Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“Rock! Rock! Rock!” I shouted out of habit from my years of SAR and rock climbing. “Rockslide! Fuck.”
The entire ground below me was moving back down in the direction I’d come from, and if I didn’t act fast, I was going with them. The sound of Chickie’s barking came through the thick fog, along with a muffled shout.
“Foster?”
Tommy’s voice barely made it to my ears as I scrambled forward toward the thin plume of smoke and away from the sliding rocks below me.
“Stay there!” I shouted. “Stay back!”
The sound of his voice brought with it a new urgency to get to him, to make sure he was okay. To… to, I wasn’t sure. Keep him safe. Tell him how I felt. That the past four hours had been some of the worst of my life, thinking he was alone and hurt in a storm.
I moved as quickly as possible from one boulder to the next in search of stable ground, but I was being carried down the slope, almost in slow motion.
Thankfully, the side of the saddle with Tommy on it, with safety and a warm fire, was out of the path of the rockslide, but the side I was on seemed hell-bent on creating the same path of devastation and broken trees that I’d seen west of here. I felt like a lumberjack trying to stay on a spinning log in the river without being flung into the icy depths.
“Foster!”
The ground continued to shift under me as I tried to determine the safest way forward. I clawed at the rocks higher on the mountain and tried climbing up them. Smaller rocks hit others and bounced into my legs and feet. My hands slipped on the slick granite as I scrabbled to keep hold.
“Tommy!” I cried, hoping to god Chickie didn’t try and come to me. “Find Chickie and hold her! Stay back!”
His safety was the last thought I had before the ground disappeared beneath my feet.
24
TOMMY
It was like a scene out of a horror movie. One minute, Foster was there, fighting for his life as the rocks tried their best to fling themselves down the mountain, and the next, he was gone.
“Foster!” My panicked shriek seemed to fill the entire canyon as I raced as close as I could without losing my own footing. Chickie’s collar dug into my palm as I struggled to hold her. All the hair on her back stood on end, and she barked in Foster’s direction. “Wait, baby,” I pleaded, unsure whether I was asking it of the dog or the man. “Wait.”
My eyes watered as I refused to blink, scanning the spot where I’d last seen him. Suddenly, I saw movement and raced forward just in time to see the dark green tip of his rain jacket hood appear.
“Please,” I whispered. “Foster? What can I do? Should I find some rope?”
I didn’t have any rope, but I would cut off the straps from my pack and yank out the water tube from my hydration system if I needed to.
His hands appeared, reaching for another handhold on a large, wet boulder. I edged closer until I could reach him safely, clasping his wrist in one hand while trying to control Chickie with the other.
“Got you,” I said, finally seeing his face. There was a laceration on his eyebrow and cheek, the blood mixing with rain to form a pink stream down into his stubbled jaw. His hands seemed to be protected by gloves, but the gloves were definitely trashed.
When he reached the side of the boulder closest to me and realized he was finally on solid ground, he stumbled into me and grabbed me in a filthy, wet hug, burying his cold nose in my neck.
His entire body trembled with adrenaline, but the first words out of his mouth were “Are you hurt?”
I didn’t dare loosen the arms I had tight around him. “No. I was safe and warm until I heard you cry out. I didn’t even realize Chickie was scratching at the door.”
At the reminder of the little hunting shack, I pulled back and yanked Foster toward it. “There’s shelter and a fire. Come on.”
Foster was bruised and filthy, soaking wet and freezing. His radio squawked with increasingly panicked voices, but he didn’t seem to notice. When I got him inside. I began pulling his wet outerwear off, starting with the radio on his jacket.
With my free hand, I thumbed the radio. “Marian to base. Blake and I are safe. Repeat. Tommy Marian and Foster Blake are safe.”
“Thank fuck,” Trace said. “Location status.”
“There was a rockslide on Devil’s Backbone saddle. Current location is hunter’s shack just north of the saddle. Will shelter in place for now. Over.”
There was a pause before he came back over the radio. “We heard about the rockslide. Is it impeding your return? Over.”