Uncharted by Adriana Anders

Chapter 7

It took two and a half hours to get to his hideout—twice as long as it normally did. By the time they arrived, it was close to midnight and the woman—Leo—was having trouble. As far as he could tell, only the walls kept her standing.

“What’s this?” she mumbled, squinting at the tight, low space he’d prepared for just this type of event.

“My getaway cache.”

“Cash?” She collapsed onto a stone ledge and leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. “Oh. Oh, supplies. Right.”

He went to a natural shelf in the corner and pulled things out—first, the oil lamp, which he lit, then first aid supplies, rations, water.

“Sh…sh…” The woman’s eyes slowly opened, no doubt in response to the unexpected glow.

“What?”

“Shouldn’t…stop. Keep…going.”

“Not sure you’re in any shape to go on.”

“I’m fine.” Clearly a lie.

“Lemme check your head.”

“Mmm.”

She watched, eyes dull, as he set his supplies on the ledge beside her.

“Prepper,” she said, blinking slowly.

He huffed out a humorless sound. “Comes with the territory.”

Her brows rose, though even that effort looked extreme. “Territory’s that?”

The question wasn’t worth answering. Instead, he dragged out the bedroll he kept here and set it up in a corner of the cave. “Lie down.” Cozy it wasn’t, but they were a long way from comfort at this point.

From this point on, really.

She opened her mouth as if to refuse, apparently recognized how desperate her situation was, and shut it again. Slowly, as if her bones hurt, she pushed off the wall.

In two steps, he was at her side. She sagged against him, dropped her head to his chest, and moaned, long and low. Not a pleasant sound. Bo whined, clearly in agreement.

He put a hand to her back, hesitated, and when she didn’t react, wrapped his other arm around her. Just supporting her. “Here. Lie down.” Gently, he helped her onto the pallet. “Drink.” He held out a water bottle.

She accepted, managing a sip or two before she dropped her head in her arms.

“Let me see your eyes.”

“What?”

“Your pupils. Got to check ’em.”

“Oh, right. Right. Sure.”

A look with the light of his headlamp showed two quickly contracting pinpoints. He let out a relieved sigh. “Okay. Your eyes look okay. Rest for a bit while I…” He stopped short.

“While you what?”

“Nothing.” He looked at the narrow gap that would take them to the outside world and all the problems it could possibly throw their way.

“Where is he?”

“Who?”

“Campbell Turner. They called you—” She blinked, a frustrated breath puffing from her mouth. “If my head didn’t hurt so much, I could figure this out.” She shut her eyes tight, looking for all the world like her brain hurt. Which it probably did. Her unfocused gaze landed on him. “Wanna tell me who you are?”

“No,” he said, pausing in the nearly invisible crack in the wall. “Wouldn’t do too much wandering, if I were you, Leo. Place is dangerous.” He took off.

“You coming back, whatever your name is?” A pause. “Hey, yeti! You coming back?”

“Wait and see!” he responded, calling Bo to join him outside.

***

The moment the tiny plane disappeared on the horizon, Amka had shuffled back to her home for some painkillers and a nip of moonshine. She’d watched the helicopter take off, a good hour later, pleased, until she’d understood the reason for the delay.

While she’d been sending Leo off on her rescue mission, the guys from the helicopter had taken over her town. Every man, woman, and child had been rounded up at gunpoint. As far as Amka could tell, she was the only straggler.

Daisy—her partner and the love of her life—was being held at the lodge, with the other adults. The kids had all been rounded up at Marion’s house. The bastards had taken every last person Amka cared about prisoner, aside from Elias. She hoped.

It was up to her to remedy the situation.

Now she eyed her ATV mournfully before heading up the hill to the overlook. Like the Piper Cub, she’d been eighty-sixed from driving land vehicles. As if she couldn’t navigate this place blindfolded.

Too old to drive. Too old to fly. Too old to shoot. But she could tell you when a storm was headed this way.

And she knew some wild shit was going down right here, in her little corner of Alaska.

The place was eerily dark. Only a couple of lights shone. Hadn’t seen it this dark since…maybe twenty years ago now. Or was it thirty? Before the lodge was built and equipped with panels and backup generators.

Somewhere not too far off, a dog howled, the call as mournful as a wolf’s. More joined in from kennels and houses all around town until the whole damn thing was like a chorus. Somebody’d have to feed them or they’d get riled up.

Maybe riled up was good. She’d have to think on how she could use that to her advantage.

She shifted her scope to the right. Two people guarded the exterior of the lodge. Couldn’t get a clear view of the airfield from here, but since the helicopter had returned for the night, she assumed there’d be at least one watching over it. She’d counted another at Marion’s house, though there might be more inside. She doubted it. People underestimated kids the way they did old people.

Good thing they’d forgotten all about her—or had no idea she existed—cause she planned to haunt Schink’s Station like the ghost of caribou past. Like every tourist trophy kill she’d ever seen. She pictured their heads waking up on walls all over the lower forty-eight and attacking the hunters who’d killed them. These people thought they could waltz into her town and terrorize its residents without consequence? Nope. Every person she loved was here—all but one, and she’d done what she could for Elias. The boy was strong and smart. With the help of that Leo woman, he’d be just fine.

Speaking of which. She pulled out the sat phone. Still jammed. Son of a bitch. How far out of town would she have to go to be able to call Leo’s team again? Not that it would make a lick of difference tonight, with the storm coming in.

With a grunt of discomfort, she stood, hefted her rifle, and patted the holster at her belt to make sure her skinning knife was still there. She squinted into the darkness, wishing she knew what those shots had been. They’d come from the lodge. Please don’t be Daisy, she prayed for the first time in years. If they’d done something to Daisy, she wasn’t sure she’d survive this.

Jaw hard, she set off shuffling down the back path to Marion’s, humming “These Boots Are Made for Walking” under her breath.

Time to wreak some old-lady havoc on these motherfuckers.