The Survivors

by Dinah McCall

  “Deborah taped it,” Mike said.

  “If you’re determined to go, you’re not walking,” Evan said, and before she could object, he picked her up in his arms. “Don’t wiggle or you’ll mess up your stitches,” he said.

  “I’ll be still,” Molly whispered. “But I need to see.”

  “Then hang on, girl,” Evan said, and followed his father back into the living room.

  Deborah had rewound the tape, and they were all waiting for Molly’s arrival, except for Puppy and Johnny, who were in the kitchen. Johnny was at the table drawing pictures, while Puppy sat beneath, licking at his feet. Johnny’s laughter drifted through the house.

  “I’d guess that’s a sound you never get tired of,” Deborah said as the others entered the room.

  When she saw Molly, she quickly made a place for her on the sofa.

  “Put her here,” Deborah said, and tossed some throw pillows on the floor.

  Evan lowered Molly onto the sofa. Her pallor was obvious, as was the tremble in her voice when she said, “Quit fussing and let me see.”

  Deborah punched the play button on the remote and then waited.

  Almost immediately, a man’s image filled the screen.

  “Lord have mercy,” Molly whispered, then looked up at Evan. “It is him! That’s the killer.”

  “Do you know who he is?” Mike asked.

  “I heard the other man call him Darren.”

  Mike’s eyes narrowed sharply. “And what did this Darren call the other man?”

  Molly frowned, trying to remember. It was hard to put the pieces of the past two days together and have them make sense. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the times she’d heard them arguing. And then it hit her.

  “Oh! I remember! It was Patrick. He called him Patrick.”

  James stood abruptly. “Christ Almighty!” he cried. “That’s the other senator. Senator Patrick Finn. We’re talking about powerful men here, not just one pissed-off guy knocking off another.”

  Mike nodded. “Waiting is no longer an option. We’ve got to let the authorities know that Wilson is a killer,” Mike said. “It’s the only way we’ll be able to make sure that Molly and Johnny are safe.”

  “We could try to drive down,” Deborah offered. “I have a four-wheel-drive SUV, but I can tell you that, in weather like this, we’re more likely to go off the side of the mountain than make it down to Carlisle.”

  Mike moved to the window, then thrust his hands into his pockets, watching in frustration as the snow continued to fall. There was enough wind with this storm that the snow was blowing from north to south, creating drifts against the side of the house that were window high.

  “Unless someone’s grown wings since I last looked, driving anywhere is not an option.”

  “How does Farley get back and forth?” James asked.

  “Farley has a four-wheel-drive truck, and his place is less than a mile from here. The driving from here to there isn’t so risky, but in this kind of weather, the rest of the way down the mountain is dangerous.”

  Deborah got up, stirred the coals in the fireplace, then stepped aside as Mike laid two fresh logs on the fire.

  She watched the play of muscles beneath the sweatshirt Mike was wearing, then shook off a small lecherous thought and returned to the problem at hand.

  “I’ve lived here all my life. I know the mountain as well as I know the inside of this house. I could hike down the—”

  “No,” James said abruptly. “I’m the one who’s going down.”

  Mike frowned. “No way. If anyone goes, it’s going to be me.”

  James frowned back. “Why you?”

  “Because I’m younger and—”

  James eyes narrowed angrily as he thrust both hands through his hair, spiking it even more than normal.

  “I’m going to assume you didn’t mean anything personal by that remark, and I’m well aware of your age. I was there when you were born, remember?”

  Mike sighed. “Look, Dad. I didn’t mean to imply that you can’t—”

  “That’s good,” James said. “Because I not only can, I am. I’m fit and strong, and I have as much survival training as you have…maybe more.” Then he looked at Deborah. “Anything you want to tell me before I leave…like maybe it’s all going to be okay?”

  Deborah grimaced. “I wish I could, but for now, I’m just as much in the dark about all this as you are.”

  Mike put a hand on his father’s shoulder. “Come on, Dad. At least wait until the morning. If you start now, dark is going to catch you before you get all the way down.”

  James shook his head. “I can make it to the crash site before dark. I’ll either stay there with the workers or catch a ride down. I’ll be fine, and you know it. Besides, I want to check in on Dad. He’s still there in that motel, probably worrying himself silly.”

  Mike wanted to argue, but he knew what his father was saying was the truth. James was as physically fit as he was, and it was imperative that the authorities know that Senator Finn’s death wasn’t due to the crash, and that the other missing passenger was the killer.

  “I’ll fix some food and hot coffee for you to take,” Deborah said.

  James grinned. “A real picnic,” he said, then added, “I’m going to change. It won’t take more than a few minutes for me to get ready.”

  “I won’t keep you waiting,” Deborah said, and hurried into the kitchen, leaving Mike and James alone.

  James saw the look on his son’s face. “I’ll be fine,” he said.

  Mike nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

  “You’re needed here, and you know it. Evan is still not up to par, and now he has to set aside his healing time to be strong for Johnny and that girl. I think he’s a little bit intrigued by her.”

  “Yeah, you may be right,” Mike said, remembering the concern on Evan’s face when he’d come in to eat breakfast.

  “So what do you think about her?” James asked.

  “I think it’s too soon to worry about stuff like that,” Mike said.

  James shook his head. “It’s never too soon to worry about falling in love.”

  Mike frowned. “Don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourself?” he asked. “They barely know each other.”

  “You say that, and yet you’re pretty smitten with the little witch who’s in there making my coffee.”

  “She’s not a witch,” Mike muttered.

  James grinned. “See what I mean?”

  “By what?” Mike asked.

  “You’re defending her.”

  “I’m not defending anyone,” Mike said. “I’m just grateful, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, and I’m a bleeding Republican, too.”

  Mike laughed in spite of himself. An O’Ryan had yet to be born who would claim a connection to the Republican party. It had something to do with their ancestors and Ireland and staying true to the working class.

  “Point taken,” Mike said.

  “Good thing,” James said. “I was running out of arguments. Now, excuse me, son. I have to change, then load up the backpack. I gave my flashlight to Johnny. Lend me yours.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Mike said. “Come on. I’ll help you.”

  By the time the coffee was made and the thermos had been filled, James reappeared in the kitchen. Deborah handed him the coffee, which he promptly put in the backpack.

  “Take your cell phone,” Deborah said. “The closer you get to Carlisle, the more likely that it will work.”

  “It’s right here,” James said, patting a zippered pocket in his parka.

  “Be careful,” Deborah said. “And it’s easy to get disoriented up here, especially after the sun goes down, so when it gets dark, stop. Otherwise, you’re likely to find yourself falling somewhere you can’t get out of.”

  “I will,” James said, and headed for the living room, where Mike was waiting by the door. “I trust you’re going to be on your best behavior,” James said to him, then winked a
t Deborah, who pretended she didn’t know what he was talking about.

  “I’m not making any promises,” Mike said.

  James shook his head and grinned at Deborah.

  “You watch him, girl. He’s hell on wheels when he gets himself started.”

  Deborah pursed her lips, then frowned at the both of them. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “You take good care of my boys,” James said, giving Mike a big hug. “And that includes you,” he added.

  “We’ll be fine,” Mike said.

  “I’m counting on that,” James said, and then kissed Deborah lightly on the cheek. “God bless you, honey,” he said softly.

  “God bless you, too,” she said, and then stood in the doorway and waved until she could no longer see him.

  When she closed the door and turned around, she caught Mike watching her.

  “What?” she asked.

  He didn’t say anything for a few moments. Finally, he just shook his head.

  “I’m going to check on the others,” he said, and disappeared down the hall, leaving Deborah on her own.

  She locked the door out of habit, then stood for a few minutes, trying to decide what to do next. It wasn’t until her gaze fell on the bare mantel over the fireplace that she thought about all of the Christmas decorations up in the attic. The least she could do was bring them down. Decorating the living room would give Johnny something to do.

  She could hear Mike moving around in the room where James had been sleeping and guessed he was moving his sleeping quarters from the living room couch to the bed. She walked past without stopping, well aware that he was capable of making her lose all focus.

  As she started up the attic stairs, a strong gust of wind blasted the north side of the house, causing an eerie whistling sound. The farther up the stairs she went, the louder the sound and the colder the air became.

  Two steps from the top, she reached for the light switch and flipped it on, immediately illuminating the large open area. Neatly labeled boxes were stacked along the walls. An old trunk was to her left, and a dusty wardrobe that used to be in her parents’ room was on her right. Directly in front of her was an old dress form. She had vague memories of watching her grandmother fitting a new dress to the buxom form.

  She hadn’t been up here in almost a year, but it was too cold to linger. She distinctly remembered transferring the Christmas decorations to three large clear plastic tubs with red lids. Now all she had to do was find them.

  It took a couple of minutes before she spied them stacked one on top of the other and partially covered with an old drop cloth. She tossed the cloth aside and began to drag the three tubs toward the doorway. She was so focused on moving them that she didn’t hear the footsteps coming up the stairs behind her.

  “Dang, woman…it’s cold enough to hang meat up here.”

  Deborah turned abruptly. “Oh! Mike! You startled me.”

  “Sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to. Here…let me do that.”

  Deborah stepped back. “Gladly,” she said, and then held the door open. “The contents of the one on top are breakable. We’ll have to take them down one at a time.”

  “Got it,” Mike said, and picked up the top one first. “What’s in here?”

  “Christmas decorations,” she said. “I thought Johnny might enjoy them.”

  Mike stopped, set the tub down and turned around. For a few seconds he just looked at her, as if he couldn’t believe she was real, then he took her by the shoulders. Before she knew it, he was kissing her. It lasted just long enough to derail her good sense, then he turned her loose.

  “What was that for?” she muttered, although she didn’t really give a damn about his reason. She was just happy he’d done it.

  “For being you,” he said, then picked up the tub of decorations again. “Where do you want this?” he asked.

  “Maybe the living room to start with,” she said.

  “Consider it done,” he said, and started down the stairs.

  She watched until she was sure he’d cleared the steps safely, then she picked up a box and started down behind him.

  He met her halfway down, took the box from her and then sent her packing.

  “I’ll get these,” he said. “You go down and get warm.”

  Deborah touched his face, then laid her hand in the middle of his chest. She could feel the rock-steady beat of his heart. Between that and the love she’d seen him shower on his family, she knew this man was a man you could count on.

  “Mister…you’re something special,” Deborah said softly.

  Mike leaned into her touch, savoring the moment.

  “No, ma’am,” he said. “You’re the one who’s special, and just for the record, I’m really sorry I gave you such a hard time about your gift. You saved my son’s family, and you’re still protecting us.”

  “I suppose you’re worth the trouble,” she said, and leaned forward.

  This time she was the one who initiated the kiss. Their lips met, then curved to fit. Deborah felt the tug of passion between them and gave back as good as she got. It wasn’t until Mike moaned beneath his breath that she made herself stop.

  She pulled back, looking him square in the face. His eyes were dark with passion, his lips slightly parted, on the verge of saying something they might both regret.

  “Tonight,” Deborah said, and then walked away.

  All the breath left Mike’s body. By the time he could think, she was gone, and when he carried the last of the decorations into the living room, she and Johnny were already digging through the boxes. After the fear they’d seen on Johnny’s face earlier, if he could have, he would have given Deborah the world for the sheer joy that was there now.

  And there was no doubt in his mind as to what she’d meant. The difficulty was going to be in waiting until everyone else went to bed to take her up on her invitation.

  13

  James left the warmth of the Sanborn home without thought for his own comfort. He had a pistol in his pocket, as well as his cell phone. Eventually he would walk to a place where he could get a signal, and when he did, he would let the sheriff know he was coming and what was going on.

  As for the pistol, he wouldn’t have a problem using it if the need arose. It had taken him years to learn to live with what he’d experienced in Vietnam, but not once in his life had he felt guilt. When called upon, he’d served his country with passion and pride—he could give no less to his family.

  Given all of that, he still couldn’t get past the horror he’d seen on Johnny’s face when they’d aired the picture of Senator Wilson. No child should ever have to witness a murder, let alone fear for his life because he thought the murderer was coming after him. It was all he needed to keep him walking, with no thought for the wind and weather.

  As he walked, he kept going over Deborah’s advice, making certain he stayed true to the obvious path the road took going down the mountain, even though it might appear, from time to time, that he was taking the long way down.

  The cold wind and blowing snow were distracting, and more than once, he realized he’d strayed. Each time, he had to stop and reassess his location before continuing.

  He’d been on plenty of maneuvers during his years in Vietnam, and he’d taken more chances with his life then than he would ever have imagined. But this was different. This time he didn’t have the option of going off half-cocked and hoping everything worked out to his advantage. It was his responsibility to get the information about Patrick Finn’s murder to the right people before Johnny and Molly were put in jeopardy again.

  And as he walked, with only the sound of the wind for company, he couldn’t help but think of his Trudy back in the nursing home. He wondered if she missed him, then struggled to swallow past the knot in his throat. She didn’t, and he knew it. How could she miss someone she no longer remembered? He missed her, though—more than he had words to express.

  Deborah had cautioned him about getting lost, but his Trud
y had been lost for years. All her memories of their life together were gone, lost within the confusion that had become her world. When he let himself think of her, it was like trying to breathe underwater. It was a combination of panic and fear, coupled with the positive knowledge that his next breath would be his last. How could someone who’d been so vital to his life still be alive but in essence already gone? The loneliness of his world was impossible to describe.

  He shuddered as a blast of wind tore through the trees lining both sides of the road, but his discomfort wasn’t from cold, it was from the pain of how Trudy’s life was ending. Still, he couldn’t afford to waste time and energy on the ending of one life, though ever precious to him, when he was trying to save the lives of two people who had yet to live it to their fullest. Determined to do what had to be done, he lowered his head against the wind, put one foot in front of the other and focused instead on the miles he was putting behind him.

  Darren Wilson’s social calendar was always full, especially during the holidays. He liked the parties. But unless something drastic happened, he would never attend another party again as long as he lived. Which might not be very long.

  Right now, he was trying to backtrack to the place where he’d walked up on the mountain lion. It was there that he’d lost the trail he’d been following. Looking back, he suspected that the tracks he’d seen earlier in the day were from a search party. He feared that the woman and kid had been found. What he still didn’t know was if the pair had just wandered away from the crash site on their own or if they’d witnessed what he’d done and were running away from him. If he only knew that one truth, he could go about the business of getting himself found and out of these godforsaken mountains.

  He wouldn’t let himself consider that he’d been overlooked. Surely the search parties were still out. They would have to know he was missing, too. He’d been listed on the passenger manifest. Even if they’d already found the woman and kid, the body count would still be off by one. He just needed to find out who, exactly, was looking for him—the police or the rescue party.