Page 39 of Saving Jennifer
“Wait a second, you want to go out into this storm, with heaven knows how many of Karim’s armed mercenaries out there?”
“Cherie, I know these mountains; they don’t.”
A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the yard, revealing a figure darting between trees. Noah pulled her down below the window’s edge just as a barrage of gunfire shattered the glass above them.
“We’ve gotta go now,” Noah hissed. “Follow me.”
Pulling her toward the pantry, he flung open the door and grabbed for something she couldn’t see in the near darkness of the cabin. Within seconds, he pushed her inside and closed the door behind them before turning on a flashlight. The space was cramped, barely enough room for them to stand side by side.
Jennifer’s hands trembled, her whole body feeling as if it would fall apart. Before she could say anything, Noah squatted down and removed several slats of wood, revealing a large gaping space carved in the earth. The earthy smell of dampness filled her nostrils as she stared into the looming darkness below. She heard several more shots hitting the interior walls of the cabin and drew in a ragged breath. A loud crash reverberated through the cabin as the front door splintered with a deafening crack.
“Time to go,” Noah whispered, pressing the flashlight into her hand. “I’m going to lower you into the opening. Once your feet touch the ground, start walking. I’ll be right behind you.”
“You didn’t show me this—tunnel, exit, whatever you want to call it.”
“I haven’t told you all my secrets, Jen. Do you really want to discuss this now, or do you want to get out of here?”
She bit her tongue, fighting to keep back the words she wanted to scream. He was right, now wasn’t the time. Good thing she wasn’t claustrophobic, because there didn’t appear to be a whole lot of space inside the dark opening beneath the floorboards. Sitting on the edge of the hole’s opening, her legs hanging into the darkness, she scooched forward, Noah’s hands gripping her arms as he began to lower her until her feet touched the bottom of the tunnel’s floor. There wasn’t much room, and standing upright was impossible, as she discovered when the top of her head collided with solid rock with an audible thunk.
Pointing the flashlight’s weak beam down the narrow corridor revealed a rock-strewn passage barely wide enough for one person to scrape through. She moved forward, feeling Noah close behind her, his presence both reassuring and dangerous. The reassuring heft of the Glock was a comforting weight tucked into the back of her waist.
The tunnel was smaller than she’d imagined, forcing them to crouch as they moved. The dank stench of mildew assaulted her senses, and water dripped from above. She wasn’t sure how far they were from the cabin, it felt like they’d been walking for a long time. A chuck of damp rock fell from the top of the tunnel, spattering onto her hair and shoulders. The sounds from inside the cabin faded behind them, muffled by earth and distance.
After what felt like an eternity, the tunnel began to slope upward. Jennifer’s legs burned from the awkward position she’d been forced to use, and she couldn’t imagine how hard it had to be on Noah. She pushed on, knowing that stopping meant death—or worse, being returned to Kamir and the Amir family’s twisted obsession with eliminating her before she could testify. She doubted they’d make it easy or quick.
The tunnel widened, ending at a vertical shaft with crude handholds carved into the rock wall. Jennifer clicked off the flashlight and reached upward, feeling for any type of opening or trapdoor like the one in the cabin.
“Let me,” Noah murmured, moving beside her in the cramped space. His body pressed against hers as he reached up, muscles straining as he forced the door open. Rain immediately poured in, soaking them both.
Noah pulled himself up first, then reached down to help Jennifer. As she emerged from the earth, the full force of the storm hit her—wind whipping her hair across her face, rain pelting her skin like tiny needles. Through the downpour, she could make out the massive, split trunk of an ancient oak just yards away.
“Come on, we need to go this way.” Noah gripped her hand as he led her deeper into the forest, the ground slick with mud and fallen leaves. Thick branches and tiny twigs threatened to send her tumbling with each step. Jennifer focused on keeping her footing, trusting Noah to navigate.
Behind them, shouts carried on the wind. Their pursuers had discovered the tunnel.
“We need to split up,” Noah said suddenly, pulling her behind the shelter of a massive boulder. “They’re expecting us to stay together.”
“No.” Jennifer clutched his arm. “That’s not the plan. You said under no circumstances were we to separate. That was part of my training.”
“Plans change,” he replied, his face hard. “I’ll lead them away, create a diversion. You follow the ridge east—there’s an old ranger station three miles down. My brother Marcel knows to meet us there if we’re compromised.”
“And if you don’t make it?” The words stuck in her throat.
Noah’s expression softened momentarily. He cupped her face with one calloused hand. “I’ll find you. I promised not to let anything happen to you, Jen. I will always find you.”
Before she could protest further, he kissed her—hard, desperate, with an intensity she felt all the way to her toes—then pulled away. Why, why did it feel like this was goodbye? Her heart felt like it was breaking in half, and she held onto him with both hands.
This can’t be happening. I’m supposed to testify, then have a chance at a new life. I thought Noah could be, should be, part of that life. I can’t let things end like this.
“Head east. Stay low. Don’t use the flashlight unless you absolutely must, it’ll draw attention. Use the lightning flashes to navigate when you can and stay alert.”
Jennifer nodded, memorizing his instructions along with the contours of his face. Part of her wanted to beg him to stay together, but she knew better. Noah was former Special Forces; his tactical decisions had kept them alive this long. She’d have to pray that they’d keep him safe until he came back to her.
“Noah, please be careful.”
“Go,” he urged, as another shout echoed through the trees, closer now.
Reluctantly, Jennifer slipped away, angling east as he’d instructed. The darkness swallowed her, the storm both a hindrance and a help as she navigated more by feel than sight. Behind her, Noah crashed noisily through the underbrush in the opposite direction—deliberately drawing attention. Guilt flooded her. He was placing himself in danger protecting her, risking his life to keep hired goons from finding her.