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12 Nathan

I parked haphazardly in the yard by my house and rushed inside. I kicked off my sneakers and shoved my feet into my tan work boots. I tossed a ratty baseball cap on my head and went down into the unfinished basement and dug through my gear and loaded my pockets with everything I thought I might need.

My weapons were already in my Jeep.

Back upstairs, I shoved some vanilla-flavored power bars in my pockets and grabbed a bottle of water and a jacket on my way out the door. The sky was dark, no stars in sight, and the wind was picking up, making it feel much colder than it was outside.

I hoped Honor had some kind of protection from the elements wherever she was.

Once I was settled into the Jeep, the screenshot of the map came through my phone. I plugged my own phone into the car charger and turned on the engine. There in the darkness of the cab I studied the map.

It gave me a general idea where she was—about fifteen miles outside of the town of Slatington. She was definitely in the woods because there were no roads mapped around the little dot that marked her location.

I would drive as close as I could and then go on foot.

I decided to take the back roads, the ones least traveled. Due to the pileup, I figured a lot of the roads were going to be congested and I didn’t want to get caught in it. I was glad when I got stationed here six months ago that I took the time to drive around, learn the area, and scout out roads.

It was more or less something I was trained to do and even though it wasn’t really required for where I was working now, it was clearly proving useful.

As I drove, images assaulted me, images of the desert, of a gunfight, of blood. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. The stress of the situation was just putting my mind into overdrive.

I felt this insistent need to find Honor, to save her. Maybe it is because I wasn’t able to save them. The thought drew me up short, but once it was there, I couldn’t deny it.

It was quite possible the reason I was going off alone, rogue, to find Honor was because I couldn’t bear the thought of someone else dying—someone I knew I could help.

I turned off the main road and onto a lane that literally curved up the side of a mountain. The sign beside the gravel entrance read: Travel at your own risk.

I drove the Jeep forward. The sound of loose gravel hitting the underside of the vehicle was loud and startling in the dark. I continued up, looking at her map and cross-checking it with the one I had pulled up. The farther up I went, my headlights illuminated the narrow gravel road, and I hoped no one else was out driving tonight because only one car would fit at a time.

On the right side of the road was a steep drop. It was lined with trees and plants. I figured if something did happen and I happened to lose control and fall off, then I likely wouldn’t plunge to my death. Surely the many trees would stop the Jeep from going too far.

Off to my right were more woods. I couldn’t see very far in because it was so dark, but I figured if she was anywhere, it would be over to this side. When I realized I was around the area where she was, I stopped the Jeep and got out, walking into the trees to search for a place to put my Jeep. Leaving it out in the open seemed like a bad idea.

About a mile farther than I wanted to be was a small clearing beneath a canopy of trees. I jogged back to the car and drove it forward, using my four-wheel drive to go off the gravel road and basically four-wheel through the trees and over the uneven ground. I nudged the Jeep between two trees with low-hanging branches and then cut the lights and the engine.

I sat there a long time, listening to the sounds of the woods, wondering if anyone else was out there. The night remained still, except for the distant rumbling of thunder above.

I prayed the rain was moving away from us and not closer.

Before starting off on foot, I pulled out my phone and sent word to Honor. I think I’m close by. If you hear me call out for you, answer.

I didn’t get a reply right away and I hadn’t expected one. My service was low and I knew hers was worse. Hopefully she would at least get the message.

I palmed the pistol beneath the front seat and tucked it in the waistband of my jeans and then tucked the knife I always carried in my front pocket.

Then I pressed a few keys on my phone and held it to my ear.

Patton answered on the second ring. “Hallow,” he drawled.

“Patton, this is Reed. Don’t say my name.”

“What’s up?” he said, his tone staying the same, but I knew he was alert.

“You still playing poker?”

“Sure am!”

“Lex still there?”

He paused. I knew he wanted to ask me what this was about. I really hoped he didn’t. “No.”

I swore.

Patton stayed quiet on the other end of the line. Then I heard his muffled voice say, “I gotta piss.”

I heard the opening and closing of two doors, and I imagined the path he was taking through the door by the bar, across the laundry room, and then into a tiny two-piece bathroom beside it.

“He left,” Patton said, turning on the faucet as he talked.

“How long ago?”

“About thirty minutes.” He paused. “He seemed a little distracted after you left.”

Fuck. I probably shouldn’t have pointed out his phone was missing. He hadn’t known, and I called attention to it. I might have cost myself—and Honor—precious time. I was merely acting in the moment. I hadn’t yet fully decided if those texts were the absolute truth. But once I saw his reaction to the missing phone, added to the picture and the necklace… I couldn’t not believe it anymore.

“What’s this about?” Patton asked, and I heard the sound of a toilet flush.

“I’ll explain later,” I said urgently. I needed to find her, and fast. “Don’t tell anyone I called.”

“I won’t.”

I pulled the phone away from my ear just as I heard Patton say, “Hey.”

“Yeah?” I said.

“If you need anything, I got your back.”

“Good to go,” I replied.

“Semper Fi,” Patton said and then he cut the line.

Semper Fi. Always faithful. It was the Marine Corps way of life. I knew if shit hit the fan, I could call and Patton would be there.

I hoped it didn’t come to that.

I didn’t bother to lock the Jeep when I got out and walked into the trees. I pulled the bill of my hat down low and tucked my hand in my jacket, pulling out a high-powered flashlight that was the size of a pen.

But in this case, size didn’t matter.

This little baby would cut through the worst of the darkness tonight. Overhead, another rumble of thunder rolled. It covered the sound of a text coming through my phone.

I pulled it out, silenced the ringer, and looked down at the message.

Two words.

Two words that made my blood run cold.

He’s back.