Two Alone Read Free Page B

deeper unconsciousness.
    At last she felt cold air on her cheeks. She pulled her head free of the last branch and stepped out into the open. Taking a few stumbling steps backward, she pulled the man the remainder of the way, until he, too, was clear. Exhausted beyond belief, the muscles of her arms and back and legs burning from exertion, she plopped down hard on her bottom. The man's head fell into her lap.
    Bracing herself on her hands and tilting her head toward the sky, she stayed that way until she had regained her breath. For the first time, while drawing the bitingly cold air into her lungs, she thought that it might be good to still be alive. She thanked God t hat she was. And thanked Him, too, for the other life He'd spared.
    She looked down at the man and saw the bump for the first ti me. He was sporting a classic goose egg on the side of his tem ple. No doubt it had caused his unconsciousness. Heaving his shoulders up high enough to get her legs out from under him, she crawled around to his side and began unbuttoning his bulky c oat. She prayed that she wouldn't uncover a mortal wound. She didn't. Only the plaid flannel shirt that no game hunter would b e without. T here were no traces of blood on it. From the tur tlen eck collar of his undershirt to the tops of his laced boots, she could find no sign of serious bleeding.
    Expelling a gusty breath of relief, she bent over him and lightly slapped his cheeks again. She guessed him to be around fo r t y, but the years hadn't been easy ones. His longish, wavy hair was saddle brown. So was his mustache. But it and his heavy eyebrows had strands of blond. His skin was sunburned, but not recently; it was a baked on, year-round sunburn. There was a tracery of fine lines at the corners of his eyes. His mouth was wide and thin, the lower lip only slightly fuller than the upper.
    This rugged face didn't belong in an office; he spent a good deal of time outdoors. It was an agreeable face, if not a classi c ally handsome one. There was a hardness to it, an uncompromising unapproachability that she had also sensed in his personality.
    She wondered uneasily what he would think when he regained consciousness and found himself alone in the wilderness with her. She didn't have long to wait to find out. Moments later, his eyelids flickered, then opened.
    Eyes as flinty gray as the sky overhead focused on her. They dosed, then opened again. She wanted to speak, but trepidation held her back. The first word to cross his lips was unspeakably vulgar. She flinched, but attributed the foul language to his pain. Again he closed his eyes and waited several seconds before opening them.
    Then he said, "We crashed." She nodded. "How long ago?"
    "I'm not sure." Her teeth were chattering. It wasn't that cold,
No it must have been from fear. Of him? Why? "An hour, maybe."
Grunting with pain, he covered the lump on the side of his head with one hand and levered himself up, using the other hand as a prop. She moved aside so he could sit up straight. "What about everybody else?" "They're all dead."
    He tried to come up on one knee and swayed dizzily. She reflexively extended a helping hand, but he shrugged it off. "Are you sure?''
    "Sure they're dead? Yes. I mean, I think so."
    He turned his head and stared at her balefully. "Did you check their pulses?"
    She changed her mind about his eyes. They weren't like the sky at all. They were colder and much more foreboding. "No, I didn't check," she admitted contritely.
    He nailed her with that judgmental stare for several seconds, then, with a great deal of difficulty, pulled himself to his feet. Using the tree behind him for support, he struggled to stand up and regain his equilibrium.
    "How...how do you feel?"
    "Like I'm going to puke."
    One thing about him, he didn't mince words. "Maybe you should lie back down."
    "No doubt I should."
    "Well?"
    Still holding his head in one hand, he raised it and looked at her. "Are you volunteering to go in there and