RUNAWAY TWINS and RUNAWAY TWINS IN ALASKA: BOXED SET

by Palamountain, Pete

  "Have to be in the next life," Mike said, laughing.

  "Might be sooner than you think," said a voice from the edge of the woods.

  Mike and Joe put down their feast and jumped to their feet. They strained to see who had spoken, but their attention was diverted by the fifty caliber Smith and Wesson revolver the visitor held in his hand. The nickel-plated bear-killing weapon shone in the rays of the afternoon sun.

  "Hello, Jack," said Idaho Joe, finally. "Thought you were dead."

  Jack from Washington, Ernie's partner, strode into the campground. "You didn't bother to search for me." His face was splotchy with filth and covered with contusions and cuts. His clothes were torn, and he limped forward as if favoring his left leg.

  "You look like you fell into the volcano and it spit you back out," said Joe.

  "You didn't search for me," Jack repeated, waving the monster gun he'd taken from the armory tent.

  Montana Mike said, "We called to you fifty times. You fell over a hundred-foot cliff. What were we supposed to think…or do?"

  "Come find me. I was semi-conscious. I heard you, but I couldn't answer." He looked around. "Where's Ernie?"

  "Buried under the bank of the river in a cave," said Joe. "Grizzly got him."

  Jack nodded. "The hunters?"

  "Buried with Ernie. We got them."

  While Joe was speaking, Mike was in the process of slipping his hand behind his back where he carried the forty-five he'd stolen from the outfitter's stash. And just as Jack began to lower the giant revolver, Mike snatched the automatic from his waistband and raised it toward his former teammate. But it was the last action Mike would take in this life, for Jack caught the movement in the corner of his eye and fired the Smith and Wesson from his hip. The giant slug caught Mike square in the chest, lifted him in the air and threw him ten feet backwards.

  Joe took advantage of the battle, yanked his pistol from his pocket, and shot Jack between the eyes.

  When the smoke of the gunshots cleared, Joe surveyed the situation. He was now alone, and he had two more bodies to deal with. He'd better move fast. Rescue personnel might arrive at any moment, and he'd have some tall explaining to do with two bullet-ridden stiffs on his hands. He dragged them to the cave under the nearby bank of the Yuktapah, made certain the area was policed, and then returned to tidy up the Bilboa and Barnes site.

  If he was to be the lone survivor of the terrible earthquake and volcanic eruption, he had to prepare the scene.

  25

  Deer Lodge Redux

  J.J. Flack, the Prophet of God's Way Temple née Sheba Hill Temple, reflected on all he had lost as he appraised his small cell in Montana's State Prison. His hatchet face darkened, and he wished he could personally destroy those who were responsible for his fate—hurt them, crush them. They had ruined all that his father, grandfather, and he had patiently built up over seventy-five years of dedicated service to God. He slammed the wall with his fist, ignoring the pain, imagining he had broken the facial bones of the self-righteous Montana Attorney General who had prosecuted him, who had labeled the Sheba Hill Temple a dungeon of forced marriage and child rape. What did the A.G. or the judge or the jury know of the will of God regarding the heavenly construction of families?

  Nevertheless, the Prophet smiled in spite of his anger. He might not have his young wives around him any longer, his flock might be scattered, the operations in Montana, Texas, and Colorado might be defunct; but he had the fast-growing congregation in Whitehorse, YT, CA; and he still controlled the international purse strings. And he knew how to use the money to retain power—power to get what he wanted. And at the top of his list were three things, a new trial, victory in that trial, and the fourteen-year-old Lemon twins waiting for him when he got out.

  Others among his prison associates doubted his ability to accomplish these goals (he could tell from their expressions and from their less-than-enthusiastic responses). But they didn't understand the universal appeal of money as he did. Spread enough of it around…and in the right places and anything was possible.

  He'd been on the phone to Missoula, Anchorage, Fairbanks and Whitehorse; and his reaction to his calls was mixed. He was satisfied he'd done all he could, had primed the right pumps, yet he still had no idea where things stood. No word from the wilderness. No confirmation as to who was alive and who was dead. But the Whitehorse men had connected with a rescue team, the Fairbanks airport men were still in place, and the Hawker Siddeley HS 748 was still on the tarmac and would be as long as he injected money into the cargo company's coffers.

  As to Idaho Joe and his three helpers—no way to know. But they were all top-notch crooks and Joe the best of all; so if it was possible to complete their assignment, Joe would see to it.

  The Prophet went to stand by the barred window in the back of his cell. He could see the open country stretching for miles within his limited field of vision. How much longer? he thought. How much longer until he could once again move freely and enjoy all that God was preparing for him?

  26

  Rough Water

  Janie clung to the front of the logs with her hands and arms while attempting to lock her boots into the irregular spaces at the back where the vine-ropes hadn't been able to close the gaps. She knew Justin and Rachel were using similar means to try to stay aboard while the raft rushed through the whitewater.

  Justin shouted above the noise, "People pay money to ride rapids like these!" But though he was affecting a lack of concern, Janie could feel the tension in his body next to her as he rolled, twisted, and strained to prevent himself and his companions from being thrown into the roiling river.

  On the opposite side of the raft, Rachel called out, "You okay, Janie?"

  "So far!"

  Janie lifted her head to get a glimpse of what lay ahead to see if she could estimate how much longer they would have to endure the ride. In a matter of minutes one of them would be in the water, or the raft itself would tear apart and they'd all be swimming for their lives. There seemed to be no end ahead of the spray, mist, and waves; so she braced for a bumpy voyage.

  She felt her left boot slip out of the crack between the logs and realized her left arm was dragging in the water. Then her left leg was wet also and she was horrified to see she was sliding into the river. A strong shock and she would bounce in the air, lose all control, and fall overboard.

  The shock came quickly. Her entire body rose a foot off the raft and she was sure the next sensation she would feel would be the icy waters of the Yuktapah. She screamed, took a deep breath, and prepared for the plunge.

  It never came, for Justin was now on his knees with his arms wrapped tightly around her midsection. He yanked her back onto the raft, held her securely, and yelled, "Hey, this is no time for a swim!"

  And then they were out of the whitewater. The noise abated, the river ran peacefully, and the teenagers grinned at each other.

  "Raft held up," said Rachel. "If it didn't fall apart back there, it'll last forever."

  "Or at least until we get to the bend in the Yuktapah," said Justin.

  "What if the two fishermen are there?" asked Janie.

  "We'll reconnoiter first," said Justin. "Hopefully they're lying dead back in the wildfire, but if they're around, we'll wait and then try to steal a canoe."

  An hour later they passed the sandspit where the four fishermen had precariously pitched their camp. The river was still swollen in the area to twice its previous width, and there was no sign of any tents or equipment.

  "Like it never existed," said Justin.

  "The Yuktapah giveth and the Yuktapah taketh away," said Janie.

  "What a bunch of jerks," said Rachel.

  "Smaller bunch now," said Justin, "and maybe no bunch at all."

  "How much longer till we get to the outfitters' camp?" asked Rachel.

  Justin paused. "Maybe forty minutes. We'll beach this thing ten minutes out and hike in, just in case."

  But thirty minutes later when i
t came time to gain the shore, the task was not as easy as Justin thought. The slope of the bank on the west side of the river in this area was steep, and stopping the raft and scrambling up to dry ground was not a simple proposition. Finally, Justin reached out with one hand and grabbed a protruding root while both girls clutched his other wrist. He then leapt onto the angled bank and pulled the raft tightly against the shore. The twins followed on his heels, and the empty raft drifted back to the center of the stream.

  "Teamwork," said Justin, when they reached the top. "Good show."

  "What now?" asked Janie.

  "Follow the river at a safe distance, stay quiet, grab a canoe, don't hang around the hunters' camp a second longer than we have to."

  They were forced to hike in the thicket that ran alongside the Yuktapah, for every time they tried to veer toward open country, the river darted off in the wrong direction and they couldn't maintain a parallel path. The thorns, brush, and the low-lying branches scratched and cut their bodies, and Justin suggested they move back down the rise toward the river. "Maybe that high bank is gone and there's a bit of beach to walk on."

  They turned back to the river but found the conditions identical to what they left, so they reentered the thicket.

  "A machete would be nice," said Justin, "to hack our way through this crud."

  Rachel laughed. "How about a paved road and a taxi…as long as we're wishing for stuff."

  Their ten-minute trek took over an hour, and when at last they caught sight of the bend in the Yuktapah and the tents of the camp, they were exhausted. On the positive side, the thicket was disappearing and they could now move freely.

  Justin put his hand to his mouth to indicate they shouldn't speak from this point on; and he took several short careful steps to show how they should proceed.

  After several minutes, he signaled for a halt, motioned for a huddle, and whispered, "Don't see anyone or hear anything. We may be okay."

  The canoes were sticking out over the upper bank where they had been lifted for safety in the original campsite planning. "Shouldn't be too hard to drag one down," Rachel said softly.

  They headed toward the canoes, and then Janie called for another halt and huddle. "Wait a minute," she said. "There's no one here. Why don't we grab some food, toss it in the canoe for the trip? Only take a few seconds."

  Rachel and Justin nodded. "Good thinking, Janie," said Justin. "Let's do it."

  Still moving as silently as possible, they entered the center of the camp and began gathering provisions. They took them to one of the canoes, and then Rachel said, "One more load—might as well get all we can." And they hurried to fill their arms once again.

  But what they didn't know was they weren't alone after all. Short, squat Idaho Joe had been watching them through a crack in the flap of the armory tent; and when he concluded they were at their most vulnerable, he threw back the flap and stepped into the light. "Hello, kids, nice of you to drop in."

  He was holding the Smith and Wesson 500 bear-killing revolver his dead associate Jack had discovered. "No fast moves. This cannon can stop a grizzly in its tracks."

  The teenagers dropped their supplies and starred helplessly at their captor.

  27

  Search and Rescue

  Rex and Martha Carlson refueled the Bell 407 and were again crisscrossing what used to be the southern end of Glacier Lake. They couldn't discard the idea that the interns must've been somewhere in the vicinity of the missing cabin when the earthquake and eruption struck. There appeared to be no sign of human life below and no possibility of human survival in the area, but the rangers were reluctant to abandon their search and move on to fresh territory.

  They radioed the pilot of the float plane who was still waiting on the lake's northern end and found he had deposited five team members on the shore at mid lake with a plan to hike over to the Yuktapah River.

  "We've been there," said Martha to Rex.

  "It's a long river," Rex said.

  They'd surveyed the fishermen's camp and the outfitters' camp on their previous run, so when they finally headed east again, they made a decision to concentrate on an area somewhat north of their previous try. Their intention was to carefully examine the reaches between Glacier Lake and the river and then from a new starting point head upriver.

  "Maybe the search team from the plane will find them," said Martha.

  "We'll hear soon enough if they do."

  "But where are the hunters and the fishermen?" asked Martha.

  "Another mystery," Rex said, shaking his head.

  The three Alaska State Troopers and the two volunteers from the Yukon were nearing the bend in the Yuktapah, and the two volunteers had pulled back somewhat so they could talk without being overheard by the others.

  "How're we supposed to handle this?" the younger of the two men asked. His name was Timothy. He was in his twenties, and he was lanky, pale, and awkward.

  His partner's name was Paul. He was in his forties and was small, tightly built, and graceful. "We'll have to wait and see what happens, where we stand," he said. "The Prophet wants those girls in the Hawker Siddeley in the bottom of those mining equipment crates. It's our job to see his wishes are carried out."

  "The Missoula connection?"

  "Don't know what's up with those guys. Like I say, we wait and see."

  "The boy?"

  "A rebel, a recalcitrant. Fights God's will at every turn. Better for all when he's dead. Bad influence."

  Timothy nodded and stumbled over a rock. He was not nearly as experienced an outdoorsman as he had presented himself to the organizers in Fairbanks. In Whitehorse he was a pharmacist's assistant, and until the God's Way Temple came to town, he was without a future, without a place in the world or in the world to come. But now he was part of something big—something that came directly from heaven, through the Prophet. Timothy already had two wives, and if he was elevated to the rank of church elder, he could have more…and the money to support them.

  Paul was considerably better trained in rescue operations. He had served on various ski patrol units in the Yukon, and he did most of the talking to the state troopers. He was the pharmacist for whom Timothy worked. He was the younger man's friend, mentor, and leader—the most important person in Timothy's life (other than the Prophet himself).

  Timothy said, "I hear the river. We must be close."

  "Over the next rise," said Paul. "Not more than twenty minutes."

  Rachel looked around the campsite. "I thought there were two of you chasing us. We hoped you'd roasted in the forest fire."

  "Almost did," said Idaho Joe. "We retreated just in time. And then there were three of us again for a bit, but Mike and Jack fought their own little war….I had to finish it."

  "You're the only one left?" Justin asked.

  Joe nodded.

  "What now?" Justin said.

  "You kids carry some more supplies to the canoe for me. You were doing so well, no sense stopping." He waved the monster gun toward the provisions and then toward the canoes on the high bank. "Put all the stuff in the same canoe."

  Rachel went to stand in front of Justin. "We're not loading anything for you, and if you try to shoot Justin, you'll have to shoot us, too."

  Janie moved beside her sister.

  "Won't happen," said Joe. "Not the plan."

  "Whose plan?" said Justin, stepping out from behind the twins.

  "J.J. Flack's, of course. Now get busy, and, girls, if you don't cooperate I'll shoot the boy now, and maybe I'll do it one piece at a time. Gun like this won't wound him. It'll blow his body parts all around the camp….Load the canoe—all of you!"

  Before the teens could respond, a party of five hikers appeared on the crest of the hill above the camp. Joe saw them first and quickly lowered the revolver. He stuck the gun in his waistband and hurried to stand alongside his captives. "You brats keep your mouths shut. Don't forget, I've still got this canon, and I can take your heads off."

  The res
cue party descended rapidly, shouting victoriously as they trotted down the slope.

  "Don't be ridiculous," Justin said to Joe. "You can't pull this off—too many loose ends. And do you really think we're going to stay quiet because of your threats?"

  Joe looked perplexed.

  The state troopers arrived first. They bounded into camp with exclamations of pleasure at finding survivors; and they embraced the young people and Joe as well. But it didn't take long for the interns to set the record straight and for the troopers to disarm Joe and place him in handcuffs.

  "You've got it all wrong," Joe protested. "I can explain everything."

  "Save it for Fairbanks," the sergeant said.

  Paul and Timothy, the two Yukon men, stood together at the edge of the clearing, watching events unfold. Their faces were filled with indecision, as if they had no idea how to proceed and were fearful that whatever choice they made would be wrong.

  "That must be Idaho Joe," said Timothy under his voice, "fits the description the Prophet gave us—fat, short, mean looking."

  "It's him."

  "Can we do anything?"

  "It'll be bloody."

  "Prophet's orders were to do what's necessary."

  Paul nodded. "Shooting state troopers will bring all of Alaska down on us."

  "We could bury the bodies or weight them down and sink them in the river. We might make it work."

  Paul said, "We'd be advancing God's will. The Prophet has given us the outline. Up to us to fill in the details." He motioned toward Timothy's rifle and then at his own. "Are you willing, brother?"

  "I am."

  But before they could lift their weapons they were distracted by the sound of a helicopter belching smoke and laboring in from the north. It coughed, sputtered, and weaved—finally putting down roughly on the still visible sandbar in the Yuktapah.

  Bear-management rangers Rex and Martha Carlson waded across the shallows and screamed with delight when they saw their interns. They rushed forward and hugged Justin and the twins and then greeted the troopers. "Chopper's spitting ash from Mt. Yuktapah," said Rex. "We got too close. The cruds still up there…thick. We'll have to hike out with you folks. We talked to your pilot. He's sitting on Glacier Lake….What's the deal with the handcuffs?"