“Are you sure?”
Jace takes the pack off me and finds a Velcro opening on the underside of the pack that I never knew existed. From the hidden pouch, a rain-cover materializes. It’s attached to the bag at the seam and fits snugly over my pack.
“I didn’t know that was even there.”
He shakes his head at me, grinning. “The things you learn.”
His expression turns serious. “It’s going to be treacherous out there. And the visibility isn’t good in this weather, especially with nighttime closing in.”
I swallow hard but don’t let the fear show on my face. I trust Jace to get us to the shelter.
He holds up a length of rope from his backpack.
“I’m going to tie you to me so we don’t get separated. You need to stop for any reason; you tug on this rope. Can you do that?”
I hear what he’s not saying: that there could be more flooding, that the ground could slip under us, that one wrong step and we could get washed away. A hundred things could happen, but I try not to think about them. I can’t control those things. All I can control is my breathing, keeping my mind focused, and doing what Jace says to get us to safety.
I focus on his eyes, and they’re steady and confident. He’s trained for this, I remind myself. And even though we’re about to step into the unknown, I feel safe with Jace.
“I can do that.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
We open the car door at the same time and step out. Cold rain hits my face, and the shock of it has me reeling. I gasp for air, then see Jace moving around to my side of the vehicle. I remember what I need to do, and I shoulder my backpack and push down the discomfort of the icy rain. My yoga pants are immediately soaked, and this flimsy rain jacket isn’t going to keep my top half dry for long either.
I have the hood over my head and the cords pulled snug so only a bit of my face is exposed. Jace does the same. It’s pointless trying to speak to each other over the noise of the rain. I hold my arms up and he threads the rope around my waist, and even though we’re in the middle of a rainstorm, his touch warms me in the best way. He ties the other end of the rope to his waist, and now we’re joined together, with about two feet of rope as leeway.
It’s unsettling, being tied to a man and following someone else’s lead. To surrender control of the situation is terrifying, but also a relief because it’s Jace. I trust him. More than trust. I’m glad it’s him here with me. And that’s as disconcerting as the weather.
Jace looks me in the eye and gives a thumbs-up. He raises his eyebrows, and I get that it’s a question.
I nod once, and he gives a small smile. He leans in until his lips skim my cheek, and I can just hear him through my raincoat. His breath tickles my skin, and it’s a welcome warmth in this icy rain.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll keep you safe.”
Then he steps away, and we move off the road and up the side of the bushes. But the heat of his breath lingers on my cheek as we head into the forest.
6
JACE
The darkness is thick all around, and trees loom on both sides of the narrow trail. The beam of my headlamp shows only the few steps in front of us. We joined the trail about twenty minutes ago, and according to the map, it should lead to the cabin.
I memorized the map in the car so I wouldn’t have to get it out in the rain. I hope like hell I’ve got it right and we’re not following an animal trail by mistake. I pause to check the compass, and Kayla crashes into the back of me. I reach an arm around to steady her. She straightens up, and in the beam of my headlamp, I catch her expression. Her face is pale, and water drips from the hood of her jacket. She gives me a weak smile and a thumbs-up. She’s tired but strong, which is what I need her to be. We can’t be far away from the hut, and then we can dry off and rest.
The compass is still pointing north, so I’m reassured this is the correct trail and not some animal path. Things could get interesting if we’ve wandered down a bear trail.
We start moving again, and about ten minutes later the hut comes into view. The wooden slats are bowed with age, and vines creep along the one window frame. The door isn’t locked, and Istep inside with Kayla close behind me. The cabin is one room with a bench running down one corner in what seems to be a kitchen area. There’s a wooden table, a single chair, and a thin roll of old carpet on the floor. Rain hammers the tin roof, but for the first time in what seems like hours, it’s not getting us.
I turn to check on Kayla; it’s been a hard few hours getting here, and I don’t know how much experience she has with hiking, although this would be classed as extreme even for a seasoned hiker. She pushes off her hood, and her hair is wet underneath. Her rain jacket has done a poor job of keeping her dry. She slides off her backpack and tries to undo the rope, but her fingers are white and trembling, and she fumbles.
“You’re freezing.” I take her hands in mine, and they’re like icicles.
“It’s just my hands.” But as she speaks, her teeth chatter.
Hypothermia is a real risk, and I move quickly to make her warm. I undo the rope tying us together and lean my pack against the wall. From it I pull a warmer pack. I rip the foil package open and rub it in my hands to release the heat.
“Hold this.”
