Out of the Wilderness

by Deb Vanasse

“Shannon?” Frank said. He looked back at his daughter. “You know something about where Nathan stays?”

  She looked down a moment and then up again, her lips set firmly, her eyes resolute. “Is he in any danger?”

  Josh’s father opened the door for them. “We think he may be. He’s been out for about twenty-four hours now.”

  “At least,” Josh added. He looked Shannon square in the eye.

  “But he’s been out longer than that before.”

  “Thirty below, yesterday and last night,” Josh’s father said grimly.

  “Too cold, unless you know he’s somewhere plenty warm,” Josh prodded.

  They stood inside the cabin door. Shannon’s eyes wavered from Josh to his father and back again. “He—he says he stays warm enough.”

  “But both other times it’s been above zero. This is thirty below. We’re talking frostbite, hypothermia.” Josh made no attempt to cover the irritation in his voice. “Hypothermia distorts judgment. Freezing victims sometimes peel off their clothes or start to wander aimlessly.”

  “Josh is right,” his father added. “It’s important that if you know something about where Nathan might be, you tell us.”

  Shannon pulled off her hat and played with the tassel. “He asked me not to tell anyone where he stayed.”

  Josh looked her in the eye. “All right, then,” he said slowly. “If you can’t tell us, just show us. We can stay back. You can go in and make sure he’s OK. He wouldn’t mind that, would he?”

  “I guess not.” She hesitated. “I hope I can find it again. It’s been a while.”

  She pulled her hat back on and followed Josh and his father through the door. Josh started for the snow machine.

  “I don’t think that would be such a good idea,” she said. Josh looked at her. “The machine, I mean. I’d better walk, like I did before. So I can find the way. It’s not that far.”

  “OK, Shannon,” Josh’s father said. “Just so you can find it. We’ll follow behind.”

  They set off at a brisk pace, following a moose trail through the trees. The trail narrowed to a series of footprints in the deep snow, and as they wound their way through the willow shrubs, it became clear that the machine couldn’t have maneuvered very well along the path she had chosen. Josh hoped she knew where she was going.

  They’d been on the trail for half an hour when Shannon paused and looked around her. “I can’t quite remember whether the turn is here or up ahead a ways.”

  She really had no sense of the danger in these woods, Josh realized. She could get lost and wander for days. While she pondered the trail, he looked around for his own landmarks. Behind them, a tall spruce stood out from the others, marking a spot between them and the cabin. Along the ground to their right, snow covered a fallen birch. And with the morning sun at their backs, they were headed almost due west. She wasn’t going to get him lost.

  She shook her head. “It’s either straight ahead and then to the right, or to the right and then straight ahead.”

  “How about if you lead Josh straight ahead and I’ll try to the right?” his father suggested. “That is, if you can tell me what we’re looking for and about how far.”

  “I think it’s only about fifteen minutes from here. You go down, in this sort of steep ditch.”

  The ravine, Josh thought. It was where Josh had seen the tracks but hadn’t followed. It was steep, all right, but from this part of the woods it was hard to tell in which direction it lay. They could have gotten close on the machine, he thought with a twist of irritation, if she had only given them some information.

  “And we’re looking for?” Josh’s father prodded.

  “It’s a den. An old bear den. Dug out in the side of the ditch. It’s covered with a lot of branches. You’ll have to look close.”

  An old bear den. It made sense, Josh thought. Dug into the earth and covered with snow and branches, it would be halfway warm. But he couldn’t have a fire in there. Josh doubted it would be warm enough at thirty below, except for a bear.

  “But you won’t disturb him?” Shannon reminded his father. “You won’t give yourself away?”

  “I won’t. Let’s meet back at this spot in a half hour or so. If the den’s down my trail, I’ll take you back in after him.”

  Shannon nodded, then looked around at the spot where they stood.

  “I’ll remember this place,” Josh said. “You go on ahead.”

  After five minutes of steady walking, they began a gradual descent. Ten minutes later, they were standing at the bottom of the ravine.

  Josh stood beside Shannon. He could hear her working to steady her breath after the exertion of the trail, and he waited a moment before asking, “Is this it?”

  His voice rang from the sides of the ravine. Shannon lifted a finger to her lips. “Shhh!” she warned. She stepped back into the brush and pointed. “Right there,” she whispered.

  Josh looked beyond her pointing finger to a snowy pile of brush along the side of the ravine. “In there?” he asked. She nodded, motioning for him to join her in the trees.

  It was annoying, the way she acted like Nathan was an animal they had to be careful not to flush out of hiding. But he crouched down among the willows while she picked her way toward the bank.

  “Nathan?” he heard her say softly. She pulled aside a few branches and peered into the cavern.

  She stood straight and looked back at Josh. “Not there.” She mouthed the words.

  Josh crawled from his hiding place. “Now what?” he asked.

  She waved him forward. “There’s one other spot,” she said, her voice still low. “Around that bend.”

  Josh followed as she picked her way along the bottom of the ravine. At the bend, she knelt and pointed. “Over there.”

  He peered around the bend but saw nothing except a jumble of rocks and branches. “You think he’s over there someplace?”

  “He brought me here once,” Shannon whispered.

  Josh couldn’t imagine why. There was nothing to see. He shifted his weight from one crouched leg to another. The cold seeped through his jeans and long johns to his skin. Coveralls would have been a better choice for what was turning into an all-day expedition. Not that they had all day. They needed to get back to the meeting point with his father.

  He stood suddenly and yelled. “Nathan!” His voice echoed through the ravine. He felt a satisfaction in its loud, angry tone, even if Nathan couldn’t hear him. “Nathan! Quit playing like an animal!”

  “Josh!” Shannon stood beside him, her eyes filled with horror.

  In the same instant, he heard a pained, angry growl.

  14

  Snow and branches went flying from the spot where Shannon had pointed, exposing a dark, cavernous opening. Then the darkness shook, and Josh realized that it was a bear.

  He stepped back around the bend, his heart beating wildly, the memory of the October bear as fresh as if it had been last week. He heard Shannon gasp.

  He put a hand on her arm. “Stay still,” he said, his voice a rough whisper. “I don’t think it can see us.”

  Then he crouched and peered through the branches of a willow that grew nearly straight out from the bank.

  The bear shook its head slowly from side to side, as if trying to bring life back into focus from its deep winter sleep. Not ten yards away from the drowsy bear, crouched on all fours, was Nathan.

  It was like a bad dream, where the worst pieces come together at the worst moments. Where had Nathan been hiding? The question was no more than a fleeting thought. Josh watched, horrified, as the bear fixed its eyes on his brother.

  Shock shone in Nathan’s eyes as he stared up at the fierce creature. Still crouching, he eased slowly backward. The bear followed Nathan’s careful movements. For a split second, it looked back at the cavern. Two sets of gleaming eyes peered out of the darkness, almost at ground level. Cubs, Josh realized. She’s defending her cubs.

  The she-bear turned back toward Nathan,
her lips drawn over her teeth in a snarl. Nathan continued creeping backward. Another five yards came between him and the sow.

  Then, in an instant, the bear lunged at Nathan. Nathan covered his head with his arms. Josh froze in terror as the bear bit first at one arm, then at another. Blood flowed instantly from the wounds.

  Josh tried to think. He had no gun. He could make noise, distract the bear. But her instinct to protect her cubs would send her charging in his direction. Shannon’s direction. And then what?

  The sow reared up on her hind legs, her claws fully exposed. She turned back to look at the tiny eyes watching her from the den. Then she lunged again at Nathan, biting into his right shoulder and lifting his body three feet from the ground. She shook him, like a cat playing with a mouse before going for the final kill.

  At the sound of a faint mewing from the den, the bear opened her jaws, and Nathan fell to the ground. She studied him where he lay, motionless. Then she dropped to all fours and ran to the den. She crawled inside, and the tiny cub eyes disappeared.

  Nathan lay like a discarded toy, except for the blood that flowed from wounds in both arms and his right shoulder to stain the snow beneath him. Josh stood slowly. He turned away from the grisly scene and shut his eyes. He had to think.

  “Josh,” Shannon whispered. “What can we do?”

  He opened his eyes and saw her staring up at him. “Can you find the place where we told Dad we’d meet him?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I think so.”

  “Follow our tracks. Look for the tall spruce. He should be waiting there. Tell him to bring the machine, and the sled, to the top of the ravine. Only not too close. We don’t want to draw her out again.”

  “What about Nathan?”

  “I’m going to try to bring him around the bend, where the bear can’t see us. Get the bleeding stopped.”

  “But what if—what if she comes after you, too?”

  Josh glanced back at the den. “That’s a chance I’ll have to take. Can’t just watch him lie there and bleed to death. I’ll go slow and hope she’s busy nursing those cubs.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t like it. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Shannon, please. I need your help. And every minute counts. It’s a long way to the clinic.”

  She hesitated, then turned and began to pick her way back along their tracks. He followed her with his eyes until she disappeared beyond the trees. He could only hope she paid attention and recognized the meeting spot.

  Josh looked back at his brother’s crumpled body. Crimson patches spread in the snow beneath him. Josh breathed deep. He took a step into the snow. The wind-blown surface crunched before his boot sank into the muffling powder below. He glanced toward the den but saw no movement. He stepped again, this time easing his boot through the surface, so it made only a faint scraping sound as it plunged into the snow.

  Josh looked around the bend and fixed his eyes on his brother. The den, dark and menacing, loomed beyond. He took first one concentrated step and then another until he had rounded the bend and was in open view of the bear, should she emerge again.

  Even in the cold, Josh felt a trickle of sweat run down the side of his neck. One step at a time, he told himself. He tried to forget the terrible animal that could strike at any moment and forced himself to concentrate on his brother. He willed himself closer. One step, and then another. His heart pounded louder with each one.

  When at last he reached Nathan, Josh knelt beside him in the snow. His brother’s eyes were closed, his face frozen in pain.

  Josh felt the panic rise in his throat. He pulled off his glove and stretched his trembling hand toward his brother’s cheek. It was still warm. He put a finger under his nose and felt the warmth of his shallow breath.

  With one eye on the den, Josh looked over Nathan’s mangled arms and shoulder. He needed first to slow the bleeding. Josh threw off his parka and removed his flannel shirt. As he wrapped the flannel tightly around the torn shoulder and down the arm, his brother’s eyelids flickered.

  “Lie still,” Josh whispered. “Got to get you out of here.”

  Josh pulled his long john top over his head. He barely felt the cold air hit his chest. He wrapped the cotton top swiftly, binding the gaping flesh of the other arm. Blood already saturated the flannel of the first dressing.

  He reached for his parka, and at the same instant he heard a rustle that drew his eyes in terror to the den. But it was only a gust of wind sweeping through the birch branches high overhead.

  Nathan lay with eyes now open. Josh could clearly see the pain they held. He knelt at his brother’s side.

  “Nathan, I’ve got to try to drag you around the bend.” Josh swallowed hard. It was a huge risk. If the bear had broken bones in Nathan’s neck or back, he might never walk again. Josh looked back at the dark opening of the den. The danger of waiting here was even greater.

  His brother winced in pain as Josh gently lifted his arms to his chest, crossing them at the wrists. Josh stepped out of one of his boots and pulled off a sock, using it to bind Nathan’s wrists together. Then he tucked his bare foot back into the boot.

  Nathan’s face looked nearly as pale as the snow in which he lay. Josh leaned over him and whispered. “I’m going to grab on to your legs. I’ll keep an eye on your face. You let me know if it hurts too bad.”

  His brother nodded weakly and shut his eyes. Josh lifted Nathan’s boots and grasped his ankles. He tugged, walking backward, one slow step at a time. Nathan’s parka glided almost silently across the snow.

  Josh looked from his brother’s face to the open den as he took step after cautious step backward. Nathan’s mouth was contorted with pain, but his lips were pressed firmly together. The den gaped dark and silent.

  One step, and then another. At last he reached the bend, stepping out and around it. Then he knelt at Nathan’s side. Breathing hard, he pulled off his glove and touched his brother’s face. Nathan’s eyes fluttered open.

  “Thanks.” His mouth formed the word without voice. Then his eyes closed.

  Josh sat back in the snow, listening for the dreaded sound of the bear emerging once more—or for the welcome sound of a snow machine racing toward the ravine. But he heard only the cry of a raven in the distance and the labored sound of his own breathing.

  A shiver ran through his body as the damp inside of his parka pressed against his bare chest. There was nothing to do now but wait—wait and hope that Shannon had made it back to the tall spruce and to his father.

  15

  Finally, he heard the machine. It drew closer and closer to the ravine, coming to a stop just above where Josh waited beside his brother.

  His father scrambled down the embankment. “My God!” he exclaimed when he saw Nathan, his arms and shoulder wrapped in Josh’s blood-soaked shirts.

  “I think we can carry him up to the machine. I dragged him around that bend, away from the den. It didn’t seem to hurt him too much.”

  “Got to try,” his father said. Worry shone in his eyes. “Looks like he’s lost a lot of blood.”

  Josh nodded. He lifted Nathan at the feet while his father took the shoulders. “It’s going to be all right, Nate,” he heard his father say. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

  They stumbled up the bank to the machine and sled at the top. In the sled were two sleeping bags.

  “Shannon’s idea,” his father explained as he unrolled and unzipped the bags.

  Josh had to give her credit for clear thinking. His own thoughts were starting to blur. He helped his father hoist Nathan into the sled and zip one bag around his shivering form. They laid the other bag on top and tucked it around him.

  His father drove fast. Josh stared straight ahead, picking out landmarks that seemed too far apart. Only once did he turn and look at Nathan. Tucked under the bags, he looked small and helpless. The grayish tint of his skin made Josh catch his breath and turn away.

  Frank, Pete, and Shannon burst from their ca
bin door before the machine even pulled to a stop. Frank’s truck was parked beside theirs, and both vehicles were running. Shannon and her dad helped Josh and his father lift Nathan, sleeping bags and all, into the front seat of their pickup while Pete looked on, wide-eyed.

  “Have you loosened his clothing?” Shannon asked. The frightened look had left her eyes, and her tone was matter-of-fact.

  Josh shook his head.

  “We need to.” Already she was unzipping the bag and reaching to unlace his boots.

  She looked over the wrappings Josh had used to bind Nathan’s arms and shoulder. “Those look good. Just a little fresh blood, from when we lifted him. Best to leave them, I think.”

  Where had she learned all of this? Maybe in school. There were no first-aid lessons in Josh’s correspondence materials.

  Josh climbed in the passenger side of the truck, cradling his brother’s head in his lap. His father got behind the wheel, and Shannon brought a pillow from their truck to prop Nathan’s feet.

  “We’ll follow right behind,” Frank yelled as they pulled away.

  His father drove fast, pushing the old truck harder than Josh would have thought possible. Josh stared at the road that would take them to Wasilla. Only hours before, he had anticipated a joyous journey down this road, toward a new life. Now the journey was filled with fear and apprehension, and the life in question was his brother’s.

  Every few miles, Josh touched Nathan’s face. His gray skin felt cool and clammy, and his breathing was rapid and shallow. Nathan’s eyes remained closed. The memory of the look those eyes had held just before the bear moved in, the look of shock, of betrayal even, hung in Josh’s mind.

  A wave of relief came over Josh when at last they squealed around a corner and into the parking lot of the Wasilla Clinic. The emergency team whisked Nathan into a room in the back, and his father followed. Josh sank into a chair in the waiting room and hung his head in his hands.

  He felt the weight of a thin arm on his shoulder, drawing him close. A fresh, soap-clean smell. Shannon said nothing. She just sat, her arm on his shoulder.