Chapter 22
The Small Hours
The way was dark, as before, but the pilot light from Heather’s torch gave enough light for them to see the ground. The lamp hung dark, dead in his left hand. He wouldn’t let himself use it until he’d found the Jeep. He’d need it then, first to push it out of the way, then to remove the last tire they’d need to make their escape.
Every now and then Heather would slow her pace and turn her face back to the sky, awaiting the dawn the way a child awaits Christmas morning.
Stars winked in and out of occasional breaks in the overhead boughs. Jim saw no noticeable change in the sky.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do,” Jim waited nervously for a reply, and when there was none, he elaborated. “You know, after we get out of here. Where will you go?”
“I
