Chapter 3 - The Yellow Quilt
They reached the abandoned logging camp just before 3:00 a.m.
It was a dilapidated wooden structure with a sagging roof, but it was dry inside. Silas immediately went to work, ignoring the frostbite nipping at his fingers. He sparked a fire in the rusted iron woodstove using dry kindling stored in the corner. Within minutes, a small, life-saving warmth began to radiate through the room.
Eleanor sat on a dusty cot near the stove, unwrapping the baby to check his temperature. The boy was flushed and warm, sleeping peacefully against his grandmother's chest.
“He’s a fighter,” Eleanor smiled through her tears, kissing the top of the boy’s head. “Just like his mother.”
Silas knelt beside them, holding out a canteen of water. “Eleanor, look at the quilt he was wrapped in. The yellow one.”
Eleanor picked up the heavy, hand-stitched quilt. “I made this for Maya when she was a little girl. She must have kept it with her all these years.”
“Look at the seam on the bottom right corner,” Silas pointed.
Eleanor ran her fingers over the fabric. The stitching there was different—clumsy, thick, and recently done with a heavy black thread. Silas pulled a hunting knife from his belt and carefully sliced the black thread open.
He reached into the lining of the quilt and pulled out a small, metallic object.
A silver USB flash drive.
“I have a satellite laptop in my emergency pack,” Silas said, pulling a rugged black computer from his heavy canvas backpack. He booted it up and plugged the drive in.
There was only one file on the drive. A video labeled: For Mom.
Silas clicked play.
May you like
The screen flickered, revealing the bruised, exhausted face of Maya Reed. She was sitting in a windowless, concrete room lit by a single harsh bulb. She looked terrified, but her eyes burned with a fierce, unbreakable resolve.
Eleanor let out a sharp, devastated gasp, pressing her hand to her mouth as she saw her missing daughter alive.
