His leg was bruised and swollen, so sore it required effort not to wince with every step. He knew there was a risk of infection with every break, even simple ones, but he hoped an infection would at least hold off until he and Chloe could walk to safety.
Hearing Chloe moving around behind him, he stood at the counter mentally preparing for the next stage of their journey. His gaze fell on the box of matches they’d left lying on the counter the night before. He slipped that and a small knife into one deep trouser pocket.
He wouldn’t be able to carry much and still keep his weight off his leg, but he’d take what he could. They would rig up something in which to carry the remaining few cans of fruit. He figured they had a couple of days of hiking ahead of them—if they were lucky and he led them in the right direction—and they needed all the supplies they could safely carry.
Opening a can of peaches, he set it on the table. “Dig in,” he said, handing her one of the forks and taking the other for himself.
The impending walk on both their minds, they ate the fruit quickly and without much conversation. “You’re sure you’ll be able to walk today?” Chloe asked, nodding toward his leg with a frown.
“I’m sure I have no choice,” he answered with a shrug. “The longer we wait here, the more chance both of us have of being hurt again or coming down with infections from the injuries we’ve already sustained.”
She sighed almost imperceptibly, but nodded with characteristic acceptance of logic. “I would like to wash up before we start out.”
“So would I. Tell you what, why don’t I go first just to make sure it’s all clear outside. I won’t be long. While I’m gone, see if you can figure out a way to carry cans of fruit that won’t weigh either of us down too badly.”
“I’ll see what I can find. But are you sure you don’t want me to walk out with you? I’m afraid you’re going to fall again.”
He leaned on the heavy stick, demonstrating how sturdy it was. “I’ll be fine. I’m able to keep most of my weight off the bad leg.”
“Just be careful,” she warned him.
“I will.”
Trying to minimize his limp for her sake, he made his way to the door and opened it, wincing at the shrill creak of rusty hinges. Someone needed to—
The sight of the scruffy man standing on the other side of the door, holding a shotgun leveled directly at him, made Donovan forget all about the creaky hinges.
Chapter Nine
“What the hell are you doing in my cabin?” the armed man, whom Donovan judged to be in his late fifties, demanded in a harsh voice.
Chloe’s gasp from behind Donovan indicated that she had seen the gun. He motioned with his left hand for her to be calm, even as he held the man’s gaze with his own.
“I’m sorry for trespassing on your property,” he said, keeping his tone placating. “We got lost in the forest and we—”
His faded blue eyes glittering in a weathered, whiskery face, the armed man cut in, “Who do you work for? IRS? CIA?”
Donovan recognized that there would be no negotiating with this guy. He shook his head. “You’ve got it all wrong. We’re on the run. See those cuffs on your table?”
The other man looked away just long enough to spot the handcuffs. Still pointed directly at Donovan’s heart, the shotgun never wavered.
Without waiting for a response, Donovan added, “I took those off last night. The feds are out there looking for us now. They hear a gunshot, they’ll come down on this place before you can blink twice.”
The other man frowned, then made a motion with the gun. “Get out. And then keep going.”
“We’re going,” Donovan said, motioning for Chloe to join him. He wanted to get her out of here before the guy changed his mind about sending them away
.
“But my friend is hurt,” Chloe protested, looking at the angry man in disbelief. “His leg could be broken. And we don’t know which direction to go for help. Couldn’t you at least—”
The shotgun leveled directly at Donovan’s chest again. “Out,” its owner growled. “I ain’t giving you another warning.”
“We’re going,” Donovan assured him again, leaning on the stick as he took a careful step forward.
“And leave that here! That’s my good stick.”
Donovan quickly set the stick aside, then held up both hands to show that they were empty. “No problem. My friend here will help me, won’t you, Chloe?”