Abandon

She studied the snow in the vicinity. With their tracks from Monday night now a day and a half old, there should’ve been no trace of them under four feet of snow. And yet she saw tracks, at least one fresh set, that moved into the hotel, then south toward the pass.

Abigail waded over to the entrance, stepped through the door frame. She banged her boots against the brick and knocked off the ice, then turned on the headlamp and swept it over the collapsed staircase, the archways, the front desk. Her last time in this hotel lobby, late Monday night, Scott Sawyer had been lying under the lounge’s archway. Now the only sign of him was a dark stain on the floorboards.

She made a cursory inspection of the lounge, glancing under the billiard table, behind the fallen elk head, wondering if Quinn had found Scott, stowed him elsewhere.

If Scott had brought the keys to his Suburban with him on their Monday-night photo shoot, she could forget using his truck. It was seventeen miles from Abandon to the trailhead, another ten from the trailhead to Silverton. Twenty-seven miles. Farther than a marathon, in deep snow, at altitude, sleep-divested, and without food or water.

If my cell doesn’t get service at the pass, that’s what I’m in for. Might as well get going.

She heard a boot step on broken glass—across the lobby, in the dining room.

She rushed toward the doorway as a shadow darted out from behind the bar, footsteps coming after her, crunching over the shattered chandeliers, her heart slamming in her chest like a thing that wanted free. Before she reached the entrance, something grabbed her left arm and a gloved hand squelched her scream, dragging her back from the doorway, pushing her down behind the front desk.

Her headlamp illuminated Scott’s face. “Scott? Oh my God, you’re a—”

“Shhh. Someone was here just fifteen minutes ago.”

“Who?”

“Didn’t recognize them. I heard footsteps in the snow, so I hid behind the bar.”

“How are you alive?” He raised his down vest, yellow fleece jacket, and thermal underwear top so Abigail could see where he’d duct-taped the knife wound closed to stop the bleeding, the right half of his abdomen bloated and inflamed.

“It hurts like hell, and I thought I was dead when they first stuck me. The blade nicked a rib, but it missed my vital organs. I faked it once those men in masks showed up. Hoped if they thought I was dying, maybe they’d just leave me tied up, which is exactly what they did. I came to consciousness last night, managed to free myself. I’ve been resting, gathering my strength to go out and look for everyone.”

Well, they’re all dead because of you and my father, she thought.

Abigail leaned back against the desk, could have fallen asleep inside of a minute.

“The three masked men?” she said. “Ex–Special Forces.”

“Three? I thought there were only two.”

“Your trustworthy assistant was the third.”

“What?” Scott ripped off his headband, ran his fingers through his bleached-out hair.

“Apparently, Jerrod found out the real reason you and Lawrence had come to Abandon.”

If he caught the edge in her voice, Scott didn’t show it, just said, “So what happened?”

She told him everything except that they’d actually found the gold, and when she finished, Scott put his head between his knees and sat absolutely still and silent, though by the light of her headlamp, Abigail saw tears splattering on the floorboards under his face.

“I killed them,” he said.

She put her hand on the back of his neck. “No, you—”

“No, I was their guide. They just came out here to see Abandon, take some stupid f**king pictures, and we used them for their backcountry permit. Jesus Christ.”

“Scott, I know you’re upset, but we have to go for help right now. Lawrence won’t last long in that cave when the water runs out. Now, my cell’s in my pack back at camp. If I get service at the pass, hopefully we can get somebody out here.”

Scott looked up and wiped his face. He stood, limped off into the dining room, returned with his pack. He handed Abigail two Clif Bars and a Nalgene bottle. “The water’s got two packs of Emer’gen-C in it. Get that in you. It’ll help replenish the minerals and vitamins you’ve lost. You’ll need a serious energy boost for what’s ahead of us.”

SEVENTY-ONE

They struck out south toward their campsite, choosing a route behind the buildings in an effort to remain unseen. Despite his wound, Scott moved quickly through the snow, and soon they’d left behind the row of false-fronted cribs at the end of town.

Up-canyon, Abigail spotted the boulder standing on the outskirts of camp. “I recognize that rock,” she said. “The tents are just beyond it.”

As they passed the boulder, Scott said, “Where’s our stuff?”

He went out ahead of her, moving in frantic circles through the area where the tents had been. “I’m not believing this,” he said as he dug in the snow. “Quinn must’ve taken our gear. Everything’s gone. Even Gunter and Gerald.”

“Who?”

“The llamas. Fucker better be packing a f**king arsenal if he touched my boys.”

“You’re sure the tents aren’t just buried? The snow would’ve covered them, right?”

“See this?” Scott knocked the powder off the top of a pyramid-shaped boulder that barely jutted out of the snow. “Lawrence put his tent up right here, by this rock, so he could lay his things on it. Now all his stuff’s gone. But cross your fingers and your toes.” Scott waded over to another boulder, this one capped with four feet of snow. “I never set my tent up Monday night,” he said. “I was too busy fixing supper, helping everyone else get settled into camp. I was gonna do it when we got back from photographing the ghost town. What I’m hoping is that by the time Quinn found our camp, enough snow had fallen to bury my big pack, which I left beside this boulder.”

Scott ducked under the snow. A moment later, he popped up, hoisting his internal-frame Dana Design backpack like a trophy above his head.

Abigail worked her way over to him. “What do you have in there?”

“Everything. My tent. Extra clothes. First-aid kit. Sleeping bag. More bottles of water. A gas stove. Food. I don’t think we’d have made it without this.” He brushed the snow off his solid-black pack and loosened the compression straps.

“Please tell me you have a cell phone.”