Safe Haven - A Reacher Short Story

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Book excerpt

Chapter One

The world was white. So white the night time shadows couldn't penetrate the layers of snow suffocating the forest. Each breath Isobel managed to push out crystallised, sparkling under the moonlight. The snow swallowed her legs in hungry gulps. Her hands and feet were numb, but her thighs burned furiously with each step.

It was late and she was so very tired. The previous night was spent in the back of their family Land Rover, fighting for space on the backseat with her little sister while Dad kept watch. It had been a cold, broken night, but Isobel would give anything to be back there. Anything not to be walking through Red Forest in the middle of December.

She sniffed and looked behind her. Rachel was six, only three years younger but at that moment it felt like a lifetime between them. Rachel didn't understand why they were in the middle of the wilderness. She had no idea why they had to leave Mum. She had slept through their uncle screaming the soldiers were coming. She had no idea of the danger they were in. Isobel stared at her sister as she struggled in the snow, envying every tiny, oblivious step she took.

Rachel fell and started to cry. She was sobbing for Mum. Isobel knew they would never see their mother again. She took a strong, heavy breath, close to tears herself. She wanted to move to help her sister, but her legs refused to go back, not after the effort made in going forwards.

Instead she called out. "Dad!"

He was ahead of them, scoping out the safety of the path. When he saw Rachel he hurried back, covering the ground in five easy strides. He lifted Rachel in his large arms and brushed the snow from her hair.

Then the gunfire started.

"Run!" Dad screamed.

Light sparked through the trees, as though the night sky had sunk to the earth. Isobel was transfixed.

"Izzy!"

Men shaped shadows followed the light. They were coming. Her feet leapt into her father's footsteps. With Rachel in his arms, he weaved through the trees. The foliage became denser, the snow thinner. Her feet struck firming soil, frozen dirt, icy puddles. The ground started to dip. She jumped and her father caught her. He pulled her close and they huddled together in a burrow off the path.

"We need to work together." He whispered so softly Isobel thought she was imagining him. "We're not here," he told them. "Say it with me. We're not here."

Isobel closed her eyes, sinking into her father's waxed coat. She reached for her sister's hand and concentrated. "We're not here," she repeated. "We're not here." Over and over she focussed on the words, hearing the echo in the deep voice of her father and the squeak of her sister.

Time started to twist, the cold subsided and she felt herself floating. The explosions, the shouting, the danger, all started to melt away. There was an energy engulfing her. But it wasn't hers, it didn't even belong to her father. The dominant voice inside her head became her sister's, small and yet commanding. She focused on it and felt herself merge into nothing.

How long had they stayed like that? Isobel had no idea. When her father broke free of their spell the militia had gone. The surrounding trees were torn apart with gunshot. Pieces of bark and bullet shells were scattered the ground around them. It had been ferocious whatever had come their way.

"Daddy?" Rachel asked. "What's going on?"

Isobel waited. She'd asked the question herself the night before, but she was sure Dad wouldn’t repeat himself. How could he tell a six year old the truth? That they were caught in the middle of a civil war, insurgents and militia intent on claiming land that never belonged to them. How could he explain to her that these men didn't care who got caught in the crossfire? That this wasn't a fight for freedom, or liberty, or any sense of lost righteousness? That this was about control and power? How could he tell his youngest daughter that she had never been in more danger, because if they found out what she was, what all three of them were, both sides would lock them away?

"We're playing a game," he said, stroking his younger daughter's hair. "The running game remember. We have to run and hide, concentrate on not getting caught. Wherever we go, whatever we do we keep moving, counting the exits, planning our escape so nobody can ever find us."

"It sounds like a stupid game," Rachel said.

Dad laughed. "It does, but you get a prize if you play it well."

"What prize?"