Gray (Book 2) (23 page)

Better to die that way than stay here and be captured, though. She began to climb. The first ten feet were easy—and not only because she knew a fall from only this high was survivable. But as she went further, there were fewer handholds. Finally, she leaned into the rock, took her gloves off with her teeth, and then shoved them in her pockets.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Better to risk frostbite than falling,” she said. She jammed her fingers into a crack, just long enough to pull herself up another foot to a better handhold. When she yanked her fingers out, she felt the skin being scraped off. The cold air began to numb the minor pain almost immediately.

The next few steps were easier, but as she neared the top, the rocks were smoother, with fewer handholds, and harder to get a grip on. The flashlight wasn’t as bright up here, and her own body shielded most of the light.

“Are you okay?” he said, his voice far below her now.

“Great,” she said. She lifted her right foot and let it scrape down, until her boot caught a small crack. She patted the rock as far overhead as she could reach, trying to find a small crack, a ledge, anything. Her left foot was secure and she hated to give up that solid perch.

She couldn’t stand here all night dawdling. She jammed her right foot down on the crack, pressed up and stretched one arm up, reaching, reaching, finally finding something, a lump really, a smaller rounded node on the larger rock. She grabbed it and pulled, hauling herself up. Her left foot wasn’t finding any good place at all to land, and her arm was aching as she hung on. Her other hand found another bump of rock and grabbed it. She glanced up and saw the dim light above her hands disappearing, realizing that the rocks were sloping away. She was almost to the top. She shoved her free boot against the sheer rock face and pushed hard, at the same time pulling with all her might.

Her teeth clanked against the rock as her right foot lifted off its small ledge and she pulled for all she was worth, scrabbling with both feet, getting a two-inch boost from it, and finally getting her chest up to the point where the rocks sloped back more. She wriggled forward like a worm, until half her weight was on top, and then she reached out and found a new grip, yanking herself forward the last crucial foot.

“I’m up,” she called down.

She couldn’t see much at all up here, but she felt around until she had a mental picture. There was a good-sized rock where she could brace her feet when she hauled the bags up. She unwound the rope, put her gloves back on, and called down, “Rope coming.” Then she tossed one end out over the rocks.

The flashlight flipped back on and she leaned over as far as she could dare, shaking the rope out to keep it from catching up on a rock.

“It’s about eight feet too short,” Benjamin said.

“Can you carry the sacks, one at a time, up to the rope? It’s pretty easy climbing the first few feet.”

“I’ll try,” he said.

She heard his grunt as he hefted a sack, and then the sound of him beginning the climb. “Don’t fall,” she said.

“Mmmb nnn,” he said, and she realized he must be holding the flashlight in his mouth.

She waited, impatient, feeling the seconds tick off, and worrying about what was happening back at the cult compound. Had someone awoken and noticed her or Benjamin missing? Snow had continued to fall, but lightly, and she feared they could be tracked by footprints in the new snow.

Another flashlight-caused mumble came from below and she felt the rope move. He was tying the bag on.

“Got it. Haul away,” he said.

She braced herself and hauled hand over hand, as quickly as she could, pausing once to coil the rope around her arms, taking up the slack. The bag slithered over the lip of rock and she pulled it a few feet away from the edge, untied the rope, and tossed one end down again.

She wondered, belatedly, which bag had the dynamite in it. Could you bang the stuff around and blow yourself up, or was it pretty stable? She had no idea. She supposed she’d find out.

Benjamin had the second bag tied on in no time, and again she hauled it up.

When it was halfway up, she heard him say, “I’m coming.”

“No,” she called. “Wait for the rope. It’ll be easier at the top if I can help you.”

He mumbled something that sounded like a complaint, but he waited for her to untie the bag and toss the rope back over.

“Tie it around your waist or under your arms,” she said. “Do it now, before you get to the hard part.”

She leaned over and watched as he started the climb. As he neared her, she wrapped the rope securely around her wrists and took hold, not pulling yet, but keeping the slack out so that if he fell, it wouldn’t be the whole way down.

“Mmm,” she heard him say.

“You to the hard part?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Okay, I’ll start hauling you in ten, nine, eight.” She kept up the countdown and braced her legs, then began to pull.

He was a good deal heavier than a sack, but he was helping when he could, taking some of his weight off the rope. Her arms were killing her, but she refused to give in to the pain and kept hauling, grunting with the effort.

The flashlight’s glow grew stronger, and then she could see his gloved hands appear, reaching, gripping. He pulled himself up the sloped section and the stress on the rope disappeared.

He spat out the flashlight. “Jesus, how did you get up those last few feet alone?”

“I was highly motivated,” she said.

“Thanks for the help.” He untied the rope and took the coiled part from her, opening a sack long enough to toss it in. “Let’s move. Take the flashlight and go first. We’re looking for higher ground, a ridgeline.”

Coral picked a line through the rocks, which looked like stone mushrooms peeking from the snow. She had to go several hundred feet before she had a sense of where the ground was rising, slightly right of the line she had taken, and she shifted their course that way.

More than once, they slipped on the rocks and fell, but they picked themselves up without comment and kept going, as quickly as they could move. As many times as both sacks had been dropped on the rocks, she figured dynamite wasn’t all that unstable, or they’d have been blown to bits by now.

After an hour of fast hiking, the rocks gave way to smooth snow. She stopped. “I’d like some water.”

“Yeah.”

“Let me get out the smaller bottles. We’ll pack ‘em with snow and let our body heat melt them.”

“Won’t be much water.”

“Better than nothing.” She was already opening her sack, which was indeed the right one—the non-dynamite one—and felt around for the bottles. As she packed hers with snow, she said, “Think they know we’re gone yet?”

“If not now, very soon now. The men’s cabin had so many in it, at least a couple of them got up every night to go out. Only takes one to notice I’m not there.”

“When it gets light, we can run.”

“If we’re up for it. They didn’t hurt you, did they? When they did the hair thing?”

“No. They took my clothes—most of them, I mean—and left me to freeze, but I didn’t. It was nothing.”

“They wouldn’t let me come. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. You would have had to put on an act.”

“Not sure I could have kept it up, either.”

“God, Benjamin, for a minute there, I was worried they’d turned you.”

“Turned—like converted me?” He barked a laugh, and then grew sober. “You’d think that of me?”

“I’m sorry. But he told me so, and I started reinterpreting everything, putting the worst possible spin on it. I should have trusted you.”

“No, I get it. You were under a lot more pressure than I was.”

“I’ll never doubt you again.”

He gave her one of his rare smiles. “Never say never.”

“Never,” she said, adamant.

“Let’s get going.”

They lifted their bags again and hurried into the night.

* * *

A few hours later, they agreed to stop for a short rest. They drank the mouthful of water the snow had melted into, and refilled the bottles again. Coral could see him wince as he put the frigid bottle inside his jacket.

“Is it almost dawn, you think?”

“I’m not seeing any light, but it must be getting close,” he said.

After catching their breath, they got to their feet again and hiked on. Soon, light did begin to fade into the gray sky. Another day was dawning. She turned off the flashlight, which was getting dim anyway, and tucked it away.

“I can see a ridgeline, I think,” said Benjamin. “Head over to your right more.”

“I think the snow has stopped.” That was bad news. It hadn’t snowed enough to fill in their tracks. That they had pursuers, both of them took for granted. “Think they’ll just shoot us from a distance, or take us back?”

“I think they’ll shoot me,” he said, giving her a look.

She understood. They’d want her alive. “Could you kill me with the hatchet, do you think, before they captured me?”

“I’m damn sure I couldn’t.”

“I wish we had a gun.”

“So do I, but not for that reason.” He reached over and took her arm, making her stop. “Where there’s life, there’s still hope. If they do recapture you, stay alive. You’ll get another chance to escape.”

“Maybe we should split up?” She didn’t want to, but it would be harder to chase two people than one. And she would bet that if they had to choose, they’d come after her.

“No way. I have a plan. Sort of a half-assed plan, but I have one. We need to get over that ridgeline first.”

“I’m up for jogging. How about you?”

“The sacks aren’t going to make it any easier.”

“I’ll try hugging mine to my chest.” And she did that, and while her running was an ungainly, barely-balanced thing, she was able to get more speed than the night’s trudging. Benjamin grunted but ran alongside her, cradling his own sack of supplies.

When the land rose more sharply, they had to slow to a walk again. They climbed for long minutes before they reached the ridge. Standing there, she could see the sharp line of snow moving off ahead, following the ridge, until it faded into the gray haze of the ashy air.

“Let’s go down a few feet, walk parallel to the ridge, okay?” Benjamin said.

“Fine.” She wasn’t up for more running. It was hard enough to get sufficient oxygen through the mask, and she was growing weary. She’d keep walking all day, though. Anything to put more miles between her and the cult.

It wasn’t fifteen minutes later that they heard a sharp report in the distance.

“Rifle fire,” said Benjamin.

“Was it a signal, do you think?”

“Someone may have found our trail.”

“How far away?”

“A ways, at least a mile. Maybe more.” He looked around and shook his head. “Not here. Let’s keep going.” His voice was quiet, though surely no one could hear them from that distance. He took off in a rapid walk, and she struggled to keep up. Every few minutes, he motioned her to stop, and he climbed alone back up to the peak of the ridgeline. Four times, he trotted back down, shook his head, and moved off again.

The fifth time, he stood at the crest, nodded, and said, “Here.”

“Here what?”

He loped back down the slope. “We make a stand here. If they did find our tracks, we can’t run forever. We’re loaded down, and I bet you they aren’t.”

“So what’s your plan?”

“Dynamite,” he said, and he put his sack on the ground and began removing items. When he had the dynamite unpacked, he repacked everything else. He picked up one of the six-packs of explosive, hefted it, and looked at her. “You should go on. I’ll wait for them.”

“No,” she said.

“Coral—”

“Never again. I won’t be separated from you ever again. You’re my family, Benjamin. I’ll kill first. I’ll die first.”

He looked at her for a long moment, and then said, “Back at you, kiddo.” His voice was tight with emotion.

“Then tell me what to do.”

“Dig us a cave.”

“Really?”

“Not for sleeping, for protection from the blast. Look for a place protected by rocks, and dig down behind them. When this stuff goes off, it’s going to toss some rocks around.
If
it goes off.”

“You don’t know that it’s any good?”

“Nope. But surely some of it is. We’ll trust to luck this once.”

“We’ve had a lot of luck, considering. Like the soup. That was lucky.”

“It was. Speaking of which, let’s have breakfast. Can you chop some meat up while I get this set up?”

“Sure.” She took the piece of meat from earlier, the fat end of the leg he’d hacked off, and set about making strips. Like jerky, but raw and frozen. While Benjamin disappeared over the ridge with the dynamite, she wrapped it all up in her bandana and shoved it under her sweater. Damn, it was cold. But at least they could eat defrosted meat for breakfast in a few minutes.

When he returned, they ate together, and he said, “We shouldn’t talk from now on.”