Survive or Die

by Catherine Dilts

  The woman had a pharmacy in the pale blue purse.

  “A hand over here,” Berdie called. “Hurry!”

  The tiny receptionist tried to stop Madison from clambering onto the log bench, as she sang the signature song from the musical Oklahoma, off key and loud.

  Aubrey grabbed Sotheara’s arm. “We’ve got to stop her.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Jeremiah moved to help Madison, but her teammates crowded him out, trying to talk her down.

  “Too bad Omari went to bed already,” Berdie said. “A pastor must have experience handling tipsy parishioners.”

  “Madison is something way beyond drunk,” Sotheara said.

  Jeremiah started to fetch the pastor, when Rowdy and Bender’s Defenders approached.

  “I know what you think,” Madison announced, waving a hand toward the upturned faces. “You all think you’re better than me.”

  This was going badly. The girl reminded Jeremiah of a treed mountain lion, and his coworkers of dogs circling for the kill.

  “Is that a fact?” Bender glared up at Madison. He was at least as wasted as his employee.

  “Did you set your drink down?” Jeremiah asked. “Or let anyone hold it for you?”

  Madison answered with a burst of song, this time a pop tune.

  “You think someone spiked her drink?” Ellen asked.

  “I’ve read about it in the news,” Jeremiah said. “Losers that can’t get a date put drugs in an unsuspecting girl’s drink.”

  Half the women upended their cups and plastic wine glasses onto the dirt.

  “Who else had strawberry margaritas?” Jeremiah asked.

  “I had one,” Shirley said, “but I feel fine.”

  “Me, too,” Candace said.

  Bender leered at Candace. “Maybe you didn’t drink enough.” He slapped Candace’s backside with his free hand. The other clutched a half-empty tumbler of whiskey sour.

  Rowdy snorted. “In any other case, I’d say some cowboy was desperate to get into a woman’s pants. But we’re talking about Miss Wilhelm here. Seems more likely someone was tired of her singing.”

  While the campers argued about whether Madison was the victim of a seduction aid or an attempt to shut her up, the girl tottered on the bench.

  “We need to get her down before she falls,” Sotheara said.

  Too late. Madison took a tumble. Jeremiah was ready. He and Grant broke her fall, although not gracefully. She looked up at Jeremiah, a goofy smile spreading across her face.

  “My hero.”

  Madison wasn’t a small gal. Jeremiah struggled to lift her.

  “Take her to the infirmary,” Ellen said.

  “The EMT cleared out hours ago,” Rowdy said.

  “If Madison was poisoned,” Aubrey said, “we need to get her to the hospital. Grant, you know the way.”

  “I don’t have poison in my bag,” Lavelle said. “There’s nothing in there that a good night’s sleep won’t cure.”

  “We don’t know it came from your purse,” Sotheara said. “Or how much she was given.”

  “We’re making assumptions here,” Grant said. “Whoever did this could save us a lot of trouble if you’d tell us what you put in Madison’s drink.”

  Of course no one did, and in fact people began slipping away to their cabins. The show was over. Jeremiah hugged Madison against his chest as he carried her to the tent.

  “Hold on.” Sotheara frowned at Jeremiah. “You’ve been awfully friendly toward Madison. Were you trying to put her in a romantic mood?”

  “If I’m interested in a girl,” Jeremiah said, “I court her the old-fashioned way.”

  “How is that?” Sotheara asked. “Club her over the head and drag her to your cave?”

  Their nanosecond of detante in the Camry dissolved under the heat of her suspicion.

  “In that case, I wouldn’t be carrying her to your tent. I’d take her to my cabin.”

  “Jeremiah suggested Madison’s drink was spiked,” Aubrey said. “A guilty person doesn’t reveal their modus operandi.”

  Sotheara held up her hands. “Sorry. There’s been a lot of weird stuff going on.”

  “There sure has,” Jeremiah said. “Now what do you say we get this girl somewhere safe.”

  Berdie led the way to the tent, followed by Aubrey and Sotheara. Jeremiah carried Madison, and Grant watched their six, bringing up the rear.

  “Even if she’s drugged,” Berdie said, “I’ve seen worse. Lavelle’s right. Madison just needs to sleep it off.”

  Jeremiah set Madison down in front of the tent flap. She wobbled on unsteady feet.

  “That’s far enough,” Sotheara said. “No men allowed.”

  “I haven’t even been inside,” Grant told Jeremiah, “and my wife is staying here.”

  “What about Rankin?” Jeremiah knew the general layout from his foray to rid the tent of the uninvited raccoon, but he couldn’t admit he’d been inside Rankin’s space. “He’s a man. Unless you’ve taken care of that for him.”

  “We’ve got Rankin cordoned off in the back corner,” Berdie said. “The front of the tent belongs to the girls. We like our privacy.”

  Aubrey touched Jeremiah’s arm. “Madison will be fine. You and Grant will just be in the way. We’ll take good care of her.”

  Aubrey and Sotheara supported Madison while Berdie pulled the tent flap open. Aubrey knew she’d spend a sleepless night, watching over Madison like she had sat vigil many a night with a sick child. Before the women could maneuver Madison inside, she bent over and heaved.

  “She’s vomiting blood!” Sotheara shrieked.

  “Strawberry margarita,” Berdie said.

  At least the splattering puddle landed outside the tent.

  “We can rest easy now,” Berdie said. “Whatever was in Madison’s drink came out.”

  Sotheara left to find a shovel to bury the mess. Aubrey and Berdie helped Madison perch on the edge of her cot. Aubrey placed a bucket at her feet. Berdie opened a bottle of water and held it to Madison’s lips.

  “No,” she groaned. “It’ll just come back up.”

  “That’s the idea,” Berdie said.

  She was right. Madison eventually flushed everything out of her stomach. When she finally slept, Sotheara, Berdie and Aubrey huddled on their cots.

  “If we find out who did this,” Sotheara began. Her anger melted into a weary sigh.

  The quiet accountant was showing a feisty side Aubrey hadn’t expected. Perhaps cruel reality was messing with her textbook view of the world. Oh, to be that young and naïve again.

  “Does your pacifist philosophy allow for retribution?” Berdie asked. “Or would you just let the creep off the hook?”

  Sotheara rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “I don’t know. Maybe it depends on how Madison feels in the morning. Or whether the guy admits what he did and asks for forgiveness.”

  “What makes you think it was a man?” Berdie asked.

  “It’s obvious. Someone tried to seduce Madison by slipping a pill in her drink.”

  Berdie shook her head. “Poison is a woman’s weapon.”

  “If it was poison,” Aubrey said. “We’ll never know now, because no one wanted me to take Madison to the hospital. If she’d had her stomach pumped—”

  Madison shifted on her cot.

  “Who would want to poison Madison?” Sotheara whispered.

  “Candace or Rowdy,” Berdie said.

  “But Candace said she had a strawberry margarita.”

  “Doesn’t mean she didn’t drug Madison’s,” Berdie said. “That’d be a good cover. Have the same drink. Madison and Aubrey caught her making out with Rowdy. If Bender finds out, he might fire Candace. So Candace tries to eliminate the witnesses.”

  �
��Stewart’s cameras are missing,” Aubrey said. “So Madison and I are the only witnesses left, as far as Candace is concerned.”

  “That hardly seems worth killing someone over,” Sotheara said.

  “What about the cable?” Aubrey asked. “You think it was rigged to hurt me, not Harv.”

  “True,” Sotheara said. “And I suppose the only motivation to do that would be the Candace theory.”

  Berdie snorted. “Everyone here is ready to kill for their jobs. Stewart might have been the first victim, but now Madison and Aubrey are in the crosshairs. Who knows what could happen next?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Wednesday

  Sotheara was certain Madison would be unable to compete the next morning. She gamely stood in the chuck wagon line for breakfast with the rest of Stockton’s Revenge. The woman who had been singing show tunes and dancing on the log bench last night was pale and quiet.

  “You look good,” Sotheara said. “Considering.”

  “Everyone saw me. If I could leave, I would. But I need my job. I’ll never live this down.” Tears leaked down Madison’s cheeks.

  Sotheara leaned against Madison and gave her a one-armed squeeze. “Everyone knows you were drugged.”

  Madison cradled her head in her hands. “The one good thing is that Stewart wasn’t around to take photos of me.”

  “I didn’t see anyone filming,” Sotheara said. “Which is amazing, considering that people have their phone cameras going all the time.”

  “I still say we should have called the police,” Aubrey said.

  “The evidence is long gone.” Madison looked green, her fingers pressed to her lips.

  “If someone wanted to kill you,” Berdie said, “they may try again.”

  That didn’t make sense. Why would anyone want to kill Madison? Unless. One possibility Sotheara had been reluctant to share with her teammates last night. Madison was the IT guru for Bender Clips. She had access to every bit of information in the company. Including the accounting records. Maybe Madison had run across the same discrepancy that brought Sotheara to camp. Only now, the accounting issue had taken on a new dimension. A deadly one.

  Candace’s anger about the incriminating photo was small potatoes compared to Operation Clean Sweep. But then, why was Stewart murdered? He wasn’t even an employee of Bender Clips, and his wife Nel had nothing to do with accounting.

  Sotheara didn’t think Madison could look more miserable, until she saw breakfast. Pancakes topped with chunks of strawberries swimming in red syrup.

  Aubrey thanked the chuck wagon cook when she loaded her plate with vegan pancakes, even though the lack of eggs and milk made for sadly flat disks of mushy flour. At least Millie had tried. They joined the team on their bench. All except Rankin, who stood beside Jack Bender.

  Candace sauntered up to Stockton’s Revenge dressed like a streetwalker in denim short shorts and faux hiking boots with four-inch heels. Her purple team T-Shirt stretched taut across her overabundant bosom. Aubrey felt drab in her mustard-yellow team shirt and capri slacks.

  “How did you ladies sleep last night?” Candace asked.

  “As well as we could,” Berdie said, “considering the condition of our tent.”

  “And the condition of our roommate,” Sotheara said. “Some people’s margaritas were stronger than others.”

  “Your tent had to be much more comfortable,” Candace said.

  Madison glanced at Aubrey, fear in her eyes. Maybe Candace had noticed that some of her wool blankets were missing, and with them, the epinephrine injector. Aubrey had no idea in whose room it had been hidden.

  “If anything, it was colder last night,” Aubrey said.

  “It was freezing,” Madison agreed, nodding her head vigorously, then wincing.

  Candace pursed her painted lips. She turned, and sashayed over to Bender’s Defenders.

  “She knows,” Madison whispered. “Do you think she was mad enough to poison me?”

  “If that’s the case, why didn’t she slip both of you a mickey?” Berdie asked.

  Rowdy rang the triangle. Madison grimaced and pressed a hand to her temple.

  Madison huddled on her log bench, a pink hoodie zipped to her chin. Dark circles sagged under her eyes, and her skin had a sickly cast. Jeremiah clenched his hands. Someone had hurt her last night. Was it for seduction, anger that her team had won a treasure chest key, or because she suspected Stewart had been murdered? The reason didn’t matter. Woe to the perpetrator when Jeremiah caught up to him. Or her.

  He took a seat on his team’s log bench next to Stockton’s Revenge. The cook had outdone herself. He dug into a paper plate buried under pancakes and sausage.

  “The fifth Survive or Die challenge will test your hunting skills.” Rowdy grinned and held his hands up when Sotheara objected. “Don’t worry. It’s not hunting season, so the elk and deer are safe. And I’m gonna ask my friend Jeremiah to let us hold his rifle for the duration.”

  Jeremiah jumped to his feet. “I’d like to see you take my gun.”

  He heard Fawn mutter, “Maybe we can pry it from his cold, dead hands.”

  “I don’t doubt your ability to handle a firearm, Mr. Jones. You’re an expert, I can tell. But it’ll be dicey when we turn a bunch of greenhorns loose in the woods.”

  “We need to be able to defend ourselves,” Jeremiah said. “This camp is dangerous.”

  A few campers shifted on their benches, their eyes roving over their coworkers. He knew he’d hit a nerve. People were jumpy. Rightfully so.

  “Some of our Buckaroos have darn big knives.” Rowdy nodded toward Berdie. “I won’t put any restrictions on a well-honed blade.”

  Jeremiah started to object. Then he realized Rowdy hadn’t said anything about Rankin or Frank’s handguns. Rather than bring that inconsistency to Rowdy’s attention, Jeremiah handed his .22 to their camp host. His .40 Smith and Wesson remained tucked inside his slicker.

  “So what are we hunting?” Jeremiah asked. “If we’re not after game.”

  “The ability to identify and acquire food in the wilderness can make the difference between surviving or dying.”

  “Chapter Four,” Frank said. “In your book.”

  “That’s right.” Rowdy pulled his cowboy hat off and used it to point at Frank. “This particular hunting trip is more like a scavenger hunt, but I can guarantee it’ll be unlike any you’ve ever gone on before.”

  “I’ve only been on scavenger hunts in my neighborhood,” Yvette said. “I can’t imagine what we’ll be looking for out here.”

  “Then imagine this. Give them the list, Wrangler Bud.”

  Bud clomped around the perimeter of the fire circle, handing out papers to every team, with three lists and a map of the ranch.

  “Only one person on your team needs to get the items on the list,” Rowdy said. “The winning team is the one that brings back one of everything. In case of a tie, we’ll judge you on the quality of your find. Number one is to catch a fish.”

  The Belle Stars groaned, while the Wapiti team punched fists in the air.

  “The vegetarians should like number two,” Rowdy said. “Find ten edible plants. Don’t go tearing up the forest. You only need one sample of each to score for your entire Buckaroo crew.”

  Lavelle patted Fawn on the back of her brown team T-shirt.

  “We got our expert right here.”

  Jeremiah figured the aging hippie was an expert on marijuana plants, but doubted she would recognize the vegetation on Rowdy’s list. He wondered how she would manage hiking in the woods in her long denim skirt and leather sandals. Probably better than most of the Belle Starrs, who were only prepared for the perils of a shopping mall.

  “Number three, in honor of your fallen coworker, is a photo safari,” Rowdy continued. “Take pictures of the wildlif
e on the list. More pictures, more types of plants, bigger fish equals more points.” Rowdy turned his arm to check his wristwatch. “Be back here by five o’clock. Starting—” He held up a finger, keeping his eyes on his watch. His lips moved as he counted backward silently. Rowdy looked up. “Yee haw!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Mist softened the greens and browns of the pine forest, wrapping Stockton’s Revenge in a blanket of silence. The racket of the other Buckaroo Crews drifted out of hearing. Berdie took the lead. She seemed to know exactly where she was going. Rankin trailed a few paces behind until they reached a stream. He lumbered ahead, splashed across, and held out a hand.

  “I don’t need help.” Then Sotheara’s bandaged bare foot slipped on a mossy rock, and she grabbed for Rankin’s arm.

  Aubrey had fallen in the river once already. This babbling brook hardly compared, but it would be a long day if her sneakers got wet. She grasped Rankin’s forearm, massive and hard as a rock. He wore a black commando-style vest over his tight mustard yellow team shirt. His bulging vest pockets could have contained all the gear the women carried in their daypacks.

  “Quiet, team,” Berdie whispered. “Get your cameras ready.”

  The mist melted in the morning sun, steaming off rocks, grass, yucca and scrubby bushes. Then some of the rocks moved. Three does and two first summer fawns grazed on knee high grass. The team fumbled for cameras and cell phones, their windbreakers rustling like plastic shopping bags. Aubrey snapped first. Then the rest joined, like paparazzi at a Hollywood movie opening. When Madison’s smart phone flashed, the deer bolted.

  “Darn.” She examined her phone’s screen. “I didn’t get any pictures.”

  “Only one of us has to get the shot.” Aubrey checked her camera. “Not bad. You can tell they’re deer.”

  “I got a butt shot,” Rankin said. “This is a stupid challenge. Just because we got a picture of a deer doesn’t mean we could’ve taken one down with a rifle.”