So—they weren’t all dead.
He wiped his nose. He had to salvage this. He couldn’t let the kids get away.
His phone stopped ringing.
“Crap.”
He needed the phone to ring so he could find it.
And he needed his gun to ring so he could find it.
He pulled himself to his knees. His head pounded like a frying pan was hitting it. He looked downhill. He should go down there. The weapons were down there. Friedrich wasn’t using them. Nobody was guarding the hostages.
Then he took another look at the gorge. No way could he possibly climb down. The hillside was too steep and slick.
But he could climb up. He could scramble back to the logging road. And on the way, he could find his phone and his gun. And Haugen would be coming along. Haugen, and nobody else—this road was virtually deserted three hundred sixty days a year.
He would climb up to the road and flag down Haugen and Sabine and Stringer. The kids weren’t going anywhere. It had been Friedrich’s fault. Haugen would have to blame Friedrich.
His head was bleeding. He scrounged in his pocket for a handkerchief to stanch it and found the Glock.
The day might not be a total loss after all.
He could punish those numskulls in the Hummer, those college kids and the man in the USF T-shirt who had attacked him. They would pay.
He began to climb.
16
“ O nce more.”
On the count of three, Gabe and Kyle kicked at the long window along the side of the Hummer. This time, with a squeezing, crunching sound, the entire thing popped out of the frame and fell to the rocks on the riverbank.
Gabe checked outside. “It’s safe to climb out.”
Jo caught his eye. The unspoken message passed between them: triage. They needed to assess the group for injuries. Slowly, careful to avoid placing her hands in broken glass, she belly-crawled across the wrecked Hummer. Her heart was slowing. She blinked dust from her eyes.
She reached Autumn. “You okay?”
Autumn had unhooked herself from the seat belt and now huddled, in a fetal position, against the wall of the Hummer. Her eyes were vividly alert.
Jo put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
Autumn stared at her like a doe facing a wall of flame. Jo put her hands on either side of the girl’s face. “Answer me.”
“I’m okay,” she said.
Jo nodded. “Good. We’re going to get you out of here.”
Autumn seemed all right: conscious, symmetrically mobile, oriented times three. Dustin’s face was covered with dirt and debris and smeared with blood from abrasions to his scalp, but he was alert and had no obvious neurological deficits. Gabe had found a flashlight and was shining it in his eyes, checking his pupils for signs of head injury.
“You’re all right.” Gabe nodded at the window he and Kyle had kicked out. “Slide through there. Then stay put. I mean it.”
Dustin nodded at the floor, avoiding Gabe’s eye, and crawled toward the window.
Jo nudged Autumn after him. “You too.”
Autumn didn’t budge. Dustin held out a hand. “Come on.”
Autumn gave him a coruscating glare. His expression wavered. Pale, he turned away and slithered out the window frame.
Peyton’s moaning had become sporadic, though still loud. Gabe said, “Your collarbone’s broken.”
Lark lay on her stomach, looking around helplessly, patting the debris-strewn roof of the limo. “My glasses. I can’t find them.”
Autumn turned from the window and scurried toward her. “They have to be here.”
Aside from the lost glasses, Lark looked all right for the moment. Jo turned to Noah.
He was propped against the back of the upside-down driver’s compartment, covered in dust and glass, soaked with blood, mute.
She crab-crawled to his side. “You there?”
He didn’t move, but a wave of pain seemed to roll through him. His gaze slid toward her. “Let’s not take that ride again.”
Jo tried to smile. She took his pulse. It was strong and going like a racehorse. “Where’s the pain?”
“Everywhere. From
He wiped his nose. He had to salvage this. He couldn’t let the kids get away.
His phone stopped ringing.
“Crap.”
He needed the phone to ring so he could find it.
And he needed his gun to ring so he could find it.
He pulled himself to his knees. His head pounded like a frying pan was hitting it. He looked downhill. He should go down there. The weapons were down there. Friedrich wasn’t using them. Nobody was guarding the hostages.
Then he took another look at the gorge. No way could he possibly climb down. The hillside was too steep and slick.
But he could climb up. He could scramble back to the logging road. And on the way, he could find his phone and his gun. And Haugen would be coming along. Haugen, and nobody else—this road was virtually deserted three hundred sixty days a year.
He would climb up to the road and flag down Haugen and Sabine and Stringer. The kids weren’t going anywhere. It had been Friedrich’s fault. Haugen would have to blame Friedrich.
His head was bleeding. He scrounged in his pocket for a handkerchief to stanch it and found the Glock.
The day might not be a total loss after all.
He could punish those numskulls in the Hummer, those college kids and the man in the USF T-shirt who had attacked him. They would pay.
He began to climb.
16
“ O nce more.”
On the count of three, Gabe and Kyle kicked at the long window along the side of the Hummer. This time, with a squeezing, crunching sound, the entire thing popped out of the frame and fell to the rocks on the riverbank.
Gabe checked outside. “It’s safe to climb out.”
Jo caught his eye. The unspoken message passed between them: triage. They needed to assess the group for injuries. Slowly, careful to avoid placing her hands in broken glass, she belly-crawled across the wrecked Hummer. Her heart was slowing. She blinked dust from her eyes.
She reached Autumn. “You okay?”
Autumn had unhooked herself from the seat belt and now huddled, in a fetal position, against the wall of the Hummer. Her eyes were vividly alert.
Jo put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
Autumn stared at her like a doe facing a wall of flame. Jo put her hands on either side of the girl’s face. “Answer me.”
“I’m okay,” she said.
Jo nodded. “Good. We’re going to get you out of here.”
Autumn seemed all right: conscious, symmetrically mobile, oriented times three. Dustin’s face was covered with dirt and debris and smeared with blood from abrasions to his scalp, but he was alert and had no obvious neurological deficits. Gabe had found a flashlight and was shining it in his eyes, checking his pupils for signs of head injury.
“You’re all right.” Gabe nodded at the window he and Kyle had kicked out. “Slide through there. Then stay put. I mean it.”
Dustin nodded at the floor, avoiding Gabe’s eye, and crawled toward the window.
Jo nudged Autumn after him. “You too.”
Autumn didn’t budge. Dustin held out a hand. “Come on.”
Autumn gave him a coruscating glare. His expression wavered. Pale, he turned away and slithered out the window frame.
Peyton’s moaning had become sporadic, though still loud. Gabe said, “Your collarbone’s broken.”
Lark lay on her stomach, looking around helplessly, patting the debris-strewn roof of the limo. “My glasses. I can’t find them.”
Autumn turned from the window and scurried toward her. “They have to be here.”
Aside from the lost glasses, Lark looked all right for the moment. Jo turned to Noah.
He was propped against the back of the upside-down driver’s compartment, covered in dust and glass, soaked with blood, mute.
She crab-crawled to his side. “You there?”
He didn’t move, but a wave of pain seemed to roll through him. His gaze slid toward her. “Let’s not take that ride again.”
Jo tried to smile. She took his pulse. It was strong and going like a racehorse. “Where’s the pain?”
“Everywhere. From
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