Chapter 4

chapter

four

Sawyer listened until he could no longer hear Lucy's departing footsteps, then used the tree to find his way back to Maya. He sat down in the dirt beside her. "Okay, we have a plan. We're going to dig you out, but we need to make sure the tree is secure first."

Maya's breath hitched. "I-I don't want to d-die, Sawyer."

He reached out to find her hand. Her fingers were cold, trembling. "Hey, we're not going to let that happen."

Maya's hand tightened around his. "Promise?"

"I promise," he said, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "Just stay awake for me, okay?"

Lucy returned moments later, her breath coming in hard gasps as if she'd run the whole way. "Everyone's coming. They're gathering anything they can use to dig."

"Good," he murmured, rubbing Maya's hand between his, hoping to lend a fraction of the warmth circulating through his own veins. "Tell me about your photography, Maya."

She sniffed. "Wildlife mostly. I... I love capturing them in their natural habitat. Are you…" She sounded bewildered and trailed off.

"It's okay." He knew exactly what she'd been about to say. He got it a lot. "Go ahead and ask."

She exhaled in a rush. "Are you really blind?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing up here?"

"It's a long story, but it boils down to hiking was my favorite thing to do before I lost my sight, so I decided I wasn't going to give it up after."

"But how do you…"

"Navigate? I got real comfortable not knowing where I am." He felt Lucy's stare on him like an electric current down his spine, but kept all of his attention on Maya. He was afraid if she stopped talking, they'd lose her. "And I have Zelda."

At the sound of her name, his dog inched closer, her nose nuzzling under his and Maya's clasped hands. Her tail thunked against the tree.

"She's sweet," Maya said and released his hand to pet the dog.

"Yep, the sweetest. She's my best girl." Again he felt Lucy's eyes on him, that quick sizzle of electricity across the back of his neck, and wondered what she was thinking.

Then movement caught his gaze, rocks coalescing and taking form before his eyes as they rolled by.

Oh, fuck. Another landslide?

But then he heard voices and looked toward the sound. He watched as the hikers moved down the hill one by one, the rocks dislodged by their sloppy footsteps. Bea Carter looked about like he imagined her—big, burly, with tattoos and spiky hair. Theodore Carter was a small, thin man with glasses—a seemingly strange match for Bea, but sometimes love was ever blinder than him. Chuck Grassley also looked exactly like he sounded—balding, beefy, more fat than muscle, a jock aged past his prime. The blue tarp of the makeshift stretcher hung between Bea and Chuck, but Sawyer couldn't see Joel nestled inside.

Then, as each member of the group reached the downed tree and stopped moving, they disappeared from his view again.

Sawyer squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was always disorientating when he saw so clearly one minute, and the next, everything dissolved back into vague shapes, colors, and shadows.

"You okay?" Lucy asked at his side.

"Yeah. Just… a headache." It was the truth and seemed an easier explanation to give rather than trying to explain the faulty connection between his eyes and his brain.

Lucy's voice softened. "I'll get you some more painkillers..."

"No." He shook his head a little too quickly, which didn't help the throbbing. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine, Sawyer. You have a concussion. Under normal circumstances, you'd be resting in a hospital."

"These aren't normal circumstances."

"I'm aware. But you won't do anyone any good if you collapse."

"I won't collapse." At least, he was about eighty percent sure he wouldn't. Okay, maybe sixty-five percent. "Let's focus on getting Maya free."

Lucy grumbled something under her breath that sounded like "stubborn ass," then moved past him, her wildflower scent somehow not dimmed by sweat and grime. The scent lingered in his nose, and desire swirled through his stomach, goosebumps prickling his skin.

Dammit. Now was not the time or the place for his body to betray him like this. But his brain seemed unable to override the primal response, however misplaced it was.

"You like her," Maya said, a smile in her weakening voice.

He took a deep breath, reining in his unruly thoughts, and refocused his attention on the injured woman. "That obvious?"

"If I were you, I wouldn't play poker."

He chuckled. "Yeah, well, I've always been more of a chess player."

"Hey! Everybody, listen up!" Lucy's voice rang out, clear and commanding. "If you followed my packing list, you should have all brought a collapsible shovel. We need to brace the tree, then we'll dig under Maya until we can pull her out. Hey, Maya?" she added softly, and knelt next to the trapped woman again. "I'm gonna give you something for pain, okay? It might make you feel a little sleepy, but that's all right."

While Lucy tended to Maya, Sawyer straightened and reached out to his dog. He ran a hand over her soft head, taking comfort from her steady presence. She whined and licked at his fingers before pressing up against his leg. He pulled his own shovel off his backpack.

Lucy was suddenly at his side again, her hand wrapping around his wrist. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Helping." His tone was sharper than he'd intended, his arm muscles tensing under Lucy's grip. He was resourceful, independent—he didn't need anyone to remind him of his limitations. And he especially didn't want to hear it from a woman he was attracted to.

"You're hurt."

"I can still shovel."

"No one's doubting your ability, Sawyer," Lucy said, her voice all patience even as her grip on his wrist tightened. "You were unconscious a few hours ago. I'm just trying to keep from adding to our injury list. Joel's not helping either."

"Joel has a bone sticking out of his leg. I'm whole. I have four working limbs. Use me."

Lucy's grip tightened a fraction more. She drew a breath, and Sawyer could practically hear the gears shifting in her mind as she weighed the merits of fighting him on this.

Finally, with a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a growl, she released him. "We don't have time to argue. Just… be careful."

He wasn't sure if it was a victory or not, but at least he could do something. He heard the shuffle and scrape of shovels, the occasional grunt or curse as they hit a rock. He joined in with Zelda at his side.

"Dig," he ordered. She didn't have to be told twice. The only thing she loved more than digging was policing the squirrels that always tried to steal the bird seed out of the feeder at Redwood Coast Rescue.

The next few hours were a blur of hard work and quiet determination. Sawyer dug methodically, his hands blistering, his muscles screaming in protest from overuse and fatigue. But he refused to stop, refused to show weakness.

He'd spent too many years after losing his sight thinking he was useless. Too many years of letting his disability define him. That had all changed when he got Zelda. She'd given him his freedom back. Then he'd met Zak and Anna Hendricks and joined the Redwood Coast Rescue, and he'd found purpose again.

Now, here, on this mountain, he had a chance to prove himself again. To save a life. And maybe, just maybe, win Lucy's respect in the process.

Lucy was a constant presence at his side. Their elbows brushed more than once as they dug. He felt her attention on him often—that gaze that prickled his skin and made him aware of her in a way that was becoming harder to ignore.

"Easy, big guy." Lucy's voice was tight, her lips pressed together as she watched him. "You're about to collapse."

He could feel beads of sweat trickling down his brow and the persistent ache in his head had become a dull roar, but he wasn't about to admit it. Not now.

"I'm good," he replied, grunting with effort as he shoved another heap of dirt away from Maya's trapped legs.

She didn't call him on the lie. Instead, she left his side, presumably to check on Maya. His suspicions were confirmed a moment later when she asked, "How are you doing, Maya?"

Silence.

His heart pounded, every beat echoing inside his skull like a hammer striking an anvil.

Then, finally, he heard a shallow, ragged breath and the quietest whisper of a response. "Okay."

"She doesn't sound good," he murmured when Lucy returned.

She said nothing for a beat, then her shovel dug into the earth with a renewed ferocity that made his heart clench. "She doesn't look good. We have to hurry."

Lucy was tough, tougher than anyone he'd ever known. And she bore the weight of everyone else's problems like they were her own. But now he could hear the strain in her voice, the slight tremor that she couldn't quite hide. He wanted to comfort her, to say something that would ease her fear, but he didn't know what to say. So he used his strength instead, clawing through the dirt and rocks with a relentless determination.

Finally, their efforts paid off. With one last Herculean pull from Bea and Chuck, they hauled Maya out.

The tree groaned ominously.

"Get back!" Lucy shouted as the branches they'd used to prop up the tree snapped, the sound echoing like gunshots.

Sawyer grabbed Zelda and realized he had no idea which way to go.

"Left!" Lucy grabbed his arm and yanked him sideways just as the tree moaned one last time before it rolled downhill with a thunderous crash.

"My God," Theodore breathed.

"Anyone hurt?" Lucy demanded. "Sawyer?"

He checked in with his internal pain meter. Other than the persistent throb in his head and some new nicks and scratches on his face from flying debris, he wasn't much worse off than before. "No, I'm good."

"Zelda?"

He ran his hands over his dog. Her heart was thundering, and she was panting hard from stress, but she wasn't injured. "Zelda's good."

"We're all okay," Bea said.

Rocks tumbled and crashed somewhere close by.

"Without the tree, the ground's too unsteady here," Lucy said. "We need to get to the tower."

"How?" Chuck demanded. "Now we have two people who can't walk."

"We make another stretcher," Sawyer answered.

"Who's gonna carry it? Theodore? He'd snap faster than a twig. You?"

As much as Sawyer loathed to admit it, the man had a point.

"I'll walk," Joel said suddenly.

"The hell you will."

"Dad, look at her. She's really hurt. She needs the stretcher more than I do. I can walk."

"You're sure?" Lucy asked.

"I can walk," he repeated, determination in every syllable.

Strong kid. Stronger than his dad seemed to give him credit for. Braver, too.

Sawyer turned toward Joel's voice and held out his hiking pole. "Use this as a crutch."

Joel hesitated. "Don't you need it?"

"I have Zelda." He patted the dog's side. "She won't let me walk off a cliff."

Lucy exhaled sharply. "You're not funny."

"I'm hilarious. You just don't appreciate my comedic genius."

Lucy didn't respond. Sawyer figured she was probably rolling her eyes. He held the pole out and, after a moment, felt Joel take it from his hand.

He lifted his other hand off Zelda and his fingertips felt wet and sticky. He frowned, bringing his hand closer to his face, sniffing the substance.

Blood.

His heart plummeted. Had he missed something earlier? Was his girl actually injured? But a quick inspection assured him that she was unharmed. This wasn't her blood.

"Lucy?" he called out in a low voice. She was at his side in an instant.

"What's wrong?"

He held out his hand. "Zelda's covered in blood."

Lucy's sharp intake of breath was his only answer. He heard the rustling of fabric as she presumably knelt beside Zelda, her touch gentle yet firm as she examined his dog.

"It's not hers," she said after a tense moment.

"I know."

She straightened. "Whose is it then? Maya's not bleeding that badly—at least not externally."

"Pierce." It was the first thought that popped into his head and no matter how illogical—Pierce was probably safely down the mountain helping RWCR with the rescue efforts—but he couldn't shake the chill of dread it brought.

There was silence except for the distant sound of rocks still tumbling down the unstable mountainside, and then Lucy responded, her voice taut. "We don't know that. It could be from anywhere. It's most likely animal blood. She probably found a dead deer or something while we were distracted with Maya."

But Sawyer knew Zelda, and Zelda didn't roam. She didn't abandon her charge to go sniff out carrion. She didn't leave his side unless commanded… or unless she saw a friend in need of help.

A friend like Pierce.

Sawyer lifted his head and squinted at the blurred shapes around him, trying to force them into focus. If Pierce was somewhere nearby, he wouldn't be able to call for help. And if they walked away…

He couldn't bear that thought. He'd already buried too many friends. He wouldn't—couldn't—leave Pierce alone and injured.