“You keep them back. I’ll watch our step,” she said.
He let his feet slide backward across the snow some more, still wielding the stick that would easily be treated as a toothpick in the jaws of a wolf. Two of the wolves turned and trotted back to the dinner party. The final wolf, the one that had started the standoff, took the slightest step back but kept his teeth bared.
Their boots crunched over the snow. The topography changed. The snow didn’t seem as soft underneath their feet. It also seemed icier.
“I think it’s working,” Jackie said. “He’s losing interest.” The wolf took four more steps back, huffed and turned away to follow the other wolves.
Shawn couldn’t celebrate, though. He’d made a fatal flaw in situation awareness. Even the flat areas of the Idaho wilderness should’ve had giant lumps from snow-covered tumbleweed or bumpy areas of terrain. There was only one logical reason to find such smooth topography. He should’ve noticed by now, but the gunman and the wolves had made the blood pound in his head and had turned off all other senses.
She continued to pull on his pack, shuffling backward. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I thought I felt something move under my feet. It—”
“Jackie, stop!” Even as he said it, he felt the shift. The cracking reached his ears, but he was too late. Gravity tugged on him, breaking through the ice below. His legs hit the icy water before his brain could react. His arms shot upward, losing his grasp on the stick.
“No!” He felt Jackie tug on his backpack, the pressure pulling his arms backward for a minuscule portion of a second before she lost the fight against gravity. She’d pulled the pack off his back, without him in it. His fingers spread apart, desperate to grasp anything but only able to touch the icy water. He sucked in a giant breath before the water closed over the top of his head.
He kicked his legs, frantic to keep from plummeting deeper, but the lake didn’t care. He continued to free-fall before bobbing upward. He reached his hands above his head. Please let me come right back up to the hole. His palms slammed against a thick slab that might as well have been rock. His throat tightened with a held-back scream, almost releasing what little oxygen he had left. He thrust his legs in a scissor motion, shoving his fists against the ice.
Unyielding.
I don’t want to die yet. Don’t leave Jackie alone up there with the wolves and murderers. I’m not ready. Please!
His thoughts and prayers ping-ponged in his brain so fast he couldn’t comprehend much.
So cold.
The water was almost light enough to see through. Something brushed against his leg. He flinched, spinning around to see—a fish. And there, more light. And a hand? A hand holding the stick he’d lost. It thrashed frantically in the water, stirring up the current.
His arms wouldn’t move as fast as he wanted. He reached out for it. The burning in his lungs intensified. The ache in his ribs, desperate to expand, almost consumed him. His legs wouldn’t kick the way he wanted anymore. Still, he reached.
His right hand touched the slippery wood and his fingers wrapped around it, as if on their own volition. He stretched his left hand and tried to do the same as he closed his eyes. Just for a minute. To make the pain go away. He vaguely sensed he was moving until his face hit frigid air. He sucked in a breath.
“Shawn!” Jackie yelled in his face. “Don’t give up!”
He blinked, as if coming out of a nightmare, except pain like he’d never experienced—like lightning—rushed through all his muscles. He fought to focus. Jackie lay flat on her stomach, on the ground—no, the ice. She could fall through at any second, as well. Adrenaline surged through his veins.
She grabbed his right hand and pried it off the stick to move it to her back. “Grab on to my pack.”
He did as she asked. She pulled the stick from his left hand. “Both hands on my pack, and don’t let go,” she ordered. In a smooth motion, she twisted slightly away from him. The momentum pulled him up enough to get his elbows on top of the ice, but the resulting cracks couldn’t be ignored. Her back arched and she stabbed the ice with the end of the stick. “Don’t let go of the pack! Try to climb!”
He reached six inches past his first grasp. The pack had twisted to her side from his tugging. She pulled on the stick and slid farther away. Her grunt and the strain it had to be causing her gave him newfound strength. He would not let her die for him. Coming out of a frozen lake that was threatening to pull him back in proved to be the hardest pull-up he’d ever endured. His chest hit the ice.
Crack.
“Hold on.” She clawed at the ice, slithering away, pushing his pack in front of her as she went. The movement proved enough to help him get his knee out. He vaulted off that pivot point and slid fully on top of the ice. Water poured off the top of his head.
The threatening cracks paralyzed all movements. Jackie twisted around. “I’m going ahead of you, army crawl all the way. Spread your legs. Spread your weight.”
He did as she said, though he wanted off the ice as fast as possible. His muscles threatened to stop working.
“Come on, come on. Only a little farther. Keep moving. A little farther.” Jackie continued talking until she came to a halt. Shawn followed her gaze. The wolves had stopped eating and all stared, as if enjoying the show. The sound of motors grew louder, though.
“We can’t think about them yet.” She slithered on, making sure he followed.
The moment she reached the snowy bank, she scampered up, reached for the back of his parka and pulled him the rest of the way to solid ground. He collapsed into the snow, panting.
“Listen very closely,” Jackie said. “You must do exactly what I say without question.” Her voice shook and her eyes were the widest he’d ever seen. “Do you understand? We’ve only got four minutes left to save your life.”
EIGHT
Five minutes until hypothermia set in, and they’d already used up at least a minute if not two or three just getting him out of the water and off the lake. If she didn’t get him past the immediate danger point quickly, she’d have no means to stop his death. The thought seemed to shut down all other emotion. A type of autopilot she didn’t know existed overtook her.
She dropped the sopping wet backpack she’d pulled off his back into the snow. “Keep moving. Keep the blood flowing. The adrenaline is what’s going to save you. Embrace it.” She spoke rapidly as she unzipped his pack and pulled out all the contents as fast as she could. The water had yet to seep fully into the heavy canvas of his bag. The wool blanket was still dry, as well as the food and a host of other items. The water had managed to soak through the bottom of the pack, but that was where he’d stored the rappelling rope.
She grabbed the snow pants, a flannel shirt and the ripped wool blanket, balled them all up and shoved them into his hands. “Head for behind those trees. Now! You know what to do.” He rushed forward in a stumbling type of run to the grouping of bushes twenty feet away.
She turned to the wolves, only a hundred feet or so away from them. She raised both arms, this time unafraid. “You do not want to mess with me right now.” She almost didn’t recognize the firm, deep voice as her own. For a split second, the wolves turned their heads left and right, almost appearing like domestic dogs trying to decipher a command. But then they went back to their food like the dangerous hunters they were, and her bravado faltered.
A sob had been stuck at the back of her throat for too long. Almost losing Shawn was too much, but they weren’t out of danger yet. She couldn’t focus on the hard work ahead. She needed to focus on the strength she had. Her father had taught her that. Focus on the positive.
“Except I’m on empty,” she whispered. The confession came out more as a prayer. She pulled her shoulders back and lifted a request for His strength before pushing forward. She forced herself not to run, so as not to tempt the prey drive in the wolves. She
did walk fast and purposefully, though, as the sound of engines still echoed in the air.
She stopped short and called past the foliage that Shawn had disappeared beyond. As cruel as it seemed, with no fire available, survival training recommended removing wet clothes and rolling around in fresh snow, in hopes the snowflakes would absorb as much moisture as possible.
“Have you taken off the wet items and rolled in the snow? Have you put on the snow pants and blanket?”
“Y-yes.” His teeth chattered so loud she could hear it through the brush. “S-s-so cold.”
Her eyes flickered to the hills, as the engine sound grew louder. A snowmobile crested one. The gunman had found a way to the top. She didn’t need to see what he was reaching for. She turned to run and a bullet tugged on her backpack. She fell down and pushed with her toe into the closest bush.
She crawled forward. A bullet hit the tree above her and bark sprinkled over her like sharp confetti. She forced herself to keep crawling, to keep moving deeper into the foliage. Where had Shawn gone?
“Are you moving?” The amount of restraint needed to keep from yelling in a life-and-death situation tensed her neck muscles to a painful degree.
Silence was the only response.
The bullets stopped. At least the gunman couldn’t see her anymore, but it was only a matter of time before he called for the other men to join him. She hadn’t seen an easy route for a snowmobile to safely maneuver to the lake area without a steep drop, like they’d endured, but it wasn’t as if she had a map of the area to confirm her suspicions.
“Shawn, I need you to talk to me.”
She dived through another set of bushes to find him curled up in a ball, shivering with the wool blanket wrapped around his torso and the snow pants on. Definitely meant for a shorter person, the hem of the pants stopped six inches above his ankle.
She ripped off her own backpack, ignoring the bullet hole at the back corner, and pulled her gloves off. While water-resistant, they certainly didn’t qualify as waterproof. She searched inside the pack until she found her very chilled, but dry, socks and the fashion boots she’d been in last night.
She sat on the backside of her pack so she could avoid sitting in the snow and took off the detectorist’s boots and wool socks. The wool socks were men’s size anyway and should fit Shawn, while her thin black ankle socks from last night probably wouldn’t have made it over his heel. She made the switch into her old socks and boots as quickly as she could.
“Good thing these socks are long. Put these on.” His movements were too slow in responding, so she shoved the wool socks on for him. “These boots are likely to be tight, but at least they’re dry.”
He looked up and blinked rapidly, his arms still wrapped around himself, covered in the wool blanket. The blue-and-yellow pattern on the flannel he wore would normally have done good things for his complexion, but gray-tinted skin didn’t look good on anyone. He needed to get his blood flowing properly again.
“We have to get you moving.” She held out a hand. He grabbed it and she almost flinched at his cold touch. “Please start talking to me. I need to know that you’re lucid.” She reached back in her pack to see if there was anything else she had that could help. “The hand warmers!” She’d forgotten her discovery early that morning.
She found the pouches and quickly scanned the directions. Air-activated, they had double-sided adhesive to strategically place the warmers in boots, on the backs of shirts and in gloves. The glove option was no longer possible since both of their pairs had suffered from the dunk in the lake. Still, she helped him stick two on his socks and two on the back of his shirt. He wrapped the blanket tighter and stuffed the ends underneath the overall-like straps of the snow pants to hold it in place.
She moved to take her coat off.
“No.”
She hesitated at his fierce objection. “We need to get you warmer.”
He shook his head. “I have the blanket and now these warming pads. You’ve already given up decent boots.”
“That’s not enough to actually increase your core temperature, Shawn. Here, let me take the wool blanket.”
“No, I got it damp now. I’ll be fine.”
She knew well enough not to mess with his steely-eyed gaze. His mind was made up. “But what are we going to do? If we make a fire—”
“It’ll be like a beacon.”
“At this point, I’m willing to take the risk.”
He frowned. “I...I don’t know. We should at least get farther away from the wolves and gunmen before we decide. The last thing I want is to narrowly avoid death, fall asleep by the fire and wake up surrounded by fangs and guns.”
“Agreed.” She peeked out of the brush. The snowmobile was no longer visible, but maybe he’d found a path down to the lake. Once again, something triggered her mind. East of the lake, a tall giant rocky plateau rose up in the distance. That had to be the plateau Shawn said would help them sneak back to the geothermal plant site.
The gray clouds hovered so low she couldn’t see how far north the tabletop rock extended, though. Some foothills bumped right up against the plateau while another set wrapped around the south end of the lake. They loomed above them like guardians, but south of the hills was a majestic pine forest.
The pieces of their location clicked in place. She was staring at the same locations highlighted on the homemade map. The rectangle must have been the archaeologist’s trailer, which meant...
She pointed southeast. Her hand still stung from sinking her fingers into the icy waters. “Shawn, is there a warming hut on top of that foothill?” The hope in her voice almost physically hurt. The desperation to be right was so strong she was terrified of disappointment.
His brow furrowed. “That’s USFS land. I think so?”
USFS had to be the Unites States Forest Service. That also confirmed her suspicion. The yellow section of the homemade map was likely Bureau of Land Management property, probably to match the color of their shirts and logo, and the green section would match the Forest Service.
“That’s a tough hike,” he said, his teeth chattering. “But getting indoors sounds amazing.”
She handed him a beef jerky. His fingers were like ice cubes. He may have dry clothes on now, but he wasn’t out of the danger zone of hypothermia. They needed to get his body temperature up within the next fifteen minutes, which meant she’d drag him up that hill if necessary. “Eat. Let’s keep moving.”
He blinked, appearing slightly disoriented. Oh, that was a bad sign. Please help us make it in time.
* * *
Shawn had never lost control of his body before. Maybe that wasn’t what was happening, but his arms and legs vibrated at such an intense rate, far beyond any type of shivering he’d ever endured, that he fought to stay calm. Jackie’s deepening frown every time she looked back at him didn’t help matters. Maybe he looked even worse than he felt.
She dropped his hand. “That’s it.” A second later she’d tied one end of his rappelling rope around his waist and one around her own. “As much as I’d like to, I can’t throw you over my shoulder and hike up this hill. I need to pump my arms to scale this incline and so do you.” She grabbed a handful of chocolate almonds and shoved them in his palms. “Stuff these into your mouth and chew. Your metabolism is through the roof right now in order to keep you warm. Keep eating nonstop.”
He did as she asked because it seemed simpler, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. Every ranger knew the symptoms of hypothermia. He’d spent many winters educating cross-country skiers about the dangers but never thought he’d fall into the trap. He’d lose street cred if anyone else found out.
“Street cred?” Jackie’s voice rose.
He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.
“Mental confusion is stage two...or three,” she said. “I can’t remember, but it’s not good.” Sh
e ripped off her coat. “Don’t refuse me now.” She forced his arms into the sleeves. She took a wool scarf and wrapped it around his head. That wasn’t comfortable at all, as the icicles in his hair pressed against his forehead. She put a hand on each side of his face. “Stay with me.”
The rope around his waist tugged him forward. She was ahead of him. He grabbed it with both hands and found he really wanted to follow but kept forgetting why.
* * *
Wind whipped her hair, clouding her vision. The intensity didn’t seem to show any signs of stopping, either. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it would jump out of her chest. The clouds opened and snowflakes as big as quarters drifted onto her head. Any thicker, and she’d lose her way. The prevailing wind came from the west, Shawn had said, which meant she was still heading in a southeastern direction, unless the wind shifted and she got them lost.
The incline eased and she almost shouted for joy. Her heart raced from the exertion and the heavy breathing hurt. She almost walked into a posted sign against a wire fence that read Don’t Walk. Baby Forest Growing Here. USFS.
A hundred feet in front of her was a crescent-shaped snow-covered space with the smallest tips of evergreen trees poking up out of its white blanket. Surrounding the space were magnificent trees that could easily compete for the honor of being lit at Rockefeller Plaza. And to the east, nestled into the front line of trees, was the shape of a wooden cabin.
She cried out. A burst of adrenaline pushed her to grab Shawn’s hand. Her gentle prodding to jog for the building didn’t work. He shuffled in the snow, his eyes half-closed, whether from confusion or from his muscles refusing to loosen up enough to run, she didn’t know.
So close. They couldn’t come so close only to die.
Wilderness Sabotage Page 9
