Page 37 of Searching Blind

Every path she tried to take down the mountain ended in an abrupt drop or some other impossible-to-scale obstacle.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and her breath came out in ragged gasps as she climbed a steep ridge. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, amplified her paranoia. She had desperately hoped to stumble across some sign of civilization by now—a cabin, a trail marker, anything—but so far, she had found nothing.

She paused at the top of the ridge, squinting into the distance. The dense forest stretched out before her, an unending wilderness painted in the ominous shadows of twilight. Somewhere out there were other people—help—but right now, it felt like she was standing at the edge of the world.

God.

She wasn’t going to make it off the mountain. She had to turn back.

As the realization sank in, Lucy’s shoulders slumped in defeat. All her energy ebbed away at once, leaving her knees weak and shaky. She sank to the mossy ground, hugging herself against the chilling breeze.

A lump formed in her throat, the weight of defeat making it hard to swallow. For a moment, she let herself wallow, let herself feel the all-consuming dread. Her gaze drifted over the vast expanse of wilderness, heart aching for the familiar sights and sounds of civilization.

But then, there was a glint—a metallic flash in the distance that caught her attention. Lucy squinted against the dimming light, straining her eyes to focus on whatever had sparked that fleeting glimmer. A sudden gust of wind shifted the branches, revealing a thin, vertical shape slightly swaying in the distance—a structure that seemed out of place amidst nature’s chaos.

A cell tower.

Her heart leaped in her chest as a jolt of hope sparked through her veins. Finally, something tangible to hold onto. She scrambled to her feet, ignoring the protests of her weary muscles and retrieved her cell phone from her pocket. It was an old, battered thing, the screen cracked and chipped in too many places, damn near a relic.

With trembling fingers, she switched it on. The screen flickered to life, feeble in the encroaching darkness. Holding her breath, she watched as the tiny icon in the top corner blinked in and out of existence—a cruel tease of a signal.

“Come on,” she muttered under her breath. “Just one bar.”

She moved around, holding the phone up high as if offering it as a sacrifice to the gods. Up the ridge, down again, even scrambling up onto a tall boulder that offered a better vantage point. Every so often, she caught a glimmer—a flicker of a signal—that sent waves of anticipation through her. She quickly composed an S.O.S. text with the fire tower’s coordinates and sent it out in a blast to anyone who might be able to help—911, the sheriff, Redwood Coast Rescue, her boss with the National Park Service, fellow park rangers. She stared at the little bubble, willing a response to appear, but the screen remained stubbornly silent. Her text just hung there in limbo. Then?—

Message not sent.

A growl of frustration clawed its way out of her throat as she shoved the phone back in her pocket, the glimmer of hope snuffed out as quickly as it had sparked.

She had to get back to the fire tower.

They needed a different plan.

As she retraced her steps, the mountain seemed more hostile than before. Rocks that had been sturdy underfoot now shifted precariously. Branches seemed to reach out and snag at her clothes. The temperature was dropping rapidly as the sun set, and Lucy buttoned her jacket higher to ward off the chill. Sweat dried on her skin, leaving her colder still.

Still at least a mile from the tower, she rounded a bend and found Sawyer standing rigidly against a tree, his eyes closed. He didn’t seem to notice her until she was standing in front of him.

“Sawyer,” she managed to say, breathless from both the climb and the sight of him.

He jumped slightly, his pale blue eyes flicking toward her voice. “Jesus, Lucy. You could have made some noise.”

“I’m sorry.” She glanced around but saw no sign of anyone else. “What are you doing out here? Where’s Zelda?”

His throat worked, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “She’s sick. Someone poisoned her. I was looking for Milk Thistle. Ethan said it can help protect her liver from the toxin, but we’re too high up. It doesn’t grow up here.”

She noticed the raw, angry wound on the side of his neck and touched his cheek, turning his head to the side to get a better look at it. “What happened?”

He flinched away from her touch, grimacing. “I don’t know. I thought—” He broke off and shook his head. He looked so sad, so lost, and her heart ached. This was not the same man who had promised to do naughty things to her when she got back. She took hold of his hand and pulled him over to sit on a nearby log, then took her pack off to find her first aid kit.

“Sawyer, this is a knife wound. Were you attacked?”

His jaw tightened as she dabbed the wound with an antiseptic pad. “I could’ve done it to myself.”

“What?”

“Nobody saw the attacker. They think I was having a nightmare and hurt myself.”

“Oh, c’mon. That’s ridiculous.”

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