by Raylan Kane
Bill scoffed. “Typical woman. Wouldn't know directions to anything if they were tattooed on her damn forehead.”
Marsh stared at him for a moment and then looked up at the clouds. Rage rose up inside her and she contemplated drawing her pistol for a split second. Instead, she charged across the clearing and as soon as she reached the man he stood up as a means of using his height to intimidate her. Marsh grabbed Bill's hand and pulled it downward so that his palm began straining toward his wrist, a pain compliance maneuver from her police training back at the academy. Lindsay jumped up and put her hand on Marsh's shoulder in an attempt to calm her down, but Marsh shook her off. Bill yelped and Marsh applied more pressure. The man fell to his knees in front of her.
“Stop,” Lindsay said.
Bill grit his teeth and looked up at Marsh with fear in his eyes. Marsh's face was wild with fury and she held the man's hand in front of her, blood draining from her own hand as she tightened her grip. “Now,” she said to the man, saliva dripping through her clenched teeth and sliding off her lower lip. “Let's get something straight, okay? The next time you make any idiotic comment about women, or you make a stupid, whining complaint of any kind on this mission, it's gonna be you we're gonna be carrying outta here on a stretcher. You got that?”
Marsh kept pushing on the man's hand to the point he could feel the strain on his ligaments and genuinely worried something was going to break.
“I said, do you got that?” Marsh reiterated.
Bill nodded furiously. “Yes,” he whimpered. “I got it. I got it.”
“He understands,” Lindsay said, “Deputy, let him go.”
Marsh anger had boiled over and she was self aware enough to know it, but she also didn't care. She thought for a second about breaking the man's wrist but then talked herself out of it just as quickly. She felt some relief from pain herself when she let go of Bill's hand and let his arm drop limply by his side. Bill held his hand close and rubbed his wrist as he looked up at the Deputy. She didn't pull her eyes from his and instead stared at him just as intently as she had before. I'm not looking away until he does, she thought. The man acquiesced and looked down at his hand.
“That's my shooting hand, Marsh.”
“Good,” Marsh said, “you wanna keep it, you keep your mouth shut.”
He knew better than to say anything in reply.
“You think we can keep going now?” Lindsay said.
“Yep.”
“Are we still gonna try and see if that station is still intact?” Wally said.
“Think it's worth checkin',” Tessa said.
It took the group less than an hour to navigate through the burned out forest to where Marsh had remembered the Ranger Station to be situated. Sure enough, they found the remnants of the cabin in the form of a black wooden square surrounded by ashes.
“What's that over there?” Tessa pointed at a small structure that sat between two scraggly, limbless trees.
The structure was as blackened by soot as everything else, but remarkably had two walls still largely intact.
“Storage shed it looks like,” Marsh said.
The group set Agent Winters down on the gray forest floor. Tessa walked to the thing and pulled away clumps of dead branches from beneath it. “Hey,” she shouted, genuine enthusiasm in her voice. “There's something here.”
17
Tessa brushed soot from her hands and pointed beneath the half-burned structure. “Canoes,” she said. “Two of them.”
The ends poking out from beneath the shed appeared stained with black, but otherwise looked to be structurally sound. Marsh hauled one of the canoes out for a better look. The others walked over to inspect the find.
“Oh, here,” Tessa said, reaching into the spot where the canoes had laid. She pulled a half-charred paddle out into the open. “It's a bit beat up, but it'll work.”
“There's only the one?”
“Looks that way.”
“We can make it work,” Marsh said. “Hitch the canoes together, one towing the other.”
“I'm just glad I found these,” Tessa said.
“Fantastic,” Wally said, “this is good, right?”
“Right,” Marsh said. “Definitely a good thing. We'll get out of here on the water. Fairly certain the Ryback's only about a half-mile from here.”
“How will we get these to the river along with carrying Agent Winters?” Bill said.
“A couple of us can stay with him,” Marsh said, “the others can portage the canoes to the river where we can set up camp.”
“I like it,” Lindsay said, “take the river back into the town.”
“That's the idea.”
“No need to make more than one trip,” Bill said, “we only need one of us to stay with the Agent. I'll volunteer.”
“What if one of them bears comes?” Tessa said. “You gonna hold 'em off by yourself?”
“Those things are so big, what's one more person going to do?”
“No,” Marsh said, “Bill, you're one of our stronger walkers. I think you and Tessa can portage one of the canoes, me and Lindsay will take the other.”
“Fine by me,” Lindsay said.
“Wally, I mean no offense,” Marsh said to the older man.
“I know,” he said, “none taken. My knees aren't what they used to be.”
“So, you're alright staying behind? Watch over Agent Winters while we transport the canoes?”
“Yep, that'll be fine. Got a book in my pack somewhere. Might've got a little torn up in all the excitement, but I'm sure it'll do. I'll guard our lone paddle too, how 'bout that?” He smiled a little at the comment.
“Thank you for understanding.”
The group laid Winters gurney near the burnt shed and Wally found a stump comfortable enough to sit on with added padding from his sleeping bag. Bill and Tessa hoisted one of the canoes, a mint green aluminum bodied craft, over their heads. Lindsay and Marsh did the same, their canoe was banana yellow, also aluminum, and of the same length as the other.
“You seem to know where you're going,” Bill said to Marsh, still not comfortable looking her in the eye as he spoke to her, “you'll have to lead the way.”
“Alright, let's do it.”
Nearly three hours later, Bill, Tessa, and Deputy Marsh emerged from the blackened forest and found Wally hunched over a paperback, Winters still unconscious by his side. Wally looked up from his reading, startled at first, but pleased to see the Deputy smiling back at him.
“Time to go is it?”
“Yes.”
“You made out alright then?”
“Yep, the canoes are at the river along with the others. Lindsay's setting up the tent as we speak.”
“Oh, good.”
The group walked silently through the trees, minus a few grunts and grimaces as they each bore the weight of the FBI Agent over the hilly terrain. Wally was glad to set the stretcher down when they reached the shore of the Ryback. Lindsay had found a large enough flat area near the river's edge to erect the tent and she'd pulled it flat into its large rectangular footprint. “I needed more than just me to get the thing up,” Lindsay said. “But, she's laid out and ready to go.”
While the others struggled with the tent, Tessa frowned as she stared at the two canoes and then glanced at Agent Winters on the gurney. “Are we sure he's gonna fit in one of them?” She said.
Marsh looked away from the tent. “What do you mean?”
“I mean these canoes gonna be big enough to fit a stretcher?”
“We'll figure it out,” Marsh said, and she went back to adjoining tent poles.
Out of curiosity, Tessa rolled the green canoe from its resting place and onto the surface of the calm river water at her toes. No one noticed what she was doing at first. She held onto the rim of the craft with her right arm and pushed it outward in front of her, pleased to see it float so buoyantly on the Ryback's near stillness. But, the slight smile on her face dropped. Her mouth fell
open and her eyes widened upon spying a pool of water that grew along the floor near one end of the canoe. “No way,” said Tessa as she stared at the leak allowing more and more water into the boat. “You gotta be kiddin' me.”
“What's wrong?” Lindsay said. “What are you doing?”
“There's a leak,” Tessa said.
“What?”
“I said, there's a leak. Look at this.”
Marsh bounded over and was dismayed to see the entire bottom of the inside of the canoe submerged. “Great,” she said with a sigh. “Just great.”
“Well, check the other one,” Lindsay said.
Bill thought about venting some his frustration, but thought better of it.
Sure enough, Tessa and Marsh rolled the yellow canoe onto the water and they found two small leaks in its hull.
“Son of a bitch.”
“What do you suggest we do?”
“Y'all are lucky you have me along,” Lindsay said.
Everyone looked at her, confused by the comment.
“What's the Scout's motto?”
“Be prepared.”
“I've got a fiberglass repair kit in my stuff,” Lindsay said. “I don't know how well it'll work, but I think it gives us a good shot.”
“You're joking,” Marsh said. Her face lit up and for the first time in days she had a moment of actual joy. “Are you for real?”
“Not kidding,” Lindsay said. “Might take a while for the stuff to dry, but might do the trick in fixing those leaks. We can make camp here long enough 'til it dries solid.”
“I swear I could kiss you right now.”
“Please don't.”
“Damn,” Tessa said, “guess I picked the right folks to get stranded with.”
18
Wind rattled plastic tabs on the end of string ties against the tent poles and Marsh listened to their rhythm in hopes it would carry her off to sleep. Instead, she concentrated on the soft moaning breaths Agent Winters emitted laying close by her side. His breathing in and out was accompanied by a whine that she couldn't help but wonder was coming from his sense of pain emanating from his gaping leg wound. Is he feeling the pain right now? She thought. Is he conscious?
Marsh turned onto her right side to face away from the gravely injured man, and she wished that the swirling winds outside would drown out the noises associated with Winters' suffering. The waters of the Ryback River were not as loud as she had hoped either. The wind did ripple up some of the flow into slight white-crested waves, but they lapped the shore gently enough so as not to be noticed by anyone not already awake, and not enough to muffle Agent Winters.
The Deputy stared straight ahead of her towards Lindsay's back. It was black enough in the tent she couldn't actually see an outline of the woman, but she stared straight ahead just the same noticing strange spots and floaters in her vision while her thoughts turned to the patched holes on the canoes. Lindsay had laid the fiberglass material on thick. So thick, that Marsh had questioned whether or not the patch jobs would dry within the time of one night's sleep. She didn't relish the idea of camping in the canyon for another night waiting for the canoes to dry, but she worried it was going to be something they'd be forced to confront. It helps that the wind is blowing, Marsh thought. The stronger the better. The faster the material will dry.
Then she heard a gargling sound. Almost like water babbling in an eddy at the bank of the river. She was drowsy enough that it took her a moment to register the sound was coming from behind her. Well, that would make sense, she thought. The river was behind her. Wait. That's coming from Winters.
Marsh spun in her sleeping back, hard to her left. The gargling changed to a rattle that lasted all of two seconds and then a long moaning exhale.
“Winters?” Marsh said. Panic darted through her mind. Unfortunately, experience as a police officer had implanted the memory of that kind of sound in her brain. A sound she would never unhear. “Agent Winters?” Her voice was loud enough that it woke Lindsay beside her.
“What's going on?”
Marsh snapped on her flashlight and observed the FBI Agent's face, ghostly pale and expressionless.
“Marsh,” Lindsay said, “what is it?”
The Deputy didn't reply right away. She put her head to the man's chest. Nothing. Then she checked his pulse.
“Oh my god.”
“What?”
“Jesus,” Marsh said.
“Is he?” Lindsay could barely get the words out.
“He's gone.”
“What's happening?” Tessa woke with a start. The others were soon awake as well.
“It's Agent Winters,” Marsh said.
Wally turned on his large flashlight and the entire tent was lit up. Everyone sat up from their mats.
“Is he dead?” Bill asked.
Marsh nodded, tears forming in her eyes.
“By god,” Wally muttered.
Marsh pushed Winters eyes closed with her hand and remained knelt beside him. Everyone sat silent for a minute, no one wanting to look at the deceased man, all contemplating what to do or say next.
“The injury,” Lindsay said, “it was devastating.”
“That's true,” Tessa agreed. “I don't think there was nothin' could've been done. We tried.”
Marsh looked at the man's sleeping face, trying to convince herself he was better off.
“What do we do now?” Bill said.
“Not much we can do,” Lindsay said. “At least for him. We could try to take him back with us, I suppose.”
“At the risk of swamping the canoes?” Bill said. “I don't think so? And we left Sal out there. How's this different?”
“Guys,” Wally said, “the man just died. Maybe we should hold off on this a minute?”
“Thank you,” Marsh said. She held the Agent's hand. “I didn't know the man that well, but we owe him a little more than to start wondering what to do with his body a few minutes after he's passed.”
There was another lengthy moment of quiet amongst the group. Then Lindsay spoke. “You're right,” she said, “I'm sorry.”
19
“I don't know about y'all,” Tessa said, “but, I'm not sleepin' the rest of the night. Not now.”
“Me neither.”
“I wasn't sleeping as it was anyway,” Marsh said. “Should we try the river now?”
“What time is it?”
Wally checked his watch. “Five-thirty.”
“I'm not certain that's long enough for the patches to have dried,” Lindsay said.
“Well, all we can do is check.”
“It might be best to wait for the sun to come up,” Bill said. “As much as I wanna get out of here before one of those things finds us, I think we should hold off for daylight.”
Marsh stood up and slid on her boots. She carried her flashlight with her. “I'm going to check on the patches,” she said.
She walked out of the tent and noticed the moonless sky was so black she'd have to be careful not to inadvertently walk right into the river or into a tree. The canyon was completely enveloped in darkness. She aimed the bright stab of light from her hand down at the grass beneath her feet and then she rose it slowly upward to find the canoes straight ahead of her at the Ryback's edge. Any second one of those massive beasts could thunder down upon the campsite. Total sitting ducks was how Marsh thought of it. Please be dry, please be dry, was the mantra she repeated in her head.
Marsh leaned down to the green canoe first and gently touched her finger to the dark spot where Lindsay had applied the fiberglass. The material adhered slightly to her skin and when she lifted her hand there was a bit of stickiness she detected at the end of her finger.
“Well?” Lindsay said loudly from inside the tent. “Any luck?”
“I'm not sure,” said Marsh. “There is some stickiness. You tell me.”
The same thing happened when she pressed her index finger to the patch on the yellow canoe.
“Hang on a minute,�
� Lindsay said.
Marsh could hear some shuffling off in the darkness. Then Lindsay emerged holding a flashlight of her own.
“Let me see.” Lindsay inspected the patch jobs, holding the white light close to each hull, looking for any imperfection. Then, in a similar approach as that of Deputy Marsh, she touched both of the patched areas, careful not to press too hard. “Hmm.”
“Is that a good 'hmm' or a bad 'hmm'?” Marsh questioned. “I don't know about you, but I can't shake this feeling that one of those things is not far off.”
“More of a 'I can't be certain' hmm,” Lindsay said. “We're close, I think. And, I know what you mean about the bears. All I can hope is we're down wind.”
“When you said 'close', did you mean as in, another couple of hours it should be dry enough?”
“Could be,” Lindsay said. “Honestly, they could be good enough now, so long as no one steps directly on them when inside the boat or puts anything with a lot of weight on it. The patches might be water tight at this point, is what I'm saying. And that'd be good enough to float us back to town.”
“Well,” Marsh said, “that's good enough for me. I don't want to waste anymore time out here. You know?”
“I'm with you. Can't see a damned thing and this breeze, no idea if our scent's been picked up.”
“What do you say ladies?” Bill shouted from the tent. “What's the verdict? Wait for sun up, yes?”
“I think we're good to go now,” Lindsay said.
“Oh,” Bill said, “you know how hard it is for me to see right now?”
“Join the club,” Lindsay said, “we can't sit around here and wait to become one of things' next meal. And, as distasteful as it sounds, we have to decide what we're going to do with Winters body.”
“I think the strength of these patches decided it for us,” Marsh said. “I don't think we should risk puncturing them by trying to canoe Winters back.”
“I think you're right. So, what do you want to do?”
The others had thrown on their boots and jackets and were making their way out of the tent.
“I don't know,” Marsh said, “is it disrespectful to burn his body?”
