by Josh Olsen
“Sheriff cuff him, we can book him right now for assault of an officer!” Dane yelled spitting through his teeth.
Jason stared, angrily at the Deputy, and took a deep breath. “Black, for once, will you shut the fuck up?” He said calmly, leaning down to pick up the deputies rifle he had dropped when Clark grabbed him.
Standing back up he continued, “As far as I’m concerned,” he said thrusting the rifle hard back into Dane’s chest, “It was long overdue.” The sherif calmly folded his map back up into his coat and started walking, “Alright! lets move!”
Chapter 10
Clark led the way up the rocky trail to Pine Grove. Upward he heaved his legs further along the steep trail. His legs burned and begged too stop, his legs wobbled and shook as they pressed on. Nearing the grove now, he could see the clearing in the distance. He continued on, lungs stinging as he sucked in long, heavy breaths of the cold mountain air. He hadn’t turned around to see Dane since they had started walking but he could hear his loud, dragging feet close behind him.
Seething anger covered Clark, defending him from the cold, his body too hot with fury to be effected. Dane’s words echoed in his head. Stewing over the words he clenched his fists as he walked. But still, with each passing step, he felt a little more rage, escape from his mind into the chilly morning air.
They climbed the final stretch of steep trail into the grove, both men panting heavily, Clark reached the top of the trail first. Shaking, he took a few more steps forward and put his hands on his knees, attempting to catch his breath. Sweat dripped from his brow, falling down, staining the pure white snow. His frantic breaths the only noise in the encompassing silence of the snow covered woods.
“You know, people go missing in these woods all the time,” He heard Dane say behind him.
Clark pushed himself up off his knees and stood up,
“Yeah? and that means we should just give up searching for this kid then huh?” He said turning around to face the deputy. Clark stopped dead in his tracks.
The deputy stood, staring meticulously, his rifle trained on Clark. “Funny thing really,” Dane continued, “People go missing all throughout the year from our little town up here in these hills, and it’s only when one of these rich little tourist pricks go missing is the only time anyone gives a shit.”
Clark stared intensely at the deputy, “What Dane? Your going to shoot me? How’s that little plan of your’s work with Jason just over on Apache? He’d hear the shot, how’d you go about explaining that you little shit?” Clark said unmoved, his voice unwavered by the instrument of death being pointed at him.
Dane shrugged, almost smiling now. The barrel of the weapon hung steady in the air, unshaken. “I tell them you attacked me, went for my gun, ain’t that hard to buy after that little shit show you started back at the jeep, ain’t nobody gonna miss you neither far as I’m concerned.”
Dane circled Clark now his eyes never leaving the sights of his rifle. “No, I think our little town would be better off without having to worry about you, you dumb drunk son of a bitch.”
“No, I think I’d be doing my little town a favor, he smiled. He continued circling Clark, his smile growing with each step. His gaze intensifying as he pressed ever more slightly on the trigger.
It happened all at once, Dane took another step, his boot suddenly caving through the hard pack snow, the old, long forgotten bear trap clasping down on his leg, its rusted metal teeth digging into his flesh. The horrible scream that escaped Dane’s lungs as the rifle fell from his hands, crashing into the snow a few feet from him.
Clark sprang into action, he sprinted towards Dane and snatched the rifle from the snow, he removed the clip and heaved them both far into the woods. “Damn you Dane you crazy son of a bitch!” “You’re gonna fucking kill me?” “What now?!” What the fuck now?!” Dane writhed on the ground, his hands pulling at the trap that held him tightly to the earth as Clark yelled, inches from his face, holding his fists back as tight as he could. Clark’s screaming was quickly interrupted, they both heard it, the explosion.
It was the cannon the resort would fire each day at the peak of the mountain to purge the mountain of any potential avalanches, normally a safety precaution for skiers.
They had lived there their entire lives. They knew what it meant.
Clark turned looking up the steep hills to the peaks far in the distance. “Oh, shit.”
Dane, unfazed by the cannon, continued to slither around in pain. The radio clipped to his belt blared, drowning out his shrill screams of agony.
“Did you all here that?!!” Jason’s panicked voice amplified from the radio. “Dane you dumb bastard, didn’t you radio them that we were up here?!” “Fuck, everyone back to the truck! We need to leave now!”
Clark started sprinting back toward the trail, when Dane’s cries snapped him out of his adrenaline rush.
“Clark!” “Clark!” “Dammit don’t leave me!” His previous arrogant tone had been replaced by a pitiful cry of panic, the fear in his eyes chilled Clark to the bone. Clark looked at the trail and looked back at Dane.
“God Dammit.” he whispered to himself, running back to Dane’s side, he clawed at the hard packed snow with his bare frozen hands, flinging clumps of earth and snow in every direction, trying to unearth the trap.
“Oh shit,” Clark said to himself, uncovering the trap from its snowy grave, it was worse than he thought, the trap’s release mechanism had long since rusted shut, and its metal teeth were gouged at least an inch deep into Dane’s leg.
He had to think of something quick, he could almost make out the faint rumbling of the roaring army of frozen snow and other debris cascading down the mountainside. He shivered, pushing the thoughts out of his mind. Carefully, he felt along Dane’s leg assessing the damage, Dane letting out a faint whimper with even the faintest touch, ignoring him, he felt down nearer to the trap, seeing if he could pry it open somehow. When he felt it. The hunting knife holstered under Dane’s pant leg. He quickly slid up the frozen denim, fumbling for the knife.
It didn’t take long for Dane to notice what was going on, “Clark?” he pleaded, “Clark, what are you….what are you doing?”
Clark unbuckled the knife and drew it slowly from its sheath examining it. A fine piece of steel, nearly 10 inches long and about an inch and a half wide, serrated. The knife itself was made up of a thick tough metal alloy, the razor sharp blade almost glistening in the early morning sun that shone downward through the trees. The weight was impressive, almost intimidating, but he knew what he had to do.
Dane panicked, now frantic, he pleaded with Clark, “Clark, please, no….what, what are you doing?”
Clark sat silent, his eyes fixed on the deputies leg with sheer focus, raised the blade high above his head.
“Clark!” Dane shouted, “God no!”
Clark brought the blade downward hard, its blade piercing the frozen soil right near the trap’s anchor, a jagged metal piece, buried deep in the earth. The deputy let out a terrified scream, his eyes shut tight. Clark pushed hard on the blade, trying to gain leverage to dig it out.
The once beautiful blade, now covered in dirt, started to bend and twist under the pressure. Slowly, the rusted trap anchor started to emerge from the frozen earth, higher and higher it rose. It was almost out of the ground when the blade snapped, an audible crack of frozen steel splitting clean in two.
Clark fell over hard, his weight and momentum driving him downward into the snow,
“Shit” climbing back up, his frozen hands almost being cut now by the sharp ice. He stood back up. The rumbling of frozen death had grown louder now, and grew louder with each passing second.
Clark bent down, gripping the frozen chain that held the anchor, he pulled upward hard with all of his strength, his back muscles screaming, the rusted metal chain dug deep into his frozen hands, his brain begged for him to stop, the pain had become almost unbearable.
Finally, the chain emerged from the grou
nd making a sound like that of a stubborn root being ripped from the earth.
“Come on,” Clark said, hand outstretched, “We have to move.”
He helped Dane up, slinging his arm around his shoulder, they limped as fast as they could towards the trail, the roar becoming almost deafening. The radio filled the air with panicked yells from Jason, now back at the jeep demanding to know where the hell they were. Clark didn’t answer, a wasted second now could cost them their lives.
They were moving too slow, they would never make it back to the jeep, Clark stopped, yelling over the roar of the mountain
“Dane, up the tree now!” Gesturing to the tall pine just off the trail to their left. He bent on one knee interlocking his bloodied hands, “Come on!” Dane stepped into his hand with his good leg, Clark boosting him up as hard as he could, his wounds filling with dirt and snow from Dane’s boot. The deputy clasped the pine’s limb and continued to climb as fast as his wounded leg would allow the eerie jingling of the traps chain, could strangely still be heard through the rumbling.
Clark followed quickly, jumping high and grasping the branch tightly, his gored hands stinging with rough bark and sap. Clark climbed higher and faster, passing Dane in the tree, survival his only thought. As he climbed higher he was able to see over the tree line further up the hill, the trees shaking violently as if possessed by some other-worldly force, powder exploded up from down below as the tidal wave of snow crashed into the pines, the roaring invading his ears further.
He barely heard it, “Clark!” a faint voice called out. He didn’t understand at first. He heard it again, “Clark! Help!” He looked down the tree to see Dane stopped, stuck.
“Shit,” Hurriedly, he began to climb down, but the ice on his snow covered boot slipped from the tree limb, sending him tumbling backward into the tree. A sharp severed limb penetrated his coat gouging deep into the flesh on his shoulder.
He let out a cry and fell downward, bouncing off tree limbs trying to stop himself, finally, right above Dane, his swift descent came to a screeching halt. Crashing hard, torso first into a large limb, he stopped abruptly, the ice and debris shook violently from the branch showering Dane below. The sickening crunch of what he was sure was at least 3 or 4 ribs followed. The pain nearly made him vomit, black surrounded his eyes.
“Son of a bitch.” he coughed out.
He could see it now, looking downward it was clear what had stopped Dane. The anchor. Still attached to the trap the anchor had gotten caught on a limb. Dane hung frantically from the limb he was now on, screaming in pain, the trap stretched him back downward, digging deeper into his leg.
Clark jumped down, bounding off of the limbs with the precision of a cat, biting hard into his tongue to ward off the darkness surrounding his eyes as his ribs shifted inside of him.
He reached the limb and pulled the chain out of its snare just as the wall of snow burst through the tree line in front of him.
“Go! Go!” Clark yelled upward, leaping as high as he could grabbing the first limb he could reach, hoisting himself upward. His ribs shifted inside him, the agony made vomit once again return to his mouth, he ignored it, higher he pulled until he could bear hug the limb as tightly as he could. The avalanche passed just feet beneath his back as he dangled from the tree limb, the roar and the spray of the snow showering him in powder and other debris.
He refused to let go, his body begged him to, he only held tighter. The blood and sap on his filleted hands almost creating a sealant between them and the tree. Clark screamed, holding on for his life, snow and debris sprayed in every direction, filling the inside of his coat by the second. The roaring continued, shaking him to the core.
After what seemed like hours, the roar gradually was reduced to a rumble, and the rumble reduced back to the normal silence of the woods. Clark shot his eyes open, coughing. Powder and dirt filled his mouth, he pulled hard upward and began ascending further up the tree to a large limb where Dane now sat.
Climbing upward, he headed to where Dane rested, Clark’s coat arm was soaked with blood, now freezing solid. His hands were bloody and dripping, encrusted in dirt and bark. He reached the limb panting heavily, nearly passing out, he slumped onto a large limb near Dane and leaned his back against the tree catching his breath.
The deputy, wincing and trying not to pass out examined his leg, even from where Clark was sitting, it looked horrible.
“Here,” Clark said producing a flask from his coat, “We need to stave off infection as long as we can.”
The deputy shut his eyes tight, grit his teeth and simply said, “Alright, Go”
Clark lifted the snow clumped pant leg above the trap, 4 or 5 deep puncture wounds were on either side of the leg, the wounds a purplish color with the blood frozen to the trap around them.
Clark unscrewed the flask and poured the spirits into the wounds. Dane held in his moans biting his hand, but Clark could see the water welling up behind his eyes. Producing a small cloth from his coat, Clark dabbed at the wounds, drying them, Dane wincing from the smallest touch.
“Well the good news is,” said Clark, “Is that the trap seems to be stopping the bleeding for now, and it seems like its missed your tendons” he continued, examining the leg closely.
“Clark, listen…..” Dane started, through panicked, enormous gulps of air.
“Let me stop you there,” Clark interrupted. He looked deep into the deputy’s eyes and simply said, with a cold, calculated anger, “The way I see it,” he paused, “I just thought I was doing our little town a favor.”
The deputy was almost immediately silent, his eyes looked downward dodging a response Clark was waiting for. Clark, satisfied, turned to Dane again and said “Give me that radio.”
Chapter 11
Knuckles white, Jason continued down the road, his Jeep flying down the mountain trail with the avalanche still close behind. It had grown much smaller but he wasn’t taking any chances. He drove around corners with speed and precision that even Jason didn’t know he had. Nearly sliding off the road, they made the final curve and continued down the now paved road toward town, leaving the mountain behind.
Jason and Nate looked at each other, gasping for air, both with looks of tired relief, they had made it. It was then that the radio came on. An exhausted voice buzzed over the speakers,
“Jason, come in.” “Jason, come in, over.”
With a look of shock and relief Jason snatched the radio off the dash. “Clark?!” “Clark is that you? How the hell did you make it out of there?!”
“Me and Dane, we weren’t gonna make it to the jeep, we climbed a tree, it just missed us.” The voice buzzed again the static distorting Clarks speech.
“Hot damn!, You and Dane made it!?,” “Yes!” Yelled Jason slamming his free palm onto the dash, yelling back into the radio.
“Now Jason,” the voice buzzed back, “Me and Dane are pretty banged up here, how long til you can make it back up to us?”
Jason thought to himself, quickly calculating. He raised the speaker back up to his mouth. “I’d need to get my chains on here real quick, and we’ll head right back up, it’ll be slow going but I probably figure about an hour til we can get back to Pine Grove, including our hike in, I’ve got enough snowshoes in here for me and Nate here, we’ll get there as fast as we can” Jason thought for a moment.
“What about evac? Can you both walk out? What’s the status of your injuries?”
The radio paused momentarily, before starting back up, the static distorted voice again blaring over the speakers. “I can walk fine,” Clark said, “I can’t say the same for Dane, he…..he stepped in a bear trap.”
Jason held the mic staring at it in shock, he wanted to say something but all he could get out was, “Jesus,”
“Yeah, he’s tore up pretty bad,” Clark continued, “Have you got a medical sled in your jeep?”
