Chapter Twenty-Four. Jake felt hazy, foggy. Like when she woke up at Kat’s after the crash

Jake felt hazy, foggy. Like when she woke up at Kat’s after the crash. What she wanted more than anything was to hear that soothing, low voice again. It had made her feel safe and protected from the first moment she’d heard it. I hope you’re all right, Kat.

She remembered the intensity of their last moments together. Before the alarm changed everything. Her body felt heated from the memory of their kiss. She relived it, took comfort in it, relaxed into it. She was just drifting off when she felt herself being lifted into the air. Nice dream. Then she was truly asleep.

Kat was grateful for Jake’s pain. It helped her locate the woman. It was getting very hard to see Jake’s trail even with the flashlight because of the accumulation of new-fallen snow. Kat had turned off the light a short while ago and was using her night-vision goggles because she was afraid Jake would hide if she saw someone pursuing her.

Kat paused in her tracks when she heard something break the silence of the night. It was Jake, sobbing, and the sound sent a deep ache of regret to her very core. She felt responsible for causing it. She felt guilty, too, for any momentary doubts about Jake’s intentions. She’d obviously not run because she’d gotten her memory back. She must have been upset by what she’d seen.

Kat continued forward toward the sounds, approaching as quietly as she could. When she got within fifteen feet or so, Jake went quiet. Kat froze. She listened. She crept closer. She leaned over Jake’s prone body. With her goggles on, Kat could see Jake’s eyes were closed. She heard her deep, even breathing and realized she was asleep. Perfect. She’d much rather deal with all of this later at the bunker. She lifted Jake gently but firmly in her arms. Meanwhile, I can think some more about what I’m going to tell you.

She started back, moving as quickly as she could. Stay asleep, Jake. Just stay asleep.

Otter followed the snowmobile tracks with growing anxiety. He could barely make out the slight depression in the snow. He was peering so intently at the track just in front of the sled that he was almost upon the rock wall before he knew it. It stood some twenty to twenty-five feet in front of him. His initial confusion at the sight of the trail dead-ending was quickly replaced by a shrewd appreciation for Hunter’s camouflaged entrance.

He cut the engine and turned off the headlight, plunging him into darkness. He cursed himself for not keeping an eye further forward. Hunter had probably discovered Frank just this way--he’d driven right up on her hideout.

Otter looked around. He could see no cameras. Not that he probably would. It was too dark and there were too many trees around to hide them in. He shrank back against an enormous oak, hiding in its shadow, and waited for a few minutes, his eyes scanning the surrounding area. When nothing happened, he took out a small flashlight with a bright, narrow beam and approached the rock wall.

He flashed the light back and forth along the ground in front of him. The snow in the whole area was flattened by tracks. There had been a lot going on at this spot, but a thin layer of new snow told him no one had been here in the last several minutes. He searched the rock wall for a way in, concentrating on the area that had the largest concentration of tracks.

He was rewarded with the quick discovery of the security panel.

Just a few feet from where Otter stood, Frank lay on the other side of the wall on the sleeping bag, studying the room he was in. There wasn’t much to see. The snowmobiles and generator were lined up along the opposite wall, some ten feet out of his reach. Two small bulbs attached to the generator provided enough light for him to see the rest of the room was nothing but solid concrete, except for the two doors: the panel they’d come through from outside and the steel door Hunter had gone through. Both needed security codes to access.

Frank believed that Hunter meant it when she said she’d reward him for being patient and cooperative. But still he worked at his bindings as surreptitiously as possible, afraid she might be watching him with hidden cameras. His eyes were alert as he strained against the chains and duct tape.

Kat paused on the trek back to the bunker in an open space where the trail seemed to disappear. She made wide sweeps in the snow with her feet, clearing a small area before she gently set Jake down. She kept her left arm behind Jake’s shoulders and sat down beside her, resting Jake’s head against her chest. Jake stirred but didn’t awaken.

Kat flexed her sore arm a few times before retrieving her GPS device from her coveralls. She sighted in their current position and checked the direction and distance to the bunker, whose coordinates were preprogrammed into the instrument.

As she put the GPS away, she studied Jake’s face, composed and serene in sleep. The woman’s earlier sobs of pain rang in Kat’s ears. It was wrenching, the ache she felt at having frightened Jake into running from her. She could think of no convincing explanation she could offer to Jake for what had happened, except some version of the truth. She didn’t know precisely what Jake had seen and what she’d heard. But how much of the truth do I tell her? That would depend a lot, Kat guessed, on what Jake’s reaction was when she woke up.

Kat’s mind went back to the engine sounds she’d heard earlier. She had to get moving. The long night wasn’t over yet. Kat scooped Jake up and started off in the direction of the bunker.

Otter stared at the security panel. He studied its housing and how it was affixed to the wall. But he didn’t dare touch it, afraid it would alert Hunter of his presence. He wished now he’d spent more of his prison sentence reading up on electronic gadgetry. He’d never been good at it, and there had been too many advances while he’d been serving his time.

He stepped away from the wall and shined his flashlight beam around the area, searching in an ever-expanding circle. He could barely make out a single foot trail that led away from the wall, around the hill. He didn’t really want to wander far from the snowmobile. It was still snowing and he knew he could easily lose his way. But he had committed himself to this. The way back to the crash site was surely covered up by now, so he had to find a way into Hunter’s hideout.

He began following the foot trail. It was very hard to see near the exposed rock wall but a bit easier once it led into the woods, where the new snow hadn’t accumulated quite as much. Otter followed it for several minutes, up the hill and through the dense woods. He was startled to see a light through the trees in front of him.

When he crested the hill, he found the source. In the clearing just ahead, a large round metal hatch stood wide open, light pouring from within. He approached with caution. This is just too easy. A trap?

Дата добавления: 2015-10-30