“You do it.” He pushed the rag into her hand.
Mercy held it against her upper lip, softening the crustier bits of blood. She didn’t take the mug of water he held out, eyeing it with suspicion.
He noticed. “It’s just fucking water. Drink it.”
She took it. She drank and tasted blood. Swishing more water in her mouth, she spit to the side. He watched as she finished the water, which quenched a thirst she hadn’t known existed.
“Better?” he asked as he took the mug.
Surprisingly she felt much stronger.
“Yes. Are we going somewhere?” She continued to clean her nose and lip. If she had to meet Pete and his minions, she wanted a semiclean face.
“Yep. This way.” He turned and marched toward the door.
Mercy took a few hesitant steps, trusting her balance more each second and moving toward the open garage door. She wondered what or who was waiting for her outside. It was nighttime. The moon was bright, but clouds threatened.
“How long was I in there?” she asked.
“About seventeen or eighteen hours, I reckon.”
“Now what?”
“No questions.”
As usual. She followed him across the clearing. The snow was a few inches deep and luminous from the light of the moon, making their path visible. Her legs moved evenly. She had favored the battered knee at first but discovered it felt better if she used a full range of motion.
When they reached the trees, Beckett stopped and looked her over again. “Here.” He gave her a small drawstring bag.
“What is it?”
“Some food. A compass. Something for pain. It’s not much.”
Mercy stared at him. He’d only give me a compass if . . .
“What—”
“I wouldn’t take time to ask questions. Just get moving.” He pointed to the ravine. “Go south, walking in the bottom of the ravine until you come across a towering rock face on your right. It goes straight up. You can’t miss it. When you see it, turn to the southeast and go as straight as you can for a mile or so. Use the compass. It’ll be a slow incline upward, and you’ll come across a cabin. The land around it is bare of trees. You can’t miss it. Should take five or six hours.” He frowned, squinting at her legs. “Probably more for you. You won’t be moving very fast.”
She couldn’t speak.
“The guy in the cabin will get you out. If he can. Supposed to get a heavy snowstorm later today.”
“Why are you doing this?”
He scratched his beard and didn’t look her in the eye. “Don’t cotton to killing women. No matter who they are or what they’ve done. It’s not right.”
“Killing?” Her voice was hoarse.
“Pete decided a few hours ago. He’d already told everyone that you’d decided to leave, and he told us senior members that you’re too big a risk.” He looked away. “Killin’ women isn’t right,” he said forcefully, as if to assure himself.
Beckett’s old-fashioned code of honor was saving her life.
When he looked at her again, his expression was all business. “The ravine is pretty steep but not impossible. You’ll find a less steep place where it’s easier to get to the bottom a hundred yards south of here.”
“Thank you. I don’t know how to—”
“Don’t thank me. Your odds of making it aren’t very good, but I had to give you a chance. Nelson Dean lives in the cabin. He won’t be happy to see you, but he won’t kill you.”
Is that his idea of an endorsement?
“Nelson founded America’s Preserve. When Pete convinced the members that he should be the leader, Nelson left.”
“Did Pete convince you?”
“Enough talking. Get going before the sentry comes by.” He shot her one last glare before turning around and limping away.
Mercy watched him for two seconds.
I’m out of here.
As she started toward the ravine, tiny flakes of snow began to fall.
TWENTY-NINE
Mercy stumbled and plodded a hundred yards south as Beckett had suggested and then slowly inched down the slope toward the bottom of the ravine. Her shivers wouldn’t stop. If she wanted to warm up, she had to keep moving.
Which sucked because all she wanted to do was lie down and sleep.
Memories of Pete’s fury and fists kept her feet moving.
After Beckett had left, she’d checked the bag he’d given her and nearly cried at the sight of the old bottle of Children’s Tylenol. She immediately chewed and swallowed five, remembering the pleased expression on Noah’s face when he’d tasted the grape medication.
I hope he’s healthy.
She’d done her best by the boy.
The bag from Beckett held a small bottle of water, several stale slices of the mess hall’s dark bread, sliced cheese, a pair of mismatched gloves, a tiny flashlight, a compass, and a Leatherman tool. She had fingered the multi-tool, peering at it in the dim light, positive it was the one Pete had taken from her.
Did Beckett know that?
She had immediately put on the gloves, thankful the men hadn’t taken her heavy coat. Since she didn’t want to use her flashlight yet, she tripped several times on the way down the ravine. Her knee pounded with pain but bore her weight. She took several breaks to catch her breath and brush off the snow sticking to her face. The bottom wasn’t much farther.
“Jessica.” A hoarse whisper behind her.
Eden.
Mercy whirled around as the teen caught up and hugged her, nearly knocking her down the hill. “Eden, what are you doing? You need to go back.” Panic for the girl seized Mercy. She knew what Pete was capable of.
“I’m not going back,” Eden whispered, her face stubborn in the moon’s pale light. “I hate them. My dad and Noah are gone, and I don’t trust that he’ll come back for me.”
“Your dad has a brand,” Mercy argued. “He’s committed to Pete. He’ll be back.” The teen had a small backpack over her coat. Mercy had to convince the girl to return to the compound.
“I don’t care. I’m done.” She peered at Mercy from under her hood and tentatively reached to touch her nose, yanking her gloved hand back at the last second, a look of pity on her face. “You’ve got two black eyes. They beat you, didn’t they? Are you okay?”
“Barely. And I fear the same for you if they catch you with me.”
“Pete told everyone you decided to go home, but I didn’t believe him.”
“How did you know where to find me?” Mercy asked.
“I saw you with Beckett.” She wrinkled her nose. “And got close enough to hear him tell you where to go. I ran back to the cabin, grabbed my stuff, and followed your trail.” Eden looked up at the gently falling snow. “We’re going to lose the moonlight to the clouds soon. I hope it snows hard enough to cover our tracks by morning.”
“My tracks. You’re going back.”
“No. I’m not.” Her chin lifted, and stubbornness rolled off the teen.
What if I never find the cabin?
Eden would die too.
Mercy was too tired to argue. And she knew that two were better than one in a survival situation. Especially when she could barely stay on her feet.
“Let’s go then.”
Eden surprised her by pulling Mercy’s arm over her shoulder. “I saw you limping.”
“Pete did a number on my knee.”
“Asshole.”
They worked their way down the slope, and the teen’s support made a big difference in Mercy’s balance. They reached the bottom and trekked south, the snow blowing at their backs. The gentle snowflakes grew thicker and dropped faster. Mercy was thankful their tracks would be covered, but she was miserable, hurting, cold, and worried.
Very, very worried.
“At least it’s not too deep,” Eden murmured. Their boots sank a good six inches with every step, and Mercy’s thighs burned from the unfamiliar, awkward stride needed to efficiently walk in the sno
w.
“Were they going to kill you?” Eden asked after several minutes of silence.
The blunt question startled Mercy. “I think so. Beckett said that’s why he was releasing me.”
“Was it because you helped Noah?” The teen’s voice hitched.
“No.” Mercy glanced at the girl. Snowflakes coated her eyelashes below her hood. Both of them wore knit caps under their coats’ hoods and had pulled their collars up over their mouths and noses.
“Then why?”
Lie to her.
There was no point. Pete already knew the truth. If caught, Eden would not be tortured to reveal what she knew about Mercy; Pete would simply do away with both of them.
She halted and faced the girl. “You need to know that I only wanted to help the people here,” Mercy started. “I knew the children in this compound were at risk. Noah proved that.”
“I don’t understand.” Eden frowned, her eyes searching Mercy’s.
“My name isn’t Jessica, it’s Mercy. I work for the FBI.”
Eden’s expression blanked, and she went still, her wide blue eyes stunned.
“Chad worked for the ATF. Two ATF agents were murdered during a robbery of a large number of stolen weapons which were tentatively traced to America’s Preserve. Chad and I were undercover to find the truth and the weapons.”
“That’s why you asked me all those questions about Pete and my dad?” Eden’s voice cracked, a hint of betrayed pain in her tone.
“It was. We were still fact-finding.” Mercy took Eden’s hands, squeezed them, and leaned close. “But how I feel about you and your brother is very real. You remind me of my niece—she lives with me, and I miss her very much.”
The teen was silent.
“I’ll give you another chance to go back to the compound now that you know the truth. Beckett’s instructions sucked. Especially for walking in a snowstorm. And I honestly don’t know how far I can walk. I’m dizzy, I hurt, and I’m fucking exhausted.”
I miss my family.
Tears dampened Mercy’s lashes, and pressure built in her swollen nose. Sympathy sparked in Eden’s eyes, and she dabbed at Mercy’s upper lip. “Your nose is bleeding.”
“It’s completely clogged and probably broken.”
“Your lip looks pretty bad too.”
Mercy inhaled. “Everything is bad right now,” she attempted to joke.
Her light tone didn’t fool Eden. “We’ll find that cabin,” the teen stated with the defiance Mercy had first adored about her. “Together the two of us can do it.”
Mercy almost believed her.
Their progress through the snow was hard going and slow. They took frequent breaks—primarily for Mercy—and eventually finished the food and water Beckett had packed. Eden had humbly admitted she hadn’t thought about packing food. Mercy understood. The girl hadn’t known they’d be walking in the snow for a full day. Or longer. Mercy hated to eat all the food, but her body desperately needed the fuel to heal and continue her pace in the punishing environment.
Eden had filled the empty water bottle with snow and tucked it under her coat, letting her body heat slowly melt the white fluff. At first Mercy had worried that the bottle would make Eden colder, but both of them puffed with exertion. Sweat beaded Mercy’s skin, and she alternated between chills and shivers.
Sitting down during the first break had been a huge mistake. Mercy’s body had nearly refused to get back up. After that, she simply rested against a tree or braced her hands on her thighs for several minutes, panting and fighting her dizziness.
She’d vomited twice and was angry with her body for purging the food she’d eaten for strength. A concussion was her suspicion. The kicks and punches to her head had rattled and bruised her brain.
The sun came up, creating a weak glow behind the white and gray of the cloudy sky. But at least they could see. Their eyes strained to stay open as the wind changed course and sandblasted their faces with tiny, hard snowflakes. Mercy preferred the huge, slow-falling flakes. And no wind. Their weather had frequently alternated between the two types and also included everything in between.
“I hate snow,” Eden muttered. “Never hated it before.”
Mercy said nothing. She was thinking about Beckett and wondered if anyone at the compound had noticed she was missing. Would Pete know he was the one who’d released her? Would Beckett be punished? It was unsettling. She had previously burned with hate for the man, and now she was concerned.
Or had Beckett deliberately sent her off into the wilderness in a storm? Was there really someone living in a cabin out here? Maybe letting Mercy die a natural death didn’t go against Beckett’s code of honor. She shoved the worry out of her thoughts; she had no strength to dwell on doubts.
They had little concept of time. Eden said it’d been three or four in the morning when she’d spotted Mercy and Beckett leaving the compound, and Mercy estimated the sun had risen around seven.
“Eden?” Mercy asked as a thought occurred to her. “What were you doing out of your cabin that early in the morning?” The fact that this question had just occurred to her told Mercy how slow and injured her brain might be.
The teen ducked her head. “I wander around sometimes.”
She recalled Eden’s previous confession of searching through people’s belongings. Did she do it at night too?
“I don’t sleep well. I like to hide from the sentries and see if I can get around the compound without them spotting me. They haven’t yet,” she added proudly.
“Don’t be so sure about that,” said Mercy, remembering how stealthily Sean moved through the night. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d tailed the teen and watched her wander for his own amusement.
Sentry duty was dull.
Mercy had kept an eye out their entire trek for the steep rock face Beckett had described. You can’t miss it. Nothing resembled it. So far they had passed gentle or moderately steep slopes with snow and trees. No rock.
Did we wander off course?
She didn’t think so. They had definitely followed the bottom of the ravine. There had been nothing lower to walk along. She’d checked her compass a few times, learning they had steadily traveled just a few degrees to the west of south. When they found the rock face, they were to turn southeast for a mile to reach the cabin.
Maybe the rock face isn’t that steep and was covered with snow. We didn’t see it.
Terror shot through her freezing limbs as she imagined them wandering, lost in the white gloom.
A few minutes later, the sides of the ravine flattened out as the women slogged up a slight incline. They reached the top and stopped, panting and staring at the flat, frosted terrain ahead. The visibility was poor. Mercy judged it to be less than fifty feet because of the blowing snow.
Without the sides of the ravine to guide them, she was at sea.
“Are we walking the right way?” Eden asked.
Mercy hadn’t voiced her own doubts during their hike, not wanting to unnecessarily alarm the teen. “Yes,” she answered with as much conviction as possible.
“But where do we turn to walk southeast?”
“It’s farther ahead.” She hoped.
Pulling out the compass again, Mercy searched for a landmark to use so she could guide them in their original direction. There was nothing. The trees had stopped with the ravine.
“Eden, I need you to walk straight ahead and stop when I yell.”
“Why?”
“I want to use you as a landmark, so we can continue moving in the same direction the ravine took us.”
Eden nodded and trudged forward, breaking a trail. The snow had steadily grown deeper and now was to the tops of their boots.
“Stop!” Mercy yelled as Eden started to fade into the snowy haze.
The girl didn’t stop.
Mercy took a few running steps, her knee and head throbbing in pain. “Stop!” she screamed at the top of her voice, imagining Eden disappearing for good.
Eden stopped and turned around. Mercy caught her breath and set the compass with shaking hands. She gestured for Eden to take several steps to her left until she was properly in line. Then Mercy painfully hiked to join her and suggested Eden frequently look backward to be certain Mercy was still in sight. They repeated the slow process several times.
Finally their path sloped down and became a gentle ravine with low sides.
Is this right?
They moved on, Eden’s shoulder under Mercy’s arm again.
A minute later Eden stopped. “Look!”
Through the snowy fog, a towering rock cliff loomed ahead on the right. Mercy nearly cried in relief.
They took a short break, and Mercy chewed up the last of the Children’s Tylenol. Her pain was better than when Beckett had woken her, but she could feel her first dose wearing off. As with the food, she hated to use the last of the Tylenol, but right now it was important she feel her best to keep up the difficult hike.
“Beckett said the cabin is about a mile southeast from here.” Mercy needed to say it out loud again, even though Eden already knew. The vague directions terrified Mercy. No doubt the cabin was easy to find on a clear day, but walking in a thick white soup made her skin crawl with apprehension.
The cabin would be easy to miss.
“Let’s go,” said Eden. “We need to do that landmark thing with the compass again, right? There’re no trees.”
“Yes.” Mercy took a hard look at the barely-there round illumination in the sky behind the fog of snowfall, mentally marking the height of the sun. It was her only way to judge time. At their slow pace, a mile would easily take an hour. Assuming Beckett’s estimate of a mile was accurate. She pointed, and Eden trudged ahead.
After repeating the landmarking process several times, Mercy noticed the teen could move farther away before she nearly vanished into the white haze. The falling snow had lightened up, and Mercy had to squint against the glaring stark white of the ground. Spindly trees cropped up occasionally, and Mercy used them for landmarks, thankful that Eden could help her walk during those times.
A Merciful Promise Page 23