you think we lost him?” the woman asked between breaths.
“Don’t know,” he gasped.
“Should we go for it?” She pointed toward the creek that cut across the beach.
He just nodded. And together they scrambled and slid down the sandstone face of the bluff. When they reached the beach level, he motioned to her to wait, pressing his back against the concave rock wall. Just in case Krantz was up above. Straining his ears, he listened, but all he could hear was the sound of his own heavy breathing and the waves. He looked out to where the fog bank was slowly crawling across the sand.
“Should we wait for the fog?” she whispered.
He looked at the bluff overhead, imagining a winded Krantz posted up there with his powerful rifle. They would be easy pickings, making their way through the creek. Jon patted a damp driftwood log that the tide had pushed up against the bluff wall. “Let’s wait.”
“Let me fix that,” she said quietly, pointing to the bandage he’d made from a shirt. “I’m nearly done with nursing school.” She handed Ralph to him. “Might as well put it to use.” She knelt down and went to work.
“Thanks.” He used his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this tired before.
“You’re right,” she whispered. “It’s not a deep wound.” She bound it up more tightly, tying the sleeves of his shirt into a more secure knot and tucking the loose pieces into his makeshift bandage. “Hopefully that’ll hold awhile.”
Jon held a finger to his lips, nodding to where he thought he’d heard a noise up above them. Just then some small stones tumbled down. He slipped his hand around Ralph’s snout to muzzle him, holding him close to his chest. The sound of barking could prove lethal for all of them right now.
The girl looked down at Ralph and, as if sensing the dog’s fear at being muzzled like this, she gently stroked his head and scratched his ears. Jon could feel the small animal slowly relaxing. And still up against the wall and not moving, they remained silently frozen in place for about ten or fifteen minutes. Long enough to catch their breath, and hopefully long enough for Krantz to move on.
Jon nodded to where the fog was nearly to the bluff. He pointed at the woman now, silently indicating that she should remain put while he ventured out. His thinking was that, if he was visible from the bluff above, he’d make an easy potshot—for someone with good aim, that is. But if the cop was going to take him out, Jon wanted the woman to still have a chance. So, holding the muzzled dog, he headed out in the stream, hoping and praying that the fog was thick enough to conceal him—and at the same time bracing himself for the sound of shots and the impact of bullets...and death. But at least she would be safe...or so he hoped. Why hadn’t he gotten her name?
Finally, just as it grew hard to see her, he waved with one hand, motioning for her to join him—and hoping she would hurry. To his relief, she sprinted through the creek, and now they ran full speed toward the ocean, where their footsteps would be washed away forever. Turning north, they continued running through the surf. But it would be at least an hour before they reached safety—if that were even possible. And that was only if they ran at full speed—which Jon wasn’t sure he could do.
“You’re faster,” Jon said breathlessly. “Take the lead.”
“No,” she firmly told him. “I want to stay with you. Your leg’s wounded.” She held out her hands. “Let me carry Ralph—it’s the least I can do.”
He reluctantly relinquished the dog, trying to run faster, but soon realized it took all his energy just to maintain a fast jog. “What’s your name?” he huffed as he struggled to keep pace with her, water splashing with each step.
“Leah,” she told him. “Leah Hampton.”
“I’m Jon.” He gasped for air. “Jon Wilson.”
“Nice to meet you, Jon.” She smiled, and for a moment he felt the sun had burst through the fog, and his steps grew lighter.
“In a while,” he huffed, “we’ll run—beside the water. The tide—coming in—hide our footprints.”
“Good idea.” She nodded. “We’ll make better time that way.”
“Yeah.”
“Where are we going?”
“Home,” he puffed. “I hope.”
So many questions were tumbling through his head, but it was impossible to ask them. Who was she? Where did she live? Why had she been stopped? It took all his energy just to keep moving—and moving quickly. His only hope was that they would outrun and outwit Krantz. But even if they made it back to his parents’ beach house without being caught or shot, they would still be cut off from most of the world. There was no landline there, and Jon’s cell phone was useless in these parts.
Not only that, but his Fiat was in the garage with its carburetor removed and totally dismantled. It had seemed a good idea yesterday. So, other than his parents’ three-wheeled bikes and his dad’s less than dependable quad runner, they would have no transportation. And the nearest vacation cabins—as far as Jon had observed this past week—were all empty right now. The closest “civilization” was a little mom-and-pop store four miles away that kept random hours in the off-season. And then it was another eight miles to town.
When Jon had asked to borrow his parents’ beach cabin as a “getaway” he hadn’t planned on getting away quite like this. He peered through the fog toward the dark shadow of the bluff that ran alongside the beach. In places where the fog was patchy, he could see clear to the top of it. Could Krantz see them, too?
“We gotta move faster,” he huffed at Leah, as if she were the one slowing them down, when he knew she could’ve been a mile ahead by now.
“Here.” She held Ralph close to her with one arm, hooking the other arm into his, and then, keeping stride—pace for pace—she gradually increased the speed, pushing him harder and harder. If the crazy cop didn’t shoot him, he’d probably drop dead from a heart attack right here on the beach before long. But at least he’d have a beautiful woman by his side.
Leah knew she was pushing Jon too hard, but the image of that cop’s enraged face and the way he’d pulled out his gun seemed to be driving her. It was obvious that if “Officer” Krantz found them again, he would shoot first and ask questions later...if they were even alive later. As it was, she suspected Krantz wanted them both dead. But why?
She glanced at Jon, knowing that he was exhausted and in pain. He probably couldn’t last much longer, but she knew they had to keep moving—had to find safety. Jon had said “home,” but she wasn’t even sure what that meant. Did he live along this beach somewhere? She thought most, if not all, of the homes along here were vacation cabins. In fact, she’d been warned by several people that this desolate part of the beach wasn’t a safe place for a lone runner during the “off-season.” Too bad she hadn’t listened.
Jon’s pace slowed and then he stopped completely. Bending over and clasping his sides, he panted loudly, trying to catch his breath.
“Are you okay?” she asked breathlessly. “Was
