Chapter 2

chapter

two

Lucy huffed out a laugh. "You're not bleeding to death."

A smile flitted over his lips. "Good to know. But I'd still prefer not to be bleeding at all."

"Okay." She opened the sterile needle with shaking hands and told herself to breathe. She had seen worse injuries and stitched up nastier wounds. But somehow, this was different. This was Sawyer. He was different. Not just a random hiker in distress, but a friend, a familiar face. A man who had once saved her life, who had been her rock in her darkest hour. And now, as he sat there, smiling despite the pain, it was her turn to be his rock.

"I'll do my best." She poised the needle at the edge of the wound and swallowed hard. It was suddenly difficult to breathe. To think.

"You always do," Sawyer said quietly.

When she didn't move, he reached out and found her hand again, gripping it like he had when she was trapped in that dark cave, freezing and bleeding out. Like he had in the cold hospital room where she'd spent what felt like an eternity after her rescue.

His touch sent a shiver up her spine despite the summer heat that was beginning to seep through the cracks in the shattered windows of the ranger station. She looked at him, his pale blue eye focused on a point over her shoulder, his face ashen against the grit and grime that smeared his cheeks.

He grinned. "Try not to scar my handsome face. It's all I got going for me."

"Don't be an idiot," she said, though there was no real heat behind it. Her hands were steady now. She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of everyone's gazes on her, then pressed the sharp point to his skin.

The first stitch made him hiss in pain, and Lucy flinched, but she didn't stop. The cut was deep and ragged, and if they didn't close it, infection could set in. She worked fast, making each stitch as small and precise as possible to minimize scarring.

Sawyer remained silent throughout the procedure, his hand gripping Zelda's harness so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The dog whined softly and laid her head on his lap, offering what comfort she could.

By the time Lucy was finished, beads of sweat dotted her forehead, and her shoulders ached from the tension. She cut the thread and removed her gloves, studying her handiwork.

"Okay," she said finally, pulling back. "All done."

Sawyer let out a long breath, his body visibly sagging. "That wasn't so bad."

She rolled her eyes. Men and their bravado. But she knew he was hurting. It was in every line of his face, etched in the tight set of his jaw. Yet he managed a weak smirk, an attempt to keep up the facade. It was so Sawyer of him.

Standing, she moved over to their makeshift first-aid station and grabbed a bottle of water, two painkillers, and a thin blanket. She returned to his side, pushing the pills into his hand. "Take these, and drink plenty of water."

He tried to give them back. "Nah, I'll be fine."

"You're not a superhero, Sawyer. Take the damn pills."

He held up his hands in surrender. "All right, all right. Bossy," he muttered and tossed the pills into his mouth.

Lucy watched as he swallowed them with a grimace, then reached out and gently touched his cheek, turning his face toward her to inspect the stitches one last time. Sawyer didn't shy away from her touch. Instead, he leaned into it, a soft sigh escaping him.

And she felt it. The sparks. The heat that had been simmering beneath the surface since their first meeting. She knew it was why he'd disappeared from her life as soon as she was well enough to leave the hospital. He was afraid of it, this thing between them. Afraid of the vulnerability it demanded. In truth, so was she, which was why she never reached out to him after he left. She'd made some really horrible decisions regarding men in the past, and she had promised herself she wouldn't make the same mistake again.

But Sawyer is different.

She ignored the faint whisper of her heart and withdrew her hand quickly, not trusting herself around him anymore.

"Get some rest." Her voice came out raspy with emotion, and she cleared her throat as she draped the blanket over him. His hands caught hers before she could pull away, a simple gesture that sent another bolt of electricity through her veins.

"Don't go," he said quietly, his thumb brushing against her knuckles in an achingly tender motion.

Lucy hesitated, torn between her need to check on the others and the warmth radiating from Sawyer's touch. She looked at him again, his handsome face pale but calm despite the pain he must be in. His quiet strength was one of the many things she admired about him.

"I won't," she promised softly, pulling a chair closer so she could sit beside him. Her hand stayed locked with his, and she leaned back in the chair, her gaze fixed on his peaceful face. She would remain at his side, just as he had stayed by hers all those nights in the hospital. His throat bobbed slightly as he swallowed, a remnant of pain possibly, and then his grip loosened as sleep took him.

A gust of wind blew in through the broken window, carrying with it the scent of fresh rain and fallen redwood needles— nature going about its usual business as if nothing had happened. Lucy closed her eyes for a moment, taking in the familiar smells of the forest. It was a harsh reminder of how they were, once again, at the mercy of nature, their lives hanging in the balance. But there was also a strange comfort in it, a reassurance that even after disaster, life finds a way to go on.

"Is it raining?" Sawyer asked, startling her. She looked at his face again. He hadn't opened his eyes, but his mouth curved into a small smile, "Smells like rain."

"Yeah, it's working up to it."

His smile dimmed. "The ground's unsteady."

"I know." She was fully aware of how dangerous their situation was. The quake had weakened the terrain, and a heavy downpour could trigger landslides.

"Fuck." Sawyer lay his head back against the wall, a low groan escaping his lips. "Where are we?"

"A decommissioned ranger station. We took shelter here after the first quake. It's not much, but it has a roof and four walls… somewhat."

Sawyer's brow furrowed. "The quake... How bad was it?"

Lucy hesitated. The truth was, she didn't know, couldn't tell from their vantage point. But the station–a sturdy, well-built structure–had taken a brutal beating, and the trail down the mountain had collapsed, so she suspected the valley below hadn't fared well, either.

"Bad," she admitted finally. "The trail is gone, and aftershocks have been happening pretty regularly, causing rockslides. It's dangerous to move, and we can't contact anyone."

"Your radio's dead?"

"No, but it's just static. We... we're trapped here, for now."

A hiss of air slipped past Sawyer's teeth, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to argue. But then he just exhaled a long breath. "What about Pierce and Raszta? Did anyone find them?"

"No. I'm sorry."

"Fuck," Sawyer said again, very softly.

"Maybe they made it off the mountain before the quake. Mr. Grassley said he saw him going down the trail. Maybe they're safely back in town."

"Yeah," Sawyer breathed out, a note of forlorn hope tingeing his words. "Maybe." His hand tightened slightly around hers, a silent plea for reassurance she didn't fully have herself.

"Once the rain stops and things settle down, we'll find them."

His fingers relaxed under hers, and he turned his head in her direction. She knew he couldn't see her, but she met his sightless gaze anyway as if trying to communicate with him through sheer will. After a moment, he gave her a small nod and lay back again.

"Why are you so worried about him?" she asked. "Pierce seems like the kind of guy who can take care of himself." She'd met most of the men and women of Redwood Coast Rescue when they rescued her last summer, and they were all strong, capable people. Most of them were former military and could hold their own under even the toughest circumstances. But Sawyer's concern for Pierce seemed to go beyond that to something more personal.

Sawyer was silent for a long moment. "He's... he's more than just a friend. He's my brother in every sense of the word except blood. He's been there for me ever since I lost my sight. We were both at Landstuhl at the same time, recovering from our injuries. The man had damn near been decapitated by shrapnel and had lost his voice, yet he still helped me adjust to losing my sight and made sure I didn't lose myself in self-pity and bitterness. Without him..." He trailed off, his throat working as he swallowed. "Yeah. I wouldn't be here. But he went through some bad shit recently, and… he hasn't been the same since."

Lucy felt a painful tug in her chest. She could picture it so clearly, the two battered soldiers bonding in a military hospital over their trauma. She squeezed his hand again. "We'll find him. If he's on this mountain, I promise we won't leave him behind."

Sawyer released her hand and scrubbed at his dirty face. "I feel like I let him down. He needed a shoulder to lean on, and I didn't notice until it was too late."

She knew he was wiping away tears but didn't call him out on it. Instead, she glanced away, giving him a moment of privacy.

"What if he couldn't take it anymore and came up here to—" He stopped short, leaving the thought unspoken.

"He didn't." She didn't know Pierce, but he didn't sound like the kind of guy to take the easy way out. "From what you've told me, he's a fighter. He's survived hell and came out still swinging. I don't believe for one second he'd come up here to end his life. Especially since he had his dog with him when my tour group spotted him."

Sawyer let out a shaky breath. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't leave Raszta up here alone."

There was a silence, the room filled only by the patter of falling rain and the murmurs of her tour group in the other room. The quiet moments were Lucy's least favorite. It was during those times that she could hear her own thoughts too clearly—the fear, the uncertainty. But for Sawyer, she would endure them. She reached out to touch his hand again.

And then, from beyond the battered walls of the ranger station, came a sound that made her blood run cold. The sound of rocks sliding and earth moving, a low rumble growing into an earsplitting roar.

Sawyer's head snapped up, and he turned towards the noise. "What's that sound?"

Before Lucy could answer, the ground beneath them shifted violently. A wave of icy terror washed over Lucy as the wooden boards beneath them bucked and tilted.

Pain blossomed in her shoulder as she collided with the wall, her breath leaving her lungs in a sharp exhale.

"Landslide," she gasped, scrambling to her feet. Sawyer was struggling upright as well, his face pale and strained.

"Everyone!" she shouted, rushing towards the door that led to the rest of the shelter where the others were huddled. "We need to move! Now!"

Chaos erupted as they tried to evacuate. Chuck Grassley helped his son to his feet, draping Joel's slender arm over his burly shoulders. Bea rushed over to help, wedging her shoulder under Joel's other arm. Between the two of them, they all but carried the kid out. Bea's husband, Theodore, brought up the rear.

The thunderous noise outside continued, shaking the station and drowning out their panicked shouts. Dust filled the air, making it hard to breathe. The world tilted sickeningly as the ground beneath them gave way.

Lucy gripped a wooden beam for support, nails digging into the splintering wood. "Sawyer! Get to the door!"

He seemed momentarily disoriented, swaying on his feet. Zelda was already by his side, her body tense and alert. With one hand on her harness and another outstretched to find the door, Sawyer slowly navigated through the chaos.

Suddenly, with a horrific groan that resonated deep in its bones, the station tilted dangerously sideways. People screamed as they lost their footing, falling towards the collapsing wall. Zelda whined urgently, leading Sawyer towards the rapidly narrowing exit.

As if in slow motion, Lucy watched as Sawyer stumbled, his hand brushing the door frame. He was so close... yet the world continued to buckle beneath them. Pushing off from her support beam, Lucy launched herself at him. Her body collided with his, and they tumbled out of the station moments before the structure gave a final, anguished groan and collapsed in on itself.

They landed hard on the rain-soaked earth, Lucy still clutching onto Sawyer. Disoriented and gasping for breath, she rolled off him and lay there for a moment, blinking up at the smeared sky as the rain pelted down on them.

"Sawyer? Are you okay?" She turned her head, finding him prone beside her, his face white in the dim light. Zelda whined again, her nose nudging at his cheek. He reached up and gave her a reassuring pat.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice strained.

Lucy sat up, ignoring the pain radiating from her shoulder as she scrabbled over to him. "Are you hurt?" Her hands ghosted over his body, seeking wounds against the wet fabric of his clothes.

He waved her away and sat up with a wince. "I'm okay. Just winded. Landed hard."

She released a sigh of relief. She looked around, the reality of their situation sinking in. The ranger station was gone, swallowed by the landslide. The mountain had reclaimed its own with a vengeance.

Chuck and Bea settled Joel against the thick trunk of a nearby tree. Theodore stood in the rain, staring at what was left of the ranger station, his eyes wide and horrified behind his crooked glasses.

"How bad is the damage?" Sawyer asked.

"It's gone. We need to find shelter. Can you move?" She noticed he was trying to stand and hurried to his side. He waved her away.

"I'm not helpless," he said through his teeth.

Right. Okay, he had a point. He wasn't helpless. He'd lost his sight, not his ability to function. Still, a part of her wanted to shelter him from this disaster.

She stepped back, her hand retracting from his arm, but her eyes never left him as he pushed himself upright. He winced, leaning heavily on Zelda for a moment before he straightened with a determined look on his face.

"We need to move higher," she called over to the group, raising her voice over the rain and the blood pounding in her ears. She still heard the roar of the landslide in her head, a horrifying reminder that the earth under their feet wasn't as stable as it should be. "We can't risk setting up camp near another landslide. If we go up to that ridge over there…" She pointed to a rocky outcrop. "We should be able to see a fire watch tower."

If it's still standing.

She saw the same doubts on Sawyer's face, but he didn't voice them.

No. She put the doubts out of her mind. It was made of steel, reinforced against earthquakes. It was still standing.

She turned back to the group. "We can take shelter there."

"What if there's another one?" Joel asked, his voice shaky. His gaze, though directed at Lucy, kept darting back to the pile of rubble that was the ranger station.

Lucy wasn't sure how to answer that. The truth was, the mountain was unpredictable on a good day. After the earthquake and onslaught of rain… it was a landslide waiting to happen. The only question was when and where. However, she didn't want to add to the teenager's already palpable fear. She decided on a partial truth.

"I can't predict what the mountain will do next. But moving away from this unstable area is the most sensible thing we can do right now."

Joel nodded and swallowed hard.

"Is there a radio at the watch tower?" Theodore asked, taking off his glasses to try and wipe off some of the dirt smudging the lenses.

"There should be. As well as food, medical supplies, and everything else that we'll need to ride this out until rescue arrives."

"All right," Bea said and clapped her hands together. "Let's do this. Which way?"

Lucy looked at Sawyer again. What if this wasn't the right call? Her instincts had been fucked since her encounter with the Shadow Stalker last year. She barely trusted herself to cook dinner, and now all of these people were relying on her to lead them to safety. The weight of it made her stomach churn.

What if her decisions cost them their lives?

What if it cost Sawyer his life?

Oh, God.

Sawyer, his pale blue eyes hidden behind the curtain of his wet hair, gave her a nod. "You got this, Luce."

His words sent a warm shiver through her, chasing away her doubts for a moment. She took a deep breath, rolled her shoulders back, and scanned the mountainside, picking out a relatively safe path that they could take.

"We go up there. Over the ridge and through that pass," she said, indicating a narrow gap in the line of trees. "From there, it should be a straight shot to the tower. Stick close together and watch your step. If you see anything unusual, like water flowing over the ground where it shouldn't be or new cracks in the earth, shout out."

The group gathered their meager belongings and set off into the rain, following Lucy's lead. She held her flashlight high, sweeping its beam over the slick, uneven ground. Theodore and Bea supported Joel between them while Chuck hovered close behind, glancing anxiously over his shoulder every few steps. Sawyer gripped Zelda's harness and matched his steps to hers, trusting the dog to guide him safely through the treacherous terrain.

The rain seemed to intensify as they ascended the mountainside. Thunder rumbled menacingly overhead, and lightning split the sky in jagged forks, briefly illuminating the dark, dripping trees that loomed over them.

"How are you holding up back there?" she called over her shoulder to Sawyer.

"We're managing," he replied through gritted teeth.

Lucy could tell he was struggling. She longed to go to him, to offer a steadying hand, but she knew he would refuse it. His pride and fierce independence were part of what she admired in him. Still, she found herself glancing back frequently to check on him, watching as he picked his way up the steep incline with a surprising amount of grace and confidence.

That man was full of surprises. Despite his blindness and his concussion, he navigated the treacherous terrain with more ease than her hikers. He was practically a mountain goat. A very stubborn, very capable mountain goat.

And he'd hate that she just likened him to a goat. She laughed softly to herself at the thought.

"Want to share the joke with the class?" he asked, coming up beside her.

The startle of his voice so close to her ear made Lucy jump. She hadn't heard him approach, the rain hammering on the leaves above drowning out any other sound.

She shook her head, even though she knew he couldn't see it. "Nothing important. Just a thought."

His eyebrow arched in curiosity, the small ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Were you thinking about me?"

Caught off guard, she fumbled for a response. "What? No!"

Sawyer's grin widened. "The lady doth protest too much."

Lucy felt her cheeks burn but couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or the cold rain pelting her face. "Oh, shut up."

Sawyer chuckled as he continued onward, his grip shifting on Zelda's harness. His amusement warmed Lucy in a way the rain couldn't wash away.

Dammit, she liked him. Had always liked him from the moment he squeezed into that cave and promised he wasn't going to leave her until she was safe.

But then he had left her once she was healed. She had to remember that. As far as he was concerned, his job had been done, and he had moved on. She'd been left to figure out the rest on her own.

And fair enough, really. He was a rescuer, not a babysitter. He had lives to save and people to help.

So why was she still bitter about it?

She shook her head. It wasn't the question she needed to focus on right now. She needed to focus on getting the group to safety. She glanced back, watching as the rest of the hikers picked their way up the trail.

The incline grew steeper as they climbed, their progress slowed by the slick footing and by having to help Joel navigate the difficult terrain on a broken leg. More than once, Lucy had to stop and help the others haul the kid up over a boulder or fallen log blocking their path. She tried not to dwell on the nagging thought that this route may prove too difficult for them in their ragged state.

But what choice did they have?

Going back was not an option.