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Relief filled her. She still had the spring-loaded tactical knife she regularly carried in a convenient pocket so she didn’t have to hunt through her pack for it when needed. In this case, as her only tool/weapon, the folding knife could be the difference between life and death.

  When more wetness trickled down from her temple and over her cheek to drip onto her collar, she pushed it away with the back of her hand. And then stared openmouthed at the blood smeared across her hand.

  She ran her fingers over her cheek, which was cold but unblemished, and then up over her forehead. And found an inch and a half gash over her right eyebrow. The slash and sting of something whipping across her face as she rolled down the hill came back to her, and as if on cue, the wound started to throb. She’d been so focused on not dying in the river, she simply hadn’t felt the pain. Now that drowning was no longer an issue, the sting of the cut floated to the surface.

  Blood continued to trickle down her cheek. Rolling up the sleeve of her windbreaker, she pulled the cuff of her shirt sleeve over her hand, caught it in a fist, and pressed it against the wound, wincing at the painful pressure.

  Hawk nuzzled her left cheek and she opened her eyes to stare up into his familiar face. She ran her free hand over his spiky fur, and his tail thumped against the hard ground.

  “Give me a few minutes to get this to stop, then we’ll get going.”

  A few minutes at least got it to slow, even if it didn’t stop, and Meg finally gave up. “Come on, I’ll deal with it as we go or we’ll still be sitting here when the sun goes down.” She squinted up at the sun, marking its position moving toward the west as afternoon progressed. Stepping toward the closest tree, she studied the moss growing around the base. It was a myth that moss grew only on the north face of a tree or rock, but it was true it tended to be more plentiful on that side. Meg located an area where the moss grew thicker and higher up the trunk, confirming north to the sun’s westward motion.

  “Okay, we have our direction.” She turned and peered through the heavy trees, but the terrain looked the same in all directions. Closing her eyes, she pictured a map of the area in her head. When she and Brian had pulled off the road on the west side of the river, the river had hugged the outer boundaries of the Cohutta Wilderness, running northwest, eventually crossing a major thoroughfare on the map. Granted, this far out in the middle of nowhere, that major thoroughfare was probably a two-lane road. However, a road meant cars, and cars meant assistance and civilization. They were on the east side of the river, and there was clearly no safe way to ford it, so the best they could do was follow the direction of the river.

  But Meg wanted to put some distance between herself and the water. Water attracted wildlife, and these mountains were full of bears, bobcats, coyotes, and even a few unconfirmed sightings of cougars, which were likely making their way into the area from Tennessee. Also, if they got a bit higher, they might be able to find a proper hiking trail to make their way easier, and might be able to spot a way out to be able to signal rescuers from a visible location.

  Brian.

  Meg desperately hoped he’d gotten away when the shooting started. She was nearly certain she’d been the focus of the archer’s arrows, but there was always the chance he’d been able to reload faster than she calculated and had split his shots between them, or Brian had become the sole target after she’d disappeared. If Brian had survived, she knew without a doubt he’d be frantically looking for her and assuming she was injured and lost, wandering the forest. Or worse, that she was dead at the bottom of the river.

  He’d already be calling in reinforcements, going over Torres’s head and right to Craig. She knew he would, because it’s exactly what she would do. The Forensic Canine Unit had never lost one of their own, but if anyone would be able to find them, it was the Human Scent Evidence Team. If she knew Craig—and she did—he’d be calling in air support. Maybe helicopters, definitely drones. She’d have to watch and listen for them so she could flag them down. More than that, when she found rare open areas in the tree cover, she should try to leave messages indicating their direction, either by scratching it into larger rocks or making messages out of smaller ones. The bigger problem for both herself and any searchers was the oncoming dusk. If she couldn’t find her way out in the next few hours, they’d have to hunker down overnight. As it was, by the time Brian made contact with Craig, and Craig mobilized any teams who were free, they’d be arriving at nightfall and wouldn’t be able to do in-person searches until morning.

  Morning . . . Todd.

  If she was still stuck in the wilderness when night fell, he’d be desperately worried. And there’d be nothing anyone could do until daybreak. It was simply too dangerous to climb mountains in the dark.

  The goal then was to save everyone that worry and to find her way out of the wilderness before they lost the light and had to hole up for the night.

  Meg also needed to get moving in an attempt to warm herself. Despite now being out of the water, her teeth chattered and tremors ran through her from cold trapped by her saturated clothing. Time for some brisk exercise to warm and dry herself.

  “Hawk, come.”

  Together, they started up the mountainside. There was no trail to follow, so Meg chose the path of least resistance, circling boulders and snarls of thorny bushes, and using exposed tree roots and branches to help pull herself up. Hawk, seemingly overflowing with energy, bounded along beside her, clearly enjoying a challenging hike where he didn’t have to work.

  Her wound continued to ooze blood down her cheek, over her jaw, and onto her collar, slowly soaking it, though the trickle gradually slowed.

  Twenty minutes later, after the third stumble in as many minutes, Meg came to the conclusion that hiking uphill wasn’t warming her fast enough as her teeth continued to chatter and her cold, stiff muscles made her clumsy and uncoordinated.

  “Hawk, buddy, I need a minute.” Meg stopped, leaning against the rough, ridged bark of an ash tree as she scanned the area around them. At first her gaze passed over a rocky cluster up the hill to her right, but then she snapped back to it. Surrounded only by low, scrubby trees and bushes, it stood in the full sunlight.

  Sunbaked rocks were warm rocks, even in April’s cool spring weather. Twenty minutes sitting there, maybe laying out some of her clothes to dry out a bit, would be time well spent. When she was warmer, when her brain wasn’t short-circuiting with cold, then she’d come up with a plan of attack.

  “Hawk, come.”

  Knowing relief was in sight gave Meg the strength to continue on, to push through when all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball to warm her cold limbs. It took a few minutes, easily twice as long as it normally would to cover the distance, but then the rock structure loomed large before them. Laying her hand on one of the boulders, she almost moaned in pleasure as the toasty warmth sank into her chilled skin, making her fingertips prickle.

  “Twenty minutes, Hawk. I’ll be all right after that. Lie down in the sun and you’ll be dry in no time.”

  Hawk happily lay down in the sun on top of a long, flat outcrop of rock, letting out a gusty sigh. Meg took a few minutes to collect a dozen or so medium-size rocks and fashion them into an arrow beside Hawk, indicating their direction in case a drone passed overhead.

  That task done, Meg unzipped and peeled away her soaking FBI windbreaker, then stripped off her waffle-weave Henley, leaving her in a thin, long-sleeved athletic pullover. She draped both garments over sun-warmed granite—grimacing at the wide patch of blood at the neckline of her Henley—and then selected a large, flat ledge, slightly inset from the other rocks around it so she was protected from the wind in the lee of the formation. Hooking her fingers in her hair elastic, she yanked it out, freeing her long hair from its ponytail. Gathering it at the base of her skull, she squeezed out the excess water and then spread her hair over her shoulders to dry.

  Sitting down, she bent to unlace her boots, struggling at first over the water-logged laces with stiff, clumsy fi
ngers. But one at a time, she unlaced each boot and poured any remaining water out onto the ground with a soft splat before setting it in the sun to dry. She pulled off her socks, wrung them out with both hands, and lay them beside her. Wiggling her pruned toes, she leaned against the sunbaked granite at her back with a long sigh of satisfaction. She closed her eyes and basked in the reflected heat warming her chilled skin.

  Her eyes flashed open and her head snapped up at the low rumble of Hawk’s growl. Hawk stood, front feet braced, his head low, his lips pulled back over his teeth as he released another rumble of warning. But what alarmed Meg the most was the fact that his gaze was focused on a spot about two feet to her left.

  She slowly turned her head and then stifled the gasp of surprise that threatened to squeak through her clenched teeth.

  A rattlesnake lay three feet away, coiled on the warm rock and poised to strike.

  CHAPTER 22

  Uhstahli: Once there was a giant Inchworm that lived in Cherokee country high on a hill above a village. From below, the Cherokee couldn’t see the Inchworm standing on top of the rocks, but when the men were out hunting, the Inchworm would lean forward and grab a woman from the village.

  Tuesday, April 16, 3:31 PM

  Cohutta Wilderness

  Murray County, Georgia

  Meg froze as she quickly assessed the situation. She couldn’t say for certain, but she was sure the snake wasn’t there when she sat down. She was cold and dull-witted, but she wasn’t that out of it. More than likely, the snake had been searching for warmth and had come up through the rocks to sun itself on the low ledge. She’d let her guard down, but its movements had attracted Hawk’s ever-vigilant attention.

  The broad, flat head and heavy tan body ending in a black tail with black Vs marching point down toward the tail told her it was a timber rattlesnake. It lay partially coiled, but had to be easily four or five feet in length. Most alarmingly, while the front half of its body was protectively coiled into itself, ready to strike, her anti-venom was in her go bag at the bottom of the Conasauga River. Up here, with no medical or veterinary assistance, a snakebite could mean a painful death for either herself or Hawk.

  And dogs didn’t like snakes. Not that she did, either, but she wasn’t going to take a run at it.

  Hawk stood about five feet away, but was poised to jump into the fray, and Meg had no doubt he could do it in a single leap. He growled again and the snake responded with a warning shake of its rattle.

  “Talon, leave it. Back. Stay.” Meg kept her voice low, but her tone of voice was pure command.

  Hawk reluctantly broke from his aggressive pose and took a step back.

  “Stay,” she reinforced, but then had to turn to the snake. Hawk was now far enough away that she could safely deal with her own risk.

  She knew what to do if she and Hawk encountered a rattlesnake while out on a search—don’t startle it, back away quietly, and stay out of attack range. Two out of three of those options were already lost to her. Hawk had already startled it and if the attack perimeter was typically about half of a snake’s body length, she was already in range. And she knew how fast a rattler could strike.

  She’d never see it coming. She’d just feel the stab of its fangs.

  She inched away from the snake, not taking her eyes off it, almost mesmerized by the periodic flick of its jet-black tongue as it scented the air. Scented her blood?

  Slowly. Sloooowly. Another foot and you’ll be clear.

  Too slowly. The rattlesnake pulled in tighter and added a hiss to the rattle.

  She was running out of room on the rock, so she slid one bare foot to press against the side while she planted the other one out about a foot. She could ease off the rock, but the snake was losing patience.

  One . . . two . . . three!

  She pushed off with both her braced foot and her hands to launch herself off the ledge, propelling herself forward, wincing when loose stones pushed into her bare soles as she stumbled away. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of movement and knew she’d missed the strike by a fraction of a second as the snake struck where she’d sat on the rock. Luckily, it didn’t calculate to follow her as she bolted, and it missed her completely.

  Reaching Hawk, she grabbed the handle of his vest just in case and turned to look back. Having missed its target and been denied a warm spot to bask in peace, the snake was slithering away between the rocks, going back into hiding.

  Letting out a rough laugh, Meg sank down beside her dog. “What do you think? Do we have the worst luck in the world today or what?”

  Hawk simply gazed at her, unblinking.

  “On second thought, don’t answer that. We’re not out of the woods yet. Literally.”

  Meg waited a full five minutes, then, when the snake didn’t reappear, she darted over to the rocks, snatching her socks, boots, shirt, and jacket, and retreated once again. Bracing her back against a tree trunk, she pulled her wet, clammy socks and boots on and then fought her way into her Henley and jacket. At least for now, the material held the ghost of warmth, but she suspected that wouldn’t last long.

  “Let’s keep moving. The faster we cover ground, the faster we’ll get out of here.” She marked the sun again and they headed as close to northwest as the terrain allowed.

  When Meg found a sturdy branch along the way, she picked it up and tested it as a walking stick. Liking the heft of it, she gave it a test swing, nodding in approval of its dual use as a club. Pulling out her folding knife, she pressed the button on the handle and the blade sprang free. She made quick work of one end of the stick, slicing it into a point to dig into the dirt for extra support. Secondarily, it could also be used as a weapon if they came upon another bear when they didn’t have bear spray.

  It was slow, painful going. One of the most important rules for search-and-rescue was to keep your feet dry, something not possible in her case. Inside of an hour, Meg was reminded why when painful blisters developed and eventually popped, causing her to lean more heavily on her walking stick and limp with each step, further slowing their progress. The lack of a defined trail made traversing the terrain a challenge and required pushing through the underbrush and climbing up and down rock formations. When the terrain and tree cover allowed for it, she left another arrow marking their path.

  They were pushing through thick forest when Meg heard it—the high-pitched whine she still sometimes heard in her nightmares. A drone. But this drone wouldn’t be carrying a bomb; it would be carrying a live video camera. Meg looked up to see nothing but pine branches and foliage overhead.

  “Hawk, come! We have to get out in the open!”

  They ran. Meg ignored the pain lancing through her feet as they scrambled over the rough terrain, looking for a break in the trees. They needed somewhere they could be visible from above. If she could signal the drone, the operator on the other end watching the video screen would be able to identify their position and send help directly to them.

  Up ahead, sunlight hit granite as the trees gave way to a rocky patch. But the whine of the drone was already starting to fade slightly.

  “Hawk, this way! Faster!”

  They ran for the clearing, bursting out into sunlight. Meg could see the drone as a dark object hanging in the sky, slightly ahead of them. Throwing her arms over her head, she waved madly, jumping up and down. “Here! We’re over here! Come back this way!”

  But the drone carried on, moving farther away, slowly getting smaller and smaller as the sound of its motors died away, the operator considering that area already searched.

  Discouraged, Meg cursed and sank down onto a boulder. Hawk nuzzled close to her, pushing his nose against her throat and exhaling down her shirt. “Hawk, down. Down, boy.” But his affection tugged a small smile from her. “I’m sorry, buddy, we tried. Looks like it’s still just us.” She looked up in the sky. “But maybe they’ve seen one of the arrows and they’ll do another pass. We’ll have to listen for it.” She pushed to her feet. “
Come on, Hawk. Let’s keep going.”

  Away from the river, as dehydration reared its ugly head after their sprint, Meg questioned the sense in staying away from an important water source, until scrabbling in the underbrush made her call quietly for Hawk to stop. A minute later, an enormous wild boar meandered out of the brush, its nose to the ground as it snuffled for acorns or small rodents.

  “Hawk, stay.” Meg kept her voice quiet and dropped one hand down to rest lightly on his back.

  But while his eyes stayed locked on the boar, Hawk didn’t show any interest in it beyond simple curiosity, making Meg grateful for both his temperament and training that discouraged aggression unless it was in self-defense. Or, in an emergency, in defense of her. The image of Hawk, teeth bared, leaping at Daniel Mannew to clamp his teeth around his wrist filled her mind.

  They waited while the boar rooted around for a minute before lumbering off downslope, in the direction of the river.

  Better to be thirsty than forced to mess with those tusks.

  But as they continued their journey and as the sun coasted toward the horizon, hunger and thirst became a real issue. Hunger was a gnawing ache in her belly, but the headache starting to pound had more to do with exertion and her cotton-dry mouth than the slice over her eyebrow. Hawk had to be feeling it as well, though, as always, he pushed on willingly. As her energy level dropped, Meg had to consider that after a day of exceptional exertion to save her own life, followed by hours of difficult hiking, they weren’t going to make it to civilization before dark. Perhaps it was time to look for a place to shelter overnight. If she could rest and dry her boots and socks, with renewed energy, they could be warm, dry, and fed by lunchtime tomorrow.

  And in the meantime, while they were avoiding the river, she’d watch for unexpected water she knew could pop up in the mountains from small springs or flowing down folds in the rock.

  Heavy clouds closed in, blocking the sun and making both time and direction more challenging as the light level dropped. Keep going until it’s too dangerous to continue unless you find shelter first.