Page 64 of Survive the Night
An idea flared to life in his head, and he shot forward in his SUV. It was a long shot and slightly insane, but he knew where he’d have brought Sarah if this had happened with her in town.
Gordon Schwartz’s militia compound.
* * *
The tunnel seemed to go on forever. Sarah forged on, though, checking every few minutes to make sure that all of the animals were still tagging along. The monotony of the passageway was a blessing, because Bean could find nothing out of the ordinary to spook at. They reached a ladder that led to a trapdoor in the ceiling. Sarah looked at it longingly before trudging past.
Gradually, the passageway began to look more like a mining tunnel than a hallway. The ceiling grew lower, and Sarah began to worry about Bean. He could fit as long as he kept his head down, but, if anything startled him, he could easily crack his head against the rock above. She shortened the lead line, hoping she’d be able to keep his head down if something jumped out at them.
The space between lightbulbs was getting longer, and Sarah considered pausing so she could pull out her flashlight. She decided to keep walking, needing to get out of the tunnel that was getting increasingly claustrophobic.
A frigid breeze blew through the tunnel, making her shiver and use her free hand to tug her coat zipper higher. Mort trotted ahead of them, his head raised as he sniffed at the air. As realization struck, Sarah’s hand froze at her collar. If the wind was getting in, then they had to be close to an exit.
Excitement filled her. Despite the snow and Aaron’s goons and all the dangers of being out in the open, Sarah was just so happy to be getting out of the tunnel. The passageway curved to the right, and then the wind really hit them, so cold that Sarah lost her breath. Snow blew into the tunnel, sharp pebbles that stung her face. Ducking her chin into her collar, she walked forward, leading Bean.
Right in front of the exit, the ceiling dropped another foot. Sarah paused, eyeing the level of the rock and comparing it to the height of Bean’s withers. If he kept his head down, she was pretty sure he could squeak underneath, but that was a pretty big if, especially with the wind and snow smacking them in the face.
Sarah held her breath and kept the hand holding the lead line low as she walked quickly toward the trouble spot. Bean hesitated after his head and half of his neck were under the lowest point, and Sarah’s heart squeezed with anxiety. Giving an encouraging cluck, she tugged on the lead rope. After a moment, he moved reluctantly forward, keeping his head down. As soon as his tail cleared, she blew out all the breath she had been holding, feeling light-headed with relief.
She did another count, making sure all the animals were accounted for. Mort was waiting for them at the entrance, not seeming to feel the wind that was blasting him. Now that they were at the end of the tunnel, she felt a jolt of fear at leaving its secure walls. It was stupid to go out in a blizzard. Maybe they should just stay in the protective shelter of the cave until the snow stopped.
Shoving back her cowardly thoughts, Sarah moved out into the open, gasping as the full force of the wind hit her. If there was any way for her to help Otto and her newfound friends, she couldn’t just cower in a cave.
Squinting against the wind, she looked around. They were about a quarter of the way up the ridge to the east of Otto’s property. The fire engulfing the remains of his house were a blazing you-are-here sign. The destruction of their home had one upside.
“Glass half full, I guess,” Sarah said with a choked laugh.
She was glad that they weren’t very far up the side of the mountain, since she’d worried that they’d come out at the very peak, and she’d have to put Bean into climbing gear. There was a trail—or what looked like one, since it could’ve been anything under the thick layer of snow—that led down toward the road that passed in front of Otto’s driveway.
It looked so far away, though, that Sarah wanted to cry. It felt like they’d already walked so far, had too many scares, fought enough dangers. The distant road seemed to be mocking her. She was tempted to sit down in the snow and give up. At the thought, she gave herself a mental shake. Giving up was not an option. The animals were depending on her, and Otto—although he might not know it—was counting on her to help them. Besides, she’d been through worse—much worse.
Pulling her shoulders back, she took the first step onto the snowy trail. “No sense standing here and getting cold.” She shivered as the wind tossed a handful of snow down her coat collar. “Well, colder.”
Bean followed, surprisingly docile. Sarah wondered if all the experiences of the night had blown the horse’s mind, and he just didn’t have it in him to bother being scared anymore. Either that, or he was just tired. Whatever the reason for his calmness, Sarah was grateful. If he spooked, he could jump right off the edge of the trail and down the rocky cliff.
Mort, of course, squeezed ahead of them to take the lead, and Xena followed right behind and to the side of Sarah. At first, Sarah worried about Xena getting stepped on, but Bean walked far enough behind that he didn’t crowd the dog. Hortense was at the very back of their odd train, and she was obviously not happy about the entire situation. She would stop abruptly, refusing to walk forward. When the group got far enough ahead of her, she would trot to catch up and then start the whole process again.
Sarah decided that she loved her boots even more than she’d initially thought. The snow wasn’t deep enough to go over the tops, and her feet were warm and cozy. The sagging, too-large snow pants were somewhat annoying, but she appreciated the warmth and dryness enough that she didn’t take them off. The fabric cut the wind, too, so the only parts of her that were cold were her face and neck and fingers.
In fact, she was soon sweating. Lifting her foot to clear the snow with each step was exhausting. Unused to the motion, her thighs ached and burned, and she dreaded how they would feel the next day. At the thought, though, she quit mentally whining. She wasn’t sure what would happen tomorrow. Would she be dead, or back in Texas with Aaron’s thugs, or mourning Otto or Jules or Grace or—
Abruptly, she cut off her imagination. Instead, she tried to plan. When she reached Monroe, she’d track Otto down. He’d know of a place they could stash Bean and Hortense, and then they could… Her planning petered out there. She wasn’t sure how they could stop Aaron and his goons. Would the Monroe police be able to stop them? There were so few officers in town right now, with the winter decrease plus those off at training. Maybe they could call the county sheriff’s department, or the state police, or even the FBI. Bombing a town seemed bad enough for the feds to get involved.
As Sarah considered the options, she moved between two pine trees and saw that they’d reached the road. A spurt of elation faded when she realized how much more walking they needed to do before reaching town. Bean stepped forward and blew warm, moist air on the back of her neck.
She turned to eye him appraisingly. “Will you kill me if I ride you?” she asked him. Despite his mellow attitude since they’d left the tunnel, it could be a whole different story—as in a story about a bucking horse at a rodeo—if Sarah got on him…bareback. Without a bridle. She was starting to think it was a very bad idea, but then she looked at the road stretching in front of them. It was just over nine miles. She did not want to walk nine more miles in the snow.
Determined to at least give it a try, Sarah led Bean toward a snow-covered downed pine lying just off the road and lined his left side up to it. She climbed onto the log, and Bean rolled an eye at her before swinging his haunches away from the tree. Hopping off, Sarah realigned the horse and stepped onto the log and threw her right leg over his back before he could move away again.
Once on his back, Sarah went still, trying to be ready for anything—bucking, bolting, rearing, or a little of all three. Instead, he froze, except for the twitching of his muscles. When Sarah realized that she was waiting for him to move, and he was waiting for her to move, she laughed in a small, relieved huff.
Giving him a gentle squeeze with her legs, Sarah shifted her weight to turn him, relaxing a little more when he responded easily. Xena whined anxiously from the ground.
“It’s okay, Xena,” Sarah said. “I’m still here, just taller. Let’s go find Otto.”
The dog’s scarred ears pricked up, either from her name or Otto’s. Sarah steered Bean down the middle of the road at a brisk walk. Sitting on a warm horse was already better than shuffling through the snow. Turning her head, she did an animal count. Xena was next to Bean, and Hortense had given up on her attempt at passive aggression. Looking resigned, the goat had fallen in behind Bean.
Instead of leading, Mort had turned into Otto’s driveway.
