"Eli Vance?"
"Yeah."
"Helena Sage. Marshal Miller briefed me." She looks past me to Traci. "Hello, Traci. Good to see you again. I'm glad you made it back safely with your uncle."
Traci's shoulders drop slightly. Helena doesn't spook her.
Helena gestures toward the back. "Let's do a follow-up exam, make sure everything's healing properly. Your uncle can come with you if that helps."
Traci looks at me. Question.
"I'll be there."
She follows Helena through the clinic. I stay close enough Traci can see me while giving the doctor room to work. Exam room's standard. Table, equipment, sink. One door. Window with frosted glass facing the back lot. Ground floor. Glass exit if extraction becomes necessary.
Helena moves efficiently. Explains what she's doing before she touches. Checks vitals. Examines old injuries. Makes notes. Asks questions Traci answers with head movements or brief gestures.
Traci keeps glancing at me. Making sure I'm still there. I don't move unless necessary. A fixed point she can orient around.
Helena finishes. "Everything's healing well. You're doing good." She looks at me. "I want to see her again in two weeks. I've got contact information for a trauma counselor when she's ready."
"Noted."
"Make sure she's eating. Regular meals. Plenty of protein. She's still underweight." Helena hands Traci a card. "Anything you need, medical or otherwise, you call. Day or night."
Traci takes the card. Holds it carefully.
We leave the clinic. Head back to the truck. Zeke drives us to the cabin at the edge of town. Two bedrooms, woodstove, good security, windows with clear sight lines.
A dark green pickup sits in the driveway.
"Yours," Zeke says, reading my look. "Four-wheel drive, winterized, reliable. Keys are inside. Figured you'd need your own wheels."
Smart. I wouldn't have asked, but I would've needed it.
Zeke helps us unload. Shows me the setup: reinforced door, quality locks, defensible angles. "You need anything, I'm a call away."
"Understood."
He leaves. Truck engine fades into the distance.
Traci stands in the main room, backpack still on her shoulders. She moves to the window facing the forest. Stands there looking out at the trees, mountains beyond. First real breath she's taken since Anchorage.
I check the perimeter. Log sight lines. Note approach vectors. The cabin's defensible. Isolated. Good cover from the tree line but clear fields of fire if anyone approaches from the road.
She turns from the window. Pulls out her notebook. Writes something and holds it up.
We're staying?
"Yeah." I set my bag down near the door. "We're staying."
She finally takes off the backpack. Sets it on the couch instead of the floor. Still ready to grab it and run, but making the attempt to settle.
I move to the woodstove. Check the fuel and start building a fire. The routine's familiar. Calming. Something I can control while everything else is variable.
Behind me, Traci's silent. When I glance back, she's writing in her notebook again. Her shoulders are less rigid than they were this morning.
The fire catches. Heat starts to fill the room.
For now, this is enough. A defensible position. Traci safe. The network still out there somewhere, but not here. Not yet.
I'll take what I can get.
