Fight for Her by Kelly Favor (classic children's novels txt) 📕

The GPS turned her off of Main Street and onto Red Fern Road. This was a much smaller street, and it began winding through the woods, which were so thick that they’d blotted out the sun and cast everything in shadow. She took her sunglasses off and tossed them to the side, focusing as she began to head at a steeper and steeper incline.

She was only ten minutes away from the address she’d been given, and no idea if it was for sure even the right address. Maybe the UFF had made a mistake, although some said that Drew Ellis, who ran the company, never made a mistake. He was super intelligent and brutally competitive, almost godlike—or at least, Trump-like in the way that his employees seemed to worship his every move.

The GPS turned her off Red Fern road and onto Cleary Lane, which was the street he lived on. Calling it a street was too kind, though. It was barely a path, and the Yukon was almost too big to get through.

Tree branches clawed and scratched at the car, as it continued going up the mountain road.

Krista was gritting her teeth together, eyes wide, breathing heavily as she tried to navigate without getting stuck. There wasn’t any cell service out here, so if she went off the road and couldn’t get back on, there would be little choice but to hike her way out.

She was sweating and anxious by the time she came to the turnoff that the GPS

claimed was Gunner’s driveway.

“You have arrived at your destination,” the computerized voice announced, and yet, all Krista saw was yet another small dirt road leading God only knew where. Still, she had no other choice but to take it, going on faith that she wouldn’t end up in the hands of some hillbilly cannibals. As laughable as that sounded, it was getting less funny all the time.

There was something eerie and frightening about the wooded, mountainous landscape. It was totally different than the flat, arid desert surrounding Las Vegas.

Driving up the new, even narrower, dirt road, Krista craned her neck to try and see a house, something that would tell her a person actually lived here. But she couldn’t see it yet. The road went on and on, and she was driving slowly, so as not to run into a tree trunk.

Finally, after rounding one last treacherous turn where she thought seriously about giving up—she came to the end of her journey.

There, not a dozen yards away from her vehicle, was a small wooden cabin. A battered blue pickup truck was even parked out front.

Could that be his truck? Krista thought, and her heart began hammering at twice the speed that it had been beating previously.

Near to the truck was a monstrous stack of wood that had been newly chopped and stacked. She assumed as much, because a hatchet was buried in one final block of wood on the ground.

Still, there was no sign of any life. She drove forward a few more feet, tentatively. Now that she was really here, the excitement was replaced by dread and foreboding. The whole thing felt all too real and she suddenly couldn’t remember why she’d been so quick to say yes to this assignment.

Gunner King is dangerous, violent, and some say he’s gone completely insane. Isthis really where you want to be right now, Krista?

Her gaze went back to the hatchet stuck in the wooden block and she swallowed, her mouth dry, the bright metallic taste of panic in her mouth.

Somehow, though, she convinced herself to get out of the car. As she did so, she was struck by how quiet it was out here.

Of course, there was noise; some birds chirping, the wind stirring the leaves, a squirrel running from one branch to the next.

But it wasn’t the kind of noise Krista was used to. She’d come from a city that was literally bells and whistles, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. It was culture shock, to say the least.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice sounding thin and shaky in the still air.

Nobody replied.

She glanced at the windows of the cabin, but they were dark and impenetrable.

Perhaps, she thought, he’d gone out somewhere. Maybe he liked to walk in the woods, go fishing.

Maybe he’s inside the cabin, drunk, passed out with a bottle of whiskey nearby.

Or maybe he’s dead, she thought, and gooseflesh popped out along her arms and legs.

I might be the one to save him.

She pictured herself breaking down the door and running over to Gunner’s still body, beginning CPR on him as he lay on the floor, perilously close to death. Then her fantasy jumped to a ceremony where she was given an award for her heroic act that led to saving Gunner’s life, and the interview with Katie Couric—

A dog’s low warning growl pierced the silence. Krista cried out in surprise, spinning around to see a rather frighteningly large dog growling and showing its teeth at her. The dog’s ears were flattened against its skull and it was only a few feet from her.

“Hey, calm down, puppy,” she tried to sooth.

She couldn’t tell what kind of breed it was—she only knew it looked mean. Its reddish brown fur was matted and dirty, and it wore no collar. The growl deepened and intensified.

Krista started to back away from it.

She could see that at any moment, this thing was going to attack her.

“Please, please, don’t—“ she whispered, still backing away. She knew that dogs sensed fear and it was the worst thing to do, but she couldn’t help it. She was terrified.

Just as the dog seemed ready to spring into attack mode, a voice from nearby shouted, startling it.

“Hey! Doogie!”

The mutt spun, saw the person and lowered its head.

Coming around the corner of the house, a large man—wearing baggy jeans and a white t-shirt—shooed at the dog. “What are you growling at, Doogie?” the man said, and then he turned and