FREYA
I leave him in the trunk and I throw myself into the driver's seat and I tear the car apart looking for a phone.
There is one in the glovebox, the scarred one's, cracked and cheap, and I grab it with shaking hands and I look at the screen and there is nothing.
No bars. No service at all, not out here, not in this dead wild country miles away from anywhere.
I try anyway. I dial the pack and it does not even ring, just a dead nothing against my ear, and I want to scream.
I throw it down and I grip the wheel and I make myself breathe and think.
The pain in my side is deepening by the minute, the dark spreading out from the cut, and I do not have the time I would need to get all the way back to Ridgeback.
I know that. I can feel it.
So I drag the map off the dash with bloody
