Page 187 of Scars of Fate

“Still operational after eight years?” Hawk asked.

“The cache was sealed.”

Hawk nodded approvingly.

“Now that is prepared.”

“Can everyone reach it?” Wynn asked.

I looked toward Boone’s ankle.

The pilot’s ribs.

Hawk’s concussion.

Her injured leg.

“It’s two miles uphill.”

Boone sighed.

“I preferred the waterfall.”

Enemy footsteps echoed near the entrance.

We had seconds.

Adam made the decision.

“Do it.”

Hawk began blocking both tracking signals.

Russ and Boone removed the compressed raft from Hawk’s pack.

I looked over the edge of the ravine.

Nearly sixty feet below us, the river hammered against the rocks.

We couldn’t throw an inflated raft that far without destroying it.

“Climbing rope.”

Hawk removed a coil from his pack.

Boone glanced inside.

“Is there anything you don’t have in there?”

“Snacks.”

“Finally, a serious failure.”

Adam secured the rope around one of the steel anchor rings embedded in the rock wall. The old observation post had once used the rings to lower equipment to the river.

Before lowering the raft, Russ secured the aircraft tracker beneath one of its straps.

We attached the compressed raft to the rope and lowered it toward the narrow strip of bank below.