Sydell Voeller Special Edition

by Sydell Voeller

  "How many adults are there with the group?" Zack asked Dan.

  "Two. Linda Mullens and Bernice Etchison."

  Zack's gaze stayed riveted on Dan's. "So what's the plan, Garrett?"

  "We need to split up," Dan replied. "I'll start down the new trail and see what shape it's in, though I suspect the rain's made it impassable—most likely a mud bath by now. Someone else should take the old upper trail to the cave. It's a bit rigorous, I know, but at least there's another way to get in there."

  Zack reached for the back-pack he'd slung over a chair. "I wonder if either Linda or Bernice took a cellular phone."

  Dan frowned. "That's the first question I asked Betty Jo when it became obvious the others were overdue. She said none of them had, including herself. No one expected to get into trouble for just a day hike. Common assumption, I suppose."

  "Then we'd better both take our phones," Zack said. "We're going to need to stay in touch."

  "Right," Dan said. "I'll take my hand-held navigation system and some flares too."

  "Thank goodness the lightening didn't last long," Logan put in, darting a look outside the window. She couldn't help feeling a trifle smug she'd forbidden Kim to go. Though Betty Jo's group had returned safely, they'd simply been lucky. Had they lingered by the falls only a half an hour longer, the storm could've caught them also. Last thing Kim needed was that kind of exposure to the elements.

  Maggie shrugged out of her dripping windbreaker and hung it on the hook behind the door. "I'll stay here at camp. Logan, you go with Zack. It's more likely he'll need the extra help than I will—especially if someone on the trail's become sick or injured."

  Logan shot Maggie a furtive look, but the other nurse didn't appear to notice. Logan didn't want to go. She'd been cooped up with Zack too long already. Besides, she doubted she was up to hiking the upper trail to the cave, especially under these conditions. Maggie had more outdoors experience than she did.

  "Wait a minute—" Logan started to protest, but Zack cut her off.

  "Wait a minute, nothing! There's no time to waste. Get into your rain gear, Logan. I'll meet you back here in five minutes." He stopped long enough to add, "You do have rain gear, I hope?"

  "Of course! It rains in Westland too, you know," she replied evenly.

  Truth was, her rain gear consisted of nothing more than a vinyl hooded poncho, a far cry from the heavy duty water-repellant rainwear she'd noticed him wear earlier that morning.

  Soon they were off. Starting at the trail head on the south end of camp, past the main lodge and stables, they trudged through the forest. Zack had filled his more than ample backpack with an emergency ration of splints, ace bandages, compression dressings, and additional vials of Glucagon.

  The canopy of trees above did little to shield them from the pelting rain. It fell in glistening wet ribbons about them. As Logan trekked alongside Zack, large drops plopped off the hood of her poncho while her boots left muddy impressions behind her.

  "Watch the leaves," Zack cautioned. "They might be slippery." He gestured down to the decaying remains of maple and birch, remnants from the previous autumn. The smells of wet humus hung heavy about them. Evergreens flanked each sides of the trail like huge dark sentinels; their branches drooped with the weight of the rain.

  "Don't worry," Logan reassured him. "I won't fall this time." She side-stepped a puddle and pushed back a damp strand from her face. "Exactly how far is the cave?"

  "Via the new trail, only about two or three miles. But the way we're going, twice the distance."

  "Oh." She gritted her teeth. Six miles in this miserable rain? Could she make it?

  "Hope we find them soon," she murmured more to herself than Zack as she peered up through the break in the treetops. More dark clouds hunkered overhead, threatening to smother the last traces of waning daylight.

  "It's only seven. We should be in fine shape," he replied optimistically.

  "Is your pack heavy?" she asked. She cast a sideways glance at him, but already knew the answer. He walked tall and agile, with no indications of discomfort.

  "What do you suppose might have happened to them?" she found the courage to ask a while later.

  He shook his head. "Out here, the possibilities are endless. But most likely they found the new route impassable—just as Dan suspected—and are hiking back to camp this way instead. We'll probably run into them anytime now."

  Logan peered down the trail, all senses fully alert. There simply had to be a sign. The sound of children talking. The sight of them around the next bend. But there was nothing. . .nothing but the empty, darkening trail that stretched endlessly into the forest and the soft squishing sounds of their footsteps.

  Logan shivered. Already the lower portion of Logan's jeans, unprotected from the rain by her poncho, clung against her skin—though it felt warm and clammy, rather than the icy cold of a winter's rain. At least Zack hadn't poked fun at her clothing this time. Obviously he was too preoccupied with the task at hand and the possible ramifications.

  "Why don't you call Dan?" she suggested. "Maybe he's found them but forgot to let us know."

  "I doubt it," Zack replied, though already he was punching in the number.

  "Nope, Garrett. No luck here either." Zack spoke in clipped phrases, his brow drawn tightly. "I'll check in again after we get to the top of the bluff."

  He turned to her. "What do you want first? The good news or the bad?"

  "The good news, of course."

  "Dan found the trail in better shape than he expected. He's already about three-quarters of the way there and figures he'll make it through. The bad news is he hasn't come across them yet."

  "Which means they're probably hiking this way instead," she quickly surmised. "I bet Linda or Bernice figured this was the lesser of two evils even though it's twice as long."

  "Perhaps." Zack pointed straight ahead to a clearing in the forest. "Our trail ends up there. We'll have to take that branch to the right and cut up the side of the hill."

  "Is that the bluff you mentioned to Dan?"

  "Uh-huh."

  Logan stopped short and gaped in the direction he'd indicated. The path was barely visible—a narrow snaking line etched into the rocky precipitous—half obscured by huckleberry and other low growing shrubs. What's more, it appeared to ascend nearly straight up. At least the rain had finally stopped.

  "Are you sure that's the only way to go?" she asked. Lord only knew how any but the most able-bodied campers ever managed it before the new trail had been built.

  "Absolutely sure." He studied her for a long moment. "Think you're up to it? Or do you want to wait for me here?"

  She knotted her hands into fists at her sides. "I'll go."

  Slowly they began their ascent. Dusk was beginning to fall, casting lengthening shadows across the hillside. Following Zack's lead, she planted each foot into the safest appearing footholds. The air was thin and her breathing came heavy. Off in the distance, she heard the chilling howl of a coyote.

  "How're you doing?" Zack called back to her.

  "Fine." She paused to catch her breath, then continued on. Pebbles broke loose beneath her. Her feet kept slipping in patches of mud, causing her to work twice as hard. One foot after the other, she kept walking.

  Farther up, tufts of wild grass edged each side of the trail, competing for space with wild black-eyed Susans. Perspiration beaded her face. Her calf and thigh muscles burned. She paused again to lift her gaze to the ridgeline. Evergreens silhouetted a mauve streaked sky that was still heavy laden with dark clouds. But the sight before her spelled good news. They were more than halfway to the top. Zack had gained distance by now, but she'd catch up in due time, she told herself as she pushed on. The trail had grown steep again, much steeper than before.

  Unexpectedly she felt the ground give out beneath her. Lunging forward to clasp onto a tree root, she heard more rocks rattling down the hillside.

  "Zack! Wait!" she gasped. She gripped the root more ti
ghtly, but couldn't right herself. She felt her strength waning. She might not manage to hold on much longer. Any minute now, she might let go. . .

  "Zack!" She called again. Apparently he hadn't heard her. . .but wait—he had heard. He'd turned back now. He was getting closer. He was thrusting out his hand.

  "Here. Grab on," he yelled.

  His grip was wonderfully strong and reassuring as he pulled her to her feet. Giving an inward cry of relief, she stopped to rest her back against a large outcropping.

  "Whew. . .close call," she managed at last.

  "The rest is easy," he assured her. "Just over that next rise, we'll come to the top. From there, the cave is only a short distance away, about a quarter a mile or so." He drew her close and held her to him till her breathing slowed, nuzzling his chin in her hair. "Sure you're okay?" he murmured.

  "I'm fine. . .just a little winded, but fine."

  "Know something, Logan. . ."

  "Hmm?"

  "You're really quite a trooper." He kissed the top of her head. "Congratulations. That hill back there is definitely not for the faint-hearted. I probably should've warned you in the beginning, but I didn't want to scare you off unnecessarily." The admiration in his voice came through loud and clear.

  "Thanks," she stammered. "But. . .but if it hadn't been for you, I might've fallen for goodness knows how far."

  "Anyone could slip. I've done it myself. . .the bottom line is you were willing to go for it. You could've stopped anytime and waited till I came back."

  Smiling up at him, she basked in the afterglow of his praise. She took in his clean masculine scent, mingled with the invigorating smells of the hillside. Wild chamomile. Dried needles. The tangy freshness of the air. The landscape that wrapped around them looked like a dusky rolling patchwork of clear-cut forest alternated with dense stands of evergreens. The river below—swollen and muddied—wound like a never-ending ribbon.

  "Ready to move on now?" he asked.

  "Yes. No." She nestled closer into him and he made no attempt to pull away. Her thoughts reeled. It wasn't wise to stay close to him like this, yet she craved his nearness. Alone with Zackary—without the intruding reminders that a future with him could never be.

  The brief snatches of leisure they'd spent together so far at Camp Rippling Waters were more like a working vacation than reality, she reminded herself. Once he returned to the heavy demands of his everyday professional life back in Westland, he'd be just as absent as Matthew had been. Besides, even if that weren't the case, he could have his pick of any number of women. Why would Zack want her for keeps—a lonely, divorcee with the burdens of raising a physically challenged child?

  The shrill ring of the phone shattered her reverie and she jumped. It sounded somehow. . .so out of place, a strange but welcomed link to civilization.

  "What? You found them?" Zack's voice spiraled. "They're okay? No one's hurt?" Then he fell silent as he listened to whatever Dan was saying on the other end. The worry-lines in his forehead deepened.

  "Right. Okay. They've established a landing zone by the clear cut, you say? You've set up some flares? Thank God it's not pitch black yet." He paused, then signed off. "You bet, Garrett. Logan and I'll be there in a few minutes. We've just made it to the top of the bluff."

  "What's wrong?" she gulped as he snapped the phone shut.

  "Dan arrived at the cave a few minutes ago. He said earlier today, Linda and Bernice took the kids inside to explore a while and get out of the storm. As they were ready to head back out onto the trail, part of the hill—a mudslide, actually—gave way. For several hours they were trapped inside, but finally managed to dig their way out."

  "So what's the problem?" She heard her voice quaver.

  "It's Richard Foster. He's unresponsive. And having seizures. Dan's called for a medevac 'copter."

  Cold fear gripped Logan. "No, Zack. . .no."

  His face darkened. "Apparently it all came on very suddenly. From the sound of it, I suspect a severe hypoglycemic reaction, though Richard apparently never complained of any of the warning signs. If he had, there'd been time to feed him one of the kid's chocolate bars."

  "Linda took a couple of vials of Glucagon. Didn't she give him a shot?"

  "Yes, right away after he went unconscious. Unfortunately, though, the medication failed to take affect, and Richard started displaying seizure activity also." He tugged at her poncho. "Come on, we'd better not waste any more time. I want to be there when the 'copter lands."

  Minutes later they arrived at the designated clear-cut. Already the 'copter had appeared above the ridgeline, its red and white navigation lights glowing against the dusk. On the ground below, flares marked the landing zone.

  As they knelt together, Zack spoke to the unconscious child, but roused no response. "He's cold and clammy," Zack said to Logan, taking a pulse while the rest of the group backed off some to allow him more room. Off to the side, she heard Linda and Bernice attempting to calm the frightened hikers, while Dan looked on with a frown. A couple of the younger children were sobbing softly. Others pointed in excitement at the descending 'copter. The chopping of its blades grew louder.

  "Wow," Logan said grimly. "Things can sure change fast. Why, just this morning, Maggie said Richard seemed fine."

  "Yes, but the problem is he missed breakfast and took his morning dose of insulin anyway," Bernice's voice came from behind.

  Logan angled a look at Bernice over her shoulder. "He didn't eat? Are you sure?"

  "Uh-huh. Apparently he'd been so excited about the day-hike, he skipped breakfast altogether. Unfortunately none of us grown-ups had noticed. We didn't have a clue till after Richard went unconscious and Linda started pumping the other kids for info." Her shoulders slumped. "Just goes to show the delicate balance of food and insulin for a diabetic."

  "And now after missing not only breakfast, but his evening meal, too—not to mention the exertion from the hike and the stress brought on by the mudslide—Richard's in a heap of trouble," Logan added.

  "As soon as one of the medevac technicians starts the IV, I'll have them give Richard a 50% glucose solution." Zack gently pulled back the boy's upper lids and checked his pupils with a flashlight.

  "At least he hasn't had any more seizures since you two got here," Linda said hopefully.

  "Where are they taking him?" one of the kids asked.

  "Back to Children’s Hospital," Dan answered. "Richard needs to be near the medical center so the doctors can keep an eye on him."

  "Has anyone notified his parents?" Logan asked, glancing from Dan to Zack.

  "Yes, Maggie has," the director answered. "I phoned her a minute ago and told her what's happened. She said she'd call them right away."

  Fear, mingled with concern, welled inside Logan. Poor Richard. Hopefully he'd pull through. Hopefully the glucose solution would make the difference. But he'd been a difficult case right from the start. Maybe he hadn't been a good candidate for Camp Rippling Waters after all.

  She brushed back a strand of hair from his forehead and frowned, lost in thought. Zack was right. Richard's skin felt cold and clammy. He looked so small and pale lying there. He was only ten, the same age as Kimberly.

  Right now his parents must be sick with worry. Logan might not be a mother herself, but she could certainly empathize, perhaps a little too much. And the 'copter. . .drawing closer by the minute.

  She bit her lip, remembering. They'd said a helicopter had rescued the victims who'd survived the plane accident. Kim may have also lay still and pale like this, waiting to be airlifted to safety. That fateful night Logan received the call about her mother and Kim, she'd been alone. Painfully alone. No, she'd never wish that on anyone. . .

  Zack's deep voice intruded on her thoughts. "Richard's parents should be arriving at Children's just about the time the copter lands. I understand they live only about fifteen minute away."

  Logan turned quickly to him, the wind lifting her hair. "Let me go with Richard. Please. The Fost
ers will be desperate to know what happened. You remember how worried they were that first day of camp, don't you?"

  "I'll call them myself at the hospital, Logan."

  "Of course. But that won't be enough. A phone call's little comfort when your son's critically ill. I want to be there for them, Zack. Just long enough to help them wait it through."

  He held up a hand. "I get your drift, but I can't make any promises. Normally they don't—"

  "But I'm not a lay-person!" she interrupted him. "Perhaps the medevac technicians will make an exception. The flight nurse might even need my help. I've got E.R. experience, Zack. Lots of it. Besides, I belong on staff at Children's."

  "True." He quirked an eyebrow, studying her intently. "So you're willing to leave Kimberly?"

  The chopper was directly overhead now, descending like a giant bird, creating turbulence.

  She licked her dry lips. "I've got to go, Zack. Kim will have to manage without me." Raising her voice above the noise, she added, "Please let her know I won't be long. Tonight I'll take a cab to my condo and get a good night's sleep. Then tomorrow I'll catch the first bus back."

  * * *

  At the hospital, Richard's parents were beside themselves with worry, just as Logan had predicted. She was grateful she'd been allowed to accompany Richard in the helicopter, and even more grateful that he'd rallied dramatically mid-way there.

  "How can we begin to thank you for coming?" Mr. Foster said a short time later as they waited for further news outside the emergency room. He shook her hand, his eyes moist and glistening.

  "Oh, yes, George and I can't thank you enough," Mrs. Foster put in with heart-felt warmth, giving Logan a hug. "Dr. Dellinger was wonderful to answer all our questions over the phone. But just knowing you cared enough to go that extra mile. . .so to speak"—her voice faltered—"it means more than we can say."

  Logan could only smile in return, nodding silently.

  "I hear you have a child at camp too? A daughter?" Mr. Foster asked, running a hand through his thinning hair.

  "My younger sister, actually." She fiddled with a button on her poncho, suddenly realizing she must look a sight. Damp, straggling hair. Mud caked hiking boots. Blue jeans, still half soaked. Not even a comb in her pocket. "I'm so glad Richard's pulled through," she told them with a smile. "We were all worried sick about him." She had no intentions of trying to explain how the sight of Richard had evoked visions of Kimberly. Little did Richard's parents know the depths of her empathy.