Wilderness Secrets. Sharon Dunn

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      “We better get moving.” A wave of fear passed through her. “Those other men will catch up with us sooner or later, right?”

      He nodded and tipped the brim of his hat to her.

      They stepped out of the forest into the downpour. Abigail assessed where they were based on the mountain peaks. She didn’t doubt her ability to get them back on the trail, but it would take some doing. She wasn’t familiar with this part of the forest, but she knew if they moved in the general direction of the mountain peak referred to as Angel’s Peak, they would intersect with the trail. When they got closer and the immediate landscape became familiar, she would pinpoint the trail’s location with more accuracy and then figure out the best way to avoid the men. Maybe by staying close to the trail but not on it.

      For now, all they had to do was keep Angel’s Peak in front of them.

      They stepped out into the downpour, hiked across the wide-open strip of land where the plane had gone down and entered the forest on the other side.

      They walked side by side without speaking, their footsteps pounding out a rhythm. Fear and doubt played at the corners of her mind. Heading back to the trail was the quickest way to get back to town, but it was also the most obvious. Those three men had followed her and Jesse up the mountain without being spotted, so it was clear they had some tracking skills and were in good shape.

      In her mind, she saw the different topographical maps she’d studied of the various areas she’d camped and all the places she’d taken clients in these mountains over the few months she’d worked for Big Sky Outfitters. She still wasn’t sure what the best strategy for avoiding the men was. Trying to come up with a less obvious way down the mountain could get them lost. They did not have the food or gear for that.

      The forest thinned as the rain pelted her hat and drizzled from the trees. They stepped out into a flat area, where it looked like a forest fire had passed through. The grass had not grown back in yet. The ground was muddy, causing her hiking boots to make a suctioning sound with every step.

      Jesse slid, his legs going into a split before he righted himself. “Kind of slippery out here.”

      “Yes, watch your step.”

      They trudged on through the slick mud. Jesse’s tarp poncho made swishing noises as he moved. The rain tapped out a rhythm.

      He did a double step to catch up with her. “Look, I’m an extrovert. This silence is killing me.”

      He’d been plenty talkative on his way up here, mostly about the sports he played and music he liked. Nothing in his conversation had hinted that he was in law enforcement.

      She had spent most of her time trying to teach him how to read the landscape. Since she had thought he would be hiking out alone, she’d tried to explain possible scenarios he might encounter and what to do.

      She didn’t really see the point of getting to know him better. “I’m an introvert. I like the silence.”

      “Suit yourself.” He shrugged and kept pace with her. A moment later, he started to hum what sounded like the annoying theme song from a children’s program her niece watched.

      “Okay,” she said. “You win. If it will stop you from humming that song, we can talk.”

      He smiled. “Good.” He glanced over his shoulder. His smile turned grim and his voice dropped half an octave. “Never mind.”

      She spun around. Behind them, at the other end of the muddy field, two of their three pursuers barreled toward them.

      Jesse scanned the landscape around them.

      Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

      They were out in the open, exposed. Some rocks at the edge of the field looked to be their only option.

      “Get over there as fast as you can,” he said, directing Abigail toward the rocks.

      The mud bogged them down. And now the hillside slanted up.

      Abigail glanced over her shoulder. “Those trees are closer. It’s easier to go across than up in this sticky gumbo.” Abigail had already redirected her steps.

      Where the wilderness was concerned, he’d trust her choices over his. He slipped a few paces behind her. “We shouldn’t bunch together.” Better to have two targets than one.

      Abigail jogged through the mud in a sure-footed way. He stumbled behind, running in a zigzag pattern so it would be harder to shoot him. The tarp he wore as a rain poncho slowed him down.

      The men had changed course, as well. Eddy had stopped to line up a shot, while Pretty Boy sprinted toward them. He wondered what had become of the third man, the one with the dark, slicked-back hair. Cell phones didn’t work in the high mountains. But what if the men had some other way to communicate to bring in even more men to the hunt?

      The special phone Abigail had given him in case he got lost on his way down was in his backpack. Lost forever, or maybe the men had found it and used it.

      Abigail drew nearer to the trees.

      The percussive bang of the rifle shot leaving the barrel of the gun pummeled his eardrums, but he did not hear the bullet hit, which meant it must have sunk into the mud. Abigail disappeared into the trees with a backward glance at him. His feet felt weighted down by the amount of mud on them. He lifted his legs, pumping fast and hard even as the mud suctioned around his boots. Pretty Boy had closed the distance between them and Eddy had run a dozen yards in order to line up another shot.

      The trees were ten yards away. He saw no sign of Abigail—she must have kept running. He sprinted, fixing his gaze on the edge of the forest. The trees grew larger in his field of vision. Another bullet from the rifle traveled through the air. This one split the bark of the tree inches in front of him just as he entered the forest.

      His heart beat a little faster, knowing how close he’d come to taking a bullet. A vibrating branch indicated the direction in which Abigail had run. There was no trail to follow in this part of the forest. The ground cover of pine needles, leaves and broken branches was thick. Some of the mud came off his boots, but he still felt like he was running with weights on his feet.

      He caught sight of Abigail’s blond braid flying as she ran. He hurried to catch up with her. He could hear the thugs yelling at each other as they entered the forest.

      Abigail traveled steadily uphill. She must have had some kind of plan or route in mind that would throw off the pursuers. As the trees thinned, the terrain grew drier, populated with tiny pebbles and then rocks. He caught up with Abigail.

      His words came out between gasping breaths. “Do you know where you’re going?”

      “Just getting away,” she said, out of breath, as well.

      Somehow, he’d hoped she had a better plan than haphazardly running away. He spotted some brush up ahead that was tall enough to hide behind. “Keep going,” he said. “I’ll try to stop them.”

      He crouched behind the brush, peering out to see if he could spot the two other men. Pretty Boy was the first to emerge from the trees. Eddy was probably slowed down by having to carry the rifle. Pretty Boy glanced in one direction, СКАЧАТЬ