Epilogue

"Has anyone seen Pierce?"

Sawyer turned toward Zak's voice. "I haven't seen anyone in a long time, man."

"I'm serious. Have you talked to him?"

The note of concern raised the little hairs on Sawyer's neck. "Not since…" He trailed off. Pierce hadn't been right since they rescued him from the Hope's Embrace compound. He'd always been a silent, intense presence in the room, but the intensity had felt ramped up, his silence screaming louder than any words.

"Not since he picked up Raszta after he was discharged from the hospital," Sawyer finally finished.

"Shit," Zak muttered. Sawyer heard the scrape of a chair and the thump of Zak's prosthetic on the hardwood as he stood. "I'm gonna go talk to Rylan."

But if Pierce had confided in their resident shrink, Rylan wouldn't be able to discuss it with Zak or anyone else.

Sawyer came to a decision then. Call it a hunch, call it instincts honed from years in combat, but something told him that Pierce was in hiding, licking his wounds… and he had a good idea where he might find him. The last thing Pierce needed was isolation. He needed support from people who truly understood war scars and how they could rear their ugly heads even when you thought they'd fully healed. He needed his teammates. His friends. His family-by-choice.

"Come on, Zelda." Sawyer patted his thigh, and she sprang up, bumping her head against his hand as if to say, I'm here.

"Up for a walk?"

Her tail wagged. He felt it swish against his leg and saw the blur of it shifting through his hazy field of vision.

There was nothing better than watching her tail wag.

He strapped her into her harness and packed a backpack with water, protein bars, dog food, and treats—then he doubled up on everything. He also threw in a First Aid kit just in case. Then at the last moment, added extra bear spray and a gun. He didn't plan to be gone long—he was just going to hike up to Pierce's usual camping spot—but in his mind, you could never be too prepared when you were a blind man hiking alone in the rugged Northern California mountains.

The sun was high in the sky by the time they reached the base of the mountain, and in the heat of the afternoon, sweat was sweeping into his clothes.

Shit, it was hot.

He muttered a curse under his breath but told Zelda to walk. She knew the trail intimately and easily guided him around obstacles. It was only about three miles of moderately difficult terrain up to Pierce's favorite camping spot, but by the time he got there, he was drenched in sweat.

"Pierce," he called.

Silence.

No answering whistle.

No raspy hello bark from Raszta.

He took a step, and his foot hit something soft. Heart in his throat, he bent down and groped around until he found soft nylon—a sleeping bag. He felt around some more and found a backpack, its contents spilling across the ground.

"Pierce!"

Still nothing.

Only the rustle of the hot breeze through the trees and the crunch of rocks under his own feet.

Or… no.

He strained, listening for the sound that had caught his attention.

Someone nearby was talking.

So, not Pierce.

Probably other hikers, but maybe they had seen where Pierce had gone.

He straightened and ordered Zelda to follow the sound. "Hello?"

The talking stopped.

"Hey, sorry to bother you. Have you seen a guy with a dog up here?"

No answer.

"Hello?"

The hairs stood straight up on Sawyer's arms as an eerie silence fell. The birds had stopped singing. Even the rustling leaves and whispering wind seemed to have stilled. It was as if the forest was holding its breath with him.

"Hello?" he repeated.

Zelda growled at something right before her barks echoed through the hollow silence. Sawyer stiffened, his hand going to the bear spray.

"Who's there?" he challenged, angling himself in the direction Zelda was facing. He heard a gasp like someone who had been holding their breath for too long had finally let it out.

"Whoa! Easy, guy," a male voice finally responded, sounding shocked and a bit wary. "Just out here hiking."

Sawyer didn't let his guard down. "Have you seen a man with a dog?"

"Other than you?" someone else said. There were two of them.

"Dog... you mean that black mop on legs?" the first guy said. "Yeah, we passed them on the trail yesterday."

"Which direction were they headed?"

"Oh, that way."

The guy had to be pointing in the right direction.

Sawyer reigned in his frustration. "Can you please tell me in words?"

"Wait, are… are you blind?" the second guy asked. He sounded younger, maybe a teenager, which was the only reason Sawyer didn't snap at him.

"Holy shit," the first guy said. "He is. What the hell are you doing up here by yourself? Ranger Harper!" he called, his voice fading as he turned away. "There's a blind man up here. I think he's lost."

"I'm not—" Sawyer started, but then a female voice floated up the mountain on the wind and every cell in his being sparked to uncomfortable life.

"Mr. Grassley, I told you to stay—" She broke off and gasped. "Sawyer?"

Lucy Harper.

The strong, feisty park ranger he'd helped rescue from a serial killer last year and hadn't been able to stop thinking about ever since. It was completely inappropriate given the way they'd met, and he'd never act on his attraction, but knowing that didn't stop her from dominating his fantasies for the last year.

"Lucy." Jesus, why was his voice so strangled? He cleared his throat and tried again. "Uh, hi."

"Sawyer." Lucy sounded just as surprised to see him as he was to hear her. "What are you doing here? Are you hiking alone?"

"Uh, yeah. Just Zelda and me. We're looking for my friend Pierce. I don't think you ever met him, but he's… quiet and intense. Can stare an oil stain off a driveway. Uses sign language. He travels with a little black dog with dreadlocks."

"We saw him," the older man—Mr. Grassley—said. "Yesterday, going down the trail when we were coming up."

"He looked pissed," the younger man added.

"Joel, language," Mr. Grassley snapped.

"Sorry, Dad."

More voices floated up from further down the mountain, and Lucy said, "Over here."

Two more people joined them—a woman and a man. The woman's voice was low and gravelly, the kind of voice that could carry over a crowd without straining. The man, on the other hand, talked in hushed whispers like he thought he was on an undercover mission.

"Ranger Harper, we heard shouting," the woman said.

"It's okay," Lucy replied. "This is Sawyer. He's part of Redwood Coast Rescue."

There was a pause. Then: "Holy shit," the man said. "The blind Marine? I read an article about you."

Sawyer winced. It wasn't exactly how he loved being introduced. There was more to him than his blindness, but ever since that article about him in a popular wilderness magazine got picked up by mainstream media, it was all anyone ever wanted to talk about.

Resigned, he nodded and waved vaguely in the direction of the voices. "That's me."

"Wow. I'm Theodore, and this is my wife, Bea. It's so nice to meet you. You're an inspiration, man. If I lost my sight, I wouldn't be as brave as you."

Mr. Grassley scoffed. "You mean to tell me that you're part of a rescue team? Are you honestly trying to find someone out here?"

Sawyer worked his jaw hard enough that it popped. "Yes," he bit out.

Zelda whined, pressing against his leg. Sweet girl that she was, she never liked tension or conflict.

"Can we help?" Theodore asked, enthusiasm bounding in his voice like an eager puppy.

Grassley grunted. "We didn't pay for this tour to look for a lost man."

"Actually," Lucy said and seemed to relish correcting him. "If there's a lost hiker, it's everyone's duty on the trail to keep an eye out for him."

"We'll be glad to help," Bea said gruffly, barreling over Grassley's next protest.

Just as Sawyer opened his mouth to thank them, the world seemed to lurch beneath his feet. Zelda yelped and slammed into his side, causing him to stumble.

"What the?—"

The ground heaved violently beneath them.

Earthquake.

The stench of unsettled earth and the high, shrill cries of frightened birds filled the air. Zelda howled with terror, her nails scrabbling on the loose dirt as she fought to keep her balance.

Rocks calved off the mountainside, tumbling down around them and exploding on impact, sending shrapnel flying. For a moment, he was back in a warzone with mortars raining down and enemy fire coming from every direction.

Nowhere was safe.

"Get down!" Lucy shouted. She sounded calm and in control. "Protect your heads!"

Sawyer crouched, pulling Zelda close and protecting her as best he could while rocks skittered and rolled around them. Dust filled his nostrils, grit stinging his eyes. His ears rang.

The shaking seemed to go on forever like the mountain was rebelling against the world itself. Beads of sweat trickled down his neck as he clenched his jaw tight against the fear threatening to crawl out his throat. He'd survived war zones, injuries, and the sniper's bullet that had claimed his sight, but this... this was something entirely different.

Then— silence. It came on just as suddenly and shockingly as the earthquake itself. Only the sounds of their heavy, ragged breaths and distant echoes of tumbling stones filled the air.

He raised his head and coughed to clear the dirt from his mouth. His eyes felt gritty. "Lucy?"

"I'm here," she gasped from his left. "I'm okay. Everyone?"

"We're okay," Bea croaked.

"Oh my God," Joel said, his voice cracking. "Dad!"

There was a lot of scrambling around him then—voices talking over each other, Joel crying. He saw lots of movement, flashes of faces and hands, and?—

A branch snapped like a gunshot, breaking off a nearby tree. He saw it falling through the air with startling clarity. He also saw the vague outline of a person standing directly underneath it and dove toward them. "Look out!"

His hands connected with the person's back, shoving them out of the way. But he wasn't fast enough. The branch landed on him, and it was like getting hit by a concrete block. His knees crumbled, and pain exploded through his head…

And then there was nothing but blackness.

The Redwood Coast Rescue adventure continues with Sawyer Murphy's story, Searching Blind.

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