Page 27 of Slay Ride

“Bennett?”

Her small voice comes from behind me, and I turn and find her a mere five feet away. All this time, I thought I’d lost her trail, but that was only becauseshe’sbeen trailingme.

“How long have you been following me?” I ask.

Instead of a snappy comeback, she stumbles a step and catches herself on a tree trunk. With her face. Down she goes in a heap of pink and white.

“Fuck,” I grumble as I rush forward and drop to my knees beside her. I didn’t want to kill her, but I didn’t want to take care of her, either. I should have just stayed at the mansion.

A long scrape runs through the goggles covering her eyes, so I can only hope they took the brunt of the impact. If the girl loses any more brain cells, she’ll be in a real mess.

I smack her cheek a lot softer than I want to. “Hey, get up. If you can make it back to the snowmobile, I’ll drive us out of here.”

Her eyelashes flutter behind the scuffed plastic, but she doesn’t speak. I only hear her breathing, and it’s a little too quick and shallow for my liking.

Snow begins to fall again. Rebellious white flakes squeeze through the canopy and land on her pink jacket. Staying here isn’t an option anymore. Since she can’t walk under her own power, I guess I’ll have to carry her.

I get to my feet and bend down to scoop her up. If I only had to carry the girl, I’d be fine, but her snow gear makes doing everything more difficult. Typical Cat. She can’t even make her rescue simple.

Stumbling forward with an unwanted package in my arms, I do my best to retrace my steps through the snow. That would be a lot easier if I didn’t have so many factors working against me, such as fresh snowfall and another set of footprints to untangle from mine. Inevitably, we end up back where we started, and I don’t mean the ski lift.

Cat’s breathing hasn’t improved, and other than asking about her cat when I nearly tripped over a hidden log, she’s been silent. She’s likely suffering from hypothermia coupled with dehydration. She needs to get warm, first and foremost, and then I can melt snow to give her something to drink.

I stand still and look around. Yes, we’re definitely back at the tree where Cat popped out behind me. The piece of bark her goggles chipped from a towering pine is evidence of that.

The wood here is too wet for a fire. Even if I had time to craft a feather stick and some kindling, the humidity is just too high. Without a Ferro Rod, a friction fire is my only option, and that ain’t happening in these conditions.

Cat stirs in my arms and tilts her head to the side with a groan. “The cabin,” she whispers, and I almost don’t hear her.

“Yeah, there’s one out here, but I don’t know where it is. If I’m honest, I don’t even know where we are anymore.”

“That way.” Her hand drifts to the side, and she points to the spot where she came out of the woods behind me earlier.

Without another question, I pick up my aching legs and head in that direction. I’m glad my arms are numb, though. If I could feel them, they’d be screaming at me.

It’s not that she’s heavy, but the awkward shape of her bundled body makes her difficult to carry. She does her best tohang on, now that some of her strength has returned, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.

I’ve gone about twenty yards and am about ready to give in when the woods break open and a small cabin comes into view. Compared to the mansion, it’s an outhouse, but compared to the cold, frozen wasteland we’re in right now, it’s a mansion.

The narrow wooden porch groans as I step up and disturb the snow. I place Cat on her feet beside the door, and she crumples in a shivering heap. As I reach up to try the doorknob, I find it locked.

“Who the fuck are they keeping out? Is there a goddamn squirrel cartel out in this hellscape?” I step over Cat and try the window, but it’s also locked. Can nothing in my life come easily?

I grab Cat’s arms and drag her away from the door. Judging by the absolute deadweight, she’s either passed out again or has finally succumbed. I’m running out of time.

As I run off the porch, turn around, and barrel toward that wooden rectangle, I’m not thinking about the fact that Jim spares no expense. I’m not considering that this is probably a solid door made from some genetically engineered tree that’s so dense that it must be cut with a special laser. It doesn’t even cross my mind that the latches and hinges are made of Kevlar and titanium.

No, I don’t think of any of those things until my shoulder collides with the door and I bounce back like a rubber ball.

“The window,” Cat whispers.

I rub my shoulder and roll my eyes. “I already tried it. It’s locked.”

She struggles to stand, then goes down in a heap again. When she tries to speak, I can’t understand her. I move closer and bend down so that my ear is right beside her mouth.

“The glass, you moron,” she whispers. “Break it.”

“I was just about to do that before you interrupted me, O wise one.”

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