Survive or Die

by Catherine Dilts

  “I’m going in,” Jeremiah said.

  The campers crowding around the open tent flap parted. To his surprise, Madison followed. He hadn’t thought much of the IT specialist when he saw her in the hallway at Bender Clips. Here at camp, she was proving to have a lot of gumption. Jeremiah blushed when he noticed the womanly underwear raining down on the dirt floor as the animal wrestled with the box of candy.

  “Not my Snickers!”

  Madison marched two steps closer to the raccoon and raised her fire tending implements. Jeremiah wondered if she intended to beat the hapless animal to death. The raccoon glared over its shoulder with glittering black eyes. When it hissed, she took a step back, bumping into Jeremiah.

  “Make some noise!” Berdie yelled.

  The instant Jeremiah and Madison swung their tools together, making a racket like a blacksmith’s hammer on an anvil, it occurred to Aubrey that she, Berdie, and Sotheara were blocking the creature’s only obvious exit. The raccoon leapt off the cot and bolted.

  Aubrey grabbed Berdie’s arm and pulled her to one side as the receptionist made the same move in the opposite direction. Sotheara tried to push the two backward, no doubt to protect the raccoon from humans, and not the other way around. The three fell in a heap in the doorway. The raccoon trampled over them in its haste to escape.

  The crowd scattered. Grant worked his way through the fleeing campers to give Aubrey a hand up. She brushed pine needles off the seat of her jeans.

  “Are you ladies okay?” he asked.

  Berdie examined her arms and patted herself down. “No scratches. Nothing broken.” She glanced at Sotheara’s feet, her eyes wide. “You’re bleeding.” The top of Sotheara’s left foot oozed pearls of blood from a scrape. “If you wore shoes, that wouldn’t have happened.”

  “You stomped on my foot with your Army boot.” Sotheara pointed at Berdie’s desert camo boots. “And what about Aubrey? Should she wear shoes on her arms?”

  “She’s right,” Grant said. “Not about the shoes, but your arm, Aubrey. You’re bleeding.”

  “You could catch rabies if that raccoon bit you.” Berdie took a step back.

  Aubrey examined her arm. “It’s not a bite. I scratched my arm on something when I fell.” She placed a hand on the tent. “That.”

  A bent screw stuck out of a tent pole.

  “Have you had a tetanus shot recently?” Berdie asked.

  Aubrey glanced at Grant. As if he would know. She was the one who managed the family doctor visits. “It’s not a puncture wound. I should be okay.”

  “You two need to see Dale,” Berdie said. “I’ll help Madison clean up.”

  At that moment, Madison emerged from the tent, her face flushed. A carved wooden wolf peeked from her right hand. Jeremiah followed, protectively holding her left arm.

  Aubrey wondered briefly what service Madison had exchanged for Jeremiah’s assistance. Naw. They hadn’t been alone long enough for anything to happen.

  Lacking an update for Operation Clean Sweep, Sotheara called Sage to fill him in on the latest camp shenanigans instead. When Sage told her to accompany Aubrey to the infirmary, Sotheara insisted her scratch was not worth the trip.

  “That’s just your cover while you get the EMT to talk,” Sage said. “He’s a local, and it sounds like he’s concerned about the environment. Bats, at least.”

  Sotheara cared about the environment as much as anyone in their group, but she felt increasingly uncomfortable snooping. To the Clean Sweep people, the employees of Bender’s Clips were just ignorant cogs in the industrial wheel. Now she was supposed to treat a caring guy like Dale as just a means to a goal. She trotted to catch up with Aubrey and Grant.

  Dale clamped an old-fashioned landline phone between his ear and shoulder as he scribbled notes on a pad of paper. He placed a hand over the telephone’s mouthpiece.

  “Hi, Mrs. Sommers. Back so soon?”

  She raised her arm to display the scratch, and held out her newly bandaged right hand.

  “Me, too.” Sotheara lifted her scraped bare foot.

  Dale held up one finger and returned his attention to the phone. Harv Temmen reclined on the cot dominating the one-room infirmary, an ice pack on his knee.

  “Are you okay?” Grant asked.

  “Might have something broken,” Harv said. “Torn at least. I’m going home, as soon as I can drive.”

  Lucky Harv, Sotheara thought. He won’t have to play Bender’s sick game any more.

  “What about Survive or Die?” Grant asked. “You won’t win any treasure chest keys if you leave.”

  Harv’s laugh had a bitter edge. “I should be giving golf lessons at a country club, instead of sweating on that factory floor. My own fault, I realize, but soon that’ll change. I have a job lined up this fall. I was hoping to work until then. Oh, well.”

  Dale hung up the phone. “Mr. Temmen, the doctor in town would like to take a look. Do you think you can drive to Lodgepole?”

  “I’ll crawl on my hands and knees if it means escaping Survive or Die.”

  Harv removed the ice pack and slid his legs off the cot. He grimaced as his leg buckled. Grant grabbed him before he fell.

  “I’ll take you to Lodgepole,” Grant said.

  “I can drive myself.” Harv tested his leg again, but putting weight on it obviously caused a lot of pain. “I don’t want to come back for my car.”

  “You’re not driving anywhere, Mr. Temmen,” Dale said. “My shift ends soon. Then I’ll take you to town.”

  “I want out of here now!” Harv’s face flushed, and he sounded a little hysterical.

  “I have an idea,” Sotheara said. “Grant can drive Harv’s car, and I’ll follow in Grant’s car so we can come back to camp. That way, nobody has to wait.”

  “The sooner, the better,” Harv said. “First I need to get my gear from Chipmunk cabin.”

  Grant supported Harv, helping him hobble out of the infirmary.

  Dale bandaged Sotheara’s foot, without a single “this wouldn’t have happened if you wore shoes” comment and lots of smiles. If only she didn’t already have a boyfriend… Sotheara had forgotten anyone else was in the room until Aubrey piped up with a lame comment.

  “Harv seemed like one of the least likely of us to have a wreck.”

  Dale shook his head. “In bad conditions, even an experienced driver can roll an ATV.”

  It had nothing to do with Operation Clean Sweep, but Sotheara felt compelled to speak. Maybe Jack Bender had seen Aubrey snooping in Brown Bear cabin. He could have set up the trip wire. He was there at the right time. Aubrey deserved to be warned.

  “This was no accident. There was a cable in the mud pit. Someone intentionally caused Harv’s wreck.” She turned to Aubrey. “But they didn’t mean for him to crash. Harv took your turn, remember?”

  Aubrey’s mouth hung open, and Dale froze in the act of retrieving a roll of gauze.

  “I’m not making this up,” Sotheara said. “Ask Chance or Bud. They found the cable.”

  The infirmary phone rang. Harv was packed, and the men were ready to drive to Lodgepole. Sotheara left reluctantly. In her opinion, someone needed to stay with Aubrey. Like her husband. She was in danger, and from the look on her face, now she was scared. So was Sotheara.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Sotheara’s revelation stunned Aubrey. Why would someone want to hurt her? Possibly kill her? Maybe Candace had seen Aubrey crawl through her window, or Jack had spotted her under Nel and Stewart’s bed. Playing amateur detective had to end now. If it wasn’t already too late. Which seemed likely. If she was close to solving Stewart’s murder, a few more questions couldn’t hurt.

  “Dale, have there been an unusual number of accidents at this camp?”

  “You’ve kept me busy. But no, nothing out of the ordinary. Other than Mr.
Neamly dying the first day.” Dale turned from the supply cabinet, an epinephrine injector in his hand. “Ironic, huh? A man dies just yards away from the medicine that could have saved his life. Maybe if I had been here—” He shrugged. “It’s a shame. Mr. Neamly’s death could have been prevented.”

  “Not if someone stole his epinephrine injector,” Aubrey said.

  “Stole?” Dale shook his head. “If you’re implying someone deliberately caused Mr. Neamly’s death, I’d have to disagree. A bee is an unreliable murder weapon.”

  “How often do people die of bee stings?” Aubrey asked.

  “More often than you’d think. Well, I guess I understand your concern. I heard Mr. Neamly was kind of fanatical about keeping his injector nearby. This is going to sting.”

  Dale swabbed Aubrey’s right palm with an antiseptic cleanser. She sucked in her breath through gritted teeth. Then he went to work cleaning the cut on her arm. Finally, he treated and rewrapped the rope burn on her left hand.

  Aubrey wondered if the injector that fell out of the blankets and onto the floor had been the one that could have saved Stewart’s life.

  “Have other people gotten stung in this camp?” she asked.

  “That’s another thing.” Dale applied ointment to Aubrey’s palm. “I haven’t seen anything but sugar bees here. Some people call them sweat bees. They’re docile.”

  The bee that had hovered around Aubrey’s sweet roll had seemed slow to anger, even after she swatted at it. She thought of her son Cody capturing bugs in glass jars. Some didn’t seem to notice, but others struggled mightily to free themselves from their glass confinement.

  Better to sound ridiculous than bear the burden of guilt if another camper died. Especially if it was herself. The sun would set soon on the third day of camp. Only four days remained to find Stewart’s killer. Aubrey took a steadying breath, then plunged in.

  “I cut my hand on a broken canning jar. It was under Stewart and Nel’s bed. It could have contained bees.”

  She waited for Dale to question why she was in the Neamly’s room, much less under their bed. He didn’t ask.

  “I’m surprised the police didn’t notice the jar,” Dale said.

  “The police didn’t think it was a crime scene,” Aubrey said. “The jar is still there. I found it before the ATV challenge.”

  Jeremiah casually followed Rowdy Hunter as he escorted the Lodgepole police officer through camp. They went to the infirmary, then continued to Brown Bear cabin accompanied by Aubrey Sommers and the EMT. Humans were unobservant creatures. The few campers who noticed dutifully minded their own business.

  Maybe Grant’s wife had stolen something from one of the rooms, other than the blankets she had tossed out the window. If so, her entire team was in on it.

  Jeremiah strolled behind Brown Bear cabin until he heard voices. There was no need to conceal himself, as Aubrey Sommers had done earlier. The side of the cabin was in deep shadow as the sun dropped behind the mountains.

  “Is Mr. Dudley in this cabin?” the police officer asked.

  “Who?” came from Aubrey.

  “Wilson Dudley.”

  “His ex-wife called my office,” Rowdy said. “He was on the roster, but he didn’t show up. Probably changed his mind about coming, and just didn’t tell anyone.”

  The police officer mumbled something Jeremiah couldn’t hear. He didn’t know anyone at Bender Clips by the name Dudley, but if the guy was a carpet walker, Jeremiah and he might never have crossed paths.

  “Under here,” Aubrey said.

  A shuffling noise.

  “I don’t see anything,” the police officer said.

  “There were dust bunnies and broken glass,” Aubrey said.

  “Looks like the floor has been swept and mopped,” the officer said. “Was your cleaning crew in here recently?”

  “The wranglers clean the bathrooms daily,” Rowdy said. “Bedding’s changed every three days. A little tidying up as needed. But the deep cleaning’s done after a guest leaves.”

  “Why would the wranglers clean under the bed,” Aubrey asked, “and not pick up the rest of the room?”

  “Doesn’t make sense,” Rowdy said. “I’ll ask if anyone knows who did this.”

  “Hey, what’s going on here?” Jack Bender’s voice.

  “Who are you?” the officer asked.

  Introductions were made. Nothing in particular seemed to be accomplished, except making Jack Bender cranky.

  A random memory popped into Jeremiah’s head. Naw, couldn’t be related. Still, he wondered whether this Wilson Dudley guy had lost a shoe in the bushes.

  When Aubrey returned to the tent, she pointed at the blanket room divider.

  “Is Rankin home?” she whispered.

  Berdie tugged the curtain aside. “Nope. He’s off somewhere with his head stuck up Jack’s keister.”

  Aubrey motioned for Berdie and Madison to huddle around her cot. She repeated what Sotheara told her about the cable in the mud pit.

  “Did you tell the police officer?” Berdie asked.

  “What police officer?” Madison asked.

  “The one who just left camp,” Berdie said.

  Aubrey wondered how much she needed to tell Berdie. The camo-clad receptionist seemed to see all and know all.

  “That was Police Chief Darryl Boyd,” Aubrey said. “He checked under the bed for the broken canning jar, but it had been swept and mopped. The rest of the room was still a mess.”

  “Someone destroyed the evidence,” Berdie said.

  Madison scrunched her face into a doubtful expression. “I still can’t see how that would work. Stewart wouldn’t have gone near a jar full of bees.”

  “The jar could have been set on top of a door,” Aubrey said, “so when he entered the room, the jar fell and broke.”

  “Or tossed through the window,” Berdie said. “The jar smashes, the liberated bees are angry, and they swarm the first person they see.”

  “But how did the jar end up under the bed?” Madison asked.

  Footsteps crunched in the gravel outside the tent. Then there was silence. Berdie jerked the tent flap open, startling Grant. He backed up a step.

  “What do you want?” Berdie asked.

  “My wife. They’re serving dinner,” he said to Aubrey. “If we hurry, you can get vegetarian stew before the meat eaters. Sotheara’s already in line.”

  So he had been listening to her complaints about the food. Aubrey grabbed a fleece jacket.

  “How’s Harv?” Berdie asked.

  “They’re keeping him overnight at the little hospital in town,” Grant said. “His brother’s coming tomorrow.”

  “What’s the prognosis?” Berdie asked.

  “Regardless of what the doctor might decide, Harv won’t return to camp, or Bender Clips. He’s hoping his brother lets him start the golf pro job in Florida early.” Grant reached for Aubrey’s hand, noticed the bandage, and looped her arm through his instead. “You ready?”

  Walking under the moonlit pines gave a touch of romance to the evening.

  “What were you gals talking about?” Grant asked.

  “Oh, just girl stuff.”

  “I heard something about bees.”

  Aubrey hadn’t shared much with Grant. Maybe it was best to clue him in. For his own protection. There might be a murderer in the camp. She was reluctant to admit she’d been snooping and spying, but Aubrey could preempt false rumors by giving Grant the facts. Crazy as they might sound.

  “When the EMT was bandaging my hand, he said it seemed strange that a bee had stung Stewart. The bees in camp aren’t aggressive. I even swatted one away from my sweet roll at breakfast, and it didn’t get upset.”

  “Maybe that’s because it was morning,” Grant said. “I’ve heard bees are sluggish when the temper
ature is cool.”

  “But what if someone trapped aggressive bees, and put them in Stewart’s room?”

  Grant stopped, pulling Aubrey to a halt. “Everyone knew Stewart was allergic to bees. Are you suggesting someone intentionally put bees in his room? They killed Stewart?”

  Aubrey nodded. “Murder by honeybee. Officer Boyd didn’t find the broken jar. Underneath the bed had been swept and cleaned.”

  “What jar? What bed?”

  Rowdy rang the triangle. Aubrey’s stomach growled.

  “I need food,” she said. “Then I’ll tell you everything.”

  The campfire circle was crowded with hungry campers. Aubrey wasn’t first in line, but Millie had set aside meatless stew for the vegetarians. When Aubrey thanked her, the cook’s brief smile resembled that of the rodeo queen portrait hanging on the chuck wagon wall.

  Grant accepted a bowl of elk stew and joined Aubrey on the Stockton’s Revenge log. Maybe her talk of murder had made him feel protective. After people had downed second servings of Millie’s delicious stew, Rowdy called Stockton’s Revenge to the scoreboard in front of the chuck wagon. Aubrey noticed Madison tuck the carved wolf Jeremiah had given her into her jacket pocket, then follow. Rowdy held up Aubrey’s bandaged hand.

  “Did Rocky Raccoon bite you?” Rowdy asked.

  She couldn’t explain that she’d cut it on a potential murder weapon. “No,” Aubrey said, “the raccoon didn’t get me.”

  “His mouth was too full of chocolate,” Madison said.

  “Sotheara was wounded, too.” Berdie pointed at the girl’s bandaged bare foot. “But we managed to evict the pest with no casualties.”

  “It was teamwork,” Sotheara said. “The spirit of cooperation.”

  “Then you cowgirls win treasure chest keys.”

  Bender jumped up from his camp chair, making the ice in his drink clink. “Why do they get a key?”

  “Raccoons carry rabies,” Rowdy said. “If it bit one of these gals, this could have been a life or death situation, and they survived, so they get the treasure chest key.”