Page 10

CHAPTER 10

T he trip up the mountain was one Echo would never forget. She’d been in cold climates before. She’d grown up in Montana and knew subzero weather, but nothing had prepared her for the relentless, bone-deep chill she endured now. The rain was merciless, battering the stretcher as if the sky itself was determined to keep her pinned to the earth. Every drop felt like shards of ice slicing through her skin, seeping into her core. The jungle around her was alive with chaos, the sound of the downpour mixing with the rush of swollen streams and the distant roar of the flood water carving its way through the valley below.

Her chest and ribs screamed with every shallow breath, the aftermath of CPR leaving her bruised and tender. She could feel each point of her rescuers’ efforts like a knife pressing into her body. Every sharp movement of the stretcher, every slip of the men carrying her, sent bolts of pain lancing through her body like lightning. Her gasps were sharp and unbidden, triggering fresh waves of agony through her battered lungs that left her trembling. She hated being helpless, hated being a burden when the team was already fighting the unforgiving terrain to keep her alive.

Bandit’s presence by her side was a constant and a comfort. “How’s she doing?” Deacon called out. His tone was clipped but calm. Bandit would crouch beside her to check her pulse or press a hand against her forehead. Each time, he found her shivering uncontrollably.

Bandit muttered under his breath as he adjusted the poncho over her. “Cold, but hanging in there,” was his usual answer.

Echo’s thoughts, however, weren’t focused on the jungle or how cold she felt. Instead, they were tangled in something much more internal and mystifying. She’d drowned .

The saying that there was nothing after death but darkness was wrong. Or at least, she thought it was. She’d seen her aunt who’d been gone for over five years. The memory burned bright in her mind: the warmth, the light, the overwhelming sense of calm. Her aunt’s hug had been a sanctuary, and her smile had been bittersweet when she’d held Echo at arm’s length.

“You can’t stay here, sweetheart. You can’t stay,” her aunt had said, her voice soft and firm.

“What do you mean?” Echo had asked, confusion and disbelief swirling through her. “Why can’t I stay with you?”

Her aunt’s smile had deepened, sadness pooling in her eyes. “One day, we’ll hug again. But Deacon needs you now.”

The words had echoed through her like a distant drumbeat. “What?” she’d whispered, the warmth around her faltering. A chill had slipped through her, and her aunt had seemed to move away without either of them walking.

Her aunt’s gaze had locked with hers, full of quiet insistence. “Deacon needs you now.”

And then, her body had exploded with pain. The warmth and light had been ripped away, replaced by the icy grip of reality. Her lungs had burned as water surged from her chest, her body writhing as she gasped for air. The cold had been suffocating, the kind of cold that burrowed into her bones and refused to let go.

She’d clung to the hand beside her, her vision blurry, and found Deacon there. His face had been a mixture of relief and fierce determination and his voice low and steady as he coaxed her back to him. Bandit’s questions had been sharp and steady, and she’d answered as best she could, her mind struggling to separate the surreal from reality.

Had she really seen her aunt?

It had felt so real. The peace, warmth, and overwhelming contentment was unlike anything she’d ever known. She hadn’t wanted to leave. But now, there she was, shivering violently, her body wracked with nausea and pain. She clamped her mouth shut, grinding her teeth against the bile rising in her throat. The men were risking everything to save her. She wouldn’t make their task harder.

The jungle was relentless. She could tell the trail was a slick, treacherous mess, the mud thick and cloying, sucking at the men’s boots with every step. The sounds proved those facts. The dense canopy above offered no protection from the downpour. She peeked out of the poncho and watched the water cascade from leaves, turning the ground into a quagmire. Roots jutted out like forgotten fur traps, and vines tangled around everything. The air was heavy with the scent of wet earth and rotting vegetation. She should have been hot from the humidity and the sweltering temperatures, but she still shivered.

Deacon’s voice cut through the storm. “Keep moving! Watch your footing!” His tone was sharp, a reminder to his team to stay vigilant.

Ace and Rip alternated between point and rear guard, their movements precise despite the slippery terrain. Deacon’s orders would change their position at regular intervals. She assumed it was to keep the person on point sharp and give him a rest after being so attentive for so long. Ranger had slipped at one point, landing hard on a sharp rock that gashed his knee. She wouldn’t have known he was injured if he hadn’t sworn under his breath and bluntly answered Bandit’s questions. She could imagine Bandit’s hand gestures to the other man. A smile formed on her lips. This team moved like a single organism, their coordination a testament to their training and trust in one another.

Echo’s stretcher jolted as they navigated the steep incline, and she bit back a cry, the pain in her chest, or rather ribs, sharp and unforgiving. She wanted to tell them to stop, to let her rest, but the urgency in their movements told her everything she needed to know. The storm wasn’t letting up, and the rising water was a threat they couldn’t ignore.

When they finally reached the small shelter, Deacon pulled the ponchos off her with practiced care. The structure was crude but sturdy, made of woven grasses and bamboo. The sound of the rain on the thatched roof was a constant reminder of the storm raging outside.

Deacon kneeled beside her, his face still tight with worry. “I’m going to find you some dry clothes. Most of what we have is soaked.”

Echo’s fingers brushed his arm, her voice hoarse. “There’s a fireplace. Start a fire. We can dry our clothes.”

Deacon glanced at the stacked wood and nodded. “Let me get it started, and then I’ll help you out of those wet clothes.”

As the fire crackled to life, the warmth was an almost painful contrast to the cold that had gripped her for so long. Deacon helped her shed her drenched clothing, wrapping her in a thick woolen blanket that was at the foot of the sleeping pallet at the side of the room. He helped her to a chair by the fire. Her legs trembled as she moved, but the heat began to seep into her, chasing away the chill.

“I’ll get some food for you,” Deacon said, his voice softer now. “You need to eat.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. I’m too nauseous.”

His brow furrowed. “What about something to drink? Tea? Hot cocoa? I can get either from the MREs.”

She managed a faint smile. “I’ll try.”

With a nod, he stood, his presence a reassuring anchor in the storm. As he stepped out to retrieve supplies, Echo closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the fire wrap around her like a second skin. Her thoughts drifted back to her aunt, to the peace she’d felt in that otherworldly light.

There was a reason she’d been pulled back.

When she opened her eyes to the sight of Deacon returning, his steady presence filling the small shelter, she knew without a doubt he was the reason.

Bandit followed him in, and she watched as Deacon went back out. Bandit removed his poncho, but he was soaked to the core as they all were. His boots squelched as he walked over to her.

“Let’s get you moved to the pallet so I can do an exam out of the elements,” Bandit said, offering her a hand.

“Can I just lie down here?” she asked. Leaving the fire wasn’t an option. She needed the warmth.

“Sure. Let me move it over here.” When he’d finished moving the sleeping pallet near the fire, he helped her lie down on the floor. Her body ached in ways she hadn’t imagined possible. The heat from the flames penetrated the deep chill that had settled in her bones.

“Cap is off to get you something warm to drink. Just don’t chug anything,” Bandit said as he took a stethoscope out of his medical bag. Exhausted, she tilted her head to look up at Bandit. “No offense, but I don’t think I’m gonna chug anything for a very long time.”

Bandit raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching before he let out a hearty laugh. The sound was warm and grounding, cutting through the tension in the small hut. “Well, that’s a good sign, at least. Your humor is back.”

Echo coughed, her breath hitching as pain flared in her chest. She groaned, clutching her chest. “What did you do? Break every rib in my body?”

Bandit made a face, his expression halfway between guilt and pragmatism. “Well, you know you have to depress pretty damn hard for CPR. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had broken ribs and bruising, at the very least. Let me look at you, and we’ll do our best to make you more comfortable.”

“We?” She frowned and looked back to the door.

Bandit snorted. “In the royal sense. It’s me. Only me.”

She nodded weakly, allowing him to examine her. He worked quietly, carefully shifting the blanket just enough to place the cold disc of his stethoscope against her chest. Echo winced but didn’t complain, the sound of her own shallow breaths filling the space.

“Your lungs sound good,” Bandit said, his tone steady but cautious. “But we need to be very careful. I have some antibiotics I’m going to give you. Just a precaution at this point, but I’d rather do everything I can rather than wish I’d done something when it’s too late. Of course, this isn’t the ideal course of action. You need an X-ray to rule out anything serious—fluid in your lungs, fractures, internal injuries. Honestly, I’d rather have you in a hospital.”

Echo coughed again, her body trembling with the effort. She groaned softly, her voice raspy. “No offense, but I’d rather be in a hospital, too. But we play the hand we’re dealt, right?”

Bandit gave a low grunt of agreement. He grabbed a rolled-up pillow and gently placed it under her head, his touch surprisingly tender for someone so big and dangerous. “I’m just an EMT, not a doctor. But I think you’re gonna be okay. If you start to run a fever or feel worse in any way, you need to let me know immediately.”

She nodded, her words barely above a whisper. “I have a violent headache.”

He shook his head knowingly. “No doubt you do. I’ll get you some over-the-counter pain relievers. The real question is whether you can keep them down.”

She nodded again, though her stomach twisted violently in protest. The nausea was relentless, rising and falling in waves that left her on the edge of losing control.

A knock at the door drew Bandit’s attention. A small woman entered the hut, carrying a tray balanced carefully in her hands. She spoke in Laotian, her words quick and soft. Bandit spoke, his tone calm and respectful. The woman set the tray down on a small table before retreating silently, the door creaking as it closed behind her.

Bandit turned back to Echo. “It seems the villagers have provided some food. She says if you need clothes or anything else, let them know. But judging by her size, I’m guessing the clothes would be pretty small.”

He walked over to the tray, a rare smile crossing his face as he examined its contents. “This is perfect. Bread, cheese, and milk. Let’s get you sitting up and see if you can tolerate a small amount.”

Echo grimaced as she propped herself up with his help, the effort draining what little energy she had left. She took a small corner of bread, chewing slowly as Bandit watched her with a critical eye.

By the time she’d swallowed the tiny piece of bread, Deacon entered the hut carrying a few items. Bandit walked over to him, lowering his voice as they spoke. Echo couldn’t hear what was said, but she didn’t care. A flicker of relief settled in her chest. Deacon was back. She had medicine for her head and body aches, and she was starting to get warm.

She was going to live.

The thought brought a strange blend of gratitude and determination. There was a reason for her presence here. If she were to believe her experience in the afterlife, that reason was Deacon. Or perhaps it was her mind’s desperate effort to make sense of what had transpired. Either way, she’d been granted a second chance, and she wasn’t going to waste it.