by Alix West
More than anything she wanted to believe him, but how could he promise her everything would be all right? He would walk out that door into the unknown toward a town, but how far off it was he could only guess. Ten miles? Forty? The snow lay deep. He’d have to snow shoe the entire way, through parts unknown. Past predators. Through uncertain weather.
“I just want to make you stay.” She forced the words out, her voice choking on each one. “Even though I know you have to go.”
“I’ve done this before.”
“In the desert.”
He nodded. “Where people shot at me.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and covered her face with her hands. He pulled her to his chest. “You and I aren’t done. We’re going to have kids, and grandkids, and we’ll be old and grey and talking about how you stood me up and how you learned how to fish and what a smart-ass Sydney was.”
She nodded. He lifted her chin to receive his kiss. It was gentle, a stark contradiction to the fire burning in his eyes. “Do what you can for Ross. You’re in charge. Keep it together for his sake, Victoria.”
“I will.”
He turned away, zipped his coat and put on his hat and gloves. After he had his pack and gun slung over his shoulders, he nodded and went out the door. She followed him and stood on the threshold, ignoring the cold predawn breeze and watched as he strapped on the snowshoes. She moved to the steps, drew close to kiss him a final time.
“Go inside,” he muttered. “Take care of those kids.”
She did as he told her, but after she closed the door, she moved to the window and watched him in the early morning light. He walked slowly, but steadily. Charlie whimpered, drawing her from her reverie. He scratched the door and cried.
“No. Charlie. You’re staying with us.”
Returning her gaze to Clay’s retreating figure, she watched until she could no longer see him. Charlie finally relented and curled up by the fire. Victoria pressed her fingers to the glass, and watched the horizon where he’d disappeared.
Chapter Eighteen
Clay
Refusing to look back, Clay trudged away from the cabin. He kept a steady eye on his watch and the compass it held. Due west. That path would take him the direction of the town or home called Otis. He wouldn’t think about how far off it might be. As he passed the pile of saplings he’d cut just a few days prior, he thought about the futility of the idea of a giant arrow, the signs, the bonfires. No one had come for them. Now it was up to him to set out and bring help back to the cabin.
Marching was nothing more than a mental game. He’d put in miles and miles with far more on his back than what he now carried. It was a matter of focus and refusing to dwell on negative thoughts.
Dawn came at ten o’clock in the morning. He’d been on the move for close to three hours and would have almost six hours of daylight. So far, he’d seen very few animal tracks. Still, his rifle was loaded and ready should he need to scare away a predator. By the time the sun descended, he’d only seen a few Arctic hares. Nothing more.
He didn’t stop, only taking a few bites of food and sips of water as he continued trekking westward. His legs burned. His body ached, but he refused to rest. If Ross had appendicitis, Clay was in a race against time.
Darkness fell and in the distance a lone wolf howled. The sky darkened rapidly or so it seemed. One moment he hiked in gritty Alaskan light, and the next, stars twinkled above. In the distance he thought he saw lights on the horizon, and while they appeared closer with each passing hour, Clay still couldn’t tell how far off they were.
“Hang on Ross,” he muttered as he climbed a ridge.
The clear sky and quarter moon offered some light, and at the top of the ridge he got a good look at the lay of the land. Bands of forest, mostly dense spruce, spread out before him, with stretches of open tundra. He hoped to stick to the tundra, rather than negotiate forests. Animals could hide in the trees and surprise him more easily than out in the open.
Never had he ventured into the wilderness with so little. In Sitka Lake he’d volunteered on Search and Rescue missions. When the State Troopers put out a call for a missing hiker or hunter, he liked to lend a hand and put his military training to use. Before leaving, he’d read Doppler radar maps and pack flares, extra water and first aid kits.
And he always knew where he was going. SAR missions were set up in teams, each team assigned to a precise area. On this mission he only knew he headed west. Nothing more.
Unless it was how his body would rebel somewhere around the tenth hour of walking. Which would happen around five pm. When he’d walked out of Tabuk and later when he’d trekked to Samobor, he’d pushed himself so hard he had visions, ones he still remembered.
Now, he held fast to the image of the faces of Victoria and the children.
He pushed the other images away, and kept walking. The lights growing nearer as night passed. Just before dawn, a blizzard swept through. Despite the whiteout, he continued, checking his compass every two or three minutes. Winds howled and buffeted him, but he persisted until the blizzard blew into the distance and the morning dawned bright and clear.
He stumbled and when he looked down he realized he stood on asphalt. Crouching he tugged his glove from his hand and rubbed the dark surface, wondering if it was truly a road or a figment of his imagination.
Red lights washed over the roadway and a siren pierced the stillness. Clay rose and stared as a police car rolled to a stop on the side of the road.
“Not a good idea to stand in the middle of the road, son,” the officer said, shaking his head. “Lucky for you, I wasn’t an oil tanker.”
Clay swallowed, his throat dry as sand.
“Can I see some ID?”
The man squinted in the early morning light, his shoulders hunched against the cold wind, waiting for Clay to say or do something.
“I, uh…” Clay’s words trailed off.
The police man scowled. “You been out hiking? Ah shit, I can’t tell you how many of your kind we get. Guys from the lower 48 who read a few issues of Outdoor Magazine and decide they want to take a walk on the Alaskan wild side.”
“Right.”
The man shrugged. “Show me your ID and if it checks out, I’ll take you for some pancakes. That’s what I always do when I find some lost hiker. They’re always starving. I’m about to go on break. Rough night, huh? You look like you could use a coffee.”
“I didn’t bring,” Clay whispered. “My wallet.”
“Sure. You left it back at the Holiday Inn, huh?”
Clay shook his head and swayed. “I don’t need pancakes. I need a helicopter.”
Chapter Nineteen
Victoria
Victoria spent the day caring for Ross, doing the best she could to keep him comfortable. He slept fitfully, and cried each time he woke. Sometimes she consoled him by stroking his forehead or pressing a cool wash cloth to his feverish brow. Other times she climbed the bunk, sat beside him and read a few scenes from a book. He always thanked her and his fever-weakened voice made her heart pinch with grief.
Towards evening he grew disoriented and began calling for his mother.
His cries for his mother shook her so badly, that after he’d fallen back to sleep, she stole away to her room and wept. Sydney found her there and they stood together, clinging to each other.
“Is Clay going to make it to that town?” Sydney said, her voice tremulous.
Victoria always imagined the worst, but she couldn’t do that now. With Clay gone, she was the boss and had to steer the mood and conversation. She chastised herself for allowing herself to cry. Her weakness had made Sydney cry and fret.
She wiped the tears from her face. “He is going to make it to that town. And he’ll get back here as soon as he can. You wait and see.”
“I don’t want my brother to die.”
“He’s not going to. Help me bring some wood in and then take Charlie out.”
The girl did as she was asked.
When she took Charlie out, he tried to follow Clay’s path but sank in the snow and Sydney had to put on boots and a coat and help him back to the cabin. She half-carried, half-dragged the dog back inside.
“Search and rescue on a sixty-pound dog, is a work-out,” she huffed when she got back in.
“Next time put him on the leash. I don’t want you away from the cabin.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Victoria left the kitchen to take Ross a mug of tea. Mixed with a little honey, the tea was the only thing he would take from her. She was trying desperately to keep him hydrated. When she entered the bedroom, he was asleep. Even in sleep, his face was pinched with pain.
She set the tea down on the window sill and looked out. Where was he now? Was he safe? Was he alive?
Come back to me, Clay. I need you. We need you.
That night, Sydney slept in Clay and Victoria’s room and Victoria slept on the lower bunk. She wanted to be near Ross. Sydney did too, but she offered no argument when Victoria told her about the arrangement.
During the night, she woke and checked on Ross what seemed like every fifteen minutes. A few times she coaxed some warm tea into him. She wiped his forehead with a cool cloth. Either he shivered under blankets, or kicked the covers away and sweated.
When dawn broke the next morning, she heard him moan in his sleep. A good sign, she decided, and stumbled back to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee. While the kettle heated, she dressed, leashed the dog and took him outside.
Distantly, she thought she heard an engine. Her heart raced. She pulled Charlie to her side and listened, but heard nothing. She let Charlie go off-leash and told him to stay nearby. Scanning the clear, blue sky, she willed a plane to appear. A helicopter. Santa’s sleigh. Anything.
“They’ll never find us,” she muttered, her morose thoughts creeping back into her mind.
She turned back to the cabin, calling Charlie to come in. When she went up the steps she thought she heard the sound of an engine again. Charlie strolled past her, into the cabin. And then she saw a tiny speck on the horizon.
Unable to tell if it was a plane or a helicopter, she stared in disbelief. The aircraft looked like it flew towards them, but as she watched, it became clear they would miss them. They were heading too far to the south. She’d have to alert them.
Victoria darted inside, ran into the pantry and grabbed two bottles of vodka. Next, she snatched a box of matches from the stove.
Sydney came running. “What’s happening?”
“Plane. Help me with snow shoes.”
They hurried outside and Sydney strapped one snow shoe on while Victoria strapped on the other. She hoisted herself over the railing and took the vodka from Sydney. As quickly as she could, she made her way to the pile of pine saplings. The aircraft was definitely flying on a southward path.
She poured the liquor on the dry pine needles, and saying a silent prayer, lit the match. The flame flickered but the fire licked along the brown needles and brittle branches. When she poured more vodka, the fire gave a great whoosh and ignited the pile.
The heat forced her back, but she watched the flames devour the trees Clay had worked so hard to gather. The smoke obliterated the horizon, and the crackling drowned out any sounds. Until Sydney began shrieking. Victoria drew her attention from the fire to watch Sydney jump and scream and point to the sky.
Moving around the burning brush, she searched the sky until she saw the helicopter. Quickly, it bore down on them and soon the air pulsed with the hum of the blades. Victoria stared in disbelief. Charlie, standing on the porch, barked and barked, but when the helicopter flew over-head, he darted back inside.
As the helicopter lowered, the snow swirled, creating a blizzard. Victoria turned away to shield her face. As she returned to the cabin, she crouched down trying to protect herself from the gusts. The wind from the blades knocked her over a few times before she reached the cabin. When the helicopter’s door flew open, two people jumped out and ran toward the cabin. Clay followed behind and a sob tore from her throat.
She tore off her snow shoes and watched as he clambered out of the helicopter. He bent at the waist and trudged through the snow. When he got to the cabin, he mounted the steps. “Ross?”
“Weak. But okay.”
She stood for a moment, taking in the sight of him. His face was red and wind-chapped, and he looked more tired than anyone she’d ever seen, but he looked all right.
“You made it,” she whispered. Moving to him, she cupped his face. “You did it, Clay.”
“I told you that you and me aren’t done.”
She kissed him softly. She wanted to throw herself at him. Instead, she hurried inside the cabin. By the time she got to the bedroom, the medics had Ross strapped to the gurney and an IV started. Sydney followed them out, talking all the while. Telling her bewildered brother everything was going to be fine.
“I want to go home, Syd,” he muttered.
Victoria could hardly gather her thoughts enough to say a word. The men spoke to each other and communicated on the radio with a hospital. Sydney managed to get a word in, asking or more like telling the men she wanted to go with Ross in the helicopter.
“You the sister?” one man asked.
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
“Guess you’d better come along,” the man replied.
As they descended the steps, one addressed Victoria. “Another chopper is on the way. They’ll be here by evening.”
She stood on the porch beside Clay. They watched as the helicopter lifted from the snow. The sound of the engine faded and soon the aircraft disappeared into the endless sky. They were alone. The brush pile still burned although the flames had already consumed most of the dry branches. Charlie came to their side and sat on his haunches.
“You burned the brush pile,” Clay said. “Smart girl.”
He pulled a satellite phone from his pocket. “They’re going to let us know about Ross. The State Troopers have been in touch with our families.”
She tugged him inside the cabin, and helped him out of his coat and boots. He let her tend to him, offering little in the way of help, but watching her with a dazed smile. He looked exhausted. Barely able to stand and yet he smiled at her.
“When we get back, Victoria, I’m taking you out for a steak.”
“I thought we were having room service and you were going to keep me locked away?”
His smile widened. “That too.”
Taking his hand, she led him down the hallway to the bedroom. Charlie lay on the smaller bed, curled up, his nose under his tail.
“I see how it is,” Clay muttered, easing himself into the bigger bed. “The Commanding Officer leaves and everybody breaks rank.”
“Good thing you’re back.” She curled up behind him. “We missed you something awful. I missed you something awful.”
Clay didn’t reply. He wrapped her in his arms and was instantly fast asleep. Sometime in the night, she heard him speaking. He talked to someone on the phone and after a moment, she realized it was Sydney. She spoke excitedly and Clay chuckled.
“You don’t say,” he murmured, his voice rough from sleep. “Right, some kids will do anything to get out of their chores.”
Through the phone she heard Sydney laugh, and a moment later, Clay chuckled and said goodbye to her.
“Ross is fine. Mom and Dad are there. His appendix didn’t rupture.”
“What made you laugh?”
“Ross said after they discharge him, he wants to come back to the cabin.”
Victoria smiled. The words gave her a bittersweet feeling. The cabin felt different without the children. They were safe now. Most importantly, Ross was safe. “It was special, wasn’t it?”
He tightened his hold on her. “It was.”
She stroked his arm. “Everything’s going to change now.”
“Not everything.”
“No?”
He pulled her closer, nuzzling her neck, his b
eard scratching her skin, giving her shivers. “You and I aren’t done yet,” he said. “We’re just beginning.”
Epilogue
Three years later
Victoria
Clay stepped inside the front door of their home. He’d take Sydney into Napa to practice for her driving test she hoped to take the following week. He stood in the doorway, a stricken expression on his face.
Victoria met him with a kiss and a smile. “You look traumatized.”
He scrubbed his hand over his face. “A little.”
“Told you.” Ross sat in the middle of their living room, surrounded by a toy train track. Two-year-old Travis crouched on the other side of the track, reassembling a bridge that had fallen over.
“Driving with Sydney is pretty scary,” Clay said.
Sydney pushed past him, a grin on her face. “We didn’t even drive, because my driving instructor, Captain Obvious, wouldn’t let me. All we did was practice parallel parking, which, I might add, I did perfectly.”
“On the twenty-seventh try,” Clay muttered.
“Mom and Dad said she can have a car if she passes her driving test, so she can pick me up from football practice.” Ross said. “I’m not getting in a car with my sister.”
Clay nodded. “If you do, keep your helmet on.”
Sydney laughed loudly, set her purse on the counter and crossed to the living room. “Very funny.”
Travis looked up from his train track and grinned at Sydney. He got to his feet and went to the girl, who pulled him onto her lap. She might not be the best driver, just yet, but she had a way with children. Travis adored her. He adored Ross too.
“Travis thinks Auntie Syd is a good driver, doesn’t he?” she cooed.
The boy stuck his thumb in his mouth and nodded.
Sydney chuckled and kissed the top of his head.
“He’d agree to anything you told him too,” Ross said.
Sydney and Ross came to visit Napa several times a year, staying for a week at a time. A few times they’d come with their mother and father, who had reunited. When their children went missing, and were feared dead, the estranged couple had made peace. According to Ross, they never squabbled anymore. The whole family was close now, happily living in Sitka Lake. Even he and Sydney rarely bickered.
