Page 75 of Northern Escape


Font Size:  

Except she couldn’t run. The snow was too deep, and it was more like swimming, and she could hear his wheezing breath closing in too fast behind her. White-hot pain tore through her belly, but it wasn’t until she heard the echoingbang!that she realized she’d been shot. She tried to keep moving, but her legs gave out and she collapsed face-first into the snow. He was laughing—a feral, inhuman sound that bubbled and wheezed blood and sent fear racing down her spine. She had to move. She had to—

Bang!

She closed her eyes and waited for more pain.

None came.

And… wait. That sound drifting in on the dying wind. Was that a… dog?

Yes. Yes, it was, and she knew that bark!

Norte.

Her boy had come back for her. Her team was nearby. If she could get to them, she could escape this madman. Her huskies could outrun him, no problem. They had before.

She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees.

It hurt. Oh God, it hurt.

She looked down between her arms at herself. Blood seeped through her layers and dripped onto the pristine white snow under her.

She wasn’t going to make it. Even if she could get to her dogs, it would take too long to get back to Solitaire.

She glanced over her shoulder, searching for Bones— or Krane— or Larson— or whatever his name was. He’d missed with his last shot, but it was only a matter of time until he tried again and—

He wasn’t there.

No. Where was he?

She twisted around, terrified he was in a blind spot behind her, and the pain whited out her vision. She again collapsed into the snow, but this time, gentle hands caught her. She blinked up at the shadow lifting her into his arms. It wasn’t Bones. This guy was too big. Too gentle. She recognized the outline of his face and a sob escaped her.

“Ellis?”

“Shh,” he said. “You’re all right now, Bree-Bree.”

No. It wasn’t Ellis. Only one person in the world called her that. But it couldn’t be…

She pried her eyes open and stared up in shock at Dr. William Hunter’s grizzled face.

34

As the sled crested a hill, Norte started barking wildly. He ran the team straight down the hill’s steep backside with hard, single-minded intent, and all Ellis could do was hang on tight.

First rule of mushing: never let go of the sled.

The trees whipped by in a dark blur and then cleared. The sled shot out onto a flat expanse of ice.

And there it was. The Otter parked right there on the river.

Ellis stood on the sled’s break, which was a joke. Bree never mentioned it didn’t actually stop anything when the dogs wanted to keep running. “Whoa, dogs. Whoa!”

Norte slowed to a trot, then pulled the sled to a halt right next to the plane and glanced back with an impatient whine.

“Hang on,” he told the dog. There was no snow hook on this sled, so he didn’t dare get off the runners. As impatient as Norte was, they would leave him behind in a heartbeat. But he didn’t need to get off the sled to see what happened here. The storm had blown away, and slivers of moonlight seeped through the clouds, highlighting a scene of carnage. The Otter pilot slumped against his plane, dead and iced over. Another man lay nearby, a snow hook buried in his side. A large caliber bullet had ripped apart the back of his head.

What the hell happened here?

Ellis recognized the man but couldn’t place a name with his face. He’d seen him in Solitaire, he knew that much.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like