Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“Can you believe this?” She smiles.
“You were right about finding shelter.” I grab a pair of socks and bend down, helping her get her good foot into one.
“You might’ve been right, too. Maybe there’s a rescue team at the plane right now looking for us.”
Her eyelids are drifting closed.
“You want to try a sock on that other foot?”
She shakes her head. “No. I just want to sleep.”
I help her tuck her feet beneath the covers and then cover her up. The bed has sheets and two blankets on it, one of them made of thick wool and the other another worn quilt.
I spread the other quilt out over the bed, suddenly very aware of my wet, freezing feet. I walk around to the other side of the bed and slide off my wet clothes, groaning with happiness as I slide on the dry socks. I step into the long underwear after that and button it up.
There’s a pack of matches on the fireplace’s rustic wood mantel and a lot of firewood in a small back room of the cabin. I get a fire going and hang up all of our wet clothes, switch off the lamp and climb into bed beside Trinity.
She’s already snoring lightly. I close my eyes and exhale fully for what feels like the first time since we set out from the crash site.
I don’t know where we are or exactly what will come next, but the worst of the danger is past.
We’re going to live.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Trinity
My mouth feels like someone stuffed it full of cotton. I sit up, my arms aching with the effort of supporting my weight.
“Hey,” a deep male voice says from nearby.
Lincoln. I’m so groggy it took me a second to register where we are and how we got here.
Plane crash. Chris. Long, freezing walk. Cabin.
“How long was I asleep?” My voice cracks, my throat so dry it hurts.
“Twelve hours. I was out for about ten.” He brings me a clear plastic cup full of water and I take it, drinking the entire thing. “You want more?”
I nod, passing him the cup. “Thanks.”
There’s light coming in through two small windows, one near the front door and one on the back wall of the cabin. Both windows have heavy wood shutters that bolt closed from the inside, and it looks like Lincoln opened them.
It’s a cozy little cabin, other than the wall of weaponry. A fire crackles in the fireplace and several throw rugs cover the rustic wood floor. There’s a tiny wood table with a chair on either side of it next to the kitchen area. A beautiful white claw-foot bathtub sits alone in one corner, a little shelf on the wall holding some bubble bath and a few stacked bars of soap.
“Are you hungry?” Lincoln asks as he walks back over to the bed.
I cringe as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my ankle throbbing with pain. “How many bars do we have left?”
“You won’t believe our luck.” He passes me the cup. “The room with the firewood has built-in floor-to-ceiling shelves with canned food and there are two big metal barrels full of rice. And also a bunch of five-gallon containers of water. I think we might have found a prepper’s place.”
I blink, stunned by the news. “Do you think the owner will mind if we eat some of their food?”
“I’ll pay them back several times over for whatever we use.”
My body relaxes as I realize for the first time since the crash that we aren’t going to die out here.
Lincoln continues. “I took a quick look outside after I woke up earlier and I didn’t see any other signs of life. We need to stay here for now so you can rest your ankle.”
I slide onto my feet, whimpering as a bolt of pain shoots through my foot and leg. Lincoln is beside me in an instant, putting his arm around my waist so I can take the weight off my left foot.
I feel his solid, muscled body through the fabric of the long underwear. He’s warm. As he looks down at me, I suddenly feel self-conscious about not buttoning the one-piece garment all the way up. He’s probably getting an unsolicited view of my breasts right now.
“You should stay in bed,” he says.
“I have to pee.”
He furrows his brow as he realizes he can’t argue with me about that. “There’s an outhouse around back. I’ll help you get out there.”
When I cringe, he arches his brows in a look of annoyance. “Would you rather squat in the snow?”
He’s such a man. I glare at him. “I can’t just whip it out and pee wherever. Is there a seat in the...outhouse?”
Even the word is gross. Might as well just call it a shitter.
“I don’t remember. Want to just piss your pants just in case there’s no seat?”