Page 19 of Searching Blind

She didn’t know. Stand here for a minute and just breathe? Maybe breakdown and let out all of the fear and anxiety swirling inside her? No, she couldn’t do that, but she could take a moment alone to be Lucy and not Ranger Harper.

Sawyer nodded, understanding flashing in his pale blue eyes. “Take your time,” he said softly, then started up the stairs, Zelda by his side.

Lucy watched them disappear into the tower before finally allowing herself to crumple onto a nearby stump. Her knees were shaking so hard they could barely hold her weight, and her chest felt like it was being crushed under the weight of all their problems. Buried beneath the concern for her group was terror for herself. The memories of her own trauma were still too fresh, nightmares that often woke her in a cold sweat.

The Shadow Stalker.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the memory of his cold laughter echoing off the cave walls as he left her to die. But she wasn’t dead. She was alive and she had people depending on her. She had to be strong for them.

With a determined swallow, she stood from the stump and ascended the stairs to the tower.

Ethan wasn’t lying about not having much room. The cabin was one room filled with a wood-burning stove, several mismatched chairs, and a single bed in the corner. Maps of the surrounding forest were pinned to the walls, and a radio setup took up most of one table. It was tight quarters, but it was shelter, and right now, that was more important than anything else.

Maya was placed gently on the bed while Joel settled into one of the chairs, his bloody leg propped up on an ottoman. The rest of their group squeezed themselves into remaining spaces, their faces etched with exhaustion and worry. Ethan hunched over the radio, his brow furrowed in intense concentration as he attempted to hail rescue. The occasional crackle of static was the only response he got.

The younger man crouched beside Maya, his fingers resting on her wrist as he looked at his watch.

Lucy crossed to him. After a moment, he gently placed Maya’s arm back on the bed and covered her with a fraying quilt. His eyes said what Lucy already knew— Maya wasn’t going to make it.

“Are you a doctor?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Army medic.”

So he probably had a bit more medical training than her EMT certification, but not necessarily the extensive experience of the seasoned trauma surgeon that Maya needed.

“Is there anything more we can do for her?”

“Not without proper medical equipment and supplies. We can keep her comfortable. That’s about it.” He held out a hand over the bed. “Grant Clarke. I was hiking through when the quake hit. Got knocked out, woke up here with the grumpy Mr. Voss taking care of me.”

She accepted his handshake. “Lucy Harper. I’m a park ranger here.”

“Figured as much from the uniform.” Grant smiled briefly, his gaze still on Maya. After a moment of silence, he rose and grimly surveyed the room. “We’ll need more water,” he said to no one in particular and moved toward the stack of water jugs along one wall. He picked one up, hefting it in his grip as he measured the remaining contents with a critical eye. His gaze drifted once more to Maya, taking in her ashen complexion and her uneven breaths before landing back on Lucy.

“I’ll walk down to the nearest spring and bring back what I can.” He looked at Ethan. “If I remember correctly, it’s not far.”

Ethan grunted but didn’t lift his attention from the radio as he fiddled with the dial. “Half a mile to the east.”

“Finally someone’s taking control of this situation,” Chuck said.

Bea scowled. “What do you mean, finally? Ranger Harper got us here, didn’t she?”

Grant shot the man a look, clearly unimpressed, then hefted two empty jugs up on his shoulders. “You all should get some rest. I’ll be back soon.”

Lucy made sure Maya was firmly tucked in, then watched Grant disappear down the stairs. The door closed, leaving them in silence save for the crackle of the radio and Maya’s labored breathing.

Stepping back from Maya’s bed, she assessed the room. Theodore was already dosing with his head on Bea’s shoulder, and Bea looked just as exhausted. Chuck’s face was still an unhealthy red from the hike up to the tower, while Joel’s was a sweat-slicked mask of pain. She moved over to where he sat in one of the mismatched chairs, his leg propped up on an ottoman. One look told her his leg was swelling despite the makeshift splint she had applied earlier.

“Joel, we need to elevate your leg higher.” She shooed Chuck out of the other chair and grabbed the cushion, sliding it gently beneath his leg.

Joel grimaced. “Thanks,” he said through gritted teeth. The adrenaline rush was wearing off, and the pain was setting in full force.

The kid was so much stronger than his father gave him credit for.

“So what’s the plan now?” Bea asked, startling her husband out of his doze. She laid a hand on his shoulder to keep him from jumping through the roof.

“We wait,” Lucy answered simply.

“Wait for what?” Theodore asked, the panic clear in his voice.

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