Now was her chance. Aubrey could slip the rest of the way out of the jacket, releasing Candace’s hold. But the sleeve was the only thing keeping the woman from plunging over the falls. Aubrey willed her numb fingers to clamp tight onto Candace’s lifeline.
“Hang on,” Grant yelled. “I’m coming!”
The sleeve tore at the shoulder. Aubrey grabbed for the damp fabric, desperate to keep her hold. As Grant ran onto the bridge, Aubrey clutched the sleeve, the muscles in her arms burning. Candace pawed wildly at empty space with one hand, but the other held firm to the jacket sleeve.
Tears blurred Aubrey’s vision as she struggled past the pain to hang on. The river tore at Candace. The sleeve slid through Aubrey’s hands.
Grant’s arms wrapped around Aubrey from behind. Candace clawed the bridge, snapping off fingernails and scarring the damp, slick boards.
“Let go,” Grant yelled. “She’s got hold of the bridge. Let go or you’ll be pulled in.”
Aubrey sobbed with frustration and exhaustion.
“Candace!”
Aubrey’s wrist went numb. She couldn’t keep her fingers clasped on the torn jacket sleeve. The wet material slipped from her hand. With the release of Candace’s weight, Grant pulled Aubrey securely onto the bridge.
Grant scrambled on hands and knees. Aubrey’s heart caught in her throat as he leaned out, reaching for Candace. The jacket waved in her free hand. Grant snagged it and pulled. Candace released her tenuous grip on the bridge and clutched the sleeve with both hands. Grant sat back, trying to reel her in. A tree branch rushed under the bridge and smacked into Candace. She lost her grip with one hand, and for an instant her eyes met Aubrey’s. Then the fight seemed to drain out of her.
She let go.
ROWDY HUNTER’S
SURVIVAL TIPS
Whether it was through your own hard-earned skill, or plain dumb luck, you’re gonna live to tell the tale. First thing, you’re gonna want a hot shower and a square meal. You might even tell yourself you’re never going near the woods again. Like city life is safe. Who are you kidding? Facing a survival situation is like falling off a horse. The best thing you can do is get right back out in the wilderness. It’s in your blood now. And maybe your lower intestine if you forgot to boil your water downstream from a beaver lodge.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Sotheara couldn’t argue with the rogue receptionist when she presented their options. Follow Bud, possibly preventing him from killing and eating another camper, or head to Lodgepole and call the police. Berdie strongly suggested fleeing to Lodgepole.
“I feel guilty not warning people,” Sotheara said.
“You’re assuming we’d make it back to camp before Bud. Or that he isn’t hiding along the trail, waiting to ambush us.”
The rising sun lit the horizon with pink and red streaks. The initial excitement of finding the toxic dump had kept Sotheara going, but now exhaustion, cold and hunger hit her hard.
They reached the gravel county road leading to Lodgepole. As soon as they had cell a signal, Sotheara called the police. She put her phone on speaker, and she and Berdie gave Chief Boyd directions to Bud’s last known whereabouts.
Next, Sotheara flooded Sage’s email with photos, including one of the topo map with a pirate-style X marking the dump. Operation Clean Sweep was a success. Sotheara had proved herself to her fellow eco-warriors. Everything should have been great. Instead, when they saw the first house on the outskirts of town, she inexplicably burst into sobs.
The receptionist didn’t try to stem the tide of emotion. Instead, she patted Sotheara on the back and murmured comforting words. When Sotheara calmed down, she was able to vocalize her distress.
“Everything’s changed. We’re done with Bender Clips. There’s no going back.”
“That’s no cause for tears,” Berdie said.
“Operation Clean Sweep put everyone out of a job.” Sotheara sniffed. “I didn’t care before, but now that I know everyone, I realize how this will impact them.”
“If the EPA does shut the place down,” Berdie said, “you’ll have done your coworkers a favor, although they might not realize it at first. Bender Clips is a rotten place to work. Plenty of companies operate ethically. They have to, if they want to stay in business.”
“Still, my intention was not to hurt anyone,” Sotheara said. “Especially not you.”
“I got what I came for. Rowdy’s apology. Bender getting spanked for environmental violations is icing on the cake. I’m ready to retire now.”
Sotheara wiped her sleeve across her face. “I’m an accountant to the bone. I suppose I can work for an environmental non-profit. They keep books, too.”
Berdie gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Let’s get a move on. I’m starved.”
Sotheara sneaked a sideways glance at the receptionist.
“Don’t give me that look,” Berdie said. “I’m not in the mood for human flesh.”
Sotheara attempted a laugh. “After you told Rowdy you’re Mad Stockton’s neice, some people believed you were capable of cannibalism.”
“I only hope my family’s reputation is vindicated, now that Bud revealed the truth.”
“If they catch him.”
“By the way, kid, thanks for what you did back there.”
“I didn’t stop Bud,” Sotheara said. “You did.”
“But only because you shocked me back to reality by taking a shot. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“I’m tougher than I look.”
“Appearances don’t count for much,” Berdie said. “I should know. What I meant was I didn’t expect you’d lift a finger in defense of humanity, yet this week, you pulled several human butts out of the fire.”
“Me?”
“Challenge One, you broke protocol to help Madison Wilhelm off the rope bridge. Later in the week, during the scavenger hunt, you scared Bud away from Jessie. That took nerve.”
“I didn’t know he was planning to kill her.”
“And yet you prevented another atrocity at the hands of that monster. Moments ago, you saved my life while I lost my cookies.”
“That was pure instinct.”
“Accept it, kid.” Berdie threw an arm around Sotheara’s shoulders. “You haven’t given up on people.”
The clear cornflower blue sky above the deep green of pines promised a beautiful Colorado summer day. Berdie was right. Something had happened to Sotheara during the horrible, wonderful week of Survive or Die camp. Something good.
Jeremiah didn’t trust Rankin. The guy might fade away before all the loose ends were tied up.
“I’m going to check on Aubrey,” Madison said. “She and Candace should have crossed the river by now.”
“They’ll be fine,” Jeremiah said. “Grant went after them.”
Madison extracted her hand from Jeremiah’s. “You can practically see the river from here. I’ll be right back.”
Jeremiah had vowed to never let Madison out of his sight. Now he realized how foolish that idea was, when Madison was capable of taking care of herself. He needed to encourage her independent streak, if she was going to survive the frontier lifestyle.
He stared out the bus window, fogged with humid heat. He couldn’t see anything. Minutes ticked by, and Madison didn’t return. Jeremiah waited as long as he could stand, then climbed off the bus. He arrived at the riverbank in time to see Aubrey and Grant scramble off the bridge and fall onto the grassy bank.
“Where’s Candace?” Jeremiah asked.
Wrong thing to say, as both women erupted in hysterical tears. Jeremiah reached a hand tentatively to touch Madison’s arm. She threw herself against him, sobbing into his shoulder.
Once the women calmed down, he and Grant escorted them to the bus. Dale the EMT insisted on cleaning up Jeremiah’s blood-crusted face.
After convincing the women to go to camp, Jeremiah and Grant joined Search and Rescue on the hunt for Candace Milbank.
They worked their way down both sides of the river. Candace hadn’t managed to grab hold of anything. According to Grant, she might not have even tried. The net that had saved Aubrey on the first day of camp was only strung across the river during challenges. With nothing to stop her, there was one place Candace could go. Over Thunder Falls.
After Search and Rescue determined it was a recovery operation, not a rescue, Jeremiah and Grant hitched a ride to camp. They parted ways, Grant trudging wearily to Otter Creek cabin, and Jeremiah toward Chipmunk. He grabbed a towel and a change of clothes, then headed for the bathhouse. A long hot shower would be just the thing.
Even as tired as he was, a flash of movement in the aspens caught Jeremiah’s attention. Hunter’s instincts. They never completely shut off. Someone was circling Bud’s meat shed. Jeremiah set his clean clothes in a neat stack on a stump. He stepped off the walking path and crept closer. Was a thief breaking in to steal wild game? No, it was the old wrangler dragging a gas can with his left hand.
“Hey Bud! Need some help?” As Jeremiah approached, the chemical smell of gasoline assaulted his wounded nose. “I think you’re spilling—”
“Mind yer own business.” Bud dropped the can. It made a glugging sound as golden liquid poured onto the ground. Bud reached across his torso, pulling the revolver left-handed from the holster on his right hip. He kept his right arm pressed to his chest. A dark stain soaked the front of the wrangler’s shirt. What the heck?
Jeremiah raised his hands. “Whoa. Just trying to be helpful.”
Bud moved the pistol to his right hand, still tucked against his chest. He reached into a jeans pocket for a lighter.
“You don’t want to do that,” Jeremiah said.
“Shut up, jackass. You’ll high tail it out of here if you know what’s good for you.”
Bud flicked the lighter open, then dropped it, igniting the gasoline. He grabbed the pistol with his left hand and fired. Either his aim was poor because he was shooting left handed, or Jeremiah was protected by a guardian angel. He ducked behind a pine and pulled his gun from his vest in one fluid movement.
“I got you in my sights, Bud. Put your gun down.”
“Shoot me! Go on, you chicken shit! Do it!”
Bud charged toward Jeremiah, firing as he advanced.
Jeremiah had no choice.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
The Lodgepole police department didn’t have personnel to handle crowd control, plus Candace’s death at Thunder Falls and Bud’s at the meat shed. Campers grumbled when they were told to stay put until the State Police arrived. Extinguishing Bud’s fire revealed an additional casualty inside the shed. Well before noon, Survive or Die camp was crawling with law enforcement officers from different agencies.
Aubrey wondered if she would ever see home again. She slouched on the front steps of Rowdy Hunter’s mansion of a cabin. The stress of a night lost in the forest would have been plenty. Add to that Candace plunging over the falls, followed shortly by Jeremiah shooting Bud, and she suspected she was in shock.
More than anything in the world, Aubrey wanted to see the kids and wrap all three in a bear hug. Well, maybe a mom hug. She’d had enough of bears.
Grant, fresh from a shower, walked around the campfire circle. Aubrey stood, and they joined the throng of jittery post-police-interview campers inside Rowdy’s cabin. Two people offered them seats on the leather sofa, next to Madison.
“Where’s Jeremiah?” Grant asked.
“Just my luck. I finally meet a nice guy, and he kills someone.” Tears filled Madison’s eyes. She grasped Aubrey’s hand. “He’s still being questioned. Do you think he’ll go to prison?”
“It sounds like a case of self-defense,” Grant said. “Jeremiah is lucky there were witnesses.”
If Police Chief Boyd and the Colorado State Police didn’t want people talking, they would have had to apply a liberal quantity of duct tape to the campers’ mouths. The cabin buzzed with a dozen excited renditions of the adventure in the forest, until Berdie and Sotheara called Madison’s phone from the historic hotel in Lodgepole.
They had discovered a toxic dumpsite, where Bud confessed he was a cannibal, and tried to add them to his menu. When Sotheara claimed Millie had unwittingly served their coworker Wilson Dudley for several meals, chaos erupted. A few folks ran from the room, gagging.
Shirley took center stage next while she accused the old wrangler of attempted murder. She confirmed Berdie and Sotheara’s tale of Bud’s cannibalistic intentions, and of killing the coworker no one had missed. Except for the unfortunate Mr. Dudley and Candace, all campers were accounted for, safe and relatively sound. When Shirley ran out of steam, all the faces turned to Aubrey’s group on the sofa.
“Tell us what happened to Candace,” Shirley said. “You were on the bridge with her.”
Aubrey wasn’t ready to talk. Before campers could press her for details, the screen door banged opened, and Jeremiah Jones entered the room. Madison stumbled past campers seated on the floor and threw herself into his arms.
Jeremiah refused to give the details of his encounter with Bud Entwhistle. When he and Aubrey, the two people closest to the grisly action, wouldn’t talk, the excitement level in the cabin dropped.
“It just doesn’t seem right,” Ellen said. “Candace dies, and Bender lives?”
“Not fair,” someone muttered.
“While I was being interviewed, the police got a call from the hospital,” Jeremiah said. “Bender didn’t make it.”
Jeremiah felt a strange depression when he should have been happy to be alive. Like when he’d stalked a buck, and finally taken the animal down with one clean shot, the adrenalin spike faded fast, leaving an ache about taking a beautiful animal’s life.
Bud the wrangler had been one ugly son of a gun, inside and out. The world was better off without him. That thought didn’t raise Jeremiah’s spirits any.
One did ease his funk, however. If he wasn’t mistaken, and he had been many a time before, he had accomplished what he’d come to camp for. Madison Wilhelm would become Mrs. Jones before the year was done.
Still, he felt a hollow place where resolution should have been. Jeremiah must not have been the only one to feel that way. The campers gathered inside Rowdy’s cabin looked lost. Madison pulled Jeremiah to a seat on the sofa, then opened her laptop on the coffee table and began tapping keys.
Grant stood on the staircase, raised both hands, and waited for silence. He asked Pastor Olufemi to say a prayer to send people on their divergent paths. Althea passed around a box of tissues as the tears started. The Pastor really knew his stuff. He managed to make people mourn for Stewart Neamly, who no one had much liked, and Wilson Dudley, who no one remembered. Jack and Candace had gotten their just desserts as far as most of the Bender Clips employees were concerned, and yet Omari spun their few good deeds into a fine eulogy.
Next Grant called for everyone’s attention. Expectant faces looked up at him.
“Mrs. Bender plans to close Bender Clips.”
A ripple of murmurs, and comments like “after all this?” rolled through the crowd.
“Maybe it won’t close now,” Shirley said. “Doug will inherit the company, won’t he?”
“Yeah, he’ll be a better boss than Jack,” Tweet said.
“I wouldn’t bet my life on it.” Grant paused. “Sorry for the poor choice of words. Let’s show up at work Monday. Maybe we’ll learn what the family plans for the factory.”
“Hey guys,” Madison looked up from her laptop screen. “I’ve got Rowdy on Skype.”
She turned her laptop to face the crowd. Rowdy reclined on a hospital bed, his leg bandaged and elevated.
“What are you all doing in my cabin? There better
not be anything missing, or your boss loses his deposit.”
“Our boss is dead,” Jeremiah said.
Rowdy whistled. “Man, oh man. I hope his check clears.”
Millie, his wife as they now knew, slapped his arm. “Have some consideration for the dead, you idiot.” She looked at the camera. “What happened to the old sot?”
“Heart attack,” Grant said. “Candace switched his medicine.”
“Of all people,” Shirley said, “she was the last I expected to murder the boss.”
“It’ll be hard as hell to sell team-building events at the death ranch,” Millie said. “Once you get a reputation, it’s impossible to shake.”
“That’s your problem now, babe,” Rowdy said to Millie. “Survive or Die camp is under new management.”
“I’m taking over,” Millie explained, facing the screen. “Like I should have years ago.”
“I got an offer for a new reality show,” Rowdy said. “Murderous Intent. People will be thrown into survival situations and pursued by a killer.”
“Sounds fun,” Madison said. “Not.”
Rowdy’s cell phone rang. “Hang on, folks. Hollywood calling.”
Rowdy ignored the campers while he spoke into his phone.
“What about the ranch?” Grant asked Millie.
“Now that Rowdy’s got this hot Hollywood deal going, he’s finally willing to settle with me fair and square. He’s moving to our other ranch near LA, and I’ll keep the Colorado property. I’m ready to sign those divorce papers. Better that, than killing him.”
“You’re the one who hit Rowdy in the head,” Aubrey said.
“Then pushed his ATV down the hill.” Shirley nodded. “Good job.”
“Those were satisfying moments, but I’d rather enjoy my freedom than go to prison over that louse. He can have California, and the high taxes and crazy people. I’m staying here.”
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