Parker put the kettle on to heat and scoured the supply shelves for any cold medicine. Not finding anything, he began pacing. When the water was hot enough, he made tea, and heavily laced it with honey and bottled lemon juice.
“Drink this.” He held the cup to David’s mouth. David didn’t have the strength to resist.
“That tastes terrible, but it does feel good on my throat.” David closed his eyes again.
“How did you get so sick so fast, and who did you come in contact with that might have given this flu to you?” Parker asked as he helped the boy change his wet T-shirt. “Trudeau wasn’t sick that I know of, and Karlie was only sick in the head.”
“I don’t know.” The exertion caused another round of coughing. “Only thing I can think of … was Chad sneezing and coughing.”
“That sonofabitch,” Parker mumbled. “David, do you know or even think there might be some medicine at your house? Anything at all?” Parker pushed to keep him awake.
David coughed again and struggled to open his eyes. “Not sure. I think so … bathroom.” And he fell back into a fevered sleep.
Worried about his friend didn’t even come close to how Parker felt. He put several logs in the fireplace and another in the wood stove before he left.
The wind had died down overnight; however, the snow falling was heavier than ever and came down in a thick blanket. Parker pulled the hood on his jacket over the knit cap he wore. He clipped the snowshoes onto his boots, put his gloves on, and stepped off the porch, sinking several inches into the powdery snow.
Being able to see only a few feet in front of him, Parker felt a wave of claustrophobia and disorientation and then tamped it down. Remembering how David had followed the tree line, he stayed to the north side of the road, as close as possible so he wouldn’t miss the turn-off at the driveway leading to David’s house. Still, he almost walked right past. Every step was difficult and he forced himself to focus on the task.
Thankful that house was close to the road, Parker sighed with relief when the big log cabin came into view. On the porch, he stepped out of the snowshoes and set them aside. With near numb fingers in spite of the heavy gloves, he pulled the set of keys out of his pocket and tried one. It didn’t fit and a shiver caused him to drop the bundle into the snow that had accumulated on the wide porch. Parker dropped to his knees and searched frantically in a two-foot area, finally finding the keyring. He tried another key and another; four keys later, one fit and he opened the heavy front door.
The quiet that surrounded him was unnerving, and his warm breath sent out puffs of vapor in the cold house. Parker took a flashlight out of his pocket, one he carried all the time now, and started opening doors until he found a bathroom. The wall-mounted medicine cabinet held a swollen tube of frozen toothpaste and aspirin; he pocketed the bottle of pills and kept searching. Under the sink held nothing of value to him and there were no closets in that room to look through.
The only other time he had been there, he was with David and didn’t look around much since they were intent on books, games, and DVDs. He kept opening and closing doors.
In the main floor master bedroom, he found another full bath. He cautiously opened the mirrored door and found a half-emptied bottle of night-time cough syrup, clouded from the cold. Under the cabinet, he hit the jackpot: two full bottles of night-time syrup and a box of lemon-flavored fizzy cold tablets; his pockets now bulged.
Parker froze when he heard the jangle of the keys he left in the door lock. Inching his way to the open door of the room he was in, he peeked around the corner and saw the door had blown open, the wind causing the keys to sway. The adrenalin coursing through his veins brought on a fit of hyperventilation and weakened knees when he saw the real cause: a large gray wolf. Its teeth were bared, its hackles up and packed with icy snow, and it emitted a menacing growl as it lowered its massive head and stepped toward Parker.
He quickly stepped back into the bedroom, slammed the door shut, and leaned against it as the big animal lunged and hit the door with a force that rattled the frame and splintered the thin outer veneer of the hollow-core interior door. The moment of shock and fear almost immobilized Parker. Almost. Still leaning against the door, he pulled the .22 automatic from the holster, checked to make sure there was a cartridge in the chamber and the safety was off, and then he slid down to the floor. Pivoting so he now faced the door, he braced his feet against the door, leaving a two-foot span in the center, and leaned forward until the barrel of the gun rested firmly against the thin wood.
“Nice doggie,” Parker taunted the wolf. When the animal hit the door again, leaving indentations on the side nearest Parker, he fired four quick rounds through the door and, he hoped, into the wolf. He heard a yelp and a thud. “Did I get you, doggie?” Parker asked louder. No sound came from the other side. Getting off the floor, he kept the gun aimed with his right hand as he slowly opened the door with his left, preparing to fire again if needed.
As he stepped into the hall, the wolf’s back leg twitched and Parker backed against the wall. Stealing himself, he leaned forward slightly, put the barrel of the gun two inches from the animal’s head, and fired again. The twitching ceased.
He stepped over the dead animal and into the living room where he closed the front door.
Now totally spooked, Parker kept looking around, half-expecting another animal to jump out at him. Even with his pockets full, he took to the stairs and searched David’s room. In that bathroom, he found yet another bottle of night-time and one of day-time liquid, plus another bottle of aspirin. He stopped to wonder why they had so much of the cold remedy on hand and then dismissed the thought. At the moment, he was thankful that they did.
Parker opened the front door again and looked out. No other wolves could be seen, so he grabbed hold of the big animal’s tail and dragged it out into the snow, unconcerned where he left it. The carcass was further away from his house than Chad’s had been. The lump of gray, black, and brown coarse fur was quickly lost under a mantle of white snow.
Back on the porch, he re-locked the door and stepped into the now familiar snowshoes.
Parker concentrated on the tree line and returned to the road quicker than he expected to. His deep tracks had already filled in.
“David, I found some medicine. I need you to sit up and take some,” Parker said, shaking the boy awake. David coughed and coughed and finally hacked up a dark glob of mucus that he spit into a towel Parker had been wiping his face with.
David finally opened his eyes. Though he couldn’t focus, he did nod. Parker measured out a dose of the green liquid and held it to David’s mouth.
Every six hours, Parker diligently gave David the recommended dosage. Alternately, he forced David to drink water, or tea, or broth. He helped David to the bathroom and helped him into dry pajamas. Caring for someone was new to Parker and it alarmed him. No one had ever depended on him like this before. The responsibility sat heavy on him, and he was determined not to fail. If he neglected to do what needed to be done, David could die. Something inside Parker twisted at the thought and he was forever changed.
Parker gave a shiver and checked the temperature on his recently installed wireless weather station, one of his indulgent purchases. Inside, it hovered at sixty degrees; outside, it had dipped to a bitter ten degrees and then down to nine as he watched. He added more wood to both fires and then moved the other recliner closer to the fire where he would sleep until David got better.
On the fourth day, David’s fever broke.
Chapter Twenty-Four
On the fifth morning in the cramped cabin, Jenna woke the girls. “It’s time for us to move out. Get your packs ready,” she said somberly.
“Do you want us to make another travois?” Helen asked.
“It won’t be necessary, Helen.” Jenna cast her eyes down and blinked sever
al times. “During the night, Mariah … died.”
“Noooooooooo!” Mindy let out a mournful sob and rushed to the cot, laying her head on the cold body. “We can’t just leave her here!” she wailed.
“We have to,” Jenna said. “This cabin is secure; she won’t be disturbed. I’ve already put her GPS on ping. It will send out a signal for weeks. Another rescue squad will find her and take her home. Right now, my job is to get you three out of here safely.”
They shouldered their packs and while still inside the cabin, tied themselves together. “It’s still snowing just as hard as it has been. Visibility is near zero so try to keep the one in front of you in sight, got that? Mindy, you’re senior now, you bring up the rear.” Mindy nodded solemnly.
After five more hours of trudging through knee-deep snow, Jenna stopped them at the edge of a river to check her compass. The liquid inside was like slush and now totally useless.
“Where’s Mindy?” she screeched in alarm when she saw only the twins.
“She’s been right behind us all along,” Lily said. “I’ve even felt a slight tug on her rope.” Lily pulled on the rope trailing behind her. A small bundle of twigs appeared. It was enough weight to mimic someone on the other end.
“I heard her mumble that she didn’t want to leave Mariah,” Helen said in a small voice.
“She couldn’t have stayed behind,” Lily said. “I saw her less than an hour ago!”
Jenna knew. She knew Mindy would try to get back to that cabin or else had intentionally wandered off to die in grief.
“We’ll rest a few minutes and then keep going,” Jenna said. She sat; her legs just wouldn’t hold her any longer. She wept inside; she had lost two; she was determined to not lose anyone else, and shortened the tethers. They continued to walk for days that felt like weeks, huddling together in one tent for the nights.
Even though she kept her service weapon within easy reach, Jenna never saw anything she could shoot for food. They were all getting weaker by the day.
At dusk, Jenna knew they needed to find real shelter for the night. It had been too cold for too long and they were at the end of their endurance. A large dark object loomed in front of them, less than ten yards away. She approached the old building cautiously and realized it wasn’t so old. She circled the barn to find a door and ushered the girls into the gloom, out of the persistent falling snow.
“We’re going to rest here for now; no fires, no lights, got it? Not until I know we’re safe. I’m going to scout around. I’ll be right back.” Jenna stood, her legs weak and shaky with exhaustion as she shrugged off her backpack. “Take your packs off, too, and sit on them to stay off the cold dirt.” She stumbled out the door and into the falling snow.
There looked to be a path in the snow, more of an indentation, although if it was a path, it hadn’t been cleared in a while. Jenna stepped into it. Though the knee-deep snow dragged on her entire body, her resolve remained.
In the diminishing light and perpetual snow, she spotted what appeared to be a large plywood shack. Jenna brushed aside the tarp that served as a door of sorts, and with the dim glow from a window, realized she was looking a porch filled with firewood—and an occupied cabin. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she stumbled up the steps and knocked on the door.
“Please, help us,” she mumbled as she collapsed into the warm room when the door opened.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Parker was momentarily stunned at how vivid green the eyes were that stared at him seconds before the dark lashes closed over them and she fell into his arms. He caught her and carried her to the couch.
Both he and David stared at her in disbelief.
“Where the hell did she come from?”
“I don’t know, but she obviously needs our help,” Parker said, unzipping her jacket. He pulled her arms free and tossed the wet jacket and gloves aside. David removed the afghan from one of the chairs and draped it around her shoulders.
Parker struggled to untie her wet boots. The laces were caked with ice and snow. He pulled a pocket knife out and cut the tie off that held the icy knot. Handing the knife to David, he began to unlace the rest of her boot.
“I think I should warm up some soup for her,” David said after he pulled off her other soggy boot. “She looks half frozen.”
“Good idea,” Parker said, still kneeling in front of their new guest. He rubbed her cold hands. “Miss, can you hear me?” Her eyelashes fluttered again and she blinked several times trying to focus.
David brought the warm soup in a coffee mug and handed it to Parker. He held it to her lips, and she took a sip. “Thank you,” she muttered with a sigh. “How long have I been out?”
“About ten minutes. You said help us; are there others?” Parker pushed, trying to keep her awake.
Jenna bolted upright, sloshing the soup. She looked from Parker to David and back to Parker, focusing on his kind gray eyes.
“Two girls, in the barn; Lily and Helen. Can they come in too? We’re all so cold and tired and … hungry,” Jenna said, looking back at the cup of hot soup.
“What’s your name?” David asked, grabbing his jacket. “They might trust me more if I tell them you sent me out to get them.”
“Jenna; Jenna Jones.”
David took the battery lantern off its hook beside the door and pulled on his gloves and hat while walking out into the darkness. Night had fallen quickly. He followed Jenna’s trail back to the side door of the barn. Stepping into the gloom, he turned on the lantern, pushing back the darkness.
“Lily? Helen? I’m David. Jenna sent me to bring you into the house.”
“Where is she?” Lily whimpered.
“She said she’d be right back,” Helen added.
The voices sounded like stereo to David. “She’s too weak to come herself, so she’s getting warm and having some soup. Are you hungry? There’s plenty of hot soup waiting.” He tried to remember how his mother had talked calmly to a stray dog, trying to gain its confidence.
Two bundled figures cautiously stepped from behind Parker’s big blue truck.
David smiled at them. “Hi. Come on; let’s get you two into the house so you can warm up.” He opened the side door and helped them out over the pile of snow that had accumulated. “Hold hands and follow me.” When Helen stumbled, David took her free arm to steady her.
The twins rushed to Jenna when they saw her bundled up in a blanket and sitting by a roaring fire. The fire light flickered off the walls and ceiling offering a comforting glow.
“We were really worried when you didn’t come back,” Helen said, her teeth chattering.
“I think we’ll be okay now. You better take off those wet jackets and your boots. These nice guys probably don’t want us tracking up their house,” Jenna said firmly.
The girls tossed back the hoods of their jackets, exposing heads of short dark brown hair, and matching blue eyes.
“You’re twins!” David gasped.
“I’m Lily.”
“I’m Helen.”
“And I’m Parker. Now that we are all on a first-name basis, would you girls like some soup?”
They nodded in unison. David helped them remove their jackets when it appeared their fingers were too numb to work the zippers and then he hung the wet clothes over a chair by the fireplace and ran up the stairs. The twins huddled on either side of Jenna.
“Did we scare David?” Lily asked, shivering.
“Doubtful,” Parker snickered. “I think he went upstairs to get some blankets.” He brought a tray with more mugs of soup.
“I know we’re all hungry, girls, but sip it slowly,” Jenna said. She looked up at Parker. “We haven’t eaten solid food in a few days. The last was a gray squirrel Helen got with her slingshot.�
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“If you’re up to it, can you tell me what you’re doing out in the woods in this storm?” He put another log in the fireplace and sat on a short stool off to one side to not block the heat.
“It wasn’t snowing when we started,” Jenna began, watching the girls sip greedily at the hot broth. “It started three days in. We were on a field trip and supposed to be out for only seven days. Then the snow turned into a storm, and then the other team leader got injured.” She paused when David returned with an armload of blankets. “I do wilderness survival training,” answering Parker’s questioning look. “The other leader slipped in the snow and fell down a hill, suffering a broken ankle and severe internal injuries. She died ten or twelve days ago—it’s hard to remember. I tried to call for an evac, but the radio was damaged in her fall.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Jenna,” Parker said sincerely. “How long have you been out in this?”
“I think it’s been four weeks now. I really have lost track of the days.”
“You must be one hell of a trainer to have kept yourself and these two alive under these conditions!” Parker said in admiration.
“We started with five.” Jenna pursed her lips. “After Mariah died, Mindy went off by herself, and disappeared into the storm. There was no tracking her without risking all of us.” She stopped to take a few deep breaths to control her emotions. “I failed.”
“You did not—”
“—fail! You saved—”
“—us!” the twins replied.
Parker stood. “How about some more soup?” he asked to break the tension. He collected the mugs and returned to the kitchen.
David tucked the blankets around each one and then followed Parker.
“What are we going to do with them?” he whispered.
“Nothing; we sure can’t send them back out into this storm!” Parker looked at his friend.
“They’ve already been through so much, David. They’re exhausted and starving. We will take care of them as best we can and let them decide when it’s time to leave.” He picked up the tray and stepped around the wall dividing the two rooms. All three women were sound asleep.
Polar Storm Page 13
