Page 62 of Bad Rio

In moments, she found the scooter exactly where Rio had stashed it in the brush. The plane and its laconic pilot took off.

As dawn broke, she bullied a half-conscious Rio into swinging his leg over the seat. He was exhausted and wounded, but she exhorted him to hang onto her as she wended her way up back roads and through trees. Fortunately, she remembered how to find the cabin.

All the snow had melted, and even most of the mud had dried. The weather had eased and rather than the bone-chilling cold it had been before, the air was merely cool and mild.

Later, she didn’t know how she managed to get the food, clothing, medicine, and Rio through the close-growing trees and into the cabin, but she did it.

Barring the door, she turned on the lantern and helped Rio to the bed. For the first time in hours, she was able to take a deep breath.

At least for now, they were safe.

****

“Water,” Rio croaked, hours later. “Need water.”

Beside him and under the quilts, Becca woke with a start. It was early afternoon. She put her hand on his forehead. No fever, thank goodness. He tried to sit up, grimaced in pain, and sank onto the pillow again to close his eyes.

Pushing back her mussed hair, she scrambled off the bed and went to the cooler. The night before, she’d carefully placed their food and water bottles inside. In the bag of food the woman had generously given her, she was surprised to find a new pistol magazine, and guessed it was for Rio’s Glock. She set it aside, next to his gun. In the bag was also, happily, a pound of ground coffee, a trial-sized shampoo, and toothbrush and toothpaste. Bless that woman.

At the bottom of the cooler, she found blue ice freezer packs that were still cool and packed them around the food. Inside, she found peanut butter, crackers, and more tinned peaches. Even a couple of cans of soup. Good. Not all of their food would be perishable.

She brought Rio water and held the bottle to his mouth. Weakly, he sipped.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Great,” he said. His voice sounded gravelly. “Ready for some tackle football.”

She smiled. “Sure thing, tough guy. I guess you won’t need the painkillers the doctor gave me for you.”

He opened one eye. “You have drugs? Gimme.”

“First, we have to get some food down you so you won’t throw them back up.” Back at the cooler, she dug through the various packages. “How about somecarnitasin a soft tortilla? I don’t have any way to heat them, though.”

“I don’t care.”

She eyed the cold fireplace. On the mantle was a screwdriver and a box of matches. “Do you think it’d be safe for us to use the fireplace now?”

On the pillow, he moved his head. “Nobody knows we’re in this country, right? Even if they find out, they won’t know where we are. And the cartel isn’t looking for you anymore. We’d just be another cabin in the woods burning wood.”

That made her happy. “I’ll go out and gather up a big bunch of dry tinder a little later. Now, let’s eat and I’ll give you a pill.”

She got him up in bed and propped against the wall. Like a companionable old couple, they ate together. After he drank more water, she gave him a powerful painkiller and a dose of antibiotics. He lay back, thoroughly exhausted.

“You rest,” she told him. “I’m going to scout around, get some firewood.” Already he was falling asleep.

Because the air was still nippy, she put on her borrowed coat and ventured outside. The sun shone brightly and the sky was blue and clear. Exploring around the cabin, she moved carefully but saw no mountain lion tracks. Hopefully, the big cat had moved on. As she checked the area, she had new appreciation for how hidden they were. Walking through the trees below the ledge, which had been ice-covered only days before, she came to the choke point and peered at the mountainside.

Several hundred feet up in altitude, she could see snow and ice. That was good.

Not far from the shack, she found abundant dry wood. From her childhood days at sleepover camp, she remembered that wood burned fast. They’d need a lot of it. For an hour she worked, gathering sticks and short logs she thought were small enough to fit inside the tiny hearth. She built up quite a pile beside the door. To get the fire going, she also collected armloads of dried pine needles.

Carrying in enough to last through the coming night, and making a pile on the floor, she saw that Rio was sound asleep. Quietly, she set a new bottle of water beside him and took one for herself. Into her coat pocket, she stuffed two plastic bags and the blue frozen packs. On the mantle beside the matches she found the screwdriver, and slipped it into her jacket.

She planned to climb the mountain and get some of that ice. Their cooler wasn’t cold enough to preserve their food and she was determined to stay for as long as it took, nursing Rio until he was recovered. With ice, their cache of food would last days. At the last minute, she stashed one of the small nut packets in her pocket. It would be a long climb.

Rio slept on.

Quietly, she let herself outside and began the trek. She climbed, step after step.

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