Out of the Wild: A Wilderness Survival Thriller

by Hunt, Jack

  The water was freezing cold, sloshing inside their boots and working its way up to their knees as they waded farther out. It stung Kara’s skin like a thousand bees as if she’d stepped inside a hive. The forceful current of the river bit at her skin and tugged at her bones, trying to knock her feet off the rocks and carry her downstream.

  “Lean into it,” she bellowed.

  Then, it happened. She took one step forward and the rocky ground disappeared beneath her. As she fell forward, the water rushed up to her waist, her ribs, and throat. She gasped, trying to breathe as the cold strangled her lungs.

  “Keep moving,” her father said, water now entering through the thin gaps of his stretcher. She could feel the whole thing sinking.

  “He’s too heavy,” Frank cried out.

  “Don’t you let him go,” Callaway added. Paul was slumped over Frank, motionless. Anyone looking on would have thought he was dead. Blood trailed away in the water.

  Kara felt every smooth rock beneath her boots as she staggered to her feet, pressing on. Unable to see if there were logs or other dangers, she just focused on the bank across from them, determined to reach it. She planted each foot, shuffling, and feeling the strong invisible force pulling at her.

  It wouldn’t take long for hypothermia to set in.

  Her body was already losing heat. Once they were out, they would have to start a fire fast. Shivering, her muscles tightened and screamed — turn around, turn around, go back. But there was no going back, they were in the thick of it, cold, wet, and at war with Mother Nature.

  Water started filling up the inside of her father’s stretcher and soaking him.

  That was the last thing he needed with a broken leg.

  Already she was beginning to realize that the trek home would be far harder than she’d imagined. Wildlife, weather changes, precarious hidden dangers, illness, hunger, it was all there before them, ready to chew them up and spit them out, leaving behind nothing but bones and a statistic of another lost explorer.

  How many others had succumbed to injury?

  She couldn’t lose her father, not if it was within her control.

  The trouble was, out here they were in a different world, a dynamic, shifting environment that while beautiful to behold was merciless.

  The further they ventured across the river, the deeper it became, the cold chomping at their vitals, the water covering her stomach and lower ribs. She was already fighting excruciating pain but trying to keep it together for her father’s sake.

  Breathing was getting difficult.

  Kara glanced back to where they’d come from, scanning the tree line for the grizzly.

  If ever there was a time to kill them, it was now.

  Still no sign. She used that to motivate her.

  They weren’t dying out here. Not now.

  She continued to gasp as the water climbed. She was holding her elbows out and keeping her face from becoming wet, but it was getting harder with each step. Her legs were shutting down, numb, aching, as the water gnawed at her bones.

  A spike of hope shot through her as she noted the water receding the closer they got to the bank. Every step brought the water lower.

  Filled with relief, she soldiered on even at the sight of water in her father’s stretcher. It had become super heavy and was sinking, making it even harder to slide across the crystal waters.

  Then, as if fate had other plans, or a sick sense of humor, a slip and a twist of the ankle and she released her grip on the rope and sank into the waist-high water. It was like entering a cryogenic chamber, instantly freezing her brain as her face went beneath. She burst out, soaked and gasping, with no help from Callaway who had no other choice than to try and hold her father out, but too much water had entered.

  In agony but refusing to quit, Kara dug her foot down even as pain shot up. She rose, sucking in the air fast as she tugged her father and dragged him out onto the dry bank just as the water sought to overflow and swallow him.

  Landing hard on her knees against the large pebbles and sharp rocks, she inhaled deeply, looking over at Callaway who was doing the same.

  But it wasn’t over.

  “Help!” Frank cried. “I’m slipping.” He’d hit a slippery patch and with Paul weighing him down, the weight was too much. Within seconds they were both swept downstream. Blocking out the pain of her ankle, she staggered up, grabbed the walking stick from inside her father’s stretcher, and hobbled at first before breaking into a full run down the riverbank, every step more painful and harder than the last.

  Her waterlogged clothes felt like heavy chains.

  Frank tumbled in the water, face disappearing then emerging with a gasp. Throughout, he was still clinging to Paul who looked as if all the blood had drained out of his face. She could have sworn he was dead. Was he?

  Luck would have it, and it was luck, as the river bent in an S shape, Frank slammed into boulders at the bend, allowing him enough time to claw his way out. Though to do so he released Paul, sending him on, his body soon vanishing below the water, carried fast downstream.

  Splashing through the shallow, and clambering over the smooth rocks, Kara caught up with Frank and dropped down, placing a hand on his back, looking to where Paul had been. He could barely get the words out. “I couldn’t hold him any longer. I just couldn’t,” he said as water streamed down his face and he tried to catch his breath.

  He swept hair out of his eyes and wanted to lay back on the stones but Kara wouldn’t let him. “We need to get dry quickly before hypothermia kicks in.”

  Realistically, ten minutes was all they had. It varied depending on the weather but in low temperatures, people in wet clothes, exposed to the elements, could find themselves at death’s door. If it wasn’t for the ferrocerium rod on the Leatherman they would have had to resort to a long, drawn-out method of creating fire. Instead, in less than five minutes they were inside the tree line, all of them stripped down, completely naked, and gathered around an enlarging fire.

  Their wrung-out clothes were dotted around another fire she’d built specifically for them. It would take several hours to dry, and even longer if the heavens opened. There was no time to feel self-conscious even though Kara did her best to cover her breasts with an arm, and stayed in a crouch. Neither Callaway nor Frank looked on at that moment, they were shivering too hard, staring into the orange blaze as it crackled and chewed wood, sending thick, pungent smoke up.

  None of them spoke about Paul though she had a feeling that it was on all of their minds. The image of him being gored and trampled underfoot was only made worse by the thought of what might have happened had the bear torn through their camp and killed them all. Being eaten alive had to be the worst way to go, that or drowning.

  Her fear of water was deeply ingrained, as much as the memory of her mother’s death. Seeing Paul drift away without knowing if he was dead would stay with them, but unfortunately, that was the cost of trekking through the wilderness.

  One moment you could be alive, warm, seemingly in control, and the next Mother Nature could slap you up the side of the head and make you feel small and vulnerable.

  With uncontrollable shivering, she dropped a few more branches into the fire. They’d gathered up as many as they could, looking for anything nearby. It wasn’t much but it would do.

  For close to an hour no one said anything.

  They were all in a state of shock at what they’d just witnessed and endured.

  The cold had dulled their minds, allowing them only enough energy to focus on their survival. The possibility that the grizzly was out there making its way toward them only added to the discomfort they were feeling. If it was closing in, it would be on the other side of the river and that gave them some peace if only for now.

  However, for Kara, the bear didn’t even enter her thoughts. Mentally, she was gone, fourteen again, back there beside a raging river in the dark, being tended by medics. Shivering. Hearing them pepper her with questions. Who? Where? How
?

  “Kara.”

  Her father repeated her name twice before she snapped out of it.

  “Yeah?”

  “You okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Being here.” He clutched her hand and she gave a faint smile before staring back into the fire. While there were no plans of remaining because there was still plenty of daylight left, getting warm was the priority. Being so far south in Alaska meant it wouldn’t be dark until around seven-thirty that evening.

  As their bodies thawed, and color rushed back into their fingertips, toes, and face, Callaway glanced over at her, his eyes tracing her nakedness. Uncomfortable with his gaze, she shuffled over to her clothes to check if they were dry. They weren’t. They needed longer, maybe even a few more hours, but her thin underwear was almost ready to wear. She slipped into it under his watchful eye. “You got something to say?” her father said, noting Callaway was looking. He shook his head and poked the fire with a stick.

  Her father was the first to say it.

  “He wouldn’t have survived.”

  “You don’t know that,” Callaway objected.

  “I’ve seen enough injuries to be sure.”

  “He’s right. All the color was gone from his skin, he wasn’t moving,” Kara added as Frank looked soberly into the fire. Callaway could have argued but he didn’t. The truth was they all knew the inherent dangers of the backcountry, and there was no guarantee that any of them would make it out alive.

  21

  Mother Nature wasn’t to be screwed with. They were in her backyard, existing under her rules, and she was making it clear, she was pissed. After getting warm and dry, five hours passed before they set out. Leaving the river behind, they trudged through the forest, climbed up the slope heading toward the ridge that separated them from a gully and the mountains. After a while, the pale sky opened and droplets fell, combined with a rushing wind and thunder rolling in the distance.

  “We just can’t catch a break,” Callaway said.

  Her father coughed hard and Kara gave him a concerned glance. The odds of any one of them avoiding illness were small but even less for her father. Infection, pneumonia, it was all there just biding its time. Howling wind and sideways rain stung her face as they trudged forward. Kara lifted an arm to shield it. As much as they wanted to press on, the fear of being caught in a lightning storm and soaked again made them think otherwise. No one protested when they took shelter beneath a rocky bluff and huddled together using their bodies to stay warm while she started a fire.

  She did it before the wood was too wet.

  The flames struggled as the rain buffeted the rock above them, sending water over the edge and turning the ground into tiny streams. The sky lit up, angry sheet lightning followed by torrential booms. No one wanted to be out in this and certainly not here with so little warmth and food.

  Her stomach grumbled loudly under the beat of rain.

  “My sentiments exactly,” Frank said. “What I would give for a Big Mac or a rain jacket.”

  “Is it my imagination or did you say that you didn’t have a survival kit on you?” Callaway asked Frank.

  “I said we couldn’t find it. There was one in that plane before we left.”

  “Then it should have been there,” Callaway said.

  “As should the PLB and a .22 rifle but they weren’t there either.”

  “Sounds to me like someone didn’t do a good job with the preflight check.”

  “It wasn’t me who did it,” he shot back, that’s when their eyes turned to her father. Of course, he might have been quick to defend himself but his mental decline didn’t allow it.

  “They were there.”

  Frank’s tune changed. “I specifically told you to check.”

  “I did. I think. Besides, you were the pilot. It’s your job, not mine.”

  “So are you saying you didn’t check?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  Callaway took the moment to toss in a jab. “I hear that’s becoming a problem, Mr. Shaw?”

  “Would you stop calling me that! The name is Henry.”

  “Well, at least you can remember that,” Frank added. Her father glared. Kara was sure that if he had the use of his legs, he would have been on him in a New York minute. The horrendous weather and cold had started to grind on their nerves. It refused to let up.

  “You know, fighting about it isn’t getting us anywhere,” Kara said, tossing a few more sticks on the fire. They sizzled in the rain. The fire gave off more smoke than warmth. “It is what it is.”

  “You know, if we get out of here I could press charges against you,” Callaway added.

  “For what?”

  “Trying to kill me.”

  She scoffed. “Kill you? I think maybe you’re the one with memory loss. It was you who left us stranded.”

  “I told you, I wouldn’t have done that. You must think I’m a moron. I would have returned by evening. By then you would have been ready to sign. Which reminds me,” he said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out the paperwork that no longer resembled what she’d seen. The ink had faded, the paper looked like it could tear any second, and a part of the corner already had. “Oh, great!” He muttered.

  “And what if we didn’t?” Her father asked.

  “I would have returned the next day, eventually you would have signed.”

  “Can you even hear yourself?” Kara stared at him. “Does money mean that much to you?”

  “I think you should ask your father that, not me. It’s because of his stubbornness and thirst for gold he’s even out here. Darlin’, you might think I’m the bad guy but I presented a good deal. Not many other companies would have done it. They would have waited until he went bankrupt and swooped in and snapped it all up for pennies on the dollar.”

  “So why didn’t you wait?” she asked.

  “Competition. I’m not the only one out there who understands the benefits of owning a company like your father’s.”

  “Oh call it for what it is, you didn’t want to have the press in your face,” her father barked.

  Callaway looked at him. “Sure. Who wants people to know they bought a company when it’s on the way out? Get in fast, make a few changes and no one is the wiser. It looks better,” he replied, turning to Kara.

  “As if looks matter,” Henry said.

  “Of course they do.”

  “If they did, you wouldn’t be so gung-ho to start drilling. That’s media attention you don’t want. Lawsuits, conservationists protesting, it’s not good for business.”

  “It’s par for the course, Henry. Just like out here we have to deal with bears, moose, bad weather, and the cold, every business like ours has to face threats.”

  “So you do think they’re a threat,” Kara added.

  He smiled. “If they weren’t, I wouldn’t be going to all the trouble to deal with your father.”

  She pondered his words. It wasn’t just a company he was buying or even access into villages that others weren’t allowed in, it was much more than that, it was her father he wanted. That made her start to question what he would have had to gain by killing them in a plane accident or leaving them permanently stranded. He needed his signature. And, there was no point buying up a company if those they dealt with wouldn’t work with the new owner. Her eyes drifted to Frank shivering.

  “So tell me, Henry, about this gold you are searching for. How do you know it exists? And where did it come from?”

  “Sir Francis Drake.”

  “Who?”

  That made her father laugh. The fact that he didn’t know anything about Drake was amusing. Seeing as they weren’t going anywhere for a while, he gave him a quick history lesson. Once he was done, it was clear Callaway was interested.

  “So historians don’t buy that he came here, but that he went to Point Reyes on the California coast?”

  “The official acco
unts state his voyage took him from Mexico to California where he repaired his ship, but other reports suggest that he never made it there and that he continued sailing north and reached the southern area of Alaska.”

  “And your proof of this?”

  “Maps. He commissioned a series of maps. This was confirmed by his private mapmaker at the time and geographer Abraham Ortelius, the same guy who created the atlas. It’s all there inside the maps. They are what we call cryptographs, designed to conceal what really occurred when he was exploring.”

  “And you think he dumped the gold here.”

  “I don’t think it, I know it.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why would he leave it here?”

  “Maybe he planned on returning, maybe he didn’t want it falling into the wrong hands. What I know is that gold prospectors found it, and it eventually made its way into the hands of a trapper who covered up its location and kept it for himself.”

  “And this you know because…?”

  “Journals, research, years of study. I mean, this level of detail isn’t found by just anyone.”

  “But you did.”

  He nodded.

  Callaway mused. “So where then? Where is it?”

  Her father laughed. “Oh I might be stubborn and losing my memory but I’m not dumb.” Finally, the rain began to let up, and almost as quickly as it had begun, the torrential downpour passed. The clap of thunder was but a weak echo.

  As dark clouds rolled away, and brightness filled what remained of the day, they shuffled out from the safety of the rocks and rose stiffly from a squatting position, only partly dry, but it was nothing compared to when they crawled out of the river. They shook off the loose debris from their gear and discussed finding something to eat.

  Before putting in any more miles they explored the area, making noise to mark their presence. Kara told them to avoid berries that were white or yellow, along with the Alaskan baneberry which had a black spot on the red. Eating those was poisonous, they didn’t want to end up with stomach cramps, diarrhea, vomiting, or worse—dead. They were to look for…. “These,” she said, pushing apart the leaves on a bush and gathering a cluster of berries that were around a quarter-inch in size and red. “Bearberries,” she said. They weren’t the only source of nutrition they could find. Alaska had wild, plump blueberries found among the hemlocks and black spruce taigas, and salmonberries. And as early as August, raspberries were found among the tangled thickets.