Lone Survivor. Jill Elizabeth Nelson

Maybe he was. If only he could hide from himself when the tormenting questions and memories attacked him.

      “Here.” He handed her an energy bar from his stash. “Better eat this, because we’ll be leaving here soon.”

      Her gaze skimmed the room. “How do we get out?”

      He pointed upward. “There’s a camouflaged double-hatch opening in the ceiling with a telescoping ladder that will take us outside near the edge of the forest. I’m a little nervous that my brother hasn’t shown up and knocked at the top hatch. He may be the only one in the forest service who knows exactly where the hatch is. If the forest service hasn’t come by to check on the cabin fire then it’s remotely possible our enemies may be observing the clearing for any signs of life. It’ll be dusk now, but the darkness will be part of our cover. Stick close to me, and you’ll be fine.”

      “Why don’t we just wait a little longer until the good guys arrive to check out the fire? Surely someone will come eventually.”

      Hunter shook his head. “If the cavalry was going to arrive, it would have done so already—my brother leading the charge.” His jaw hardened against the knot in his gut. “It could mean that things escalated at the power station.” Jace, I hope you’re all right.

      Karissa reached out and touched his arm. The gentle compassion in her gaze seemed to travel through her fingertips and touch his soul. “You must be so worried.”

      Hunter rent his gaze away from hers. Of course, she would feel special sympathy toward someone fearing for a sibling’s safety.

      He cleared his throat. “When we leave here, we won’t be heading for any ranger station or park outpost where hostile eyes might be watching for us. With the resources we’ve seen displayed so far by whoever is after you, I don’t trust approaching just anyone for help. We’re in for a long, rather uncomfortable night of walking, but I have a destination in mind. Are you up for it?”

      The woman squared her delicate chin and rose to all of her no more than five feet three inches of dainty height. There was nothing dainty or delicate in the flash of those green eyes. “I’ve marched up mountains, slogged through swamps and chopped my way through jungles. Bring it!”

      Warmth rushed through Hunter’s chest, and he couldn’t swallow his grin. This woman was in a class by herself. “You know what? I believe I’m the one who might have to struggle to keep up.”

      Karissa jerked a nod and turned away, but not fast enough to hide the small answering grin. She picked up a light blanket and began folding it in an odd way.

      “What are you doing?” he asked.

      “Making a baby sling for Kyle that will keep my hands free. Belizean women do this all the time.”

      “Good. The sling will help keep you and him warm, too. It’s summer, but the woods at night at this elevation can still be cool.”

      The intricacies of her sling and how she got the baby into it without waking him up were mysteries to Hunter, but soon they were ready to head up and out. He opened the bottom hatch door and the telescoping ladder slid into place, just reaching the ground at his feet. Above him was a cement tube around four feet wide and about three-quarters his height. He climbed up to the fireproof upper hatch, but his hand hesitated on the lock.

       God, please help us.

      Despite his earlier words about their attackers not waiting around for the real rangers to arrive, the fact that those rangers hadn’t come set him on edge. Their attackers could still be out there, waiting for them to pop their heads up like gophers. Then again, it was highly improbable that their attackers knew about the bunker. No doubt he was uneasy over nothing. Still, Hunter held his breath as he released the locking mechanism and shoved the hatch open.

      Smoke-tinged twilight air washed over him. An owl hooted nearby, and crickets fiddled their tunes. Hunter’s shoulders relaxed. If human beings were still lurking around out there, he wouldn’t be hearing those sounds.

      He looked down at Karissa, who stood directly below, gazing up at him with questions in her eyes. “All clear, I’d say. Hand me the pack, would you?”

      Her strained features relaxed, and she complied, handling the heavy article with ease. He thrust the pack, with the rifle strapped to its side, out onto the dew-sprinkled grass and climbed out of the tube after it. Sprightly as a spider monkey, Karissa climbed out after him, evidently not the least hindered by the precious cargo in her sling or her bullet wound.

      While he donned the pack, Hunter’s gaze roamed the area. About thirty yards away, the remains of his cabin smoldered. Stray sparks winked at him from the burned wood. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of what would have become of all three of them had there been no bunker retreat.

       God, were You guiding me with that idea to build one?

      At the time, it had seemed like nothing more than a useful way to pass the abundance of time he had on his hands. Of course, if it had been an inspired idea, the providential point would have been to protect Karissa and the innocent baby. In surrendering his life to the Lord during the time period he was undergoing physical therapy, he’d been humbly grateful to squeak through the door of salvation for his soul in the next life. He didn’t expect or deserve anything more in this one.

      “Let’s get going,” he said to his petite companion and stepped up behind her.

      An angry bee zipped past his head. At least that’s what it sounded like. His heart squeezed into a fist as his brain kicked out the truth.

      Not a bee—a bullet.

      Hunter grabbed Karissa and the baby and shoved them ahead of him into the trees.

      “Run!”