Every Precious Thing

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

The rain soaked Logan, Diana, and Richard to the skin, and turned the dirt trail into a slick slurry of mud and pine needles. More than once, Logan found himself skidding across the surface, fighting to keep his balance.

They had been walking for five minutes when the storm struck, and had traveled for another ten so far in the downpour.

“How much farther?” Logan asked.

“There’s a ridge right up there,” Diana said, pointing ahead. “We go along that, then down the other side. Less than ten minutes.”

He nodded and fell back behind her.

As they crossed the treeless ridge, a bolt of lightning hit the ground about three hundred yards away. For a second it was brighter than day. Though Logan had been in a lot of storms, that was the closest he remembered ever being to a lightning strike, and he hoped it stayed that way.

“Come on!” Diana urged. “We need to get back under cover.”

They jogged along the path and down into a flatter area where they were back amongst the trees. The ground was a bit firmer here so they picked up their pace, and soon reached the edge of a small field. In the center was a solidly built wood cabin. Together, they ran across the open space to the shelter of the covered entrance.

Diana pounded on the door. “Sara! It’s me! Open up!”

Nothing happened.

She knocked again. “Sara? Open the door! We’re getting soaked!”

Still no response.

Moving over to the window, she looked in. “Sara?”

She leaned back, confused, then ran to the corner of the cabin and disappeared around it. Logan and Richard quickly followed. When they reached the back, they found the door open and Diana inside, yelling Sara’s name. Logan rushed in just as Diana went through a doorway on the far wall. She reappeared a few seconds later.

“She’s not here.”

“Where else would she be?” Richard asked, his panic even greater than hers.

“I don’t know! I just know she’s not here.”

A book on the kitchen counter caught Logan’s attention. It was lying flat, its black cover open. A sketchbook. There was a pencil stuck between two pages about three quarters of the way through. Drawn there were the beginnings of a face. He flipped back through and saw page after page of more faces. Rather, page after page of only two faces-Emily’s and Alan’s.

Sara couldn’t get her family out of her mind.

As he looked up from the book, he noticed some food pushed to the back by the sink. A loaf of bread and an open jar of peanut butter.

“She hasn’t been gone long,” he said.

“How do you know that?” Richard asked.

Logan lifted the bag containing the bread. “It’s open, but the bread’s still fresh, not dried out.”

Richard sneered. “Still could have been hours.”

Logan pointed at the nearly full glass of water.

“That could have been there even longer.”

Shaking his head, Logan ran his finger along the top of the glass. “Rim’s still wet.”

Diana’s eyes grew wide. She darted to a closet at the end of the kitchen and pulled the door open. “Her pack’s gone.” She looked back at the two men. “She must be heading for the canyon.”

“Why would she leave?” Richard asked.

“I don’t know. I told her to hold tight.”

“Doesn’t matter why,” Logan said, heading for the door. “Which way did she go?”

A second later, they were back in the rain, running into the woods north of the cabin.