The forest was silent. Tall pines and bare birches stood like ghosts. The snow was undisturbed. Drew went to the spot where he usually found fallen limbs, about half a mile from the house. He worked fast. Chopping branches, breaking up deadfall, stacking it on the sled. The axe rang out, his breath coming in white puffs. His arms ached, and the temperature was dropping. But he didn’t stop. They needed the wood. Cassie was cold. His mother would be exhausted when she got home. He had to keep the fire going.
The sled was nearly full. Drew straightened up and wiped the sweat from his forehead. That was enough. Time to head back. He grabbed the rope and pulled. The sled creaked and moved. It was heavy, but manageable. Suddenly, he heard a sound. Faint, almost lost in the wind. A groan.
Drew stopped and listened. Was it just the wind in the branches? No. It was a person. He moved toward the sound, leaving the sled behind. His heart raced. He pushed twenty yards into the thicket and saw him. A man. Lying under a tree, bound with ropes. Gagged. His eyes were open; he was alive.
Drew froze, unable to process the sight. The man saw him and began to muffle a cry, struggling against his restraints. Drew took a step forward. Then another. The woods went deathly quiet, even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
The man was curled in a ball under a massive pine, trying to preserve what little heat he had left. His hands were tied behind him, his ankles bound with heavy nylon rope, and a dirty rag was stuffed into his mouth. His jacket was open, revealing a suit that cost more than Drew’s house—completely wrong for the Maine woods.
Drew knelt down beside him. The man’s lips were blue, his face twitching uncontrollably from hypothermia. His brown eyes were wide, filled with a desperate, raw hope.
— Hold on, — Drew muttered, reaching for the gag.
He pulled the rag out. The man immediately gasped for air, coughing and groaning.
— Kid! Help me! — he croaked, his teeth chattering so hard the words were barely intelligible. — I’ll pay you. Whatever you want. Just hurry.
— What happened? Who did this? — Drew asked, looking at the ropes on his wrists. The knots were tight, professional. The man’s hands were swollen and purple.
— Later… I’ll tell you everything… Just get me out of here. I’m freezing. I can’t feel my hands.
The man tried to move his fingers, but they wouldn’t respond. Drew pulled the small hatchet from his belt.
— Stay still, — he muttered, sliding the blade under the rope at the wrists.
He sliced through, and the rope snapped.
— Now the legs.
The man groaned in agony as the blood began to flow back into his cramped limbs. He rubbed his wrists, wincing.
— God… Thank you… Thank you, kid, — he whispered, massaging his arms.
Drew sat back, taking him in. Under the open jacket was a crisp white shirt, a tie, and a vest. The suit was clearly high-end, even to Drew’s untrained eyes. His trousers were caked in mud, and the left leg was torn, showing a nasty gash. The blood had dried, but it was still oozing. His leg was swollen. His leather shoes were ruined, one heel snapped off. On his wrist was a watch that looked like it cost a fortune. Drew didn’t know brands, but he knew money when he saw it.
— Can you stand?
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