“Beaker could be growling at an animal.”
“You going to wait around and find out?” she asked. “We have to portage now! Once we get into the white water, Wayne won’t be able to catch us on foot.”
He handed her the rifle and pack, and tucked his handgun back in his belt. Ignoring his burning muscles, he hefted the heavy canoe out of the water and began dragging it over a ledge to the left of the falls.
Beaker silently disappeared into the darkness.
The sharp crack of a rifle suddenly split the night, and the tree beside Emma splintered with the impact of a bullet. Ben dove for her, throwing her to the ground and covering her head with his arms.
“It came from the other side of the stream,” she said, turning her face toward his. “I saw the muzzle flash.”
“He’s shooting blind. He just saw movement. He still might not know I’m here,” Ben said, easing off her. “I’m going to keep dragging the canoe down through the trees. The noise of the falls should cover the sound.” He handed her the rifle. “Try to cover me.” He grabbed her chin and looked directly into her eyes. “If you get a clear shot, can you take it?”
Her eyes huge with worry as she tried to pierce the darkness, she nodded.
“Good girl. Don’t try anything foolish,” he warned. “I’m counting on you to be right here when I get back. Understand?”
“I promise not to move from this spot. Get the canoe down to the water.”
“I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“Where’s Beaker?”
“Hunting.” He started dragging the canoe again.
His last look back showed Emma lying on her stomach, her rifle aimed toward the other side of the falls.
He didn’t doubt she’d pull the trigger, but he hoped like hell it didn’t come to that. For all of her strengths, Emma was a gentle soul with a tender heart. He hated to leave her in the position of having to take another person’s life, no matter how unredeemable that life was.
Ben was halfway down the ledge when the next rifle shot pierced the darkness and ricocheted on the rocks across the falls.
Yup. Emma had pulled the trigger.
Their game was up. Poulin knew she was armed, which meant their element of surprise was gone.
Ben finally reached the bottom of the falls, only to find a frothing, turbulent pool completely surrounded by sheer ledge. If they got in the canoe here, Poulin could pick them off as easily as shooting fish in a barrel.
Hell. It was time for another plan.
Ben looked up and saw the first whisper of dawn lighting the sky. He left the canoe on the ledge by the pool and pulled his handgun out of his belt. He’d tried to do things her way, but now it was time to join Beaker.
First, though, he needed to let Emma in on his plan so she didn’t accidentally shoot him. But just as he started up the trail, a deep rumbling came echoing down the mountain. The ground started to tremble, and Ben had to grab a tree for balance. Rocks poured down from the ledge as deadly missiles, some of them as large as basketballs. The tree he was holding shook as if attempting to shrug him off as the valley awakened with violent energy.
Emma tucked herself against the trunk of a giant pine tree to ride out the earthquake. Medicine Creek boiled with fury as huge boulders lost their footing and tumbled into the water. The ledge of the falls split with explosive booms that sounded like gunfire, reverberating through the granite beneath her in undulating waves.
Her first thought when the ground quieted was of Ben. He was below the falls, in the path of a deadly landslide of falling rock and small trees that still fell with lethal frequency. Her second thought was that the roar of the falls had subsided to a more gentle sound, like that of a gushing faucet that had suddenly been turned off.
Medicine Creek had been dammed up by the falling debris.
Emma moved away from the swiftly rising water and scanned the opposite shore, able to see it clearly now that dawn blanketed the forest with dim light. Wayne was still over there someplace, waiting for her to move. She quietly started in the direction Ben had gone, sliding down the path, praying she wouldn’t find him buried beneath rubble.
She lost her grip on a tree root and fell into his lap.
He caught her with a grunt. “Following orders as usual?”
“We’ve got about two minutes before the rising creek decides this is the easiest way down the valley,” she told him, grabbing his hand. “The falls were dammed by the earthquake.”
He reversed her grip on his and began pulling her back up the path.
“The canoe’s destroyed. And it’s too light out now to use it anyway,” he said, helping her over a steep spot.
“Then let’s head due east, away from the stream.”
He shook his head, still climbing. “No. If that pigeon of yours made it home yesterday, help will be arriving soon. They’ll be looking for us along Medicine Creek.”
Emma forced Ben to stop by grabbing a tree trunk and hanging on.
“What?” he asked.
“Wayne will see them coming! He’ll kill Mikey if he gets the chance.”
“He won’t get the chance,” Ben said, pulling her behind him again. “I intend to kill him first.”
Emma followed in silence. Water was already creating a new channel around the dammed falls. She hoped the creek was overflowing on the opposite shore as well, forcing Wayne out of his hiding place.
When they reached the overflowing stream, Ben headed toward the falls. There was enough light now to see the giant boulders and broken ledge blocking it, forming a bridge they could use. He stopped before crossing and turned to her, his face harder than the granite she was standing on.
Michael had been right. When Ben finally shed his veneer, he was scary.
“I need you to stay here,” he said harshly, leaving no
