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  Brook saw red. Just like that, her life was going to end. Just like that, they were going to clean her up and kill her. Inside, her soul cried out at the injustice of it all; her entire being rose up in a tidal wave of outrage. She lowered her head and charged Gina, taking the girl totally by surprise, bashing her into the rear of the closet, and tumbling her to the floor. Brook slammed the door closed, grabbed the wooden chair, and jammed it under the doorknob.

  Almost immediately, Gina began pounding on the door and rattling the knob. The small space muffled her furious yells. Turning, Brook ran. She entered the living room, and slid to a stop. There on an end table sat her purse. Brook grabbed it, flung open the front door, and bolted outside. The cold air assaulted her senses but she didn’t slow, didn't even notice the pine needles and twigs that sliced at the soles of her bare feet. She ran to the first car she saw and slid into the driver’s seat. No keys. Sobbing, Brook tumbled out, falling to her knees. She regained her footing, slipped on wet leaves but remained upright, rushed to the only other car in the drive, and peered through the window. There, shining like a lighthouse beacon guiding lost sailors safely to shore was a key chain with the ignition key nestled in the slot. Jumping into the car, she twisted the key. The motor roared to life and Brook slammed the car into gear just as a shot rang out, issuing from within the house. Brook stomped on the gas pedal. As the car careened down the drive, she glanced in the rearview mirror. Gina burst out the front door, screaming for her to stop. She saw Gina raise her arm, and heard gunshots. Brook accelerated as Gina fired several times, showering the car with bark as the slugs missed the vehicle and slammed into nearby trees. The car roared down a driveway that was nothing but two bumpy ruts tunneling through close-growing trees and brush. Brook finally reached the end of the long drive, turned onto the road, and sped away from the house of torture. She realized she had been screaming, “yes, yes, yes” repeatedly and stopped herself. But she didn’t feel safe yet. There was another car and Gina might be following her already. Brook kept checking the road behind her, but no one appeared.

  The day was turning dark already. Brook found the headlight controls but decided not to turn them on until she absolutely had to. Shivering from cold and terror, she flipped on the heater. Moments later, satisfying warmth began to flow over her naked body. At the first road she came to, Brook turned right. She used this strategy, turning first left, then right, and then left again until side roads disappeared and she could turn no more. The road was becoming narrower and steeper as it wound higher into the mountains. Ruts filled with water impeded her progress and she had to go slower than she wanted. But still, she was moving further away from her captors; or so she prayed. She had no idea where the men had gone or from which direction they would return; hopefully it would not be along this road.

  Brook abruptly remembered the cell phone in her purse. She could get help now. She slowed, pulled the phone out, dialed 911, and held it to her ear. Nothing. Moving the phone from her ear, she fumbled and it slipped from her hand and fell to the seat. She swore in frustration. Snatching the phone up again, she discovered the screen was black and pressed the power button, but still nothing happened. The battery was dead. Brook threw the phone against the window and it bounced back and hit her in the shoulder. Cursing, she sped up.

  After an hour, the darkness was complete and Brook drove with headlights beaming ahead. The road was muddy and slick from yesterday’s rain, and dotted with jutting stones. She hoped she would not tear something off the bottom of the car and find herself stranded. Trees loomed on either side before suddenly giving way to deep ravines; there were no guardrails in the wilderness. The initial rush of escaping was over, and her adrenaline drained away. Brook drove slower, growing sleepy, seeking shelter and someone to help her.

  Blinking with drowsiness, Brook barely had time to react when a deer stepped into the road in front of her. Wrenching the steering wheel hard to the left, she inadvertently set the car into a spin, missing the deer by inches before the animal leapt from the road and disappeared. In a split second, Brook realized the car was going to go off the side of the road. Reacting instinctively, she threw open the door and jumped. She landed in the muddy road with a splat, uninjured. The car spiraled by inches from her before disappearing down the steep embankment. Brook scrambled to her feet and was taking a step back from the edge of the ravine when the ground gave way. She plummeted into darkness. Sliding and rolling down the scree slope, smashing small shrubs, and banging painfully into tree trunks, she finally came to a stop when her head made contact with a boulder. Blackness descended and Brook knew nothing.

  Chapter 12

  That night, as Lance settled into bed with a book, he reflected on his day. He had picked up a few more staples while in town dropping off Old Reliable and carted them home in his backpack. He now felt well stocked for winter, and it was a good feeling. He hadn’t completed the electric fence project, finding it more of a challenge than he had at first thought it would be with all the trees and brush in the way.

  The area he finally chose would not provide much in the way of forage for Belinda and Gilbert, and he didn’t know about trying to fence in the wilder goats. That damned cougar! He was uneasy, but conceded he would have to reconsider his layout and finish the work tomorrow. Wherever he put the enclosure, it needed to be close enough to the cabin that he would hear if his livestock encountered danger. He wanted to be able to protect his animals.

  For tonight, he was comfortably drowsy and all he wanted to do was relax. Lance read until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. He rolled over onto his side and fell into a deep slumber as a cold thin breeze crept around the mountainside, probing for chinks in between the logs, unable to penetrate his cozy den.

  Chapter 13

  Brook slowly regained consciousness, blinking into darkness, feeling the cold slide its icy fingers over her nakedness as she tried to remember where she was. With amazing clarity, everything flooded back. The days of captivity and abuse, her escape, the deer stepping into the path of the car she had stolen, and her headlong tumble into the ravine. Enormous relief washed through her at the realization that she had escaped, that she was still alive. Then the gravity of the situation sobered her.

  She had no idea where she was and not a clue what to do next. Physical discomfort demanded her attention, and she slowly took note of her injuries, running her hands gently over her body. Cuts and scrapes covered her from head to toe. Her eyes were puffy, and one opened only a mere slit. Pain radiated from just behind her left ear. Carefully probing the spot, she found a tender lump, the skin unbroken. She ticked off the injuries in her mind and added a few more. Bruised or cracked ribs. Sore mouth. Abdomen that felt like she had just finished a hundred sit-ups, and the unrelenting torment between her legs. And to top off everything, she now had to endure the cold.

  In an effort to calm her violent shivering, she hugged herself. Her naked skin felt like ice. She stood on trembling legs, slipped a little, caught herself, and peered into the surrounding darkness. At first, she saw nothing, but then she detected a glimmer of light below her. A house? Her heart beat rapidly against her chest. Help? Please let it be help. She started to call out but stopped herself. What if they're around? The thought silenced her.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, Brook made her way down, toward the light. Sharp stones tore at the soles of her feet, eliciting small whimpers of pain. She moved cautiously, testing every step before putting down her full weight, unable to avoid the jagged edges of rock. As she drew nearer, the insistent beeping of an open vehicle door disturbed the quiet, and she realized the light she saw was from the dome light of a car. The car she had taken. The car she had leapt from before it crashed into this ravine. Her heart fell.

  With nowhere else to go, Brook continued easing her way down the slope. At least the car would offer shelter from the night.

  Arriving at the vehicle, she found it cocked to one side, leaning towards the passenger side, front end br
aced precariously against a small tree. She crawled up and into the car, thankful to have a place out of the cold, out of the dark and unknown. Her weight caused the car to shift ominously, but it held its position. Brook sighed in disappointment. She had hoped the interior would still be warm, but the cold had already insinuated itself and there was no comfort.

  Cowering on the seat she turned the key, hoping to run the heater. The starter clicked and the motor remained silent. Damn it! I’m so cold, so cold! She rubbed her arms briskly, attempting to generate some heat but the chill was too intense.

  Aware the car could topple at any second, she kept her motions deliberate and slow as she scoured the interior for anything useful. The vehicle settled slightly, and Brook held her breath for a long moment before resuming her search. She found a man’s long-sleeved shirt and slipped it on, thankful for the cover even though it stank of sweat and grease. Huddling into it, she sought any semblance of warmth she could find. She was disappointed to find nothing further of use. No shoes, no food, nothing but the shirt. Not even matches she could use to start a fire. She did, however, find her purse. She held it close; at least she had something that belonged to her. Lying on the floor was the dead phone. Brook leaned down carefully, picked it up, and placed it back in her bag. It may not work, but it’s mine.

  Easing one of her painful and freezing feet into her lap, Brook examined the sole, horrified by the sight. Oh god! Oh god, my poor feet. How will I ever walk! Long moments passed as she fought the panic that threatened to overwhelm her.

  I’ll stay with the car. If I’m careful not to move too much, it should be okay. Someone will see it come daylight and I’ll be safe. She sat very still for a couple of minutes. But what if it’s Jase and his men? Oh god, what should I do?

  Eventually, Brook recognized the need to put distance between her and the vehicle. She crawled out and flinched when rocks again gouged her bare feet. I need something, something to put on my feet. Reaching into the car, she rummaged around under the seats and found nothing. She stood and stared into the interior. The seat covers. Maybe I can rip them up!

  Climbing carefully back into the car, she dug in her bag and grabbed her tiny travel sewing kit. Removing the scissors, she plunged them into the seat and began cutting in earnest. Working frantically, she tuned out everything around her; she forgot where she was; she forgot the cold. Finally, she had enough material to cover one foot. But, it had taken a long time.

  Pulling her foot up, she placed the strip against her sole and realized she had no way to hold it there. God, please help me! Please! Brook remained motionless, crying silent tears. Her thoughts cleared a little and she looked down at the shirt she was wearing. An idea came to her. She cut a couple of narrow strips from the shirt, pulled the upholstery over her foot and tied it on near her toes and around her ankle. It works!

  She cut more strips from the shirt and then worked vigorously to obtain a second piece of upholstery. Halfway through, the tiny scissors broke with a snap. No, no, no! Brook sobbed in frustration, near defeat. But her will to survive was strong, and she remembered that she had a nail file in her purse. Fumbling through the bag with cold fingers, she found the file and began to saw at the fabric. It took even longer than the small scissors had, but she eventually had her second ‘shoe’. Batting stuck to her hand and she slapped it away before stopping abruptly. Batting! Stuffing! I can use this for cushioning. She quickly removed the first ‘shoe’, added batting, and then tied it on again, repeating the steps for her other foot. Brook was elated; at least one of her problems was solved. She was partly clothed and now had provided a couple of layers of insulation between her flesh and the cold ground. Thrusting a fist skyward in a gesture of triumph, she shouted, “Yes!” Immediately, she slapped her hand over her mouth, afraid her captors might be around to hear her.

  The car rocked gently, and Brook froze until it settled once more. Staring out the windshield at the blackness, she wondered how she would find her way out of this predicament. The dome light flickered, drawing her attention to her vulnerability. She felt exposed and knew she couldn't afford the luxury of lingering. Her sense of self-preservation urged her to leave the car as soon as possible.

  Climbing down from the vehicle, Brook winced as her feet touched the ground. Still, the ‘shoes’ were a vast improvement over walking barefoot. She gritted her teeth against the pain, anxious to get moving. It was imperative that she find help. She looked in all directions, trying to pierce the darkness. The surrounding peaks were black jagged shadows against the charcoal gray of the night sky, the moon hidden behind clouds. The road should be up, but so was the danger that Jase would find her. Knowing how easy it would be to get lost in the forest, she felt she had no choice but to make her way down the slope. She would hide until daylight and then climb to the road. Even then, she would have to be wary. They might come looking for her. But at least she knew the road led somewhere. All she had to do was survive one more night and then she could find help. But, it was so cold.

  Finally, with reservations, she abandoned the car. Senses on high alert, she took in her surroundings. It was impossible to see much in the thick darkness, and she concentrated on listening. Subtle rustlings filled the night with furtive sound. Her ears also detected trickling water nearby, and she turned in that direction. Taking small steps and testing the ground before her, she gingerly descended. Using sound to guide her, Brook eventually found the stream. Careful as she was, she still scraped her bare legs on unseen branches and brambles and stubbed her toes on half-buried rocks. Reaching the bank, she fell to her knees and drank deeply from the icy water until her stomach rebelled. Twisting to the side, she vomited. Head hung, she remained on her hands and knees until her stomach quieted. Cautioning herself to take it slowly, she drank again, pausing for a few minutes after each swallow for her stomach to settle. Eventually, her thirst was sated, but her hands burned from the cold water. She clasped her palms and stuck them between her legs, holding them there for a several minutes. When they had warmed slightly, she probed the darkness, trying to choose her next course of action, but she couldn't see well enough to make an educated decision. She finally determined to follow the small rivulet as it babbled along. She'd put distance between the crash site and herself. She'd hide. Then, in the morning, she'd decide whether it was safe to return to the site and make her way to the road.

  Cloud cover broke away from the moon’s face, granting her a weak illumination. She still relied heavily on the sound of the stream to guide her steps. Praying for help, she wandered away from the road and deeper into the forest.

  Time stretched; moments became surreal and dreamlike. The wind had died down, but the cold still nipped at her skin like an invisible wolf. Her legs felt heavy and Brook stumbled in weariness. She sat on a downed tree to retie one of her foot coverings, leaned forward, and almost fell on her face as dizziness overcame her. Cradling her head until the episode passed, she retied the strip around her foot. It broke in her hands and she sat holding the pieces, overwhelmed by misery. She just couldn’t bring herself to take one more step on her aching and swollen feet. To move one more inch with her sore and ravaged body.

  Kneeling beside the fallen tree, she felt for a place that would provide some respite from the cold. Squeezing into a slight gap near the forest floor, she nestled under the tree and pulled leaves and twigs over her body. She left her wayward ‘shoe’ flopping from her foot and curled up around her bag, holding it close to her chest as shivers racked her body. Her teeth chattered so hard against each other that they ached. She wondered how long a body could endure these temperatures with next to no clothing. Tomorrow, I will find help. Repeating these words over and over, Brook’s thoughts drifted away, and finally, she slept. Sometime during the night, clouds rolled over the moon, thrusting the landscape into blackness. A light snow began to fall.

  Chapter 14

  After a hurried breakfast, Lance stepped from his cabin into a frosty world of white and looked up at th
e sky. Metallic gray clouds hung like ghosts overhead, promising more snow. He made his way to the goat shed and released Gilbert and Belinda for their last day of freedom, at least for a while. He wondered if he should keep them penned today, but he pushed his doubts aside and got busy on his fence project.

  The hours passed quickly and the snow began to fall again. He cursed the weather; he needed sunshine to activate his fence. His mood darkened and he vowed to go hunting later, if he could pick up the trail. Stupid lion in heat, he thought. She’ll attract males and before you know it, no animal in the area will be safe. Scolding himself for his procrastination on the fence project and well aware there was no way he’d complete the task today, he decided he had best put the goats in the shed early and gear up for a hunt. He couldn’t shake his uneasy feeling.

  Chapter 15

  Brook’s eyes opened to whiteness. The ground and trees appeared to have been sprinkled with powdered sugar. Any other time it would have been beautiful; now it was just cold and miserable. She pushed away her covering of leaves and sat up, riding out a violent spate of shivers. She had spent a miserable night fading in and out of terrifying dreams, hauled from sleep repeatedly by pain and cold. At one point, she had heard a loud snuffling close by and feared it was a bear, or worse. She had held very still, and whatever it was moved away. It was even harder to sleep after that.

  Glancing down, she was shocked by the condition of her feet. They were swollen to nearly twice their normal size and the pain was intense. Already, ominous possibilities hung over her; frightening words like 'gangrene' and 'frostbite' echoed in her head. Removing her makeshift foot coverings, she noticed blood had soaked through in many places and the batting had stuck to the wounds. She gently pried away the padding, careful to save as much as possible, and inspected the soles of her feet. Covered in cuts, some superficial and some deep, they presented a chilling sight. Cradling her feet in her hands, she wept as she massaged them, trying to restore their circulation and prodding the cuts to remove debris. She worked on them until she couldn't take any more.