Page 24 of Sanctuary

We don’t talk at all, except some curt instructions to navigate the difficult terrain.

I’m not sure how long we’ve been going when Aidan says, “Look. There’s a church up there where the road levels off. It looks like it’s still standing. Why don’t we stop there for a while. The weather is getting worse, and we’ll get frostbite for sure if we keep going in this cold.”

I can barely feel my hands and feet. My cheeks and lips are burning. “That sounds good to me.”

With a destination in sight now, we find more energy and push the cart together more forcefully, moving at a faster pace. I’m relieved—weirdly excited—that we’re actually going to make it when the ground beneath my feet suddenly shifts.

The snow was covering several feet of unstable loose rocks, and my footfall disrupts it. My foot slides back fast andawkward, and I would have fallen on my face if I wasn’t holding onto the cart.

As it is, I wrench my shoulder trying to catch myself, and my left knee lands hard on the ground, twisting something in my leg that hurts so much I cry out.

Aidan lets go in an automatic instinct to catch me but has the sense to grab the cart again before it starts rolling backward onto us.

I try to stand up, pain filling my head and clouding my vision. But I can’t. My left leg won’t hold me up. It hurts so much it feels like the blood has all drained from my face. I get dizzy.

“Fuck!” My exclamation is soft but full of feeling. I was doing so good. We were almost there. Now there’s no way in hell I’ll ever win this challenge.

And there’s a good chance I won’t come down off this mountain alive.

“You can’t walk?” Aidan asks.

I shake my head, trying to pull myself to my feet again. This time, I manage to get upright, but only by putting all my weight onto my right leg.

I’m trembling helplessly, nearly blacking out from the fear and shock and pain.

Aidan stands next to me, none of his distinctive features visible except his vivid eyes. They move from me to his cart and then back to me.

There’s no way he can get both me and the cart to the church.

He’s not going to leave his cart behind. He never goes anywhere without it. In it is everything he owns in the world.

And he has no ties of loyalty or responsibility to me. He doesn’t even like me. He’ll be glad if I’m out of his hair for good.

It’s not going to be even a question for him. He won’t struggle over this decision.

Maybe I can crawl my way there.

He makes a rough, helpless sound. I can’t see his expression. Then, as expected, he gently pries my fingers off the handle of his cart.

My knee immediately buckles, and I fall down into the snow.

He pushes his cart away with a strong heave.

He’s leaving me. Of course he is.

I’m not entirely sure, but I might have done the exact same thing if I were in his position.

I watch in a weirdly calm haze as he moves away from me. But then he does something strange. He turns the cart, edging it up against the sheer mountain face beside the road, lodging it in a shallow indentation.

He shakes it a few times, as if testing its security. Then he grabs his go-bag out of the cart and turns around and comes back to me.

I stare up at him in breathless bewilderment. I have absolutely no idea what he’s doing.

“Come on, love,” he says, reaching down for me. “We’ve got to get to that church.”

“W-what?”

He shakes his head. “You really do think I’m a monster, don’t you?”

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