Her voice grew hoarse, but she didn’t stop.
Not even to wipe at the tears streaming down her cheeks.
8
Jack heard a voice somewhere. Far away. Calling him back.
Starting and stopping.
Calling to him until he came to.
He’d gone fetal on the floor of his lookout cabin. Cradled to his chest was a radio—it kept calling to him.
A woman.
Cougar Peak.
He managed to double-click the transmit key during her next break.
“Oh thank god! I thought you’d been incinerated or something.” Her voice was thick, hoarse…as if she’d been shouting for a long time.
“How long?” his voice sounded even worse. The mere whisper hurt like hell.
“Storm moved out twenty minutes ago.”
He swallowed and tasted blood. A little testing. Ow, s**t! He’d bit his tongue really badly. Bit, hell. Felt like he’d ground
