Leave No Trace

by Sara Driscoll

  “They’re all slippery. And some of them are pretty big. Don’t trip. Either of us gets a full soaking, we may not be able to finish the search.”

  “Screw that. No wimpy little creek is going to take us out.” But Brian slowed slightly, taking a little more care with his footing as they reached the midway point and the water came nearly to their knees.

  Meg eyed the far bank. Nearly there, thank God. Hawk was holding his head high, but the water was up to his chest, and she knew how water this cold could steal your breath and turn your muscles into lead, making coordinated movements nearly impossible.

  Another few steps and the ground under their boots rose higher and the current buffeting them eased. With a sigh of relief, she stepped onto dry land, quickly moving away from her dog as Hawk shook violently, trying to rid himself of the freezing water. Brian, stuck in between the two dogs, yelped as he was pelted from both sides with icy water.

  “Honestly, if I wanted to wake up that quickly, I’d rather have several shots of espresso,” Brian said through gritted teeth. “IV delivered right into my vein. Damn, that was cold.”

  “I could go for a coffee,” Meg said. “Though I might be more tempted to pour it over my head than drink it. How can getting your feet that cold make the rest of you freeze as well?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m tempted to join you in the coffee shower. First thing after this search is done.”

  Meg shrugged off her backpack, then quickly rooted through it for a towel. She held it up for Brian. “You need one, too, or did you pack one?”

  “Packed one. You never know what these cross-country searches will bring.”

  They quickly toweled down the dogs, buckled them into their vests, and attached the leashes.

  Meg stamped her feet, wrinkling her nose in distaste as water oozed around her socks. “How wet are your feet?”

  “I think I have DC’s Southwest Duck Pond in there.”

  “Same. Watch for blisters. You know how much easier it is for them to develop with wet feet. We’ll need to stop and deal with them ASAP. Okay, Hawk, find.” She was pleased to see how fast the dogs picked up the scent, easily falling back into their pattern and even increasing their pace. “Our shooter apparently cut straight through and kept going. Didn’t try to disguise the trail at all.”

  “For someone who moves through the forest like a ghost, clearly he thought his only pursuers would be human, not canine.”

  Meg pointed an index finger at Brian. “Very good point. Which means if we don’t catch him today and he strikes again, it’s going to be tougher next time because he’ll be keeping the dogs in mind and will be purposely trying to lose them. Blue Ridge only has a population of about twelve hundred. There’s no way someone isn’t going to comment on our presence, and then word will spread like wildfire. If the shooter is local, he’s going to find out and will take precautions accordingly.” She glanced down at her boots and grimaced. “Which means more water hazards because we all know that’s the best way for the dogs to lose the scent.”

  “Let’s nail him today then, and we won’t have to worry about that.”

  The ground inclined steeply, and within a few minutes they clambered over a line of boulders—with much less grace than their dogs, who leapt from surface to surface—to find themselves on level ground.

  “Hey, we made it.” Brian’s breath came hard from the exertion. “This looks like the top ridge. Now we’ll be able to make some serious gains in time. Lacey, find.”

  Lacey and Hawk immediately headed southwest, following a path only they could see, weaving through trees and between boulders. Meg let the leash play out, giving Hawk his head and letting him set the pace. He trotted ahead, his undulations only slight on the narrow ridge, but his head was high and his tail waved proudly. He didn’t care if his feet were cold, he was in his element, doing his favorite job, with the woman he loved above all else. She thought about her wet, chilled feet and realized she could take a lesson from him.

  The dogs leapt over a tree, fallen across their path, and Brian and Meg hopped over behind them to find the long track of a footpath curving away from them, having climbed the side of the mountain to their right.

  Beside the path, a sturdy wooden post with an arrow pointing southwest decreed both the direction of Stanley Gap Trail and Fall Branch Falls, located 2.9 miles away, while a second arrow indicated the Benton MacKaye Trail broke away to the northwest. However, Meg didn’t have long to look as the dogs headed directly down the Stanley Gap Trail.

  “Out of the forest and back on a trail,” Meg commented. “Probably felt he was far enough away from the site of the shooting to risk the trail and pick up time on an established track.”

  “Wonder if anyone saw him?”

  “Depends on how long he stayed on a public trail. On a weekday morning, he might have been spotted, though our chances would have been better if this was the weekend. Less people hiking on a workday.”

  The dogs increased their pace, and Meg and Brian broke into a jog to stay with them, following the trail silently for a while up a gently inclined slope. When they reached the apex of the trail, at a spot where three ridges met at the peak of Rocky Mountain, Meg called for Hawk to stop.

  “Let’s water the dogs. They’ve been on the go for almost an hour now. It looks like we’re going to be onto the descent after this and it may not be easy to stop.”

  Conscious of their exposure at the peak and Wilcox’s warning about the archer’s skill, Meg and Brian knelt down on the rocky ground so they would be both less visible and smaller targets if the killer was still in the area. Neither truly believed he was nearby, but caution was deeply ingrained in their search protocols and most times was simply an automatic response.

  They pulled collapsible bowls and water bottles from their packs, and the dogs settled in for a long drink. They then grabbed water bottles for themselves and slaked their own thirst. As Meg took a moment to rest, she scanned the vista spread out before them. To the north, behind several smaller rises, the town of Blue Ridge spread out as a pale smear of buildings and roads. To the northeast, the blue-green waters of Blue Ridge Lake sprawled, its central body spreading out in small bays and inlets like grasping fingers reaching for the hills above. To the west, the dark line of GA-515 ran north toward Blue Ridge and stretched off to the south to disappear into the hills. Due south, a range of smaller peaks rose into the blue sky. And all around was the bright new green of spring as trees burst out in leaf and fields of wild grasses found life again.

  Meg looked down to find Hawk had finished his drink. She downed the rest of her water bottle and then packed everything away. “Ready?” she asked Brian.

  “When you are.”

  “Onward ho, then. Hawk, find.”

  The short rest refreshed them and they picked up their pace, jogging steadily along a path winding downward through the trees. Soon, though, the path narrowed, the slope on either side steepening as if they were running a ridge pole.

  Meg’s heart pounded, more than simply from the exercise. She’d hated heights ever since she was six years old, when she’d defied her grandparents’ safety rules and walked out on the widow’s walk at their cottage in Nantucket. The centuries-old wood railing had collapsed, tumbling her over the edge to dangle over a fatal drop until her grandfather hauled her up to safety. From that moment, heights were a terror for Meg, one that often plagued her on searches, depending on the location. She never let it stop her, but it gave her some extremely bad moments.

  This was one of those moments.

  Meg looked down the slope and then glanced sideways at Brian, now too close beside her on the path. If one of them slipped, or bumped the other, it would be game over. “Let me go first.”

  Brian’s gaze flicked from her to the drop on her side of the path and back again. “You bet. Lacey, slow.”

  Meg jogged past Lacey and then they were off at full speed again. She couldn’t help furtively glancing to either side. Hawk,
lower to the ground and on four feet, continued to trot at an easy pace, following the scent. Clearly, heights didn’t bother him.

  But when Hawk stopped dead in the middle of the path, Meg skidded to a halt behind him, quickly scanning the area but finding it unremarkable. She tried to pick up any trace of sound of an oncoming threat, but she couldn’t hear anything over the shrill whistle of the wind. “Hawk, what is it, boy?”

  The only reason he would stop the search like that was because he could sense danger. Could smell it.

  The angle of the descent on either side of the path and the rough terrain made it difficult for Meg to see down to the ground; what was visible was simply the upper branches of trees. She glanced behind her to find Lacey standing frozen and alert, her nose constantly scenting the air and her ears perked forward.

  Something’s coming, but from where? Should we move forward or back to avoid it?

  Impossible to tell when you couldn’t see danger coming.

  Two black bear cubs suddenly clambered out of the trees and over the ridge, directly onto the path about forty feet in front of them.

  Meg’s mouth went desert dry. Where there are babies, there’s always—

  A massive adult bear lumbered into view behind the cubs. She took one look at the dogs and humans threatening her young, reared up on her back legs, and let out a furious, throaty roar.

  CHAPTER 3

  Stoneclad: A giant, evil witch of Cherokee mythology called Nûñ’yunu’wï, which translates to “dressed in stone.” Stoneclads protect the forests, ridge lines, and creatures of the forest.

  Monday, April 8, 1:12 PM

  Rocky Mountain

  Blue Ridge, Georgia

  “Talon, back!” Meg’s voice was low, the command in it unmistakable. The tone was unnecessary—if anything had been trained into Hawk, it was the use of his “don’t mess with me” name. When she called him “Talon,” instantaneous obedience was required. Lives could depend on it.

  In this case, they did.

  Hawk carefully backed toward Meg and she dropped his leash, giving him the freedom to move and not tying him to her if she commanded him to retreat as the bear charged.

  Behind her, she heard Brian calling for “Athena” to move back with him.

  She had two weapons, the bear spray and the Glock in a worst-case scenario, but for all its power, the Glock was actually the less preferable weapon. Yes, it could kill, but that would require a precise shot at a quick-moving target; if she only injured the bear, it might become more enraged. Temporarily blinding the animal in a wide cloud of pepper spray was safer for all of them, including the bear.

  Without taking her eyes off the six-foot terror in front of her, Meg blindly reached for the holster at her hip with her left hand. She flipped it open and thumbed off the safety clip as she pulled the spray can from the holster. She kept the can in her left hand and extended it outward, pulling her Glock with her right hand, just in case. She might not be able to aim as well with a spray in her nondominant hand, but it likely wouldn’t matter because of the wide delivery system. More than that, with a wind this strong, she wasn’t sure how much of the spray would reach the bear and how much would fly back onto her. But if the bear charged, she’d have no choice but to try.

  They were in serious trouble. A black bear was bad enough, but one with cubs made for a potentially fatal situation. She and Brian knew the drill: Don’t approach the bear. Don’t make eye contact with it. Be non-confrontational at a distance, but make as much noise as you could up close. Make yourself as large as possible. Move away slowly, but never turn your back on the bear. Carry bear deterrent in case the bear charges.

  She was beyond thankful for the training and temperament of the dogs. Deadly calm, they stayed quiet, waiting for their next command, which should help keep the bear non-confrontational. A vicious, defensive dog would only bring out the bear’s aggression.

  In front of her, the bear made a blowing noise and clacked her teeth, warning them away from her young. We’re going, we just need to not fall down the mountain slope while we’re doing it. It’s death by bear vs. death by heights.

  They needed to back away from this bear and then let her and the cubs continue on their way. Hopefully in their original direction, across the path on the far side, and not along it in front of them, because they still had a suspect to track and they couldn’t do it if the path was blocked by bears. For them, it was this path or nothing as they followed the suspect’s exact trail.

  However, she understood the bear’s motivation. She only wanted to protect her young, and until the threat was neutralized, she wouldn’t move away. She couldn’t know they intended no harm to her babies.

  “Keep coming,” Brian said quietly. “Carefully. A wrong step will take you over the edge.”

  “Roger that,” Meg said. “Talon, back.” Hawk passed Meg as she stayed in place; then she took a step back herself. “She’s not taking her eyes off us. I think we better move on to plan B. Time to get loud to scare her off.” Brian and Meg started to yell, and Meg caught a flash of Brian’s arms in the air, waving wildly, trying to frighten the bear. But Meg kept the Glock at the ready and the repellent aimed directly at the bear. If it moved, she needed to already be in position.

  They inched away, going as fast as they dared, constantly cautious of sliding off the path, but it wasn’t fast enough for the bear, who dropped onto all fours and swatted the ground, growling again. Behind her the two cubs stared at the group of dogs and humans and stayed close to their mother.

  Moving backward on the narrow ridge path was tricky while Meg kept her eyes fixed on the bear, who continued to paw the ground, leaving deep gouges in the hard-trodden earth from her massive claws. Meg gained a foot of distance, then two, but as the bear’s dark eyes locked on her, she knew instinctively they were out of time. They simply couldn’t move fast enough.

  Meg half turned to yell clearly over the noise. “Talon, Athena, down. Peekaboo! Brian, cover your eyes!”

  The words were barely out of her mouth when the bear sprang, charging at them, moving in ground-eating strides. Meg pulled the trigger on the bear spray as Brian went silent behind her. A stream of yellow burst from the can, shooting toward the bear. The wind immediately diffused the spray, tossing it into the air as a diaphanous cloud, so Meg continued to pull the trigger as the bear charged closer and closer. She couldn’t shut her eyes, but watched the oncoming bear through slitted lids, fighting to keep her aim true.

  The edge of the cloud blew into her eyes, and she nearly screamed at the searing pain. She closed one eye, squinting the other, desperately trying to see through the tears welling in reaction to the assault. She heard the bear cry out, halting in her tracks, coughing and choking, shaking her head, before turning and running in the opposite direction. The cubs fell into step behind her, and the three of them ran down the hill to the west of the ridge.

  Meg waited for a full count of three, listening to their crashing slowly fading away. Then she dropped to her knees, letting go of the pepper spray and fumbling her weapon blindly into its holster. She pressed her fists to her eyes and crouched into a ball, rocking back and forth, a low, keening wail breaking from her.

  “Meg! Meg! Hawk, out of the way.” Brian was beside her, his body pressed to her side, his hand on her back, and his voice in her ear. “God, did you get it in your eyes?”

  All Meg could do was moan.

  “We need to wash it out.” He tugged on the strap of her backpack. “Slide off your pack. I need your supplies.”

  Meg shrugged off her backpack, and then Brian’s warmth left, only to be replaced with a silky glide of fur and the cool wetness of a dog nose.

  Meg nearly reached out for Hawk, but pulled back, terrified of getting some of the oily spray on him. “It’s okay, boy. It’s okay.” Her voice was hoarse even to her own ears. “God Almighty, Brian. Help me.”

  “I’m here. Hawk, buddy, shove over.” Hawk disappeared and Brian was back. “I ne
ed you to turn your face to the side. I’ll run the water over your eyes one at a time to wash some of it into the dirt.”

  “Is she gone?”

  “Yes, and the dogs will tell us if she comes back, but she won’t. You saved us.”

  “The dogs are okay? You’re okay?”

  “We’re fine. The peekaboo trick worked like a charm for the dogs. I got a bit of spray on my cheeks, but that’s nothing. Just a little sting. My eyes are perfectly fine. You took the full brunt.”

  “It’s not good,” she ground out.

  His hand gently lifted her face and tilted it the way he wanted. “Now open your eyes.” When she tried and ended up blinking furiously, he said, “Sorry, I’m going to have to hold your eye open. I know this is going to sting like hell.” As gently as he could, but with enough strength to force her compliance, he held open her left eye and poured the contents of an entire water bottle over it. She groaned and reflexively tried to pull away, but he followed her and kept flooding her eye. He tossed the first bottle, then loosened the top of the second with his teeth and unscrewed it. “When we get into town, we’ll get some baby shampoo and wash your eyes out properly, but this will have to do for now.” He turned her face the other way and then washed out her other eye. The third bottle rinsed the spray from her forehead and cheeks; then he splashed more over her hands and rubbed her palm over his pant leg to scrub off any sticky residue. Then he repeated the entire process.

  When the bottles were empty, he sat back and tipped her face up toward him. “Open your eyes.”

  Meg forced her eyes open. Blinking, she found Brian’s wavering form in front of her. Blinking a few more times, her vision steadied and his concerned face came into focus.

  “How’s my girl?” he asked.

  “Living her best life,” Meg croaked on a half smile.

  Brian let out a small laugh and kissed the top of her head. “That’s my girl. Kicking ass and taking names.” His expression turned serious. “You going to be able to manage to get off this hill?”