by Alex Gunwick
Eventually, he swung his legs up over the side and sat there, out of breath. He glanced up the slope he had tumbled down, a rough furrow in the otherwise snow-smoothed ravine. Bright spots of red from his bleeding shoulder dotted his path down. He’d been lucky as hell not to break his neck.
He scanned the area but didn’t see any sign of his rifle.
“Shit!”
His heart skipped a beat when he realized the shooter might come to finish the job. He frantically searched for a place to hide. He spotted a narrow fissure near one side of the ledge. He dragged his wounded body across the snow toward the small cave, then crammed his body inside. Hopefully, if the shooter came looking for him, he would see the disrupted snow and assume Derek went over the sheer cliff.
Hopefully.
Luke jogged through a light snowfall. He kept the tree line to his left as he skirted the edge of a ravine. After searching for hours, he couldn’t find any sign of a shooter. Hell, he still couldn’t figure out where the shots had come from. He also hadn’t found Sierra.
Frustration gnawed at his gut. Right now, there were so many things to be done back at the cabin. He was wasting so much time trying to find her when he should have been prepping for the winter. He’d planned on chopping wood all day, but that went out the window as soon as he’d discovered she was gone.
Other issues needed to be addressed too. He’d wanted to reinforce the cabin walls to protect them again against heavy munitions fire. It would be an involved task, requiring dozens of man-hours to achieve. He also needed to dig some trenches and possibly even throw together a slapdash pillbox to protect sentries on duty.
Luke was grateful for his training. He’d do everything in his power to protect his family, but he couldn’t do it alone. He needed their help. As much as he dreaded that Liz or his children could get hurt, he had to admit more bodies wielding weapons was always a good thing when facing a superior force.
He frowned as the sun disappeared behind billowing clouds. Winter was practically upon them and their food stores were woefully inadequate. If they hadn’t been facing nuclear winter, they would have been fine. This was something he hadn’t considered in his preps. He’d hoped to be able to hunt wildlife in the mountains, but it proved to be harder than he’d anticipated. Foraging for mushrooms and edible roots helped, but it wouldn’t be enough. He had no idea how long winter would last. It could be years.
All of these problems required his attention. But instead of getting stuff done, he was stuck slogging up and down the damn mountain in search of his child. He couldn’t give up. Not until he found her. He just hoped he’d find her alive.
Eventually, he came across a twisting path that clung to the side of a steep drop-off. His eyes widened as he spotted recent tracks along its length, not yet filled in fully by snow. Perhaps Sierra had come this way?
He forced himself to keep a moderate pace as he approached the thin trail. He stayed alert for any sign of movement. It was the classic “goal in sight” pitfall. When a person neared the end of their task, journey, or ordeal, it was easy to lose control and try to get it finished. But that was when mistakes were made, and even the slightest error could be deadly.
Luke reached the trail and crouched down. With his gloved fingers, he brushed away some of the snow to get a better look at the tracks. The footprints appeared to be military issue boots, not the designer hiking footwear Sierra would have on.
Still, he stood and placed his foot next to one of the prints. The tracks were bigger by several inches. Definitely not Sierra. From the depth of the depression, the person was either heavy or they were carrying something big. A few yards away, he found a discarded energy bar wrapper and a crushed cigarette, but nothing that indicated his daughter was present.
The tracks could belong to Derek, or someone from the Children of the Bomb cult. There was no way of knowing unless he followed them. He rubbed his eyes. After being out all day, he just wanted to find her and get home.
As he continued his search, the tracks disappeared. Undeterred, he kept looking, eventually arriving back at a part of the forest he’d already checked. He still found no signs of his eldest child. He was right back where he started with no leads and dwindling hope.
He headed toward the Children of the Bomb’s cabin. He’d already checked it earlier, but it was vacant at the time. When he arrived close enough to view the area through his scope, he saw more cult members gathered than before. This wasn’t a good sign at all. Sierra wasn’t with them, but his family was still in terrible danger.
9
One day earlier …
Sierra heaved a heavy sigh and shifted as much as her bonds would allow in the heavy steel chair. The drab, dark concrete walls of the fallout shelter offered little to occupy her mind. She never figured it was possible to be bored and scared at the same time, but stuck there by herself in the tomb-like structure, she realized the emotions weren’t mutually exclusive. She tried to free herself for the millionth time, but the rope around her wrists and ankles only dug deeper into her tender flesh.
“Ow.” She gritted her teeth in frustration. When she’d chosen to follow Derek into the woods, this wasn’t the outcome she’d been expecting. Well, maybe the getting tied up part, but certainly not the abandonment afterward.
It was so unfair of him to do this to her. What if he tripped and fell off one of the cliffs? She would be stuck here. No one had any idea where to look for her. Even if they were looking right at this side of the mountain, they’d never see the door. Would her father discover her skeleton still tied to the chair years later after she’d starved to death?
Sierra’s belly rumbled. She sighed again. Derek had offered her some terrible “fake” food in a vacuum-sealed foil package. What did he call them? MREs? Meals ready to eat. What a joke. No one should be expected to eat that disgusting crap, least of all her. There was probably gluten in those “meals.” The idea of ingesting that junk made her want to die.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the shelter. Her head jerked up.
“About damn time!”
He didn’t respond to her shout. His tread seemed uneven. He shuffled like a zombie rather than picked up his feet.
“Hello? I’m starving, and I have to pee.”
She heard the heavy, clunking sound of the security bar being lifted. When the door swung inward, she berated him before he even made it through the portal.
“You can’t keep tying me up and leaving me like a cow in a slaughterhouse, you jerk. Do you know what my dad would do to you if he found out? He used to clean an old gun on the porch when my dates came for me in high school. What do you think you will—oh, my God!”
Sierra’s eyes widened as she took in Derek’s bedraggled state. His face was dirty and bruised, the skin seemingly white as a sheet and stretched thin over his skull. Dark circles lurked beneath his normally bright eyes, which were now rheumy and unfocused. Blood was spattered all over his clothes, mostly concentrated around his left shoulder.
“What the hell happened to you?”
“Shot. I got shot.” Derek collapsed onto the floor. He barely caught himself on hands and knees before he did a full-on face-plant.
“You’re bleeding.” A stab of sympathy rose in Sierra’s belly. “Oh, my God, your blood is everywhere.”
“I noticed that.” Derek crawled over to the chair and started to pick at the knots that held her wrist prisoner. “Listen, I need your help. This bullet hole has to be cleaned. I’ll die of infection if it isn’t. I’ve lost a lot of blood. I can’t do it myself.”
“Hurry up and untie me so I can help.” Sierra grew restless as he feebly picked at the knot. “For God’s sake, would you quit screwing around and untie me?”
With agonizing slowness, Derek managed to get the knot loosened. Sierra’s hand came free, and she quickly went to work to free her other wrist as Derek leaned against the wall and panted heavily.
The use of only one hand made it a frustrating task, but th
e sight of Derek’s groaning, bloody form gave impetus to her efforts. She let out a cry of triumph as her wrist came free at last. Sierra rubbed at the indentations on her skin left by the cruel bonds before she went to work on the rope that held her legs to the chair.
“I can’t believe you got yourself shot. Aren’t you an Army guy like my dad? Don’t you know how to be more careful?”
“Not Army.” Derek coughed and moaned again, then held his face in his dirty hands. “Navy SEAL. The Army is like the Cub Scouts compared to us.”
“Oh, my God, you’re about to pass out again.” Sierra put her hand on his forehead and winced. “Your skin is ice cold. I’m going for help.”
“No.” Derek glanced up at her, eyes widened in fear. “You can’t go out there. It’s not safe.”
“Well, Mr. High and Mighty Navy SEAL, you’re in no position to stop me.” Sierra stared down at him with her arms crossed. He wasn’t so smart now, was he? He groaned and clasped his bleeding shoulder with his other hand. Her scowl melted. “Hang on, okay? I’ll get help. My dad will know how to take care of you.”
Derek slumped over onto his side as he fell unconscious. Sierra grabbed her coat from where he had left it and slung it over her shoulders as she ran for the exit. The dusty, dark concrete bunker terrified her, but the chance to save Derek kept her from panicking.
Sierra burst out of the exit and into the cold mountain air.
“I never thought I’d be so happy to get snowed on.” Sierra took a moment to fully appreciate her freedom, and then she raced off toward the cabin. Or at least she hoped it was the cabin. It had been days since Derek had taken her captive. She hoped she could remember the way home.
Danger was never far from her mind. Someone had shot Derek, and that same someone might still be nearby. Maybe, even now, someone had sighted down the barrel of a cold rifle to take aim at her soft, squishy head.
Sierra dismissed such ideas. She wouldn’t die on the side of this cold, bleak mountain. No way. She would make it back to the cabin, and her family would help her save Derek.
Maybe, after she saved his life, he’d finally warm up to her advances. Maybe she wasn’t a trained Navy SEAL, whatever that meant, but she could be useful, too. He would see.
Sierra shivered in the bitter, cutting wind as she trudged along. The snow had continued to fall after her capture. It blanketed the mountainside and slowed her progress. Her eyes burned when the sun occasionally peeked out from behind gray clouds and flashed across the white landscape. She longed for her Gucci shades but plodded on as best she could.
When the snow depth was easier to navigate, she broke into a run. She was desperate to get help. Jerk or not, she couldn’t let Derek bleed out. She ran until the stitch in her side grew too miserable to ignore. As her feet pounded the terrain, her mind raced.
Don’t die, Derek. I’m getting help. Don’t die, Derek. I’m getting help.
The mantra helped take her mind off the agony of her side. Her feet ached terribly.
When she spotted the cabin’s dark walls through the trees, she almost fell to the ground in relief. Luck was finally on her side. She exploded into a new burst of speed.
She hollered for her parents as she approached. A faint wisp of smoke trailed up out of the cabin’s single chimney, but there was no sign of anyone present.
She searched high and low, but the cabin seemed deserted. She shouldered the door open and continued her search.
“Is anyone home?” She called. Her boots left small piles of snow and widening puddles in her wake. “Hello? Goddammit!”
It was damned irresponsible of her family not to have someone at the cabin in case she returned. Isn’t that what Dad called standard operating procedure in a missing person case?
As the sun stretched shadows across the floor, her anxiety grew. Derek was back at the bunker bleeding out. She couldn’t linger any longer. She seized the tackle box-sized first aid kit and made her way back outside, back into the cold.
“You better appreciate this.” She stormed off back toward the shelter, the heavy first aid kit in tow. Why wasn’t Dad here? This kind of thing was right up his alley.
Well, she didn’t need her father. She didn’t need anyone. She would save Derek on her own, and then he would finally appreciate her.
It was near dark when she got back to the fallout shelter. Getting lost along the way had cost her too much time, but at least she’d found it. Proud of herself, she searched for new tracks in the snow, but there were none.
She made her way back inside. Her footfalls echoed off the bare concrete walls. When she reached the room, Derek still lay on the floor. A sizable pool of blood coalesced under his wounded shoulder. She approached him and shook his uninjured shoulder, but he didn’t respond.
She feared he might be dead. She held the palm of her hand to his nose and felt his warm breath.
“Wake up.” She slapped his cheek. He didn’t move, so she smacked him again, but harder.
His eyes fluttered open and focused on her. He struggled into a sitting position with a soft groan. “Did you get help?”
“No, my stupid family was gone.” She snapped open the first aid kit. “But I brought medical supplies, all by myself.”
With his fumbling assistance, she managed to get his jacket and shirt off. His skin was caked in blood, but she couldn’t help but appreciate the smooth lumps of muscle across his torso. She found a bottle of rubbing alcohol and unscrewed the cap.
“This is going to hurt.”
“It already hurts. Do it.”
“Okay.”
She upended the bottle over his seeping wound. Derek gritted his teeth and let out a long hiss as the alcohol did its magic. She used a wad of gauze to clean the area around his wound. There were two bullet holes on either side of his shoulder. So gross.
“Did you get shot twice?” she asked.
“No. Bullet passed through. Good thing. Won’t have to dig it out,” he panted.
She packed both wounds with gauze, as she’d been taught by her father, then used medical tape to secure a wide patch of it across the surface. Now that the bleeding was stopped and his wound was cleaned, Derek appeared a little better, but he was clearly still exhausted.
“What are you doing?” Derek stared at her incredulously as she started to unbuckle his pants.
“Your clothes are soaking wet. We have to get you out of them before you catch pneumonia.”
“Well, that’s legit.” Derek leaned his head back against the wall and allowed her to continue. Soon she had him stripped down to his underwear and started to clean him with a wad of alcohol-soaked gauze. Her fingers lingered over his muscled chest. He was so hot, even half dead.
“So, I guess that I’m not so useless after all, right?” She smiled and glanced up at his face but found him sound asleep. She sighed and wrapped him in a blanket before she snuggled up next to him.
“Typical.”
Derek awoke with a groan. His hand instinctively went to his wounded shoulder. His fingers touched soft gauze, and the memories of the previous night flooded back. He’d been shot and had fallen into a ravine. Only blind luck and his reflexes saved him from death. Then he trudged back here to be tended by Sierra.
Annoyed, he glared at her sleeping form as she huddled next to him. The way her hands had lingered on his body and her constant meaningful stares indicated to him she very much wanted him romantically. Well, she might be cute, but that didn’t compensate for her general stupidity. He wasn’t interested in her in the least. But he did appreciate her help with his shoulder.
Her eyes fluttered open. She coiled against him and sighed.
“How are you feeling?”
“My shoulder hurts. Especially with you leaning against me.”
“I’m sorry.” She quickly sat. “Your clothes are over there. I tried to wash out the blood and hang them up, but they’re still pretty wet.”
“They’ll have to do.” He groaned as a thousand miniatur
e agonies along his body competed with his shoulder to see which could hurt worse. “We’re leaving.”
“We are?” Sierra’s eyes brightened. “You mean, you finally decided to trust me?”
“I’ve decided to trust your family.” Derek pulled on his pants, trying to ignore the way Sierra stared at him with wanton lust. “We’re bringing them here. It’s far more secure of a base than the cabin. And the MRE will get us through the winter, even if it lasts a few extra years.”
“Yuck.”
“You should be thankful for any food right now. There are millions of people starving around the world. I got as lucky as you can get, finding this place. I don’t have to share it. I could shoot you right now and spend plenty of time holed up in here. The food would last years if I were the only one eating it.”
“That’s a selfish thought,” she grumbled.
He snorted and finished dressing. Together, they made their way back to the entrance of the shelter. Icy wind whipped past the door, making his shoulder ache. He did his best to ignore the pain and soldier on. Pain he could deal with. Sierra’s nonstop babbling, on the other hand, threatened to drive him mad.
“I can’t believe I dressed your wound. My dad would be so proud of me. Are you going to tell him? No, never mind. I’ll tell him. Personally, I think you and I make a good team. Like, we complement each other, you know?”
“No.”
Sierra continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I mean, I’ve dated a lot of guys, but they were all boys. You, though, you’re a man. A strong man, like my dad. Say, do you think you could beat my dad in a fight? I mean, probably not, but I bet you’d give him hell—”
“Shh.” Derek froze. He shot out a restraining hand to halt Sierra’s progress. “Did you hear something?”
Derek grabbed his gun while Sierra cocked her head to the side quizzically.
“No, I didn’t hear anything—”
A single shot rang out in the frigid mountain air.
10