Wolfsbane

by Ronie Kendig

  I won’t go back.

  Why hadn’t she listened to herself? Federal prison sounded really cozy right now compared to this jungle. With the storms dumping rain on them, in guerilla territory. Unable to make it to the facility so Nightshade could take them into the belly of the beast to prove the nuclear program being developed beneath the noses of every UN country actually existed—it all felt so hopeless. If she and Canyon got out alive … well, the if was too big to contemplate right now.

  But the man with her—

  Her gaze lifted to his strong, sturdy frame. Hiking without complaint or conversation. Moving with stealth and skill. Her life was in his hands. She gave a soft snort realizing she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else on the planet right now than here with Canyon Metcalfe.

  Her boot caught on a tree root and pitched her forward. Hands grazed bark, plunged into the earth. Mud splashed her face. On all fours, Dani ground her teeth.

  “Having fun?” Canyon squatted beside her.

  She flopped onto her backside, let out a sigh, and shook her hands out, making sure the mud splatted him. Rain washed down her face, probably making her look worse. But she just didn’t care. Wiping her hands down the legs of her pants, she nodded to him. “Sure.” She was everything—hungry, thirsty, exhausted—but having fun.

  He glanced around the area. “We can’t stop here. I know you’re tired, probably have some blisters. It’ll be nightfall in a few hours. We’ll stop then.” He shifted in his squat. “Think you can make it?”

  Agitation and humiliation wove a wicked garment around her mind. How could he be so undaunted, unfazed, un-tired? “Yes, Tarzan, I can make it.” She would. Even if she died walking.

  He smirked and stood. Again, he looked around but this time also up. What? Was he going to swing on some vines and whisk her to safety? Hand held out to her, he grinned. “Come here.”

  Mud sucked against her jeans as she stood, slipped, then regained her balance. Using the back of her hand, she pushed hair from her face.

  Canyon caught her elbow and tugged her to the side. “Here.” He reached up, drew her closer, then angled a large wide leaf down … to another … “Drink.” He cupped the leaf and aimed it at her face.

  Water splatted her face at first, then Dani tilted her head back and drank. Relief closed her eyes as water splashed her throat. Not a gush, just enough to moisten the parched desert in her mouth. She smiled and pushed her hair back. A small giggle escaped, amazed at how much better she felt for just that small bit of refreshment.

  “I’ll get you out of here.” Husky but strong, his words made her open her eyes. Beneath the mercy of the weather, she peered up at him. Only as what he meant hit her—I won’t leave you or quit till you’re safe—did Dani realize his arm was around her. He had that same look as the night he’d kissed her.

  She allowed herself to lean into him, using his strength as her own. “I know. I trust—”

  Crack!

  Screeching birds in the distance shattered the moment.

  Canyon stiffened, his head snapping to her right. Though the foliage blocked their view, they both listened. “We’d better get moving.”

  Onward and downward … down the mountainside. For hours. Their quiet aside and rehydration bolstered Dani’s resolve to maintain course. Only as they hiked and her boots rubbed her flesh raw did she realize she’d follow Canyon to the ends of the earth. And that’s exactly what this journey felt like right now.

  Night crept through the branches and leaves. Again, the rigorous terrain weighted her with exhaustion. She tripped but caught herself.

  “Here.” Canyon moved off to the side. “Sit.”

  Too numb to ask why or argue, Dani dropped against a tree and slid down the bark to the ground. Through half-closed eyelids, she watched him draw out his knife, slice through several tall stalks, saw off a few branches, then hack off leaves. With his repetitive motions and noises her mind lulled to sleep.

  “Roark.”

  A nudge against her shoulder resisted her attempt to sleep.

  Arms slid under her thighs and around her shoulders. Weightlessness startled her. She jerked, eyes flashing open.

  “Shh,” Canyon muttered as he carried her to the place he’d been preparing.

  Eyes drooping, she barely noticed the lean-to. Robotically, she crawled into the space and slumped on her side. Canyon wedged in behind her. His breath dashed across the back of her neck as his arm rested over her hip. The lean-to’s compact size provided no room for propriety-demanded distance. Right now she didn’t care. Having him close, having him holding her—all was right with the world.

  Sleep claimed her greedily.

  Fire licked the walls of the huts. Smaller ones, devoured by the flames, collapsed with a whoosh of heat and ash.

  Canyon grabbed her arm. “No, don’t go back there!”

  “Please, I must get my mother!” She jerked free, stumbled but raced toward the burning hut.

  “It’s too dangerous!”

  Behind him, something snapped.

  He turned.

  A scream echoed through the night. He looked back. The hut she’d gone into pitched forward, then—

  Snap!

  Canyon’s eyes popped open, his heart racing. He blew out a ragged breath. A dream. It was only a dream.

  He let his head drop back against the sodden ground, awakened to the fact he lay pressed against Roark. Exhaling slowly, he closed his eyes. Wondered what Range would say about this. He couldn’t help the grin. Range had always been a plan-first, act-later guy. It’s why he usually lost out. But Canyon couldn’t let his impulsive nature loose again. Not with Roark. She was too valuable. In the cacophony of jungle noise, he honed in on her soft breathing. Man, this felt right. Being with her.

  God …

  He stopped, uncertain what to pray. The honorable part of him would ask God to help guard against temptation. Canyon knew what he was made of, what he was prone to do. But he didn’t want any more pain inflicted because of his bullheaded, steam-forward determination.

  Crack-snap.

  More of the same filtered into his awareness. Soft, steady steps. Several. It wasn’t a dream. Someone—several men—lurked in the trees close by.

  With great care, he lifted his head off his arm so he could move it. He brought his other hand toward Roark’s mouth, in case she jerked and yelped when he tried to wake her.

  To his surprise, her cold fingers coiled around his arm, then released. Grateful for her silent signal that she was awake, he reached for his SOG. “Stay.”

  Footsteps drew closer.

  Canyon eased the knife from his side pocket. At the same time, he angled his body away from Roark, so, if discovered, he could lunge at the intruder. Silently, he cursed himself for giving in so quickly to exhaustion. If they’d kept moving, maybe they’d have put more distance between them and these rebels.

  No point looking back now.

  He tried to squint past the leaves and branches. How many were there? Could he take them? Probably not without getting shot or killed.

  “Raul, rápido!”

  “Cállate,” the man near them muttered.

  Glancing down the length of his body, Canyon saw into the sprinkling of dawn light, saw the man approaching.

  “Juan encontró la pista. ¡Rápido! ¡El general ordena que sean encontrados!” Voices called through the jungle, farther away than whoever was near their hiding place.

  Dani craned her neck so her lips were near his ear and whispered, “He said the general wants us found.”

  “Espere. He escuchado algo.”

  She gripped Canyon’s arm tightly. “He heard me.”

  The guy stepped closer.

  His boot hit Canyon’s.

  CHAPTER 17

  Canyon scissored his legs and swept the guy off his feet. He lunged out of the lean-to. Boom! Thunder clapped through the air, deadening the man’s grunt that no doubt punched the breath from his lungs as he hit the ground.


  When the guy went for a weapon, instinct and training kicked in. Canyon pounced on his chest before the guy could draw that first, painful breath. He jerked the man’s head to his left. With his reverse hold he drove the blade into the side of the neck.

  The man gasped. Gurgled.

  Canyon threw hard left into the man’s face. The body went limp.

  He whipped around. “Roark.” He kept his voice stern but quiet.

  She scampered from the shelter.

  Pointing her away from the others, he growled, “Move!”

  Roark hustled down the slippery terrain.

  Behind them, dulled by the rain and thunder, shouts gave pursuit.

  Together they darted through a grove of trees, down a hill, moving southwest away from the scouting party. He stuffed the blade away and let the downpour wash the blood from his hands as they sprinted through the sloping mountainside.

  With her ahead of him, Canyon retrieved the waterproof container tucked in his pocket. His conscience wrestled with him, but he could feel the throb and strain of the mission taking over. He unscrewed the cap and dumped a couple of its contents into his mouth. He swallowed hard and kept moving.

  Survival justified his actions. Neither made it easy to sleep.

  Fifty Klicks Northeast 5 May

  Zooming in gave Max a halo-green image of the facility approximately 150 yards from their current position. “Two tangos on each corner. Security gate with two more tangos. Building’s got heavy activity.”

  “Just like we expected.”

  Max lowered the high-powered binoculars and glanced at Legend. “Right down to the number of lights.”

  “So, we do this thing,” Legend said.

  “And get out.” And not a minute too soon because the team wasn’t going home without every man and woman accounted for.

  “What about Midas?” Crouched beside them, the Kid looked around. “I mean, we’re not just going to leave them, right?”

  “Mission priority is the facility,” Squirt said.

  Anger lit through the Kid’s face. “Dude, don’t—”

  Max patted his shoulder. “First things first, Kid.”

  “Even if we found Midas,” Cowboy added, “if we don’t finish the mission, the girl is up against a mountain of trouble.”

  “Then we find them, right?”

  A faint noise echoed through the stormy country drawing Max’s attention from the guppy-like kid. Max skated a practiced gaze over the terrain. The trees. Hills. Plains. Miles. Nothing stood out, but he was convinced they were out there. Somewhere. Hearing that gunfire reinforced his belief that Midas and the girl had survived. That’s when he saw a chopper hovering over a small peak. “Black Hawk.”

  “Not good,” the Kid said.

  Legend drew out his sniper rifle scope. “Dropping five—no, six men.”

  Seconds later, the chopper veered off and disappeared over the next swell in the mountain. Had the helo deposited more trouble?

  Gut twisting at the thought of losing Midas and the girl, Max refocused. “Okay, Squirt and Aladdin, let’s go. Legend, Kid, and Cowboy, I’m counting on your sniper skills to keep us intact and alive. Rendezvous on the coast.”

  “No extra holes in my body, please,” Azzan said, looking at Legend, who glowered.

  “All right. Let’s get it done and get out.”

  5 May

  “I can’t … I can’t keep going.” Dani gulped air and bit through every step she took, following Canyon down the steep hillside. Who cared if he thought she was weak? A bug buzzed around her head. She swatted it.

  A branch snagged her ankle. Stumbling forward, she grunted. Whimpered. And did Canyon care? No, he just kept hiking, climbing over one hill after another. They topped an incline, then started the descent. Between a gap in the branches, she caught sight of miles and miles of nothing but the same.

  She deflated. How big was this godforsaken country? She was so tired. Leaves swayed, smacked her face. Whatever. She’d probably hug the guerillas if they came after her. Okay, that wasn’t true, but for heaven’s sake—when would they find safe haven? In a pout she stomped her foot—and it slipped out from under her. She plopped onto her bottom. Slid.

  Canyon caught her hand and stopped her. Dangling from his hold, Dani tilted her head back and stared up at the green, mocking canopy. At least the rain had stopped.

  He scooted next to her. “Giving up already?”

  “I’m done.” She sounded like a simpering, petulant child, but who cared? “I can’t do this. I can’t. I’m so tired I can’t think to even put one foot in front of the other. Everything hurts. And if I slid down this whole mountain, I wouldn’t care.”

  He chuckled. “Give it a try, and I bet you’ll change your mind.”

  Her anger flared as she snapped her gaze to his. “I’m not made of the jungle like you.”

  He frowned.

  “And you can get mad or be disappointed or hate me or whatever.” She slapped the wet ground and shook her head. “I’m through.”

  He pushed up on his knees, disgust clear in his eyes. “So, what, you’re going to lie there and let them find you?”

  Her heart tripped.

  On his feet, Canyon pointed in the direction they’d just come. “Bruzon’s men are right behind us. I’m sure they’d love to find you waiting for them.” He turned and started down the hill.

  “How dare you!”

  He waved and kept walking.

  Smacking the mud again only splashed more mud on her face. In disbelief she watched as he trudged down the slope, using the branches and trees to maneuver. She stomped to her throbbing feet and yelled, “You’re a jerk, you know that?”

  “Yeah,” he called over his shoulder. “And probably every guerilla around us knows, too, thanks to you.”

  Tears misted her eyes. Stupid, stupid tears. She didn’t have the energy they required. She started after him, determined to … to … well, she didn’t know what, but she’d figure it out by the time she reached him. Maybe punch him in the nose. Or smear that stupid smirk in the mud. The thought propelled her onward. And onward. How had he gotten so far ahead?

  Finally, she could coil her fingers around enough material in his shirt to stop him. She yanked him backward.

  Canyon turned.

  “I have blisters in places I can’t mention, but you keep pushing me, taunting me.” She batted her hair from her face. “I don’t know who you think you are—”

  “I’m the man,” he said with a grin and a pant, “who just got you to hike another twenty minutes.”

  Dani stopped short. Glanced back up the hillside. A bubble of disbelief worked its way through her throat and came out sounding an awful lot like a giggle. She slapped his chest. “You could’ve asked nicely.”

  “You were beyond that.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I know you.”

  And they were on their way again. She bit through the temptation to complain and whine. Or to cry. He was trying to get her to safety. She knew that. But it hurt … hurts on top of hurts radiated through every pore of her body. Combat training could not prepare her for this. Stumbling onward, she barreled into him and yelped.

  He grunted and shoved her back. “Quiet.”

  Dani peeked over his shoulder. And sucked in a breath.

  Crouched and peering through a grove of unruly trees, Canyon considered the anemic structure. One side seemed to have collapsed. The roof canted toward the south. The brush around and leading to what should be the front stood knee high. Taller in some spots. But not trampled or shorn. More like … abandoned.

  No light escaped through the thin slats, but that didn’t mean anything. With plenty of daylight, if someone lived there, they’d want to preserve whatever they had as fuel for a lamp. No electricity meant an alternate form of fuel and light.

  “Think we can go in?” Roark whispered from behind his left shoulder.

  Checking for inhabitants could prove haz
ardous—deadly if they’d stumbled upon the wrong people. Rebels. VFA. But with the drenching rain, getting thrashed in the river, and hiking for twenty-six hours without sight or sign of civilization, they needed shelter and food. This crumbling shed wouldn’t provide food—unless there were canned goods. Canyon highly doubted it. But they could at least dry out for a while. Keep the rain off their backs, especially with the clouds gathering in the distance.

  “Stay here.” Hunched, Canyon scuttled out of the trees. Intentionally, he lightened his movement across the swamp-like field. Another ten feet … five … As he squatted at the southeast corner, he felt his boots sinking. Silky soft weeds swayed in the muggy breeze and tickled his face as he took in the surroundings. Searched the tree line for Roark. Smart girl. She’d stayed out of sight.

  Canyon shifted around to the east wall. Sidled along to where it leaned outward, as if reaching for the trees it’d once stood among. Carefully he peered between the slats. Blinding darkness. Slivers of light peeked through from the other side and provided enough visibility that he could see cobwebs sparkling in the beams. Tipped over furniture. A critter scurried along a horizontal plank that lined the western wall. Animals. Cobwebs. But no humans.

  If they were around, they’d kept their shanty in disarray to fend off intruders. Doubtful. But he wouldn’t rule it out.

  Deftly, he poked his head forward, searching for owners.

  No one. Taller grass.

  A board creaked.

  His pulse slammed through his veins. It wasn’t him. He had kept clear of the planks.

  Creak!

  A resounding thunk was soon followed by a gentle swish. Only then did he see the raccoon racing through the field away from him. Time to pony up and see if he was the only biped home. As he slowly pushed to his feet, he drew the SOG from his side pant pocket and extended the blade. Crisscrossing he made his way to the door. He yanked the door open.

  Squawk! Squawk!

  A large black bird flew at him.

  Heart thrumming as he raised an arm to shield himself, he ducked as the bird flailed past. Feathers dusted his face. Fire sliced through his right forearm. Stuffing aside the surprise he surveyed the shack. Empty. Dry.