Carefully, I pick and claw my way over the rocks until I’m above the SUV. The tree isn’t going to last much longer. Not with the way the wind is picking up.
A woman lies against the driver side window. Pale skin, sunken eyes, and a fine layer of snow dusting her dark red sweater.
“Can you hear me? Uh…ma’am?”
I think her lashes flutter, but I can’t be sure. “I’m gonna get you out of there. But whatever you do, don’t move.”
Shit. I don’t even know if she can move. Or if she’s still breathing.
Get your ass in gear, Wyatt. Or she’s a goner.
Going in through the window above her is suicide. Any more weight on the tree trunk and it’ll give up the ghost. But it’s the only option. Even if it tips the SUV like a see-saw.
I pull a long length of rope from my pack and toss it over a broken tree stump just above the vehicle. It’s a fresh break, probably from when the car fell, so the root system should be strong enough to hold me.
Without proper climbing equipment, this is going to be damn near impossible, but if I don’t try, she’ll die before I can get help. Either from hypothermia or when the tree snaps like a twig.
My gloves provide a good grip on the rope, and I lower myself hand-under-hand until my feet rest lightly on the door frame beneath her.
“Can you move, darlin’?” She doesn’t stir, and there’s way too much blood pooling on the cracked window for her to last much longer.
The seat belt’s stuck. Shit. Letting go of the rope isn’t an option. I’m a big guy. Six-foot-three, over two-fifty last time I got on a scale. So I wrap the rope around my left hand twice, and with my right, pull out my pocket knife.
I have to pry it open with my teeth, and sawing through the black nylon feels like it takes a century.
As soon as the belt gives way, the woman crumples forward with a tiny, weak cry. The SUV teeters. A loud crack reverberates through the air.
Her whimper turns into a hoarse scream. We’re fucked. The tree won’t last more than another few seconds.
“Focus, darlin’. I’m gonna get you out of here, but we have to hurry.”
She blinks up at me, shock freezing her mouth in a small O. Crap. Another branch gives way. The SUV starts to tip forward.
“Can you tie this rope under your arms?” I ask, offering her the loose end. “As tight as possible.”
She nods, but when she tries to shift, pain creases lines around her lips and her face turns white as a sheet.
“Stop. Never mind. We’ll do it another way.” This is a bad idea of epic proportions. “But we have to be fast. You understand?”
“Y-yes,” she whispers.
“Is your right arm injured?”
“No.” The woman gingerly reaches up, and I nod.
“Good. I need you to hang on to me. No matter what.” Crouching a little lower, I slide my free arm around her back and lift her so she can cling to my neck. To her credit, she doesn’t cry out, but she’s shivering so violently, I’m afraid she’s going to pass out any minute.
I guide the rope under her ass, then feed it through my belt loop. It’s not enough to hold her entire weight. But it’ll help. One more time around my body and I knot it at my shoulder.
Below us, Murphy starts barking, the tone frantic. “Gotta go, darlin’. Close your eyes if you have to, but don’t let go.”
She buries her face against my chest, and I pull us up one hand at a time. She’s maybe a buck-thirty, and I’ve carried heavier on missions. Granted, that was before the explosion.
Before the lifetime of pain and nightmares I just can’t shake.
Six inches at a time, we rise. My head and shoulders clear the passenger side window as the tree gives up the fight. The crack is deafening, especially with the silence of the snowfall around us. The woman starts to scream.
“Look at me, darlin’. Nowhere else,” I snap. She peers up at me, her brown eyes bloodshot and terrified, but she doesn’t look away.
