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“Get inside!” Jake shouted, but I couldn’t move or think.
“Oz! Move!” Jake screamed again. I heard a loud bang and then a searing pain tore through my shoulder, knocking me on my ass. I gasped as the wind got knocked out of me.
“Oz? Oh god, Oz!”
I wanted to tell him I was okay because he sounded like he was freaking out, but I was having trouble commanding my mouth to move. I heard more popping sounds. Boo scrambled in my arms, but I instinctively hung onto her. I felt fingers close around the collar of my parka and then I was being dragged backward into the cabin.
The front door slammed, then more popping sounds.
“Oz, talk to me,” Jake shouted as he hovered above me. He kept ducking every time there was a popping sound.
“I’m okay,” I said, though I didn’t really know if that was true.
Jake pressed something against my shoulder and agony tore through my body.
“Baby, I need you to put pressure on it.”
On what?
Jake took my fingers and pressed them against the spot that was causing pure pain to shoot through every cell in my body. I cried out as I tried to see what was happening. When Jake’s fingers came away red, understanding dawned.
I’d been shot.
“Oz, where’s your phone?” Jake asked as his hands scanned my body. I could feel tears leaking from my eyes and tried to stem them. I needed to calm down.
For Jake’s sake.
“In the Jeep,” I croaked.
“Fuck,” Jake said. “My radio’s in the truck,” he muttered. I watched in disbelief as he eased up enough so he could shoot out one of the windows. “Baby, we need to run or they’ll surround the cabin and block us in.”
I had no clue what he was talking about, but there was no missing the fear in his voice. “I’m okay,” I said, even though my shoulder hurt like a motherfucker.
“Give me Boo,” Jake said. He quickly stuffed my dog into his jacket and then got his backpack on. Then he helped me turn over so I was on my hands and knees. I was forced to release my hold on the wound. “Stay low,” Jake ordered. We crawled toward the back of the cabin where there was a mudroom and a door leading to the back yard.
Everything moved both slow and fast at the same time. More shots rang out, but I wasn’t sure who was firing, Jake or whoever was after us. Then we were plunging through the knee-deep snow. The cold along with the adrenaline kicking through my body made it easier to keep up with Jake as we darted for the woods.
“Try to keep pressure on your wound,” Jake called. He’d moved so he was behind me, but I didn’t dare look back. The gunshots had finally stopped. Jake took my free hand and began zigzagging through the woods. Within a minute, I lost sight of our cabins. The pace Jake set was brutal, but my fear for his life and mine kept me putting one foot in front of the other. At one point we hit a small creek that hadn’t completely frozen over. Instead of us crossing it, Jake had us walk through the water for what felt like miles before he slowed down and got us back onto land. The cold was starting to sift through my entire body. Luckily, my boots had kept the water out, but my limbs were starting to feel heavy and sluggish, and I was reminded of the day I’d gotten lost in the woods while I’d been searching for Boo.
“Just a little farther, baby,” Jake said. His arm went around me, careful not to hit my shoulder.
“So cold,” I whimpered. As much as I wanted to be brave, the adrenaline was starting to wear off and I could feel my body shutting down. Even the warm blood that had been seeping through my fingers had turned cool.
“I know,” Jake said. “Just a few more minutes, Oz.”
I nodded numbly. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“What?”
“They,” –my teeth wouldn’t stop chattering as I tried to get the words out– “they didn’t… didn’t…”
“No,” Jake said. “They didn’t get me. I’m okay.”
“Good,” I stuttered.
I wasn’t sure how much more time passed, but by the time Jake gave me a little shake, presumably to get my attention because I was having trouble focusing on anything but putting one foot in front of the other, I was leaning heavily against him. “We’re here,” he said.
Here was a small shack that looked like nothing more than a few walls held together by some nails and wishful thinking. The thing wasn’t much bigger than the bathroom in my cabin.
“What is this place?” I asked.
“It’s an old line cabin,” Jake said. “Trappers used to use them to sleep in when they were checking their traps.”
