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“What was wrong?”
“Massive diabetic foot ulcer, stage four. Impressive. When I cut away the infected tissue, our young captor, Dmitry, ran out of the room and threw up. It’s not every day you come across a squeamish terrorist.”
His deadpan humor evoked an amused groan. “Ironic, but also helpful. We’ll leverage his weakness to our advantage.” She jumped her thoughts to how they could exploit the gunman to aid their escape.
“Ja, strange Yuri would bother to care for anyone, but I was glad to treat the farmer.” He swept a hand through his tousled hair and sat on a hay bale.
“You sure we’re talking about the same guy? The psychopath threatened to cut off my finger, and he plans to kill me.” The sensory memory of Yuri’s grimy hand splaying her fingers on the wood table felt like a burn imprinted on her skin. She wiggled her fingers, never more grateful all ten remained intact.
“He wears a silver cross. Maybe he’s religious.”
“Right, the devil incarnate. Bastard.” She kicked a hay bale and folded her arms. She’d never forgive Yuri for threatening her.
“Anyhow, while Dmitry was vomiting outside, the farmer, Anderson, told me we’re about three hours from Vancouver, north of Lillooet, and south of Pavilion. And the best part—a highway runs about twenty kilometers west of here.” Mark kept his voice low.
Her hope swung like a pendulum, rising from defeated to hopeful, then plummeting to despair again in rapid cycles. “If we can escape, we could run to find it and get help. That’s about twelve miles, so it’s doable.”
“Right. Even better, the farmer explained how we might escape this cell. This room was an add-on to the barn. The original wall had a small grain door, which connected to a feed chute that runs outside. If we can find a loose wall board in there, we’ve got a chance.”
Her optimism surged, and she leapt up to gesture toward the wall. “About time we got a break. Let’s carve the drywall away using my knife. I’ll search this half, and you take the other.” When Mark hesitated to respond, she detected a flicker of doubt in his expression. “What is it?”
Rocking back and forth on his heels, he thumbed at his ear. “I suspect the farmer suffers from dementia. He might be mistaken.”
The optimism she felt seconds ago dropped like a boulder, and she tightened her jaw. Lips pressed together, she stared at the ceiling. “Doesn’t matter. This tip’s all we’ve got, so let’s move.”
“Fine, but first, take this acetaminophen I found in the farmer’s cottage. It will help your cheek.” He presented a small handful of white capsules and deposited two onto her palm.
“Thanks. Let’s get going.” Without water, the dry pills stuck in her throat, but she choked them down. Inch by inch, she brushed her hands over the wall and scanned for bumps or cracks, tapping to listen for hollow spots. “If we find this chute, we can escape after nightfall.”
“Yes, but, if we’re caught…” He ambled opposite her and scoured the flat wall’s surface.
The sentence hung between them, unfinished. Wishing to project bravery, she convinced herself she possessed the courage to fight through to the end. Not surviving wasn’t an option, and defiance fueled her determination. She set her hands on her hips. “I refuse to die here, period.”
Before either of them could say more, the exterior barn door clattered, then groaned open. Their captors returned, carrying rifles in their hands.
Losing Kyle and Riku made her want to kick the wall. Feeling cursed, she clenched her eyes shut. Neither Kyle nor Riku had a chance to survive, but she did, and she resolved not to waste it. Whatever it took, she vowed to escape this hellhole, even if she died trying.
Chapter Five
Captivity
Their captors hovered in the barn near them most of the day, entering and exiting every few minutes, which thwarted their search for weak spots in the drywall.
Time sped up and slowed down at ragged intervals. Each minute in their cell passed like a slow drip of molasses, and time stretched to impossible lengths. Arms crossed, Tess leaned against the wall and tapped a foot as her impatience grew. Her skin itched from the scratchy hay, and she couldn’t control her agitation. She drifted her gaze to Mark, who was exercising on the barn floor.
He’d taken his bloody dress shirt off and formed it into a padded cushion, which he slid under his scarred left hand. Undaunted, he proceeded to whip out countless push-ups and sit-ups. After several sets, he repeated the series, keeping his back straight as a wooden plank. His arms curved in symmetry to his broad shoulders, and he executed each push-up in perfect rhythm, as if timed to imaginary music. Defined pectorals stretched his white T-shirt.
Catching herself daydreaming, Tess couldn’t focus on anything else in their sparse cell. Watching Mark exercise, she noticed his expression remained placid, almost meditative, and the dusting of blond stubble on his jaw only enhanced his rugged allure. A surge of warmth crossed her pelvis, an inconvenient reminder of the persistent celibacy she’d endured for a year. Flustered, she steered her thoughts to platonic territory but failed. She imagined a tropical sea, where they swam naked and floated atop gentle, turquoise waves, watching as palm trees swayed under the golden sky.
A door slammed.
She heard footsteps pad away, along with voices speaking what she assumed was Russian. Startled back to attention, she pressed a hand against her cheeks, which were hot with embarrassment, and she chided herself for indulging in whimsy. If Mark had noticed her wandering gaze, she’d be mortified.
Without warning, he abandoned his current set of push-ups. Glowing from exertion, he dabbed at the semi-circle of sweat glistening on his chest. He stood and walked to the cell door, then cupped one hand around his ear a few seconds. “They said they’re going to fetch lunch.”
“Glad those bastards finally left. Let’s find this chute.” Relieved to focus on something productive, Tess rose and debated where to start.
“I’m ready.” He mopped his forehead with his bloodied dress shirt, then slipped it on, leaving it unbuttoned. On his feet, he muscled the grain bin aside and managed to avoid making any noise. Skating his hands across the wall, he searched for loose boards. “Nothing here. Let’s start on opposite sides and meet in the center.”
