Page 68 of Raven's Curse
Greer moved to the tether, shaking her head as she started sawing through the line. “Rope’s thick. This might take a few minutes.”
Atticus grumbled something under his breath. “Not sure we have many of those left.”
“Well, if you’d rather start gnawing at it, be my guest. Otherwise, I’ll keep going with the knife.”
“Glad you still have your sense of humor. We’ll need it when everything goes to shit.”
Greer laughed. “I honestly don’t know how Mackenzie puts up with you.”
Atticus relaxed against the ground. “She doesn’t really have a choice.”
Greer shook her head, still working the rope, when another lightning pulse brightened the sky, the nearby thunderclap shaking the ground. The wind increased, bending trees along the perimeter, an ominous shift tightening the air.
She sawed harder, finally cutting through the last few fibers. The line to the post fell, a finger of white amidst the muddy brown. She turned back to Atticus, gave him a quick body sweep. He cursed when she pressed on his right side, his breathing labored with a distinctive wheeze rattling through his chest.
Atticus shoved her away. “I’m fine. Nothing a stiff drink won’t cure.”
“You’ve got a nasty head injury, and what I suspect are a couple cracked ribs. Nothing life threatening, yet, but based on how badly you’re shivering — the blue cast to your lips — hypothermia’s already kicking in.”
“You worry too much, you know that Greer?” He motioned to the tower, every small movement drawing a resulting grunt. “We should take cover before it gets any worse.”
She nodded, helping him up, when a crack split the air, another strike lighting up the sky. The bolt hit the tower, arcing down the side, splitting the wood with an ear-piercing hiss. Flames shot out from the base, licking at the raised platform as the ground shook, more cracks filling the air.
The tower swayed, then tilted, bending toward them at some ungodly angle. The support beams cracked, everything sliding forward as the tower pitched, hanging on a forty-five before finally giving way.
Greer grabbed Atticus by the arm, took him with her as she jumped into the water, sinking beneath the dark surface just as the tower hit the bank, shattering into several pieces. Chunks hit the water, stabbing at them like spears before the current took over — dragged both of them downstream.
Silt and debris clouded the water, stinging her eyes when she opened them, trying to get her bearings. She hit a rock, nearly blacked out, before the current spit them out. Greer crested the surface, gasping in air, Atticus coughing and spitting in front of her. She held on, kept his head above the surface, the torrent bouncing them off the stones like a pinball. She reached out, snagged a root, then slammed them against a midstream boulder.
Atticus clawed at the wet surface, finally scrambling halfway up as Greer hauled them the rest of the way, collapsing beside him on the cold rock. Thunder rumbled overhead, more lightning sizzling around them.
She took a moment to breathe, chest tight, every inch bruised from the punishing rocks. But at least they weren’t dead.
Yet.
Atticus groaned, and she pushed herself upright. Skin ashen, hands shaking, the man looked a breath away from death.
She leaned over, checked his pulse. “Shit.”
He coughed, shoved her off. “Don’t be so dramatic. I’ve been hurt worse and still dragged my ass from behind enemy lines.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky, and some tangos will pop up. Motivate you.”
He chuckled, cursing as he grabbed his ribs. “You did that on purpose.”
“Maybe a little.” She glanced at the shoreline, sighing at the dark edge undercut by thick mud. No way to scramble over it in these conditions. Not that the other side was any better, the bank a mass of fallen pine and bits of broken bridge. A patchwork of deadfall she’d be lucky to climb over without impaling herself.
Atticus tsked. “Don’t even think it. Even if you scaled one of the sides, you’d be knocked unconscious before you ever reached the edge. The current’s too strong, too choked with branches. We’re lucky we landed here without major injuries.”
Greer rubbed where she’d headbutted that boulder. “Speak for yourself.”
He smiled, grunting when the rock shifted, a large log bobbing to the surface a moment later. “Though, staying might not be an option for much longer, either. River’s rising, and it’s only going to get more congested.”
She motioned to her backpack. “Chase threw in some gear. I could probably tie us on, but…”
“Not a good option if we suddenly need to escape.”
“Lightning can’t strike three times, can it?”
