by Sharon Sala
The canyon wall was on the other side of the rock fall, and as he started making his way through it, he saw something strange near the bottom of the wall and headed toward it. Within seconds, he realized it was a hiker’s boot and started running.
The boot was wedged in a crevice between three large rocks. There was dried blood all over the boot, and on the rocks, as well, and then a whole lot of coyote tracks around the area. The tracks had obliterated any signs that might tell him more.
“Son of a bitch,” Charlie muttered.
He looked up. The trail was right above him. If Tony fell from there, Charlie didn’t think he would’ve survived it. But where was the body? Coyotes could have dragged it away, but it would have been in pieces. There was no way they would have neatly removed the foot that had been in that shoe. At the least, he would be seeing pieces of clothing. None of this was making sense.
But Wyrick said it felt like he was in a cave, and she’d heard him moan. Right now, it didn’t matter how the kid got hurt. He just wanted to find him alive, and Wyrick hadn’t been wrong yet, so he was going to look for caves. Judging from the blood on and around the boot, mobility had to have been compromised. He couldn’t have gone far. He glanced back at the boot one last time, then took a deep breath and started yelling.
“Hello! Hello! Tony! Tony Dawson! Where are you?”
And then he kept yelling as he fanned out from the boot, looking for signs that someone had either walked or crawled away from that bloody boot, looking for anything that could be an opening to a cave.
* * *
Tony was sitting on a pier, looking out across the ocean at the sunset. He felt a pull toward the fading light, as if he was supposed to follow it. But he hesitated, and then all of a sudden, he was no longer alone.
A man had joined him. He looked at Tony and grinned.
“Hi, kid.”
The man looked familiar, but Tony was certain he’d never met him.
“Hi.”
“So, what’s going on?” the man said.
Tony shrugged. “I’m waiting.”
“Oh yeah? Who are you waiting for?”
“I’m not sure,” Tony said, then looked at him closer. “Do I know you?”
“Not really, but I know you, and your dad and granddad.”
Tony looked back at the setting sun. The sky was turning vivid shades of yellow, and red, and orange. He took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled.
The man put his arm around Tony.
“You can do this, kid. It’s your choice, but if you want to stay, you’re tough enough to do it.”
“Thanks,” Tony said.
“Hey, no problem, kid. It’s what I do for the people I love,” the man said, and then he put something in Tony’s hand and closed his fingers around it.
Tony stared back at the sun. It was almost gone, and the pull to follow it was easing. He’d chosen to stay.
“Thanks, mister,” Tony said, and then realized he was alone.
He opened his fingers. There was a military dog tag in the palm of his hand with the name Grant Dawson on it.
And then all of a sudden the pier was gone, the sun had set and there was nothing in his hand. He was in darkness, and in a kind of pain he didn’t know a human could endure.
He opened his mouth to call for help, but the only thing that came out was a moan.
Then he stilled, struggling to stay conscious, because he could hear someone calling his name, but what if it was them, coming back to finish him off? He didn’t want them to know where he was. Then he heard the voice again...a man’s voice... Was it a real person, or was it a dream?
Someone was shouting—shouting his name. He needed help or he was going to die. He wanted to answer, but he was too weak to shout.
He heard the voice again...and in his mind, he remembered the man at the pier. He’d chosen to stay. Now he had to choose to live.
With every ounce of strength he had left, he rolled over onto his back. The scream that came up his throat was born of pain—fired by the guts it had taken to move all his broken bones. But the pain was too great, and he slipped into unconsciousness again.
* * *
Charlie was moving at a jog, trying to cover as much ground as he could and still search. Twice he saw what he thought was an opening to a cave, only to discover it was nothing more than a deep crevice below an outcrop of rock.
And each time the spurt of adrenaline he’d felt downshifted to a growing feeling of defeat. Time was running out for Tony Dawson. He could feel it, and in desperation, he paused, cupped his hands to his mouth and started shouting over and over at the top of his voice.
“Tony! Tony Dawson! Where are you?”
When he first heard the scream, he thought, Old Leroy’s banshee, and spun around and started running through the brush and trees toward the direction of the sound, still shouting all the way to the canyon wall.
Scrub brush grew in clumps against the wall, and even more had grown up between the dead branches of a fallen tree. He began searching for an opening behind it, and then looked down the wall to his right and saw a gap in the rock and ran.
The opening was long and low, barely five feet high. He shed his backpack, grabbed the LED lantern he’d brought with him and turned it on, then crawled inside.
He swept the area before him to make sure he wasn’t crawling in on snakes, but when the light fell on the partial skeleton of a deer, he wondered if he’d stumbled into a cougar’s lair instead.
Had he mistaken a cougar’s scream for a human one? He knew from his childhood that the scream of a cougar was often mistaken for that of a woman. Hesitant, he lifted the lantern as high as he could, trying to get a look at how deep this tunnel went, and that was when he saw the boy.
“Oh God, oh God,” Charlie muttered, and started crawling.
The first thing he felt for was a pulse. It was there!
Then he moved the light down to the boy’s legs. One foot was bare and purple with bruises, swollen to twice its size. The broken bones at the ankle were unmistakable. He knew the boy had somehow crawled in here, but he didn’t know if he’d fallen from the trail above first, and was too afraid of internal injuries to pull him out.
He put a hand on Tony’s head. He had a fever and it was high, and the boy’s lips were cracked and bleeding from dehydration. He pulled out a handkerchief, dipped it in the little pool of water beside the body, then squeezed a few drops between his lips.
Tony moaned.
“Hang on, Tony... Hang on, kid. I’m getting you out of here,” Charlie said, then left the lantern by the boy and crawled out.
The moment he was outside, he called the park office.
“Chisos Mountain Lodge,” the clerk said.
“This is Charlie Dodge. I just found your missing hiker.”
“Oh my God! Hang on a moment. Ranger Collins is out in the parking lot. Let me get him.”
Charlie heard her drop the phone and run. A couple of minutes later, Collins picked up.
“This is Arnie.”
“Hey, Arnie. It’s Charlie Dodge. I found Tony Dawson. He’s alive, but in bad shape. I can give you a GPS location, but you’re going to have to airlift him out from somewhere nearby, because he’s not going to tolerate being carried.”
“Give me the coordinates,” Arnie said, and wrote down what Charlie gave him. “How the hell did you find him?”
“I went down Boot Canyon Trail. Then after I found the backpack, I stayed in the canyon to search further. I found a boot wedged between some rocks, guessed it was his, and I found him nearby in a cave.”
“A cave? No wonder we didn’t find him. Good job, Charlie. Good job.”
“Have you picked up his backpack yet?” Charlie asked.
“Yes. That’s what I was doing out in the parking lot. A couple of rangers
retrieved it and brought it in.”
“Hang on to it for me. It was a reflection of sunlight on that metal dog tag on the zipper that I saw. It set me on the right track to find him. His parents are going to want it back.”
“Will do,” Arnie said. “Is he still in the cave?”
“Yes. I was afraid to move him. I don’t know if he fell from the trail above or if he got hurt another way, but his ankle is badly broken, and maybe his leg above it, too. His fever is in the danger zone, and he’s unconscious.”
“Got it,” Arnie said. “Just hang on. I’ll get help to you.”
“Tell them to call out for me when they get here, because I’m going back into the cave to stay with the kid. He’s been in there on his own long enough.”
“Will do,” Arnie said, and hung up.
Charlie heard him disconnect and then called Wyrick. He guessed she was sitting beside the phone because she picked up while it was first ringing.
“Hello? Charlie?”
“I found him. He’s in bad shape, but he’s alive. Take down this number. It’s for the office at the Chisos Mountain Lodge,” he said, and then read it off.
Wyrick breathed a slow sigh of relief that he’d been found and wrote the number down.
“Got it,” she said.
“Call Baxter and Macie Dawson. Tell them he’s alive and we’re waiting to be airlifted out. That will take some time. They’ll have a million questions. I found him unconscious, so I don’t have answers for anything. Give them the number I just gave you. They can coordinate everything else from there, via the rangers on-site. And tell them not to tell anyone else he’s been found yet.”
“Why? What about calling Trish Caldwell?”
“Not even her. Not yet,” Charlie said. “For sure don’t tell Randall’s or Justin’s families. I know Tony Dawson did not hide his own backpack. There’s still more to this story than we know.”
“Understood,” Wyrick said. “As soon as I get the calls made, I’ll head your way to pick you up.”
“I’m a long way from the lodge, and I don’t know how long it will take for help to get here.”
“Well, hell, that means I’m going to miss my hair appointment because of you,” she drawled.
Charlie grinned. “Okay, fine. Suit yourself.”
“I always do,” Wyrick said. “I’ll be at the lodge waiting...whenever you show up.”
She hung up on him. Before he could say thank you or kiss my ass.
“Damn woman,” he muttered, then got a bottle of water from his backpack and crawled back inside the cave.
* * *
Macie Dawson was in the kitchen making coffee. Baxter was at the table eating a piece of the coconut cream pie she’d made that morning.
“This sure is good pie, honey,” he said.
“It’s Tony’s favorite,” Macie said, and then burst into tears.
Baxter jumped up and wrapped his arms around her.
“I know. Don’t give up hope,” he said.
Macie leaned into him. “At this point, hope is all we have.”
Baxter felt the same way, and was at a loss for words to ease what felt like growing grief. And then his phone rang. He went back to the table to get it.
“It’s from Dodge’s office,” he said, and put it on speaker as he answered. “Hello, this is Baxter.”
“This is Wyrick. Charlie found your son. He’s alive.”
“Oh my God! This is wonderful!” Baxter said. “Charlie Dodge is a miracle man.”
Macie ran to the phone. “Is he hurt?”
“Yes, ma’am, he’s hurt, but Charlie is with him, waiting for an airlift. He doesn’t know anything, because Tony was unconscious when he found him, so questions will have to wait.”
“Is he hurt bad?” Baxter asked.
“All Charlie said was that he was in bad shape. I don’t know exactly what that entails. But I have a phone number for you. It’s for the office at the lodge. Charlie said you will be able to stay in touch with the rangers from there and find out where they’re taking him.”
Macie’s tears were gone. She had hope and purpose again. Her boy was alive, and whatever that meant, it was enough.
Then Wyrick delivered the last of the message. “Charlie also said for you not to tell anyone Tony has been found. He will explain the reasons why later, but I think he’s still suspicious of the circumstances in which he went missing.”
“What circumstances?” Baxter asked.
“Randall and Justin’s story doesn’t jibe with some things we’ve learned. Charlie will explain everything to you once Tony is taken care of.”
“Yes, all right. I’m not going to question a damn thing Charlie Dodge asks of me,” Baxter said. “He found our boy. That’s enough. Thank you. Thanks to the both of you. More than you can know.”
“Feel free to call me if you run into problems,” Wyrick said. “I’m good at finding solutions.”
“Thank you,” Macie said.
Wyrick disconnected, then called Benny to get the chopper ready, gathered up her things, along with the sack with Tony’s cap, locked up the office and headed home to change.
Five
As hard as it was to see him in this condition, Charlie knew documenting it mattered, so he used his iPad to take pictures of Tony and the visible injuries, as well as pictures of the inside of the cave, using the LED lantern for a light source.
As soon as he’d finished, he sat down beside the boy, poured some water on his handkerchief and dabbed the boy’s lips again as he began to talk.
“You are one tough kid, Tony Dawson. About as tough as the man who wore that dog tag you have on your backpack. I found that, by the way. I found your boot, too. I don’t know what happened to you, but when you get better, you can tell us how this went down.”
Tony moaned.
Charlie laid a hand on his arm. “My name is Charlie, and I’m going to stay here with you. We’re waiting for a medical team. You’re gonna be okay. Just don’t let go.”
The boy’s lips were moving now, but no sounds were coming out. Tony was so feverish that even if Charlie could have heard him, he wouldn’t have trusted anything said in delirium. What mattered was that the boy knew he was no longer alone.
“Your mom and dad know you’re alive. We called them. You’re going to be home with them before you know it. Stay with me.”
“Mama...”
Charlie poured more water on the handkerchief, then patted it on Tony’s lips again. It wasn’t going to heal anything, but it was all he could do in the way of comfort.
“I had a fever like this once,” Charlie said. “And a dislocated shoulder, and I was lost as hell, too. This woman I know found me. And she’s the reason I found you, too. Maybe you’ll meet her one day, and when you do, she’ll change your opinion of women forever...but in a good way, okay?”
Tony shifted slightly, and as he did, pain shot through him so fast that, even in his unconscious state, he screamed.
Charlie winced. “I’m sorry, kid. I’m so sorry.”
And for a few seconds, he was back in Afghanistan, sitting watch beside one of his men who’d just lost a leg because of an IED.
Silence followed the shriek. A long silence. The kid in Afghanistan had died. This silence was a stark reminder of that day, and he reached out to check Tony’s pulse again, then breathed a sigh of relief. This kid was still breathing.
He glanced at his watch. They’d been waiting for over an hour now, and each moment Charlie measured the time by the continuing intake and exhalation of the kid’s breath. When he finally heard voices outside the cave, and then someone calling his name, he yelled out.
“In here! In here!” Then he rolled over onto his hands and knees and began crawling toward the opening.
Within seconds, men were crawling in, and p
ushing a backboard and their EMT bags.
“Charlie Dodge?”
“Yes. The boy is back here.”
“I’m Larry. We heard him scream.”
“Yeah. I don’t know whether it’s from the delirium, or if he’s in so much pain that being unconscious isn’t enough to block it,” Charlie said, then grabbed his lantern and held it up for the medics, giving them light to assess and stabilize the boy for transport.
“How far will we have to carry him to get to Medi-Flight?” Charlie asked.
“Not far, and it’s already en route. By the time we get him ready, they should have landed,” one of them said.
Charlie watched in silence as they cut away Tony’s pants, revealing the rest of his injuries, some of which were obvious—like another broken bone below his knee that had pierced his skin.
When they cut away his jacket and shirt and began examining the upper portion of his body, they found ribs that appeared to be broken, but they had been broken from the back, rather than from an impact to his chest, and there was an odd bruising pattern on his back that was worse than the one on his face.
“Look at the shapes of those bruises,” Charlie said. “I found his hiker’s pack back on the trail. It had an internal metal frame that would fit those marks.”
“So he fell from the trail?” Larry asked.
“Still not sure what happened to him,” Charlie said. “I found his backpack in one location, and then found him and his missing boot here.”
“Well, wherever he fell, he did not walk here! His injuries are too severe, but if he did fall from the trail, I’d guess that backpack likely saved his life by absorbing a lot of the impact.”
“I can’t explain the backpack, but his injuries occurred in this area. His other boot is wedged between some rocks about a hundred yards away. Somehow he got his foot out of it and crawled in here,” Charlie said.
The medic shook his head and kept working to get an IV established and his broken leg immobilized, until they finally had him covered up and strapped in on the backboard.
