Killing Hour - Lisa Gardner [97]
“Times like these,” she said after drinking, “you should be able to push yourself harder.”
Her tone was goading, but Mac merely arched a brow.
“You think I’m soft?”
She shrugged. “I think we’re running out of daylight. I think we should be moving more, and talking less.”
“Kimberly, what time is it?”
“A little after eight.”
“And where are we?”
“Somewhere in our three-mile grid, I guess.”
“Honey, we’ve been hiking down for three hours now. We’re about to go down more, because like you, I also want to see what’s around that next bend. Now, you want to tell me how we’re going to complete our three-hour hike down and magically make it back up to base camp in the one hour of daylight we have left?”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“It can’t be done,” he said flatly. “Come dark, we’ll still be in these woods, plain and simple. Good news, according to my map, we’re close to a trail due west. I figure we finish off this section of the stream, leave a marker, then find the trail before dark. Footing there will be better, and we can use my flashlight to pick our way back up. That way, it’ll only be hard and dangerous, versus downright foolhardy. Don’t think I don’t know how to push the envelope, honey. I’ve just had a few more years to perfect the act than you.”
Kimberly studied him. Then, abruptly, she nodded. He was putting their lives at risk and, perversely, she liked him better for it.
“Good,” she said, and hefted her pack. She turned down the streambed, calling out casually over her shoulder, “Old fart.”
That got him crashing down behind her. It also put a smile on her face. It made her feel better all the way around the next bend, where they finally got their first lucky break.
Kimberly saw it first.
“Where are we?” she asked wildly.
“We’re in our section, there shouldn’t be any overlap . . .”
Kimberly pointed to the tree, with its freshly broken branch. And then she saw the crushed fern, followed by the flattened-down grass. She started walking faster, following the unmistakable signs of human passage as the coarse trail began to zigzag through the woods. It was wide. It was clearly marked. A single person, crashing down nearly out of control. Or perhaps even a man, doubled over from the weight of carrying a heavily drugged body.
“Mac,” she said with barely contained excitement.
He was looking at the sun. “Kimberly,” he said grimly. “Run.”
She went careening down the path with Mac hot on her heels.
CHAPTER 27
Virginia
8:43 P.M.
Temperature: 94 degrees
TINA HATED THE MUD. It oozed and popped and smelled. It rippled and writhed with things she couldn’t see and didn’t want to know. It undulated slowly, like a living beast, just waiting for her to succumb.
She didn’t have a choice. She was dangerously exhausted and dehydrated. Her skin burned from too much sun and too many bug bites. On the one hand, she felt as if her entire body were on fire. On the other hand, she had started shivering, her overheated skin breaking out incongruously with wave after wave of goose bumps.
She was dying; it was that simple. People were comprised of something like 70 percent water. Which made her a pond, now literally drying up from drought.
Curled up against the hot surface of the rock, she thought of her mom. Maybe she should’ve told her about the pregnancy. Sure, her mother would’ve been upset, but only because she personally knew how hard the life of a young, single mother could be. Once the shock wore off, she would’ve helped Tina, offered some support.
And it would’ve been something else, too. Bringing a little life into the world, seeing her baby’s scrunched-up, squalling face. She could picture her and her mom crying together in the delivery room, exhausted and proud. She could see them picking out cute little baby clothes and fussing over midnight feedings. Maybe she’d have a girl, one more tough cookie to continue the family tradition. The three Krahns, ready to take over the world. Oh, the state of Minnesota had better look out.
She