Alaska Secrets

by Sarah Varland

  But the snow made the trail almost disappear from view and blend in with the endless white around it. That was one thing Ellie liked about being deeper in the woods, like they would be later today; it was easier to tell where the trail went. Of course the forest had its disadvantages, too. Surrounded by a barrier of dark green winter spruce trees, Ellie and Seth would be boxed in, with nowhere to run or hide if someone was waiting for them along the trail.

  Would there be? It was the question on her mind and probably on Seth’s, too. On one hand, turning back had been an addition to the original plan. But they believed someone on the trip was calling the shots, and since Brandt would tell the others where the mushers had gone, it wasn’t out of the question. Besides that, Ellie knew that at this point they should make a habit of expecting the unexpected.

  Because nothing so far had gone according to plan.

  She watched Seth up ahead, admired the way he mushed his team with so much confidence. She didn’t know exactly what the difference was in how she did this versus how he did, but she could see it came with experience and showed in the ease of his movements.

  The distance between them was like an accordion; sometimes she came close enough she had to use the drag mat to ease her team’s speed so they didn’t overtake him. Sometimes they both stopped to give the dogs a snack. And sometimes the distance between them stretched out. This was one of those times. Ellie could still see him, close enough to yell if she needed him, at least she thought so. But they were now farther apart than they had been.

  Unease crept across her already-tense shoulders. The danger still hadn’t passed, and as much as Ellie was trying to stay levelheaded, she couldn’t ignore that. The fear was growing too big to shove aside.

  “Haw,” she called to the dogs as they reached the crossroads where Seth had turned left. They followed Seth as she shifted her weight, using the drag and her feet on it to help make the turn. It was a movement that had become familiar to her over the last couple of days, so she felt comfortable taking the corner faster than she usually did. She needed to close the distance between herself and Seth, and a faster turn would help.

  This time, though, as the sled tipped to one side, she realized she had been too confident. She balanced her weight, tightening her muscles and trying to save herself from falling. Ellie tightened her grip on the handlebar, knowing that no matter what, she couldn’t let go of the sled.

  The sled flipped. She went down, hard into the snow, and dragged as the dogs kept running. She shoved one foot down to try to stand, but it only made her tangle worse in the snow. “Whoa!” she called in case they were inclined to stop. Sometimes the dogs would do that, and sometimes they just wanted to run, their instincts overriding their knowledge of the command.

  They didn’t stop, their drive to run strong, but slowed slightly, just enough for her to jam a heel into the snow and right herself in a kind of gymnastic-like move that she was surprised she’d been able to execute.

  Breathing hard, Ellie got her feet comfortable on the runners again, took a deep breath. That could have gone worse. A sense of pride swept through her. She’d handled that well, but...

  Where was Seth? He was out of view now, too far ahead for her to see. She squinted off into the snowy distance, brushing her face with one hand to try to clear the snowflakes out of her eyelashes. She’d had no idea until she’d started mushing how easy it was for snow to stick to them.

  Ellie still didn’t see him. She swallowed hard. God, please help me not panic. The prayer was almost instinctual, even though she hadn’t talked to God much the last few days. She remembered Liz telling her that He cared about every aspect of a person’s life, though, so this seemed like the kind of situation she should talk to Him about. It was worth a try anyway, in a situation like this.

  Despite her prayer, her chest tightened. She breathed deep, held her breath and exhaled.

  She could call him, but the SAT phone was buried in her sled bag. To get it out meant stopping, and that was the last thing she wanted to do right now. What if he was only a curve or two ahead of her and she could still catch up? Then stopping for the phone would have been a bad decision.

  No, she wasn’t sure enough that calling him was the best idea, not sure enough to use the time she would use up stopping and digging for the phone.

  Her head cleared a little as she sorted out a plan. She needed to catch up to him, which meant no more riding the drag unless she absolutely had to. The thing she needed to keep in mind was that Seth had been glancing back now and then, so he’d probably do that soon enough and stop to wait for her.

  She was okay, despite the fact that her heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to run away.

  She exhaled deeply, tried to keep all of her attention focused on the team in front of her. And did so, right up until the point that pain suddenly exploded in her head. She realized something hit her—a rock?

  She didn’t have time to wonder as she fell to the ground. She felt the cold sting of the snow against her cheek, then felt nothing at all.

  * * *

  Seth had lost her, and he didn’t know when. After the turn? But how long after?

  When he’d seen that she wasn’t behind him, he’d slowed down a little, then finally stopped his team and waited. She’d never shown up. Turning a dog team around one hundred eighty degrees was a tricky proposition and hardly ever advised in any situation. The dogs got confused, started to lose confidence in their musher as a capable leader of the pack if you did something like that. He’d heard more than one story of a musher who’d gotten into a dicey situation that way, so he didn’t want to do that. It was worse than a last resort.

  He called her SAT phone. No answer, and now he was too concerned to stay and wait any longer. Instead he continued down the trail to where he knew there was an intersection of several trails, turned back around that way.

  But she wasn’t anywhere he’d found yet. Night had fallen half an hour or so ago, and it was dark. The snow had turned into almost a full blizzard, and visibility was low enough that Seth wasn’t sure that if she was just off the trail that he wouldn’t have mushed straight past her.

  I don’t know where she is, but You do.

  It felt like an incomplete prayer, like he should verbally ask for help, or at least ask God in his head, but if God knew all his thoughts, didn’t He know that was what Seth needed? Help?

  You do know, God. That’s what I need. Help. I keep trying to do this on my own, but You are on my side. Please help me find her. Please keep her safe.

  He felt some of the tension leave his jaw.

  Seth blew out a breath, hoped that God would answer his prayer. And kept searching.

  * * *

  Hurt. Her head hurt. Ellie blinked her eyes open. Shut them again.

  When she opened her eyes again, it was dark. She reached her arm out, trying to stretch in the hopes it would help her wake up. She was stuck. Inside...inside her sled bag? She felt around, reached to the top, where she found a zipper just as she’d expected to. Fumbling, Ellie unzipped it, climbed out. She’d been mushing, everything had been okay. Then pain in her head.

  And this.

  Someone had attacked her?

  That realization didn’t hurt as much as the one that met her when she pushed out of the sled bag. She had to blink a few times to adjust her eyes to the dark, but when she did so, she saw that she was alone. Just her and the sled.

  She turned back to the sled bag. The SAT phone. Was it still there?

  She dug through the sled bag and came up empty. Whoever had attacked her had removed the phone, as well as the handgun she’d brought. She had nothing.

  The dogs had been unhooked from the sled, were out there somewhere running as a team with no sled behind them. Best-case scenario.

  Ellie choked back a sob. She’d love to sit here and cry, over her head, over h
er lost team. Over Seth. Because, where was he? If he hadn’t come to find her, then something had happened to him. Everything had gone so very wrong, and worst of all, they were no closer to figuring out who had been behind the drug ring. Actually, if she were honest, they hadn’t found any evidence there was a drug ring.

  She opened her mouth to call out for Seth and then realized if he was close enough to hear, she’d probably see him. Yelling would only alert whoever had attacked her that she was still alive. She could figure things out; if she had been left here without her dogs, especially in the sled bag, whoever had hit her with the rock had expected her to die out here. Maybe not from the strike to her head, but they’d expected her to die of hypothermia. Because, yes, out here without her team, she was hopeless.

  More than she ever had, Ellie understood all those things Seth had taught her about how important it was to take care of the dogs, because they took care of the musher, too. And Ellie had done that, but she’d not understood just how much she’d needed them.

  And here she was. Alone.

  She stood silent in the darkness, breathing in the cold air, breathing out. Think. She had to think. Ellie had been a runner before, but she wasn’t running this time. Partially because she didn’t have a choice—it was fight or die.

  And partially because she was tired of giving up. She was wondering about what might have been. Yes, she’d let Liz down when she hadn’t investigated as thoroughly as she could have. But she hadn’t done anything negligent intentionally. Liz hadn’t filed a police report; she’d just been talking to a friend. Ellie couldn’t have known how seriously she needed to take the claim.

  Which meant...maybe Liz’s death wasn’t her fault? Maybe she hadn’t failed her friend, however this turned out.

  Even with that knowledge washing the guilt from her mind, Ellie wasn’t ready to quit. This was about more than redemption. It was about justice. She wasn’t done fighting for that.

  This time it wasn’t over until it was over. Ellie would give her last breath to see this through.

  But she prayed she wouldn’t have to.

  God, I’m not ready. Please help.

  She heard something, just off in the distance. She stopped, lifted her head, like looking up would help her hear. A dog? Was that a dog whining?

  Then, through the trees, she heard a bark.

  She closed her eyes and smiled.

  God, was that You? Did You really help me?

  “I’m coming,” she whispered into the darkness and started off through the snow. Her feet were warm, and she was thankful for the boots she wore. Seth had done a good job preparing her for this trip as much as possible. Of course, none of his preparations had included her trekking through the snow, alone without her team. The trail had been fairly packed down from when they’d traveled this way yesterday, but another six inches had fallen when she was unconscious; she could tell by the fact that she didn’t see dog tracks anywhere.

  Ellie continued on, realizing as she did that whoever knocked her unconscious could have taken her off a side trail. She really didn’t know where she was.

  As she walked she listened, and every time she heard one of the dogs bark or whine, Ellie changed her course to go that direction. Then finally, through the snow and in the darkness, she caught a glimpse of white. Moving near a tree.

  “Bagel?”

  The shape barked in return, and Ellie grinned, would have laughed out loud if it weren’t for her dire situation. She ran that direction and was relieved to see all twelve dogs. They’d curled up in the snow, were happily sleeping. Except for Bagel, who had gotten one of her lines tangled around a small tree’s branches.

  “You silly girl.” Ellie worked to untwist the lines. “You guys okay?” She looked over them, hands tight on the tugline. They all seemed fine.

  She took a deep breath. Here was the tricky part. “Okay, ready to go for a nice twelve-dog walk with me helping?” She winced. How this could go anything but badly she wasn’t sure.

  Ellie put herself in lead-dog position, at the front of the line, and started to walk through the snow. The snow coming down worked to her advantage, she realized, as the powder slowed down the dogs some. Still, her arm muscles screamed in protest as she fought to keep them under control. Finally, she made it back to where she’d left the sled, out of breath, sore. It was the middle of the night. She had Seth’s tent in her bag. She could set it up, rest until the snow eased some. Snow was falling hard enough now that it was covering the dogs’ tracks already. They couldn’t start off in this.

  She hooked the team back to the sled and reached into the bag for the tent.

  A gunshot shattered the night.

  The dog’s ears perked up, and Spruce whined. Something was wrong. And they knew it.

  Seth?

  “Change of plans. We have to find him.” She put the tent back, zipped the sled bag and headed straight for where she thought the shot may have come from.

  Please let him be okay, she prayed, finding it more and more natural every time she tried.

  Ellie just hoped she hadn’t waited too long to try to find her way back to God. Please keep me safe. And Seth, too.

  SEVENTEEN

  He’d heard a snow machine and turned to look behind him. The vehicle roared up, too close, then rammed into the back of his runners. The sickening crunch of wood hit him first, and then it hit against his leg. It had barely clipped him, but it hurt, and Seth flew off the sled.

  “Whoa!” His dogs stopped running as he scrambled to his feet. Dismounting from the machine and approaching, his attacker hit him in the side of the face, and Seth stumbled backward, shoved the person when he came close again. He couldn’t see a face—the person was wearing a mask—but the frame looked like a man’s build.

  Seth had just taken a breath when he heard a gunshot, felt something rip into his side.

  Fire exploded in Seth’s lungs with every breath he took. He had never been shot, but he’d broken a rib before, after a four-wheeler accident when he was a teenager. This felt like that, but with dynamite.

  Pain and exhaustion overwhelmed him suddenly, and he fell down, unable to fight off his attacker anymore.

  He heard laughter.

  And then a snow machine driving away.

  Ellie. He had to wake up, had to get up. Had to find Ellie. He couldn’t let anything happen to her.

  The fire deepened to an icy burn. Until it hurt so badly Seth couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. He let his head fall back into the snow.

  God, be with her.

  * * *

  How long did you hold on to hope before giving up? Ellie’s face stung against the snowflakes. It had been more than half an hour since she’d heard the shot. She had to be going the wrong direction. But where to turn around?

  A small indent in the snow caught her eye, right where an alternate trail split off to the right.

  “Gee,” she told the dogs, hoping she was seeing signs that Seth had come this way and not something irrelevant. She had only heard the one gunshot, and she didn’t know for sure if that was good news or bad.

  She squinted in the dark, focusing on the trail the glow of her headlamp made. Were those tracks in the snow ahead? She thought they were.

  “Find them, okay?” she whispered.

  Minutes passed. Then Ellie felt the dogs speed up. She felt her shoulders tense. Hope mixed with a sinking feeling of impending doom. She wanted to find Seth, but at the same time, she couldn’t forget she’d heard a gunshot. Finding him would not necessarily be good news.

  Her mind almost couldn’t process it. Yes, this entire time she’d been desperate to keep him safe, not let anything happen to him, but had she really thought she could? Had she let herself fully acknowledge what it would do to her if he wasn’t okay? Losing her friend had been hard enough, wondering if she could have done more, beati
ng herself up.

  To lose the man she’d loved because she was too late would be unbearable.

  I’ve already lost one friend. God, please don’t let me lose another.

  That was his sled. His dogs were still there, but she didn’t see Seth. He wasn’t standing behind the sled on the runners. The little hope she’d had mixed with the doom was suffocated.

  And then she saw him, crumpled on the snow. Her breath caught and she forgot to take another breath for a full three seconds. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t.... She let her dogs run closer to his, then stopped them about ten feet behind his sled, hit the brake and set her snow hook.

  “Seth.” She ran toward him, put her hands on his shoulders to roll him onto his back. His face had been pressed down in the snow. Could he breathe that way?

  Was he still breathing at all?

  He groaned. He groaned! He was alive.

  Thank You, Lord.

  But the snow underneath him was stained dark. Her headlamp shone on the area when she moved her face to look at it. Blood. A lot of blood.

  “Oh, Seth.” She brushed a hand across his forehead, swallowed hard against a sob and then shook her head. He wasn’t dead yet. She wasn’t giving up. Wasn’t running.

  Was. Not. Quitting. Not leaving him—not again. Never again.

  “All right.” She put her hands on his shoulder. “Wake up. I can’t do this on my own. Wake up.”

  Couldn’t he see she needed him? She’d run after Liz’s death, not just because of the guilt but because she’d doubted her abilities to find the killer. She felt she’d let her best friend down by being late that day, felt like she was inadequate.

  Yes. So much of her life had been spent feeling that way. Liz’s murder, the way it had happened, the blame that Ellie had placed on herself...all of it confirmed her shortcomings.