Ashes (Ashes Trilogy 1)

“But if we stay to restart it”—Ellie’s face creased with worry—“won’t that slow us down?”

“No, it’ll be good practice. We’ll be fine.”

By the time they crawled into their shelter, Alex felt better than she had in several days. She was still very hungry, but she could stand this. They were close to water, and soon they would be at the ranger station. They would be okay. If they absolutely had to, they could stay put for a day, maybe near the river. Maybe that would be smart. Getting to the rangers sooner wouldn’t help Jack and there was Ellie to think of. Maybe, she thought drowsily, they should hang out at the river, catch some fish …

“Alex?”

She crawled back toward consciousness. “Mmm?”

“Thanks.”

“Mmm,” she said again, and yawned. “No problem.”

“No, I mean, not just for the fire. Thanks for not leaving me.”

That made her wake up. Wasn’t a lot of this her fault? Not Jack, of course, but if she’d not gotten so freaked, had a bit more patience, they might be in a lot better shape, with food and plenty of water and maps. And here Ellie was thanking her.

“I shouldn’t have left you,” she said. “You weren’t ready, and I was too freaked to see that.”

“You won’t leave me again, will you?”

“No.” She meant that.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” She crooked her little finger. “Pinky swear.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Ellie threaded her pinky around Alex’s. “You won’t forget?”

“Never,” Alex said, and thought maybe they’d turned some corner. By tomorrow, when they reached the river and there was water and fish, their worst days would be behind them.

Famous last words.

17

One second she was sound asleep, the next she was vaulting to consciousness, fully alert, certain that something was wrong. The light was gray in the shelter, and Alex could see splinters of white through the roof of pine boughs. From beyond the shelter came the early morning chatter of birds. She’d cinched the hood of her sweatshirt down around her head, but her face was freezing, her nose a lump of ice, and she heard the sough of the wind through the trees and felt it lick her face with its promise of water.

Wait a minute.

She came up on her elbows and then saw why she was so cold. Why there was wind on her face.

The leaves she’d mounded so carefully at the mouth of the shelter were gone. She saw daylight … and she was alone. Her fanny pack was there, but Ellie’s backpack and the Glock were gone.

She tunneled out of the shelter so fast that the ridgepole came crashing down. She saw, in an instant, that the fire was as they’d left it. So Ellie hadn’t tried to start it on her own.

“Ellie?” she called. Louder: “Ellie?”

She got what she expected: nothing. But she smelled the wet again and understood that the wind had changed direction. What was more, she knew they’d been much closer to the river than she realized.

Three seconds later, she’d strapped on her fanny pack and set off down the trail at a dead run.

There came the gurgling boil of water over rocks. Another ten feet through a thick stand of aspen, and then she saw the water churning to white froth. The sight of all that water made her nearly crazy. She wanted to run and dunk her face; no, she wanted to dive in and start gulping.

Easy, just take it easy.

She unscrewed her water bottle, filled it, dropped in a purification tablet, then capped the bottle and gave it a good shake. In seven minutes, she would have plenty to drink.

This river was wide—sixty, seventy feet across—with a series of drop-offs and waterfalls that went on for a good fifty yards before tailing into rocky shallows. A tangled trio of aspens had fallen across from her side of the river, where the bank was much steeper and the ground more unstable. The felled trees acted as a dam, forming a single deep pool—not dead center, but to the right, so that water shot left down a natural rock sluiceway. A fourth tree jutted over the water. Almost exactly halfway down its length, the trunk forked into a wide V, and the thicker, stouter end of the fork hung over the pool.

Ellie was there, rod clutched in both hands, her back and shoulders hunched against the cold. Her feet dangled fifteen feet above the water. The open bait box perched in a tuft of smaller branches to her left. The Glock—in its holster—nestled on her right.

When she spotted Alex, Ellie threw a look that Alex easily read: Please don’t be mad. To her surprise, Alex wasn’t, but she was worried about how she was going to get Ellie to shore without both of them ending up in the drink. Hitching herself out over the water wasn’t hard, but the trees were slippery with frost and freezing cold. She could feel the muscles of her thighs dancing away from the frigid bark. She wasn’t exactly sold on how stable the thing was either. Every bump and jostle, every quiver, set her teeth on edge, and she kept waiting for a huge CRACK.

She stopped when she was perhaps five feet from where Ellie perched. “So, you really think they’re going to be biting? It’s pretty cold.”

“Grandpa says fish get hungry, too.” As if to prove a point, Ellie twitched her line, reeled it in, inspected a tiny orange nubbin on the hook.

“What is that? It doesn’t look like a worm.”

“Egg sack,” Ellie said.

“Really?” Everything Alex knew about fishing could be written on the back of a matchbook, a definite gap in her backwoods education. “You mean, like sushi?”

She saw Ellie give this some thought. “Sort of. I don’t think you’d want to eat it, though.” Ellie flashed a look of concern. “I wasn’t hoarding it from you or anything.”

“I know.” She uncapped her water bottle, tipped back a mouthful. The water was so cold, she got brain freeze and then gasped as the water burned all the way down her chest before exploding in her stomach. She had never tasted anything so wonderful in her life, and despite the ache, she took another swallow and then another. She might have kept going if not for Ellie. As it was, handing over the bottle was an act of will. “Drink up,” she said to the girl. “We’ll fill our bottles before we leave.”

“Thanks,” Ellie said gratefully. She took two ginormous gulps, nearly draining the bottle, then cast a fearful look at Alex.

“Go ahead,” Alex said. “It’s okay. There’s a whole river, right?”