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Without waiting for him to finish, she brushed his hands away and walked away from him. He was right; they didn’t know each other well, and he didn’t know himself at all. Besides there were more important matters that needed tending. One was getting a fire going and maybe some food in their bellies. She made her way back over to the car with the kindling in her arms, then knelt to the ground. She arranged the wood and started a fire the old-fashioned way, friction and air from her lungs.
A long sigh emanated from him as he walked over to the pack. He removed a small pan, a bag of oats, and the canteen, then bent a knee next to her. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you, Angel?”
When it began to smoke and spark, she adjusted the rocks to support the pan. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
He nodded while mixing the oats and water together in the pan before setting it over the growing flame she created.”So, what’s next?”
She tilted her chin up toward the hills. “I think there’s a lean-to not far from here. If we’re in the area I think we are. Our best bet would be to make our way there and regain our strength to make the trek back home. The climb up won’t be easy. If we’re lucky, we might even run into Derek and the crew.”
“How do you know they weren’t hit with the flood?”
Her eyes met his. “I don’t. But I have hope they were not in the way of that wave.”
He nodded as he stirred the oats. “Any idea what caused it?”
As she stared into the flames, she shrugged. “Not sure, could have been an earthquake that disrupted a water holding reservoir or dam. Can you look in the bag and see what we have to use for dishes?”
She stirred the oats as he removed a cup and bowl from the bag. When the rich smell of warm food reached her nose, she inhaled deeply, causing her mouth to water. She was about to ask Krieger for the bowl when a branch snapped behind her and a low growl filled the air.
With slow movements, Eva stood and twisted to look back at the trees, where a streak of fur moved past her line of vision. She had no warning before Krieger shoved her hard. Her ass hit the damp ground before her head bounced off the earth.
Gasping for air, she reached for her knife and murmured, “Shit.”
The last thing she saw was the beast leaping for Krieger’s throat.
Chapter 8
Krieger held a jaw full of razor-sharp teeth away from his neck. The animal resembled a cross between a wolf and a dog. Its beady black eyes centered on him as its claws dug into his abdomen and chest. Saliva dripped on his skin as the beast roared with frustration. It wanted his blood...
He shoved the coyote back, but the bastard was strong. His gray and white fur was wet, and Krieger’s grip was slipping. Where was his gun?
This had to be the reason Eva said to keep the thing on him at all times. This place was an unpredictable gauntlet of terrible and awful. Terrible one minute, awful the next. Whipping his head from side to side, he looked for a weapon.
Eva was over by the pack looking for something—a weapon perhaps—but he couldn’t wait any longer to act.
His grip slipped, but he was able to move his neck away from the deadly fangs. Instead, Krieger felt the sharp pierce of his skin as the beast bit down hard on his right shoulder. Blood soaked his shirt as he let out a roar of pain. Then, as if to rip the tissue from his body, the animal shook his head.
Without thinking, he punched the monster in the face, then repeatedly did the same to his ribs. It let go of him, leaping away, and he thought he was free, but then it circled back around.
Krieger stood in the five seconds it took the mutt to counterattack. The animal started to rush at him again when a loud bang filled the air. Gunfire...
The beast’s ears flattened to its head before it took off in another direction. It ran into the dead forest and disappeared into a denser brush.
Krieger was breathing hard as he turned to look at Eva, who was still holding the gun. She hadn’t aimed to kill—she pointed the gun into the air above her head.
He took a step in her direction and asked, “Why didn’t you kill it?”
She lowered the pistol as her gaze met the ground. “I-I just couldn’t...”
“Eva...” He strode toward her. “It could have killed us.”
She looked to him, but her eyes were cold and guarded. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”
He looked to his shoulder and held out the flannel button-down splattered in blood—his blood.
She stuffed the gun into her waist band and grabbed the pack, then closed the space between them. “I couldn’t steady the gun in my hand. My aim is off since being shot. I... just couldn’t risk hitting you. Now sit.”
He softened at her words and sat next to the fire. The oatmeal had been spilled onto the ground from the fight and had been long since forgotten.
