Page 120 of The Unlikely Pair

“If we grab the axe by the lean-to, we can always construct another shelter to get us through winter,” Toby says.

Remaining here, waiting for the terrorists to vacate our cabin, is not the most optimal plan.

But it’s the only plan we currently have.

Toby’s worry is palpable. I can see it in the tense lines of his shoulders, the set of his jaw.

I am gripped by fear.

I’ve had to face my own mortality out here, and I’ve come to terms with the idea of death. I’ve accepted I may not make it back to civilization.

But depriving the world of Toby Webley…somehow, that’s what I find unfathomable. I can’t imagine the life force that is Toby Webley snuffed out of this planet. I will fight with everything I possess to prevent that from happening.

“How do you think they found us?” Toby asks in a low voice.

I shrug. “I haven’t the foggiest idea. Perhaps they were returning to retrieve the plane and spotted the smoke from our cabin? Maybe they’ve been surveying the area. Who can say for certain.”

Toby straightens. “Wait. They’re coming out.”

We both watch as all three men emerge from our cabin. But they don’t look like they’re preparing to search the forest.

Instead, they begin moving our firewood from inside the cabin to outside onto the porch.

Toby’s forehead scrunches. “What are they doing?”

There’s a pause as one of the mercenaries rummages in his pack. When he straightens, he’s holding a red plastic fuelcanister. With almost casual indifference, he begins dousing the firewood stacked on the porch.

“Oh no…” Toby’s pained whisper is barely audible as we both realize their intention.

My heart drops into my stomach as I see them splattering fuel on the porch and steps, the liquid seeping into the wood.

Toby tenses next to me, shaking his head almost imperceptibly as we’re forced to remain motionless and watch.

One of the men tosses a lit match onto the fuel-soaked firewood. It takes a moment, but then bright flames lick upward with hunger, rapidly engulfing the side of the cabin facing us.

An anguished sound catches in my throat at the sight of the fire voraciously consuming the cabin. Toby squeezes his eyes shut, turning his face away as smoke begins billowing out the windows in thick, acrid plumes.

As it quickly spreads around the cabin’s outer shell, eating away at the roof and walls, I have an irrational urge to cry out in denial at what I’m seeing.

Everything we’ve scraped together to carve out a life and survive is being obliterated in flames before my eyes. Our meager possessions, our sense of shelter and safety, our…our home.

Gone.

The fire rages for an eternity, hungrily consuming our cabin down to smoldering embers while the men stand there and watch.

Finally, there is nothing left to burn.

Lifting their packs onto their backs, the three figures disappear into the forest towards the east.

“What do you think they’re going to do now?” Toby asks.

“Wait to ambush us somewhere in the forest, I guess,” I say.

Toby scrubs a hand over his face wearily. “What are we going to do? We don’t have shelter or food…”

“We still have each other,” I say.

Toby takes a shaky breath.