Outcast (SEAL Team: Disavowed Book 2) Page 8

  “No clue,” Eden said. “But now that we found him, we need to feed him, then track down what he was using for food and a litter box.” To the cat she said, “Your mommy or daddy must be seriously creative.” Too late she remembered whoever the cat belonged to was dead. Tears stung her eyes, and in the moment, she felt inordinately grateful for the small luxury of cuddling the giant fluffball. “I’ll take care of you, okay?”

  For how long she couldn’t promise, but maybe Jasper would care of him once she was gone.

  The thought was macabre, but Eden had watched her mother gift her most loved possessions to her most cherished friends. Because Carl was always traveling, her college roomie took Coconut the Pomeranian. When her mom died, Eden split her time between boarding schools and her father’s Antarctic station. She’d never had a pet again.

  Was it selfish of her to take on one now? Yes. But it wasn’t as if fate had given her a choice. In this moment, maybe she needed the cat as much as he needed her.

  In the dormitory pod, they all fanned out to locate the cat’s hidden home.

  “Found it!” Jasper called ten minutes into their search.

  Eden met him toward the end of the second floor hall.

  “Looks like he scratched his way out of the room. Good thing these prefab walls are thin.” A ragged hole had been clawed near the door. Piles of single-serve tuna packets were mounded in a suitcase. An empty plate and water bowl sat alongside it. A makeshift litter box had been made of a cardboard box, lined with a recycling bag, then filled with dirt. The smell wasn’t exactly pleasant. “If you want to feed him and get him water, then get his food suitcase ready to go, I’ll get rid of this mess, then rig up a portable box for him to use once we’re on our way to the cave.”

  “Thank you.” She stood on her tiptoes, crushing the cat between them while stealing a kiss.

  The cat meowed.

  “You’re welcome,” Jasper said. “But I think someone would rather eat than cuddle. Clearly, I’m going to have to find him a good woman when we get back to town.” His wink produced a flutter low in Eden’s tummy. Just when she thought she could manage fine without him, he went and showed his sweeter side—that side of him, she’d never been able to resist.

  “So this is where you two scurried off to.” Holding his shirt collar over his nose, Dane waved his free hand in front of his face. “Smells like it’s for good reason pets aren’t allowed. We’re leaving him here, right?”

  “He can’t help his circumstance. And no, we’re taking him. What if the heat goes down? Or he runs out of food or water? Or, God forbid, we run into Leo and never have the chance to send help. We’d be horrible people to leave him.”

  “Maybe so, but our primary focus should be rescuing your dad—not a contraband cat.”

  Eden ignored his harsh words in favor of feeding the starving creature.

  By the time Yeti had eaten his fill, Eden had his food supply zipped and ready to go. She scooped up the cat and then wheeled the bag out into the hall filled with the ghosts of her lost friends.

  Everywhere she looked were signs of the horror.

  Blood splattered on a wall. A lone shoe, sweater or book.

  The knot lurking at the back of Eden’s throat made it tough to breathe. But for her father, for Jasper and Dane and now, even this cat, she had to keep her head clear and resolve strong.

  Thirty minutes later, all new supplies had been loaded into their ride—including the cat. Jasper topped off the fuel, and Eden refreshed her memory on the meteor valley’s location with the help of laminated topo maps.

  Jasper had added six more cases of canned goods and spare propane canisters for the stove. He’d even found backpacks in the rec hall storage closet that would be ideal for hauling supplies, should they have to go far on foot. He’d also insisted on two complete changes of clothing for her and Dane. For his own needs, he raided a dorm room closet.

  As worried as Eden was about the fate of her father, she was also that encouraged about this lead. Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner?

  “That’s the last of it.” Jasper closed the vehicle’s rear cargo door. “Ready to roll?”

  “Only if you’ll let me drive,” she said. “I can’t remember the last time you slept.”

  “Me, neither, but it doesn’t matter. Let’s get going. We’ll sort out who drives along the way.”

  “I’ll drive,” Dane said. “It’s only fair. I had plenty of sleep on the way here.”

  “That’s a great idea.” Eden hopped in back with her fluffy friend. “Jasper, you can ride shotgun.”

  He shot her a death-ray stare.

  “Please.” She blew him a kiss. “I’m worried about you. Please, get some rest.”

  “I concur.” Dane climbed behind the wheel. “It may have been a while since I’ve been at the helm of one of these cantankerous things, but I’m sure it’s like riding a bike.”

  Jasper asked, “When’s the last time you rode one of those?”

  “Give or take a few dozen years.” Dane winked, then laughed. “Relax, would you? Promise, if we stumble across anything of note, I’ll wake you. Eden can stay awake to keep me company.”

  “If that’s the case,” she said, “how about Yeti and I ride in front? That way, Jasper can stretch out.”

  He reluctantly agreed, and then they were finally off.

  Before falling asleep, Jasper had programmed the GPS with the valley’s coordinates. Eden worried her memory might be off. After all, she hadn’t been to the place in years, but she knew from a few familiar landmarks that she had to at least be in the right vicinity on the map.

  Once Jasper had fallen into a deep sleep, Dane said. “He’s good for you. I see why your dad likes him.”

  “He does?” They’d only met that one time at a Denver steakhouse while her father had been at her college for a fundraising campaign.

  “Oh, yes. He’s spoken of him many times, wondering if you two were anywhere near wedding bells.”

  Her cheeks warmed. Once upon a time, thoughts of those happy bells consumed her. Now? Considering her diagnosis, there wasn’t much point. “We’re both fine maintaining status quo.”

  “Young people today . . .”

  “You never married,” she jabbed.

  “Ah, but I never had a woman as obviously smitten with me as our young Jasper is with you.” He patted her knee, then focused on driving.

  The day was one of those rare arctic gems when the sky was so blue and clear it seemed close enough to touch. The temp hovered near the teens, making it practically beach weather. According to her remembrances of the long ago trips she and her parents had taken, they drove due north from the station, then rode up and down over a series of small foothills before settling onto a higher, windswept plain. Much of the snow had been blown away, leaving the rough volcanic soil exposed.

  The drive continued as pleasantly as if time had returned her childhood.

  She and Dane shared happy memories.

  Once Jasper woke, he entertained them with harrowing stories about his days as a SEAL.

  Through it all, Yeti purred on her lap.

  By the time they stopped for lunch, Eden was more than ready to stretch her legs. Clouds had rolled in, and the temperature had dropped back to its normally frigid negative digits.

  Jasper set up the camp stove for her, and she used boiled water to prepare their freeze-dried meals.

  “Dane,” Eden said after her first bite. “Your hamburger beat the crap out of this beef stroganoff.”

  He chuckled. “I’m not too thrilled with my mac and cheese, either.”

  “I don’t know what you guys are talking about.” Jasper had already finished his teriyaki chicken, and held the bag to his mouth to get the very last drop of sauce. “Compared to some of the crap I’ve eaten, that was five-star dining.”

  Eden and Dane shared a laugh.

  Yeti gave two paws way up for his tuna.

  With lunch a memory, Eden behind the wheel,
and Jasper holding the cat beside her, miles rolled by. The scenery changed from a stark, arid plain to an ice field strewn with eerie creature-like formations. Snow began to fall and Eden struggled to tell the difference between the sky and the horizon.

  “Want me to take over?” Jasper asked.

  “Thanks, but not quite yet. What time is it?”

  “Eight. Past time for you to get some shut-eye.”

  She yawned at the mere suggestion. “You’re probably right.”

  The whole time they’d traveled, she wondered if somehow Leo and his men were watching. If there was treasure at this cave—a ridiculous notion, but for her father’s sake, one she was willing to entertain—was she now leading them to it? She didn’t recall the hollow even going further back than maybe ten feet.

  “Babe, slow down.” Jasper pointed ahead. “What’s that?”

  She braked.

  A deep cut in the ice loomed maybe fifty yards in front of their vehicle. It was at least five feet wide and stretched as far in each direction as blowing snow allowed them to see.

  Her stomach twisted. “What should we do?”

  He raked his fingers through his hair. “I honestly don’t have a clue.”

  Dane snored in back.

  “Let’s gear up,” Jasper said. “We’ll walk it a ways to see if it narrows or we can find a snow bridge.”

  Five minutes later, feeling like the abominable snowman in her heavy winter gear, she walked next to Jasper, squinting from the assault of icy snow. Each flake stung her exposed cheeks like pointy tacks.

  “Even if we find a snow bridge, how do we know it would hold the cat’s weight?”

  “We don’t. Which is why I’d be doing the driving.”

  “Are you insane? If anyone should risk his or her life, it’s me.”

  Ignoring her comment, he walked thirty feet ahead. “It’s narrow enough here for me to jump. There’s rope in the cat. Once across, I could tie it off and throw it to you. If you miss the jump, I’ll pull you up.”

  “No. And what about Dane? And Yeti?”

  She’d caught up to Jasper. Judging by the stern set of his jaw, he wasn’t feeling warm and fuzzy for their new pet or her father’s friend. “How far is it to the cave?”

  “We have to be close. But this snow is making it impossible to judge landmarks. I remember crossing this ice field with Mom and Dad, but back then, there’d been no hazards.”

  “God bless global warming . . .” He shook his head.

  “Yeah . . .” She couldn’t believe their lousy luck.

  “Can you think of any other possible way around?”

  “I guess we could try, but the terrain would be too steep or uneven for our ride.”

  Jasper shivered. “It’s cold as balls out here. When this is behind us, we’re going straight to the Bahamas.”

  Forcing a smile, she nodded.

  It would be just as easy to die there as in Denver.

  She refused to give the dark thought light. With treatment, her mother lived a couple years beyond her diagnosis. Without treatment? Eden hadn’t stuck around her oncologist’s office long enough to find out. Her body was her greatest enemy. A ticking time bomb designed to annihilate her every hope for happiness.

  “Let’s get back.” He grabbed her elbow, guiding her through the heavier snow and wind. “We’ll look at the topo maps and decide.”

  An hour later, nearing whiteout conditions, they were no closer to reaching a decision.

  All three of them huddled in back, pouring over the maps with steaming mugs of hot chocolate. The GPS and sat phone were both offline.

  Yeti sat on the bench seat back, reigning over the proceedings while giving himself a tongue bath.

  “The way I see it,” Dane pointed to the meteor-strewn valley where she’d first seen the cave. “The only option we have for avoiding the crevasse is to backtrack eighty miles to this area.” He traced his finger along his proposed route. “From there, if we turn due east, we should be able hug the edge of this mountain, then find Eden’s cave from the backside.”

  “That’s a very big if.” Eden finished her cocoa. “Look at the terrain levels. What if we get over there to find it impassable?”

  “It’s a chance we’ll have to take.”

  “Or,” Jasper said. “We pack a minimum amount of gear to get us through, say, forty-eight hours. We jump the crevasse, then hike the rest of the way.”

  “What about Yeti?” Eden asked. “We can’t leave him.”

  “Sweetheart . . .” Dane shot the feline a not-so-kind look. “Your father’s life is at stake. Leave the creature here. If he makes it—great. If he freezes . . .”

  “Are you listening to yourself?” Since when had her kindly almost-uncle adopted this selfish streak? “Absolutely not. If we’re doing this, I’ll carry him with me inside my parka. He’ll be like my own personal heating pad.”

  It was midnight. Because of the storm, the sunlight had faded to gray. Wind howled with enough force to rock the vehicle with each gust.

  “Should we rest up until this weather clears?” Jasper asked.

  “No.” Dane smacked the heel of his hand against the nearest window. “If Carl is in that cave. We must reach him. Time is of the essence.”

  “So is our strength,” Jasper reasoned. “Visibility’s about two-feet. If we can barely see our hands in front of our faces, how the hell are we supposed to find a cave Eden hasn’t been to since she was a little girl?”

  Dane bowed his head. “I see your point.”

  “We’re in agreement?” he looked from Eden to Dane. “We’ll start hiking as soon as the weather clears?”

  “Agreed,” Eden said.

  Dane nodded, but didn’t meet either of their stares.

  Though exhausted, Eden struggled to sleep.

  She and Jasper bedded down in the cargo area. Dane took the backseat.

  Hours later, the wind turned violent, scaring Yeti to the point that he squirmed into Eden’s bag.

  “Are you awake?” she whispered to Jasper.

  “Sort of. My brain’s too cold to sleep.”

  She rolled over to face him. Yeti repositioned to curl against her tummy. “Do you think my dad could really be all the way out here?”

  “Tough to say. It is feasible—especially if he took one of the snowmobiles. But you think the cave doesn’t go much further back than ten feet?”

  “Not the way I remember. But who knows?”

  “Not to change the subject . . .” He wormed and wriggled his bag closer to hers. “But I heard we could generate major body heat if we zipped our bags together and got naked.” His toothy grin shone in the unnerving gloom.

  “Mmm . . .” The thought of pressing herself to him, skin-to-skin, instantly had her humming between her legs. “Tempting offer. But in order to get to you, I’d have to leave my cozy nest. Plus, Yeti would be pissed.”

  “Damned cat.” He leaned closer for a kiss.

  With them both wrapped like mummies, the simple brush of his lips to hers by most would have been considered chaste, but the fog of his warm, familiar breath on her upper lip made her feel as if she were falling into a bed of cotton candy. Soft and dizzyingly sweet.

  “I really do want to go to the Bahamas with you,” she whispered after he deepened their latest kiss, thrilling her with the sweep of his tongue.

  “Then we’ll make it happen.”

  “Promise?” Her pulse quickened while awaiting his response.

  “Absolutely.” He kissed her lips once more, then the tip of her nose. “Now, go to sleep.”

  With him holding her hand, she finally did.

  Eden woke to bright sun.

  The wind had died, and Jasper was already at work, making oatmeal and coffee.

  Yeti hunkered over a tuna-filled metal bowl.

  “Thanks for feeding him,” she said.

  “You’re welcome. Good morning—only it’s three in the afternoon.”

  She groaned. “Where
’s Dane?”

  “Checking out the crevasse. While you slept, we walked further down and found a sweet snow bridge that’s about ten feet wide. It seems sturdy enough to walk across, but we’ve reinforced it by making a bridge of sorts out of the supply tub lids.” He handed her a steaming foil oatmeal packet.

  “Thanks. So how did you make a bridge out of lids?”

  “We melted about eight holes at each end, then wove rope through to lace them together. Once we had four connected, we put two holes in the end of each of those, then roped them to tent stakes. I anchored them good on either side, so even if the snow gives out beneath us, our bridge should hold long enough to get us safely across.”

  “I hate that you risked your life by crossing before you even knew it was safe.”

  “Couldn’t be helped.”

  Yes, it could have. If they abandoned this search that more than likely would end in failure. “I probably don’t want to know the answer, but when we’re done at the cave, if the bridge does break, how do we get back?”

  “How about we cross that bridge when we get to it? Da da dum.” He performed a playful drumbeat on the side of the metal stove. “Even under pressure, I’ve got superstar appeal.”

  “You’re a mess.” She dug into her hearty meal.

  “But you love me.”

  Yes. More and more she did. But was that a good thing?

  Dane returned to eat.

  By the time they’d all finished, then packed enough gear and food to cover most any contingency, they set out into brilliant sunlight. The glare was so bright that Eden winced even behind dark, tinted glasses. Cold air seared her lungs.

  They reached the bridge ten minutes later.

  Just looking at the thing made Eden’s oatmeal ride back up.

  The bottom of the crevasse was fathomless. A fall would mean not only instant death, but that her body wouldn’t be found until the next greenhouse era. She liked to think she had this cancer thing under control—that she was at peace with it being close to her time to go. But in that moment, nothing could be further from the truth.

  Her palms were sweating inside of her gloves and the more Yeti fidgeted in the bib of her overall-style snow pants, the more panicked she grew.