m sorry about Fluffernutter, Gid.”
He shrugged. “Just a car. I’ll get another.”
A lie, of course. It was most definitely not just a car tohis mind. What had she cost him? Too much. She touched his shoulder. “No, she was a special car, and I’m sorry you lost her trying to help me.” On impulse, she leaned over and pressed her lips to his brow.
He sighed and nestled closer, and it was the most comforting sensation she’d experienced since before her brother was murdered. Her mouth drifted to his temple. How easy it would be to kiss him properly, to let the feeling seep into her fragile glass heart that hadn’t beat right for a very long time. But there was such a thin coating around that battered organ. One crack, one tiny fissure and it might disintegrate into a pile of useless shards.
She edged away, patting her pockets to be sure she had her phone. “I really am sorry,” she mumbled.
He caught her eye, lifted his chin, and smiled. “Are you kidding? Nothing to be sorry for. All this is fodder. My wilderness classes are going to love hearing about this.”
The bravado didn’t quite cover his regret at losing his beloved Jeep. In silent agreement they crawled the entire length of the fallen tree, which took them to a cluster of firs that had formed a blockade against much of the landslide flow. The trunks had allowed a mass of rock to collect in a haphazard swath, which would enable them to climb farther away from the sticky mess.
To make it to the rocks required them to step off into the ooze, which mercifully only rose to their knees. Thick mud rushed to encase them. Each step required enormous effort as the muck weighed down their legs, but they soon cleared the worst of it.
Upon reaching more stable ground, they supported each other and used sticks to scrape off the mud as best theycould. Her jeans were sodden and stiff, encasing her in a freezing sludge. The clock on her almost useless phone added to her worries by showing that they were heading into late afternoon. Another evening was approaching, and now they had no shelter and no vehicle. The idea of enduring another frigid night, wet and exposed, was almost unbearable, and her body began to tingle with fear. Weak, hungry, cold, shelterless.
She also had no idea in which direction they were moving.
Gideon does.
He was the only thing keeping her from outright panic. After checking his bearings on the compass from his pack and a printed map he kept in a plastic bag, he led the way farther down into the glade. She couldn’t hear over the crunching of twigs under her feet, but she thought he said something about a trail.
Twenty minutes of walking warmed her only slightly, and Gideon stopped at a marker she hadn’t even noticed. No words, just the universal hiker logo, an arrow, and the ominous numbers 15.5. She prayed they wouldn’t have to cover all those miles to achieve Gideon’s purpose.
“Will it take us around the slide to the airstrip?” she said, chafing her arms.
Gideon stopped and wiped a streak of mud from his forehead. “Zee, gonna be honest with you. The airstrip is a solid ten miles from here, and the only two direct routes are off the table now. We’re wet and it’s going to be full dark soon. Our primary goal right now needs to be finding shelter and warmth. At least someplace where I can build a fire and pray we aren’t spotted. Shelter andwarmth aren’t optional. If we don’t acquire them, you won’t live long enough to see tomorrow, let alone an airstrip.”
The frustration in his voice prickled her own. She wanted to answer, provide a plan, another option, a way he hadn’t considered, but there was nothing. He was right. Maybe he’d been right all along about her plan. Everything seemed suddenly unimportant under the weight of her discomfort and fear.
Her fingers were so cold she couldn’t hold her phone, and the trembling in her legs increased. The mud had hardened into armor.
“All right,” she said. “The trail’s the answer?”
“I hope so. There might be a campground along the way or a backpacker’s respite of some kind.”
That didn’t seem likely to her with the unkempt condition of the trail, but she held her tongue and followed Gideon. At this point,maybeswere the best they could do. He’d slung the backpack over one shoulder, and she realized he was favoring the reconstructed one.
