A shot rings out from behind us. It whizzes high but the sound is an all-too real reminder of the danger we’re in, exposed like this.
“Where’s Linn?” he shouts.
“Safe!” I reach for the bundle clinging to Rowdy. Even before I cradle her against my chest, I know it’s a child. “Hold on tight, okay, kiddo?” I say to her as she wraps her arms and legs around me like a koala bear.
More shouts and volleys of gunfire split the air as Rowdy and I race for the barn, but he’s limping hard next to me, his labored breaths audible above our slushy footfalls and the pouring rain.
Just a few more steps and we’ll be safe.
Finally, we reach the yawning entryway. I glance over my shoulder at the smoke and flash of gunfire one last time before I hurry us down the barn’s empty corridor, our feet slapping the slick concrete. We keep going, the sound of the fighting fading behind us. At the fence, Rowdy and I work together to lift our cargo over, then I take the little girl back. She clings to me, breathing fast against my neck. I can’t stop and comfort her until we’re safe, so I try to console her with my soft tone and a secure grip around her waist.
Once we reach the woods, I retrace my footprints in the snow, but the pockmarks and muddy prints all start to look the same.
“Linnea!” I call into the thick dark of the forest.
“Here!” she calls, her voice thin. I keep going, the snow crusty in spots and soft in others, making for tricky footing. When I finally round the twin cottonwoods, Linnea’s pushing to her feet, her eyes wide.
She takes in the bundle in my arms for a split second before Rowdy stumbles behind me, stopping his fall by grabbing a low-hanging tree branch.
“Dad?”
He pauses there, panting, his breaths labored. Drops of blood stain the snow behind him, but he shakes his head, like it’ll make them go away. “Let’s get to the truck.”
Linnea is already tugging off her sweater. “You’ve been shot. We need to stop the bleeding.”
Rowdy grits his teeth but Linnea has already created a makeshift bandage with her sweater, tying it tight over his wound.
“Where’s your truck?” My next goal is to get us to the nearest hospital.
“There’s a forest road that…” Rowdy pauses to huff several breaths, “dead ends just south of the compound.”
“Give me your phone.” Linnea holds out her hand. “I’m calling Will.”
“No!” Rowdy barks. “It’s too dangerous.”
“We need help, Dad.”
With a grimace, Rowdy hands over his phone. “They can meet us.”
“Okay,” Linnea says, already dialing.
Rowdy gives me a determined glance. “Now let’s get there.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Sloggingthrough the forest takes every ounce of my concentration. The pain surges, hot and tight, while at the same time, my teeth start to chatter from the cold and anxiety swiftly overtaking all rational thought. I try to fight the growing doom, but my thoughts get darker and more cynical with each lurching step.
What if CJ hadn’t come back for me?
What if Linnea had been seriously injured?
What if I don’t make it?
What if I do, and my body can’t be fixed?
Once we find the road, the even surface is a welcome change, but it doesn’t stop me from vomiting onto the muddy gravel. The searing pain my leg makes my vision tunnel and my lungs judder. I start shivering and I can’t stop. My hands and feet feel numb, wooden.
Linnea lifts my arm over her shoulders. “Lean on me, Pop.”