Off the Grid Christmas Page 7

“You can’t know that. Statistically—”

  “Sometimes you have to forget statistics and just trust that God always works everything out for His good.” That was a truth Kane had always struggled with. It had taken years to accept that God cared and that He was there. Even in the hard times. Even in the ugliness. And there’d been plenty of that in Kane’s younger years. He’d had two deaths on his conscience before he turned eighteen. He’d been the ringleader that night, egging Evan on. The party had been Kane’s idea. If he hadn’t pressed the issue, Evan would have been watching his little sister more carefully. Lexi would still be alive. Evan, too. Two families had been shattered by that one lapse in judgment. He wouldn’t be responsible for shattering another.

  “You’re right. I know you are.”

  “So let’s focus, okay? There’s a river straight ahead of us. I should be able to land there.”

  “On a river?”

  “Do you have a better idea?” Kane pulled back slightly on the controls, forcing the nose of the plane up as he struggled to level it. The landing lights illuminated treetops that rushed toward them at breakneck speed. The effect was dizzying.

  Just then, he spotted an opening in the trees almost directly ahead.

  The river.

  Wide and dark, it loomed ahead. Their only hope. A slight adjustment had the plane angled perfectly, lining up with the flow of the water. The river was wider than he’d hoped, the banks blanketed with more than a foot of snow—remnants of an earlier storm. If they were fortunate, the snow would help cushion their impact.

  Reducing the Cessna’s speed further, he peered through the falling snow, past the range of the landing lights into the darkness, and prayed for an ideal spot to attempt a landing.

  Finally, he saw it. A lazy curve in the river that would allow him to skid the plane over the water. The drag would hopefully bring them to a stop on the banks just before the tree line.

  Arden had gone completely silent. No gasping breaths, off-key singing or spouted facts. He could feel her tension, and he could feel his own, the weight of what he was about to do, the responsibility of it, making his muscles taut.

  Stay calm.

  Stay focused.

  That had been pounded into him when he trained as part of the Night Stalkers helicopter regiment.

  Pulling back on the steering column, he angled the Cessna’s nose up slightly, dropped the aircraft lower and further reduced the plane’s speed. The Cessna bumped along the river as its landing gear skimmed the water, bouncing away, then skimming again.

  They were moving too fast, the damaged flap making the fuselage list dangerously. He tried to compensate, but they were already down, water spraying, the engine choking. He thought he heard Arden scream, but the sound was masked by the screech of metal as the hull of the craft scraped against low-hanging branches.

  They slammed into the riverbank, the explosion of sound deafening, the jarring impact stealing his breath.

  Get up! Gather supplies! Get out!

  He could almost hear his commanding officer yelling the orders. With the faint scent of fuel spurring him to action, he unbuckled his straps and was up and moving before the metal carcass of the Cessna settled into silence.

  SIX

  They were alive.

  That was Arden’s first thought.

  Her second was that they needed to get out.

  She fumbled with the straps, but her hands were shaking and Sebastian was yowling and she couldn’t free herself.

  Were they in the river? On the bank?

  The headset had flown off. She could hear water splashing against metal and the creaking groan of the wreckage. Cold air flowed in from somewhere, and she shivered, yanking at the strap again.

  “Let me.” Kane brushed her hands away, and she was free in seconds. He pulled her to her feet and shoved open the mangled door. Water was already lapping at Arden’s hiking shoes, licking at the cuffs of her pants.

  Were they floating on the river?

  “Is there a life raft?” she asked as Kane leaned out the open door.

  “We won’t need one. Half the cockpit is onshore. Come on.” He grabbed her hand, dragging her up beside him.

  He was right. They were beached, the tail of the plane dipping into the flowing river, the nose of it pressed into snow and earth.

  The plane shifted, tugged by the force of the water. Eventually, the tail would break away or the shore would release its hold, allowing the plane to drift down the river. They needed to be off the plane before that happened.

  Kane motioned to the bank. “You think you can make the jump from here to shore? It’s not far. Maybe four feet.”

  “Sure,” she affirmed.

  She didn’t mention that she’d never been much of an athlete. Self-defense? She’d aced it because it was all about physics and movement, but she’d only ever been picked for a team in school because Juniper had so often been team captain.

  They’d always looked out for each other.

  Always.

  And, if Juniper had been there, she’d have been whispering in Arden’s ear, telling her that a woman who could throw a two-hundred-pound man could jump three or four feet.

  “Are you certain?” he asked.

  “No, but I’d rather try and get wet than float down the river in a leaking fuselage.” She slid her arms through the carrier straps, tightening it securely to her chest. Sebastian had calmed and settled into the carrier contentedly, obviously unaware of the fact that he’d just used up another one of his nine lives.

  “If you land in the water, you’re going to be hypothermic in minutes. Want me to jerry-rig a ramp?” The plane shifted again, and Arden was certain she could feel the force of the water shoving it backward.

  “It’s simple physics,” she muttered to Kane or to herself or, maybe, to Sebastian. “Force. Velocity. Gravitational pull.”

  “How about you tell me the science behind it after we’re out of here?” he asked, reaching into a small cabinet and pulling out a parka and gloves. He put both on, then tugged her hat more firmly over her ears before grabbing her backpack and his duffel. “Do you have clothes in your pack?”

  “Yes.” Not much, but she could get dry if she needed to.

  “Shoes?” He turned off the plane’s lights.

  “No, but my feet are already soaked. Missing the shore and landing in water isn’t going to make them any wetter.”

  He frowned, reaching back into the cabinet and pulling out several plastic bags. “Wool socks. Gloves. Hats. We can put the bags over your feet after you change socks.”

  “What about you?”

  “My boots are waterproof. I’ll be fine. Ready?” he asked. “I’ll jump first. You follow.”

  “Right. Sure.” She leaned a little farther out, the frigid air stinging her cheeks. The river in this area was shallow, the glossy rocks beneath its surface shimmering in the crystal clear water. The pebbly snow-dusted shore wasn’t far. Beyond that, dense forest blocked the sky. No lights. No houses. Nothing but trees and snow and silence broken only by the rush of the river.

  “Arden,” Kane said, touching her chin and forcing her to look straight into his face. “If you’re too scared—”

  “I’m not scared,” she said, more to convince herself than him. “Go ahead. I’ll follow,” she assured him.

  She sounded confident.

  She sounded capable.

  She felt like the kid she’d been in grade school—terrified of public speaking but forced to give oral book reports in front of a hostile audience.

  Kane nodded, tossing his duffel onto the shore. He slipped into her pack, and she thought about warning him to be careful, but he was already leaping out, landing lightly on wet rocks.

  Effortless.

 
For him.

  She had an odd feeling it wasn’t going to be nearly as easy for her. She balanced on the edge of the doorway, took a deep breath and another.

  “There’s no way to disable the plane’s internal GPS,” Kane said calmly. “Every minute you stand there is a minute that the FBI or GeoArray could be using it to find us.”

  She jumped, taking off like a fledgling bird prodded out of the nest by its mother. No grace. No finesse. Just tumbling through the air and landing, feet slipping, arms windmilling, body trying to go in fifteen different directions.

  She’d have landed on her butt in the water if Kane hadn’t snagged her wrists and jerked her forward onto solid ground. He released her as soon as she was steady, turning to grab his duffel.

  “Nice job,” he said, tossing her a couple of the plastic bags and some dry socks. “Take off those wet socks and dry your feet. Then let’s get out of here.”

  “I’m thinking we’re about ten miles from town, right?” she asked, pulling off her wet shoes, changing socks and slipping the plastic bags over her now dry feet. She was back in her shoes in seconds, standing up and eyeing the wilderness that surrounded them. If she could get him to relinquish her pack, maybe she could give him the slip and go to ground. It would be easy to drop off the grid out here.

  “That’s a good estimate,” he affirmed.

  “Given that the average person walks three or four miles per hour on flat ground, if we factor in the snow and the uneven terrain, our speed will probably be closer to two and a half miles per hour, tops. At that pace, we should hit Berlin in about four hours.”

  “I won’t argue with your math.” He smiled, unzipping a pocket in the duffel and pulling out a compass and a couple of flashlights.

  “Do you think it’s safe to use these?” Arden asked, taking the flashlight Kane offered her. “Assuming the plane’s internal GPS is still active like you said, it might not take long for them to pinpoint our location. GeoArray could have helicopters. The FBI definitely does.”

  “That’s a valid concern, but we’ll be in the cover of the trees. Besides, we’re out in the middle of nowhere and should be able to hear their vehicles coming. Plus, we’ll be able to move faster if we can see where we’re going.”

  Arden eyed the dense tree line. “I suppose that’s a reasonable assumption. And since there are over seventy species of trees in New Hampshire, with the deciduous varieties less prevalent in the mountains, we should have plenty of cover.”

  “Now that’s a piece of trivia I could never pull from the recesses of my mind.” Kane grinned. “I’m impressed.”

  Although he didn’t look like he was poking fun at her, she felt her cheeks redden and was thankful for the cover of darkness. Why couldn’t she keep her little factoids to herself?

  Kane stepped closer, pulled her hood up over her knit hat and zipped her jacket to her chin. “Let’s move,” he said, turning and heading toward the tree line.

  She followed, biting her lip to keep more inane facts from spilling out. She was better off spending her time finding a way to get the backpack away from Kane. Once she had it, she could take off. She knew the direction they’d been flying. She knew about how far they were from town. She could make it out on her own, keep Kane from being dragged more deeply into her mess.

  First, though, she needed her backpack.

  “That duffel looks heavy,” she said.

  Kane ignored her.

  Probably because the duffel didn’t actually look heavy, and he actually looked like the kind of guy who could have handled it if it was.

  “I can carry the pack. That’ll make things a little easier for you,” she offered.

  “No. End of discussion.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Jace says you’re a genius. I’m pretty certain you know what that means.”

  “Jace exaggerated.” Sort of.

  “It doesn’t take a genius to understand the word no.” He was moving quickly, covering ground at a steady pace.

  She kept up, but not as easily as she’d have liked. His legs were longer, his stride covering a lot more ground than hers. She tried to speed up as they reached the tree line, her foot slipping across snow-covered leaves and rocks. She went flying, slamming into Kane’s back. She grabbed the pack to steady herself and thought for three seconds about trying to yank it off.

  “Not going to happen, Arden,” Kane said, and she let her hands fall away.

  “If you lose that pack—”

  “I won’t.”

  “I’m not sure you understand how important this is.”

  “I understand perfectly. Now, how about we both quiet down? I’d like to hear anyone who might be approaching.”

  Fine. She could be quiet and she would be. Eventually, he’d put the pack down, she’d grab it and be on her way. It was a simple plan and an effective one.

  If he’d just cooperate with it.

  * * *

  There was no way Kane was going to let Arden wander around in the New Hampshire wilderness alone.

  She might think she could find her way back to civilization on her own, but most people who eventually got lost, hurt or killed in hostile environments thought the same. Add GeoArray, the FBI and anyone else who might want to get their hands on her, and Arden’s chances of survival became even slimmer.

  He’d keep the backpack for now, and probably for the remainder of the time they were together.

  Snow was already coating his parka and hat. They needed to move fast, and not just because they were being pursued. Ten miles was a long way to hike in frigid temperature. He’d survived worse, but Arden didn’t look like the kind of person who spent a lot of time hiking through snowstorms.

  “You doing okay?” he asked.

  “Dandy,” she muttered.

  “How about the cat?”

  “Snug as a bug in a rug.”

  “The terrain is flat through here. Hopefully, it will be the same for the rest of the hike.” He pulled his flashlight out, letting the beam dance along the forest floor. The snow was sparser there, the tree canopy holding back some of the swirling flakes.

  Behind him, Arden snapped her light on, as well. “The underbrush is thicker than I thought it would be, more deadfall,” she commented. “It would definitely be slower going without these flashlights.”

  “Yeah, we’ll make better time with them, that’s for sure.” His light glanced off a thick wall of brambles, the thorny branches like a barbed wire fence blocking their path.

  “That doesn’t look good,” Arden said, her arm brushing his as she eyed the thicket. “Maybe we should go back to the river and follow it to town.”

  “We’d be too exposed,” he answered. “We’ll use the river as a handrail, keeping it in our sight while we stay in the trees. The underbrush is always thickest at the wood line, but once we get a few more feet in, it should be easier going.”

  She didn’t respond, and he pushed into the brush, thorns and twigs snagging his parka as he broke through. She followed close behind, pressing in against his back but not grabbing for the pack again.

  She kept up. He’d give her that. No complaints, either.

  They moved through the densest part of the undergrowth, sticking close to the tree line. The terrain was flat, the ground sprinkled with snow and dead branches. Berlin would be at the mouth of the river, nestled in the lush New Hampshire landscape. A safe haven or a death trap. Kane wasn’t sure which.

  If they were fortunate, they’d find an old homestead before they hit the town limits. One that had a barn or an abandoned house on it. Somewhere they could warm up while he fine-tuned the plan. If he had reception, he could call Silas to pick them up, but staying anywhere close to the plane wreckage would be a mistake.

  They’d bee
n making steady progress for an hour, ducking under branches, climbing over fallen trees, moving as quickly as they could.

  He knew Arden’s energy was fading. Her pace was slowing, and she was falling farther behind. She still didn’t complain. She didn’t ask him to slow down. She just kept hiking. Once or twice, he thought he heard her singing, but when he looked back, she fell silent again.

  “Getting cold?” he finally asked, worried about how quiet she was.

  “I passed cold twenty minutes ago,” she responded, and he thought her teeth chattered on the last word. He stopped, turning to face her, and grabbed her waist when she nearly stumbled into his chest.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, her face pale in the darkness.

  “Why don’t you put on a few more layers? You said you had clothes in the pack, right?”

  “We don’t have time for that.”

  “We also don’t have time for you to become hypothermic.”

  “As long as we keep moving, I’ll be fine.” She tucked a strand of hair beneath her hat and offered a smile that was about as fake as the neon pink Christmas tree his mother used to put up in her sitting room.

  “Arden, don’t try to be a hero.” He slipped out of her pack and would have unzipped it, but a soft sound carried over the rush of the river.

  He cut off his light, telling Arden to do the same. He shrugged back into the pack and tugged her close to his side.

  “Helicopter,” he said, and she nodded, her body stiff, her muscles taut.

  The hum of the propellers grew louder. Through the trees, he could see a searchlight arcing over the river. The light swept back and forth across the banks, reaching a few feet into the tree line. The pilot was flying a grid, crossing over the river and then back again. Searching for the plane or for them.

  “We need to go!” Arden said, trying to pull away.

  He held her still. “We move, and someone on the chopper might spot us. The best thing we can do is stay put until they pass.”

  “That’s counterintuitive,” she argued. “If that spotlight hits us, they can land that thing faster than we can run to safety.”

  “We’ve got the tree canopy, the snow and the underbrush to hide us. Spotting something on the ground in these conditions is difficult.”