“Daisy, stop that!”
Then I fling out my arms and discover a warm, furry form. A fresh tongue bath. I don’t mind one bit.
“It’s okay, Frankie. Just relax.”
Luciana is here, too. I clutch her hand.
Miggy, Neil, Scott, Bob. I try so hard to speak the names. Maybe I succeed. It’s hard to know.
I’m moving. Lifted from the ground, carried through space. My shoulder screams; my entire body aches. But I grab onto the pain, hold it close, relish the sensation of still being alive.
“How is he?” Another voice.
“We need immediate evac.”
A sound overhead. The thunder of rotor blades. Chopper.
Our rescue. At last.
* * *
—
Lights. Too bright. I open my eyes, then shut them.
Surroundings. Too white. I glance, then look away.
Sounds. Too loud. I hear, then burrow down.
Miggy. Neil, Scott, Bob.
Miggy. Neil, Scott, Bob.
Names I keep thinking. Names I keep saying.
Names I’ll never forget.
* * *
—
When I next open my eyes, I find myself in a narrow space, surrounded by white curtains. I’m clearly in a hospital bed and attached to a variety of beeping objects. I have a dim memory of my last medical emergency and instinctively try to rub my shoulder. My hand has too many lines sprouting from it to move.
“You’re awake.”
I blink my eyes a few more times and discover Luciana standing in front of me.
I try to croak out my litany of names, but my throat is too dry.
She seems to understand, pouring me a cup of water, then bringing the straw to my lips. I have to take several long sips before I feel the moisture return to my mouth.
“Miguel?”
“Made it out of surgery. They think they got most of the internal bleeding. He’s listed in critical. Another day or two and hopefully we’ll know more.”
I almost can’t say the next two names. “Neil? Scott?”
“A second canine team found them. The sheriff has every available SAR team working those woods right now. Neil is going to be okay. Just needs to rest and recuperate from a pretty severe concussion. Scott.” She hesitates. “They got the bullet out, but he’s lost a lot of blood. His wife is on her way. Best we can do is pray.”
I can’t look at Luciana anymore. I suffer a debilitating sense of failure. I never should’ve suggested my stupid plan. We never should’ve left Scott and Neil. Coulda, woulda, shoulda. The terrible trio that haunts all survivors.
“You?” I ask at last.
Luciana smiles, brings the straw back to my lips. She looks close to her usual gorgeous self, just bruised and battered around the edges. And tired. Very tired.
“I was attacked,” she provides. “Nemeth and I had just completed the steepest portion of the descent. He and Daisy were both ahead of me. And something snagged my ankle. I was upright, then in the next instant went down hard. I thought I’d tripped, tried to get my hands beneath me, when something hard nailed me from behind. I don’t really know what happened after that. When I regained consciousness, I was tied to a tree. No idea where I was or what had happened.
“I was still trying to figure out how to break free, when Daisy appeared. She was missing her vest and covered in mud and twigs, but she’d found me. My pockets had been emptied out. I still had my paracord bracelet, however. I managed to unclasp it and use the razor part to cut through the cords. Then, basically, I followed Daisy back down to civilization. Once I reached Sheriff Kelley, he started planning the rescue. Daisy and I joined the chopper crew, arriving at the top of Devil’s Canyon. A separate group launched from the base. It’s . . . it’s been really busy since then.”
Another hesitation. “They found Bob,” she says softly. “They’re bringing down his body today.” Then her own question: “Marty?”
“There was a man hunting us. Probably who attacked you. He’s the one who killed Bob and hurt Scott and Neil. Miguel and I were trying to get help when he caught up with us. Martin, he came out of nowhere, tackled the man. They both went over the edge of the ravine. Nemeth?” I ask. The fact that she hasn’t mentioned him already has me worried.
Luciana takes a deep breath. “He, uh . . . he’s in pretty bad shape. Looks like he must’ve run back to help me—they found his pack near where I was attacked. But it didn’t go so well for him. Either the hunter left him for dead or he somehow escaped, but he managed to stagger a fair way down the mountain before collapsing near the trail. Marge Santi found him, first thing. Good thing, too, because I don’t think he would’ve made it much longer.”