"We're here."

Bex and Macey had followed the satellite images of the van six hours north through Wisconsin, just south of the Northern Michigan border. And then they'd found it, parked on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.

"Now what?" Macey asked, even though she knew the answer.

"We hike."

The woods were thick with pine trees, and Bex knew satellite images would no longer help them with their search. If Cammie and Zach's captors had left any traces, they were gone now.

In the time that had elapsed, they could have come and gone, leaving only the van in their wake. Cammie and Zach could have been moved by now. Or they could be dead. Bex's training forced her to consider the possibility.

Bex kept her eyes peeled for any signs of Cammie. Broken branches, strands of hair. Bex knew Cammie, and Cammie would have left a trail. But there was nothing, and as the hours passed, Bex forced herself to consider the possibility that she wasn't going to find them.

And then, after four hours of hiking through the brush, they saw it. A small icehouse, about 100 feet from what appeared to have been a cabin. The roof of the cabin was caved and the walls were tilting, but the icehouse was in perfect condition.

Bex and Macey exchanged a glance, and approached it, bracing against the uncertainty of what they might find. The door was swinging off its hinges, and the place looked abandoned.

Except for the body, a middle-aged man with a ponytail, neatly tucked against the back wall. Bex examined him, cautiously. His neck had been snapped, clean, approximately two days earlier.

"Zach," Bex said, hopeful for the first time in hours. "They were here. They fought. They were alive when they left."

"How do you know that?"

"Why take time to bury enemy operatives and not your own?" Bex shrugged.

Macey nodded, the reasoning seemed sound to her. But it was still a dead end, in the middle of a 3,000 square mile forest, too close to the Canadian border.

"Well we know one thing," Macey swallowed hard. "Either Cammie and Zach are incredibly valuable, or they're supposed to be dead right now."

Bex nodded. "You wouldn't take prisoners across the border," she agreed. "Unless they were really important."

They spread out then, and searched for clues. It was Macey who found a solitary drop of blood on the ground, about 2,000 feet from the icehouse.

"It's Zach's," she announced, equally excited and terrified, waving Liz's pocket DNA analyzer in the air.

"They were here," Bex nodded, slowly. "They were here."

"What would you do?" Macey asked. "You've narrowly escaped with your lives, Zach is wounded, and you're in the middle of an enormous federal forest. What would you do?"

"I'd hide," Bex said without skipping a beat. "They'd expect you to run, and if at least one of you is injured, you won't get very far very fast. It's better to hide and regroup, especially if their numbers are small."

Macey nodded. She stood in the door of the icehouse and squinted. She looked left. She looked right. Then she pointed.

"This way," she said firmly. "I'd go this way."

"The high ground," Bex agreed. "Me too."

It took them maybe another hour to locate the tree, and despite an obviously rushed effort to cover their tracks, Macey noted more of Zach's blood staining the ground. And a broken branch in the outside center of the tree, hanging like a signal flag.

"They were here," Macey said, certain. Bex nodded. "They were here, and Zach was hurt and now they're not."

"They could have rested and moved on," Bex offered.

"Or they could have been found." Bex hated Macey's words, but she knew they were true.

Macey considered for a moment. "I'd try to figure out where I was," she said thoughtfully. "Cammie and Zach have been in Chicago, what, three years?" Bex nodded. "They know the sky. It can't be too much different here."

Bex shivered. "South," she said firmly. "I'd run south." So they did. They ran five miles. Then they looped back and ran it again.

That was when Bex spotted the limb, snapped and hanging, in the middle of the tree, where no animal would have disturbed it.

And there was Zach, buried under a blanket of pine needles, so pale that, for a moment, Bex was sure he was dead. But he opened his eyes for an instant, just one, and relief flooded through her.

"Where's Cammie?" Macey asked, but Zach was already gone again. "Liz? Elisa?"

"Call a chopper," Bex ordered, taking in the scene. Zach had been bleeding, a lot, from a gunshot wound to his leg. His blood had soaked through two smaller pieces of fabric and what Bex was certain was Cammie's sweater. His skin was hot to the touch, and soaked with sweat. Bex could see the bruises rising on his arms, the large bump on the back of his head.

"We've got you," she whispered, hoping it wasn't too late. "We're going to get you home. You're going to be okay."

"What about Cammie?" Macey asked, and Bex shook her head.

"She'd want us to take him home," Bex was certain of it. "She's probably gone on to try and make contact. She'd never leave him here unless she didn't have any other options."

"What about Liz and Elisa?" Macey asked.

"They're not with Cammie," Bex knew the words were true as she said them. "She'd have left one with Zach while she went for help."

Macey's face hardened with concern for Liz, but she couldn't argue with Bex's assessment. They both knew Cammie, and Macey knew it would have almost killed her to leave Zach as they'd found him.

"We'll find them," Bex assured, as they loaded Zach onto the helicopter that had come to their aid. "We'll find all of them."