Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“We’re going to get you out of there.”
Thank God.
The voices retreated, and I pictured them in front of the cabin, trying to figure out the best way to get to me. Few clear words drifted my way, but it sounded like quite the debate.
“I’m coming in,” said a voice from a different direction. This man sounded younger than the ones I’d heard before. “If I do anything to make the branches press down on you more, let me know and I’ll stop.”
“Okay.”
From the direction of his voice, it seemed like he was trying to get in the kitchen window—if the kitchen was even still standing.
There was a grunt of effort, and then a scrambling sound. Then his voice came again, closer than before. “And if I don’t end up careening down the side of the mountain on a pile of rubble, then the others are going to try to get in as well.”
A quick laugh escaped me, but then I groaned. Every movement I made caused a sharp stick to poke into me.
“Are you injured?” he asked. He didn’t sound any closer, but it was a relief to know he was inside the cabin.
“I don’t think so. I’m all scratched up, though.”
“That’s good,” he said, then corrected himself. “Not about the scratches, I mean. But that you’re not too badly hurt. My name’s Drew Curtis, by the way. I thought I should tell you that since I’m in your kitchen.”
“Sierra Brogan.” My real last name flowed past my lips even though I’d worked as Sierra Sloane for years.
“Pretty name,” Drew commented. “I’d say ‘nice to meet you,’ but I’ll save that for when I can see you.”
The sound of wood breaking underneath him gave me some sense of his progress, but he wasn’t near enough to affect any of the branches on top of me.
There were noises coming from the porch, too. “My buddies are trying to get in through the front, but the door’s blocked.”
“Imagine that,” I said dryly, but then I bit my lip. The last thing I wanted to do was offend the guy who was trying to rescue me.
But Drew just laughed. “I know, right?” He grunted and for the first time, I felt something near me shift. “I think maybe I see your arm. Can you wiggle it?”
I tried. “Not much.”
“Shit, you’re really buried in there.”
“It’s like being in a bird’s nest.” A freezing cold nest.
A crashing sound came from the porch, and chilly wind hit me from a new direction.
“Nice to see you guys,” Drew said, but it didn’t sound like they’d been able to open the front door more than a few inches.
But then the cabin—what was left of it—shook. It sounded like they’d rushed the door together. A beam of light filtered through the tree limbs, but that wasn’t what made me gasp. “Don’t,” I moaned, unable to gather enough air to say more.
“Stop!” Drew shouted immediately. “You’re hurting her.”
The door evidently shut again, and some of the added pressure eased off. “Are you okay, Sierra?”
“I think so.”
“We’re going to get you out.”
I nodded, not saying anything. The air was so cold it was difficult to pull it into my lungs, and even though the other guys had backed off, I still felt more cramped than I had before.
“Can you hold that big branch back?”
For a moment, I thought Drew was talking to me, but then I realized that one or both of the other men had joined him in the kitchen.
“Let me try,” one demanded.
“Drew’s the lightest,” the other one countered. “Just help me clear this branch.”
They both grunted with exertion. “Wish to hell we had an axe,” one of them muttered.
“That’s perfect.” That was Drew’s voice again. “I can see her.”
“How are you going to get closer without crushing her?”
“I’m not going over, I’m going under,” Drew said. “Here, hold this one up.”
“With what hand?” the deeper voice said. I was beginning to think of him as the grumpy one.
But whatever they were doing seemed to be working. Drew’s progress was marked by vibrations in the branches around me. His efforts weren’t crushing me. Instead, it was like someone was trying to wiggle through the side of the bird’s nest to join me.
“So, what do you do when you’re not trapped?” Drew said, his voice strained from exertion. But he sounded closer than ever.
“I’m a writer.” It felt weird to say that after so many years of being an actress. Well, I was still an actress. But that wasn’t something I wanted to share with strangers—not unless they recognized me. Prior to the big-budget action movie last year, I’d mostly been in cable movies and television shows.
“Well, then, don’t worry, Sierra. We’ll have you back to writing the great American novel in no time.”
I didn’t correct him, even though I was writing a screenplay. “Thanks.”