A Necessary Deception

by Lucy Farago

  He set their snowshoes aside. “I don’t think we’ll need these tomorrow. Whatever wind blew in that storm kept most it on the other side of the mountain. We can use them as bedding.”

  All she’d noticed was another thigh-burning day. For her, at least, it was hard to tell how deep the snow truly was.

  He took the compass and held it in his open hand. “It works along the same lines as Google maps, only better.” He chose distance and time, then calculated. Seven hours, eighteen minutes until they reached the camp.

  “What’s with the gas station icon?”

  “That was me being funny. T remembers blasting caps but will forget to fill the tank.”

  “He sounds…focused.” Not knowing the man, she didn’t want to be mean. But who blows things up just for fun?

  “Yeah, that’s a good word for him.”

  “So, can this thing remind me in which store I found the shoes when I’m in a mall?”

  His laughter warmed her from the inside out. She liked when he laughed at her jokes.

  “Sure. And as long as you promise not to sell it, you can keep it.”

  She’d never sell it. “Thank you.” She could imagine all the fun she’d have with it when shopping.

  Monty started with the longest flexible branch and drove first one end into the ground and then the other to create an arc. She thought he’d build some kind of teepee, but she was wrong. When she finally got to lend a hand, tying longer and shorter sticks together, they’d formed the framework for a dome shelter.

  “Now, just like the snowshoes, we weave the branches through the lattice. Then layer more on top.”

  Surprisingly, some of the trepidation she’d experienced that morning evaporated. This shelter might work. “You’re a genius.”

  “About many things yes, but about this, I can’t take the credit. It’s basic survival training.”

  “For you, maybe. All I can show you is how to repair a chipped nail. If I was alone in this… I’m pretty sure I’d be dead.” She owed this man her life. “And you wouldn’t be here, risking your life to help me.

  “Thinking like that is counterproductive. These are the cards we were dealt, and the Russians are to blame, not you. And you’d have found a way to survive without me.”

  “Maybe,” she admitted. But was she placating him or herself?

  “That’s better than nothing I guess.” He smiled. “Let’s finish this.”

  As the night before, he built a bed, only with their snowshoes and a few extra branches to ensure the snow-covered ground wouldn’t soak them through their snow pants. Inside, he held out his hand. “Come on.”

  She brushed as much snow as she could off her boots and crawled in. She had to admit it was cozy.

  “We’ll use more branches to close us in. Question is, do we risk a fire?”

  “You think they’ll see the smoke?”

  “We’re on the other side of the mountain, but they know we survived the blast.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “Am I worth all this effort? It makes no sense.” She was being hunted. Why?

  “You’re right. But maybe that backup has more than you think.”

  “Maybe they’re just crazy.” Because this was crazy. “They could’ve just left me to die up here. Why hunt me? By now the feds know I’m missing.”

  He tugged her onto his lap and she went willingly. “I don’t know what to tell you,” he said, curling his arms around her. “For now, let’s just focus on getting home. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

  She told herself not to be defeated. She’d taken on a mountain—and won. Her stomach rumbled, an uncomfortable reminder that all they’d had to eat was half a power bar each.

  “All right.” He flipped her onto her back and leaned over her. It was dark and visibility was scarce, but she made out his wolflike grin. Perhaps tonight wasn’t going to be as cold as she thought.

  “I’m going to get our supplies. If it snows, I don’t want to dig them out. We can grab another bar and then…” He kissed her.

  His mouth was cold, but his breath was warm, and heat pooled in her belly. “And then?” They’d have sex in this pine igloo?

  “Then we’ll have to find ways to stay warm without a fire.”

  “How’s your leg?” she asked, hoping to catch him off guard so he would reveal something in his expression. All day he’d refused to say anything but fine whenever she asked about his burn.

  “I’m not going to lie. It aches, but I’m sure that’s from it healing. Stop worrying.” He tapped her nose with his index finger, then rolled her off before crawling back outside.

  With a lazy stretch, she grinned. Regrettably, she knew nothing would happen in their hand-made cave. The closest thing she’d gotten to a shower was washing off the grime on her hands in the snow. Getting down and dirty with Monty would be a welcome reprieve but not in the literal sense. A girl had her pride. No, she grinned because it would be interesting to see what tactics he might use to convince her otherwise. With Monty, she’d discovered getting there was almost as much fun—

  Taylor shot up and listened. Her brain had registered sounds that shouldn’t be there. Engines.

  Chapter 19

  “Run. And keep running. Stay where the trees are dense.” Monty rammed the compass and emergency pack into the knapsack and shoved it and her gloves into Taylor’s hand.

  Her arm dropped from the sudden weight.

  “Follow the GPS. Go,” he said, giving her a none-too-gentle shove.

  Was he crazy? “Without you? No.”

  “We don’t have time to argue.” He craned his neck and listened. “They’ll be here soon. Go.”

  “No.” She wasn’t going anywhere without him.

  “It’s you they want. I’m just some dude whose cabin they blew up. Taylor, please, before it’s too late.” He spun her around and hoisted the heavy knapsack onto her back, then gave her another push toward the tree line.

  She didn’t understand. And didn’t care. She wasn’t about to allow Monty to sacrifice himself for her. “If you stay, I stay.” She tried to dig her heels into the snow, but he kept propelling her forward.

  “Taylor, I can’t run,” he said close to her ear. “I’ve been lying to you. My knee…isn’t good. I’d go with you if I could, but I can’t. This is our best option.”

  He’d lied to her? What an asshole.

  “They don’t know it was us in the caverns and they don’t know you’re with me. You’re more of a danger to me if you stay. For God’s sake,” he kissed her cheek, “go. And don’t look back.”

  Was he right? Or bullshitting to get her to leave him behind? She wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t giving her time to think. Nor were those engines. They grew closer, and in case he wasn’t lying, she didn’t want to be the reason he was killed. She ran. And kept running. She wanted to turn around. Oh, how she wanted to turn around. But if she didn’t, she might stop. She’d see nothing except his silhouette, and if he was right, she’d have to put more space between them. Ignoring her heart, she kept going.

  She did as he’d told her, stayed close to the trees. With only the sliver of a moon in the black sky, even the snow was of little help in reflecting light to help lead her. She supposed it was a good thing. She might not be able to see where she was going, but neither could they. And no way could those snowmobiles get through the dense forest. They’d have to track her on foot. She ignored her burning lungs and forced herself to keep running. Monty had been correct. The storm hadn’t been bad on this side of the mountain. But her legs, already exhausted from the day, struggled with each footstep hauled in and out of knee-high snow.

  Her stomach cramped, and she had to stop. Hands on her knees, she panted, her teeth growing numb from the cold air. She closed her mouth and lengthened her inhales, calming the flow of blood pounding in her
ears, listening as she did so. Was anyone following her? Had Monty been right? Would they think him alone? Closing her eyes—a cowardly thing to do—she pivoted, praying she’d see no one. She looked. Nothing. At least nothing moving. She released a thankful breath…only to realize the forest had swallowed her whole.

  Gargantuan evergreens, far older, their trunks thick and taller than any on the other side of the mountain, enveloped her. The claustrophobia she’d naïvely thought she’d concurred began to crush her already strained lungs. It wasn’t real, she told herself, squeezing her eyes shut. These were trees, nothing more. She got herself in, she could get herself out. She wasn’t trapped. But her fear was of a different kind now, one far more dangerous than anything her mind could force itself on her. She was in a dense forest—alone—at night—with only a compass she wasn’t sure she’d be able to figure out. And even if she could get to the camp without Monty, how could she leave him to fend for himself? And what the hell could she do about it? He was in danger, true danger. As long as she stayed focused, this forest couldn’t hurt her. Monty wasn’t so lucky. She opened her eyes. The black silhouettes were still there, bigger than ever, but they were just trees.

  Her heart finally stilled to a normal cadence and she listened. Nothing, not even the wind swept through the evergreens, nothing except the distant rumble of snowmobiles. For a quick second, fear made her slam her body against a tree, but she forced it down. Fear wouldn’t help Monty. The engines weren’t growing louder. They idled and then…stopped. How far had she run and how much space had she put between herself and the Russians? And Monty? Maneuvering the knapsack off her back, she set it by her feet and unzipped it. She felt for the compass, and when cold metal touched her hand, she pulled it out and shoved her gloves inside. Did trees hold heat? Or wasn’t the temperature dropping like they’d predicted? Either way, her hands weren’t cold.

  She popped it open and did like Monty had showed her. She realized two things: one, she’d actually retained the information on how to use the stupid thing, which made her happy. And two, and far less satisfying, she hadn’t gone as far as she’d thought. In fact, she hadn’t gone very far at all. “Shit.” She dodged behind the biggest tree nearest her and again listened…once her damn heart slowed. Either they were stealth SOBs or Monty had guessed correctly. They weren’t coming after her.

  Taylor thought back to her time in the bunkers. They’d pretty much cleaned up after themselves. No one could tell she’d been sharing the bathroom…or his bed. Not without close inspection of their garbage. And she’d put on her own clothes yesterday and, as always, tucked the flash drive into her front pocket. Luckily, jeans had somehow felt more comfortable under snow pants. If the Russians hadn’t looked under the other bed, where she’d stashed her purse, what else would they find to prove she’d been there? Nothing she could think of. Was she safe? Would they really think Monty was making his way back to civilization alone?

  She slid down the tree and into the snow, the knapsack between her legs. She returned the compass, wondering how her life had gone from slowly but surely making her father eat his words to absolute shit. Thirsty, she scooped up a ball of snow and licked some off her hand, then stared at the remains. The last time she’d done this, she made a snowball. It hadn’t been her best attempt, though nor had it been her worst. It had done the trick and nailed Monty in the head. Because it was better than crying, she smiled at the memory. He’d hadn’t wanted them to stop, protesting that sunset would come faster than she imagined. But her legs burned from the excursion, and she’d hadn’t seen the big deal in a short rest. Monty, however, was a stubborn ass, and she’d had no recourse but to express her disappointment. The look on his face had been worth the effort it had taken to bend down in snowshoes. She’d had years to practice getting what she wanted, and while she hadn’t exerted that particular talent in a long time, it was nice to know she hadn’t lost her touch.

  She’d been such a brat and gotten anything she’d ever desired…except her father’s love. Right now, she wanted Monty away from those people. She put her head between her knees, shut her eyes, and forced herself to think. What could she do? They’d have found the guns Monty was carrying, so relying on him to stay armed was out. With a heavy sigh, she hoisted herself up, her legs protesting the effort. Half a power bar wasn’t enough fuel, and she prayed this wasn’t a bad idea. Next, she grabbed the knapsack, grown heavier in the last five minutes. Could the tools inside help Monty? With a sudden inspiration, she dropped the bag and ripped open the zipper.

  He’d said it was relatively harmless, easily handled. It could get wet, couldn’t be lit on fire; a gunshot wouldn’t set it off nor would it accidentally explode, which had put her mind at ease. She held the heavy, Mylar-covered C-4 in the palm of one hand. If she had to hazard a guess…roughly three pounds. She tried to press her thumb into the compound, but it was rock hard. To be expected, considering the outside temperature. Which meant if she was going to do this, she’d have to warm it in her hands. She’d have to play with it. She’d never been one for Silly Putty, but this highly explosive block could make for a decent diversion.

  She fished out the long, thick wires Monty had told her were detonators and electronic blasting caps, metal tubes the size of a short pen. It was too dark to see in detail, but when it came time to put her plan into action…when she had a plan…she could use the light from the compass to make certain she gave herself enough time not to end up like Monty’s cabin. There were plenty of trees, but she’d bet if she could get close enough, one of those snowmobiles would make a decent fireball. If that didn’t say distraction, what did?

  She returned everything to the knapsack and strapped on her bundle of what the hell was she thinking. This was crazy. Going back there was crazy. Leaving Monty to fend for himself? Unthinkable. She’d be dead, or worse, if not for him. And besides that, he was, if nothing else, someone she’d come to care for. She wasn’t leaving him behind. It wasn’t about proving herself to anyone. This was Monty’s life. And the dumb shit had lied to her about his leg. For that she was seriously going to beat his ass. If that wasn’t as good as any excuse to return for him, what was?

  * * * *

  Taylor had crawled under a cedar, one of the snowmobiles so close she had to swallow hard not to gag from the gas fumes wafting from it. She’d never driven a sled, only been a passenger, the ride not as comfortable as a Sea-Doo but three times as fast. Speed was never her thing. The second machine was parked some fifteen feet away, just behind Monty. They must’ve thought to corner him. Luckily, they hadn’t spotted her, and now the snow and evergreen branches camouflaged most of her body. How much closer did she dare get?

  She rolled the C-4 over and over in her hands, watching in utter fear as Daniel and another man she didn’t recognize stood in front of Monty. Coatless and hands bound behind his back, they had him on his knees by their shelter. She’d worried about his leg, but that was the least of their problems. Guns—rifles of some kind—were trained on Monty, and neither of them looked happy as Daniel repeated the same question. “Where is the girl?” She knew this because every time he asked, their voices grew louder and angrier.

  Monty’s head moved from side to side. “I lost her in the trees. Right before the snowstorm, after you assholes blew up my cabin,” he shouted, seeming to lose his patience. Was the tough-guy act for show? Or was he really not afraid them? She certainly was.

  She’d figured out Monty had lied to her or at the very least exaggerated his claim that no one knew he’d harbored her. He’d counted on her being caught off guard and used her panic against her. But they’d been shot at. Monty had, as he’d put it, taken out one of their men. She’d been an idiot not to remember that. And these men weren’t stupid. Anyone who put this much effort into finding her wouldn’t be fooled by Monty simply denying she was with him. The fact that she’d fallen for his bullshit made her cringe, but she’d reflect on that later. Now, she had to h
ope her plan worked.

  She assumed Monty had been trying, unsuccessfully, to make them believe they’d parted ways. He appeared relatively unscathed, but that was about to change. She saw it coming, fairly certain Monty did too. Daniel drew back his hand and slapped him. She flinched as Monty toppled over, the blow that hard. She knew better than to try anything but prayed this asshole was close enough to the blast for it to hurt…or maim. Monty stayed on the ground, and while she was fairly certain the dark splatters on the snow were blood—his blood—the idiot smiled up at the two men hovering over him. Was he trying to antagonize them?

  He said something else, but she was too far away to hear. Whatever it was, Daniel didn’t like it. His friend’s foot connected with Monty’s ribs faster than she could react. Which was a good thing. She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from shouting out. It would do neither of them any good. When Monty was kicked a second time, the C-4 squeezed between her fingers, reminding her she wasn’t helpless. Daniel squatted so he could whisper into Monty’s ear, probably more threats. She needed to act.

  She scrambled out from under the tree and went to work. Her fear was that should she use too much, she’d end up killing Monty…and/or herself. But nor did she want a mere firecracker of an explosion. Kudos to the military and everyone who served. This stuff and what it could do scared the shit out of her. She couldn’t imagine it as a part of her daily life.

  She’d chosen her target earlier, a medium-size cedar some thirty feet from their camp. She pressed the C-4 with the detonator into the bark, counted to five to make sure it wouldn’t fall off, then made her way back, the timer in one hand, the rest of the C-4 in the other. Monty wasn’t going anywhere, so she prayed both men would investigate…and leave him the fuck alone. The idea of them continuing to hit him sickened her, but the fact that there was something she could do about it made her already stiff legs move faster. She heard shouting and was forced to slow her pace. She didn’t know how much time Monty had left, but running in knee-deep snow might draw their attention, and she wanted to be behind Monty when the tree blew, which meant circling around—without being seen. She was halfway to her goal, dodging behind trees, when Monty and the two men came into view. For far too many times in the last few days, her heart stopped beating.