She focused on these details, as they kept her from falling completely apart.

She checked her bearing and adjusted her trajectory. She should intersect with the Lost Goat Trail in a quarter mile. It didn’t take long for her to reach the narrow trail, a strip of mostly cleared ground cutting through deep woods.

One end of this serpentine trail led to a trailhead just inside the park near Highway 101, and the other continued up and up on a twisted path to the top of Mount Olympus, the highest peak in the Olympic range.

She’d hiked the full trail in her early twenties with a group of college friends. They’d spent a full five days enjoying the long loop. It had been exhilarating.

She’d never imagined approaching the path by climbing overland from the lodge and wouldn’t recommend it in her trail review. She could also do without the bloodshed and danger.

She swiped at another tear and kept moving. Another quarter mile or so and she’d reach the southern ridge, where there was a decent clearing at the top of the rise and a wide flat where one day an emergency shelter and cellular antenna would be constructed. The flat was wide enough for construction materials to be flown in by helicopter, and the antenna would rise above the trees—itself made to look like a large tree so as not to be a blight on the view—and hikers in this area would have the safety of calling for help and posting photos of their adventure on social media.

At last, she stepped into the clearing, her breathing heavy after another steep uphill climb—but at least this time it had been easier walking on a trail, and not a slog through heavy mud.

She looked up at the cloudy sky and hoped the cover was thin enough. She had a military-grade satellite phone, the best of the best.

It had to be good enough.

She lowered her pack and pulled out the phone, while placing her other hand over the Glock loaded with paint pellets holstered at her hip. She could be ambushed again here, but she had no choice but to step out into the open. It was the best chance for a strong signal.

She powered on the phone and entered the pass code. She’d had a full tutorial, and the numbers she was to call were all programed in as well as written on a cheat sheet with the list of code words she’d need to get Naval Special Warfare Command to take her seriously.