Page 51 of Mountain Captive

“I’m part of a group led by a fantastic teacher. It’s an incredible program. And totally tuition free. I’m learning so much, and it’s such a great group of people.”

Goose bumps rose along Chris’s arms. She closed the sketchbook and slid it into her backpack. “Where is this program?” she asked.

“It’s wherever we want it to be. That’s the best part. I’m getting this incredible education, for free, and I get to see incredible places like this while I do so.”

Providence, Rhode Island, was a nice place, but Chris didn’t think it qualified asincredible.She reached for the textbooks on the table.

Her table companion put his hand on hers to stop her. “I’ll bet you would really like the program I’m in,” he said. “Being an artist, you’re used to looking at the world with more intention than the average person, am I right? My teacher could show you so much more. It would really enhance your art and your life.”

Chris pulled her hand away and picked up the books. The young man’s spiel was too familiar, but she needed to find out a little more before she ran away. She needed to know exactly what she was up against. So she forced herself to relax. “What’s your teacher’s name?” she asked.

“Have you ever heard of a group called the Vine?”

The name sent ice through her, but she somehow managed to remain seated at the table, a pleasant expression on her face. “I don’t think so. Is it some kind of winery or something?”

The young man laughed. “Not exactly. It’s a group of like-minded people working toward a better world. Our teacher is a tremendous thinker and leader.”

“What’s his name?” she asked.

The young man sipped his coffee again. “We call him the Exalted. He’s just so enlightened. And really caring. I’d like to take you to meet him. You’ll be blown away, I promise.”

Chris shoved the books into her backpack and stood, almost knocking over her chair in the process. “I just remembered,” she said, “I’m late for a class.”

She hurried out of the coffee shop and broke into a jog when she reached the sidewalk. The Vine was here, in the smallest state in the union, at a small art school where she happened to be enrolled.

She didn’t believe in coincidence. Walking across campus, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed her mother’s number.

“Is something wrong?” her mother asked. “You never call me in the middle of the day.”

“The Vine is here, in Providence. I just talked to a young man who tried to recruit me.”

“Did he know who you are?”

“No. He was just trolling the local coffee shop.”

“You need to come home. Now. Before they see you.”

“I’ll leave this afternoon. As soon as I can pack a few things.”

“What will you tell the school?”

“The usual—a family emergency.” It wasn’t the first time she had left a school or a job suddenly. It was an inconvenience and unfair. But it was better than letting the Vine get her in its clutches again.

THEFIRSTRAYSof the sun were burning off the gray of dawn as Rand crouched behind a boulder, looking down on the campsite he and the sheriff and deputy had visited yesterday. He and Harley had been sitting here, cold seeping in, for forty-five minutes, the camp so still he might have thought it abandoned if not for the faint growl of snoring from the closest tent.

He shifted, fighting a cramp in his left thigh, and Harley let out a low whine. Rand froze as two people moved out of the trees, toward the orange tent. He raised his binoculars and recognized Jedediah and an older woman. After a moment, the door to the tent parted, and the younger man with glasses emerged. The three conferred for a moment, then looked up at the sky. Rand followed their gaze and saw a bank of dark clouds moving toward them. A storm would make travel up here more difficult and dangerous, but maybe it would give him and Chris an advantage when it came time to flee. After a moment, Jedediah, the woman and the man from the camp turned and walked back the way they had come.

Rand stowed the binoculars and stood. He picked up the pack, and Harley rose also. “Let’s follow them,” Rand said.

The dog led the way but stayed close. He had alerted to Rand’s wary attitude and followed suit, picking his way carefully over the terrain and keeping silent. Without being told, he set a course that would intersect the route taken by the three they had been watching. When they were near enough to catch a flash of movement in the trees ahead, Rand stopped, and the dog stopped too.

They waited until the trio had passed, then moved forward cautiously, halting every few steps to listen. Rand froze and moved behind a tree when someone—he thought it was Jedediah—spoke, close enough that Rand could understand every word: “Wake up. The helicopter will be here soon, and you need to be ready to go.”

Rand didn’t hear the answer, but Jedediah and the woman left, leaving the dark-haired man behind, apparently to stand guard.

Harley whined. The hair along the dog’s back rose in a ridge, and he stood stiff-legged, tail and ears alert. “That’s where they’re holding Chris, isn’t it?” Rand said quietly.

He waited until he was sure Jedediah and the woman were gone, then crept closer. He needed to find a way to get rid of the guard without raising an alarm. He watched as the man took a seat on a rock near the mine entrance. He looked disgruntled, pulled from his sleeping bag by Jedediah’s early arrival, marched to stand guard without even a cup of coffee.

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