State Of Emergency. Cassie Miles
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In Florida, there were lots of snakes. They’d never bothered Jordan. “I don’t think that one was poisonous.”
“Don’t care. I hate them all.”
From their vantage point on the hillside, he turned to scan the open meadow behind them. He looked for the glint of fading sunlight on a long-range rifle. He listened for the sound of manhunters calling to each other, for barking bloodhounds, for the whir of helicopter blades.
Only the soft whisper of mountain breezes disturbed the perfect silence. He saw no movement, no evidence of searchers. However, if and when the sheriff’s deputies came this way, their direction was obvious. The wild race across the dried grasses trampled a path straight as an arrow pointing the way toward Jordan.
He was well-aware that seeking shelter in the warming hut—a clearly mapped landmark—was risky. But he needed warmth and comfort for a good night’s sleep and recovery. His escape efforts might last for days, even weeks, and he couldn’t take a chance on falling ill.
He turned to Emily. “Nothing like that is going to happen again.”
“I didn’t plan to see a snake,” she said.
“I thought you were an expert outdoorswoman, certified in mountain survival.”
“Unless there’s a snake,” she said in a small voice.
After her consistent display of mountaineering skill and wisdom, he detected a subtle shift in their relationship. Her unreasonable fear of snakes had given him an edge and elevated him from the status of mountaineering idiot to potential survivor. He felt gratified to finally be the one with the answers. “I’m pretty sure snakes in these parts are headed toward hibernation. At nightfall, they hide away. It’s too cold out here for reptiles. We won’t see another one.”
“Do you promise?” With the back of her hand, she wiped sweat from her forehead. A convulsive tremble shook her slender body.
Though he wanted to take her into his arms and offer reassurance, Jordan still wasn’t sure whether she’d hug him back or slap him upside the head. He suspected the latter. “Do you want to sit and rest for a few minutes?”
“No! I want to put as much distance between us and that reptile as possible.”
“Suits me.” He took the topographical map from the pocket of his Levi’s. “First, let me get my bearings.”
Staring in a northeastern direction, he spotted a high, jagged outcropping of granite. “Are those the chimney rocks marked on the map?”
“Yes,” Emily said. “Let’s get going. I can find my way to the warming hut.”
Not only did he mistrust her willingness to help him, but dusk was rapidly turning to night. The local landmarks would be invisible in the dark, and he’d have to rely on the compass.
Almost due north, he spied a hogback that was marked on the map. In his head, Jordan calculated the triangulation and set their course for twelve degrees northeast on the compass. “When we approach this hut, there’s probably a road. Right?”
“A path,” she said. “It should be maintained by the Forestry Service.”
He balanced her compass in the palm of his hand. The setting sun was behind them. He could already feel the chill in the air. “Let’s go.”
Keeping a steady pace, they climbed hills and crossed other meadows. As night surrounded them, Jordan took the lead, keeping them on track with the compass.
Behind him, Emily stumbled. “Ow! Jordan, I have flashlights in the backpacks. We should use them.”
“Here’s a better idea,” he said. “Why don’t we just hang a neon sign that says Escapee Here.”
“Searchers won’t be out this late,” she grumbled. “If they are, we’ll see them coming. Because they’ll be smart enough to use flashlights.”
A valid point. He concentrated on watching for glimmers of light in the surrounding forest. Though he was less likely to be tracked in the dark, shadows made him wary of an ambush. Every sound magnified. The snap of twigs beneath his feet. The rustle of wind. Occasional screams from predator birds. And Jordan was the prey. Well-armed deputies with guns and shackles were after him. Searchers led by bloodhounds. They could be waiting at the warming hut, setting a trap.
“How do you know where we’re going?” she demanded.
“I’m using the compass.”
“We should’ve already reached the hut,” she said. “It’s late. We need to stop soon.”
“We’ll find it.”
“You know,” she said, “people get lost in the mountains all the time. These are miles and miles of open country.”
“I said, we’ll find the damn hut.”
He’d learned the principles of coastal navigation while sailing on his fifteen foot sloop in the Gulf of Mexico, and the same logic applied on dry land. Though he could also take his bearings from the constellations, the Colorado sky was unfamiliar to him. Brilliant stars, unobscured by moisture or fog, shone too dazzling bright to be anything more than a distraction. Therefore, Jordan didn’t take the time to look upward. He concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other, aiming in the right direction, finding shelter from the cold that froze his sweat against his body.
Stepping through a wall of forest, they entered a small clearing with a trail leading due north.
“This must be the path,” Emily said. “I’m surprised you were able to find it.”
Frankly, so was he. “I had to find the way. Quitting isn’t an option.”
She stepped around him to take the lead again, but he tugged gently on the rope, halting her forward progress. If a trap had been laid at the warming hut, he wouldn’t give Emily first chance to signal.
“I’ll go first. There might be an ambush.” Once again, he removed the gun from his pack. “Don’t make any noise.”
“What’s your plan?”
“Pookie.” Though the pup had lost much of his earlier vigor, Jordan expected a lot of barking if they encountered other people. “He’ll warn us if anybody else is around.”
They followed the path for less than a mile when he saw the dark square shape lurking amid the trees. Unlit, the warming hut appeared to be deserted, but Jordan held back, waiting for Pookie to make the first approach.
The dog didn’t disappoint him. In a flash of golden fur, Pookie bounded up to the cabin door, sniffed and came back to them without a single moof.
“Okay,” Jordan said. Sheer relief warmed his blood, fighting the cold that penetrated his flesh and chilled his bones. Only a few more steps. He could make it. “Now we can use the flashlights.”
The inside of the one-room warming hut was primitive, but it looked like a Hilton hotel to Jordan. The only window was tightly shuttered, but the beam of his flashlight shone on a sink and a wood-burning stove. Several futon-like mattresses were stacked in a corner. There was a grimy table and two wooden chairs. He shed his backpack and lowered himself onto the seat. The hard wood felt more comfortable than plush velour.
Emily demanded. “Unfasten my leash.”
Though he couldn’t imagine how she’d find the strength to take off running, he couldn’t give her the chance. “Not yet.”
“But I’m starving, and Pookie needs to be fed. How am I going to prepare food while I’m tethered by this stupid cord?”
He sure as hell didn’t want to shadow her movements around the cabin. Summoning his last reserve of strength, Jordan moved his chair against the door which was the only way in or out. He sat before untying the nylon rope from his belt. “Knock yourself out, Emily.”
She