The Death of Alan Chandler (The Red Lake Series Book 1)

by Rich Foster

  Was she lonely without him? He mused. Does she think I abandoned her? Is she heartbroken? Alan imagined Lilly alone, burdened by not knowing what had happened to him. She would be bearing the brunt of the debts that were surely piling up. Like Tom Sawyer enjoying his own funeral, Alan would mentally play out the scene where he came unannounced into the kitchen and surprised Lilly! He imagined her shock and then of course her joy. It was thoughts such as these that led him to think that the problems in their marriage would be surmountable. Yet he found it impossible to imagine life with Lilly beyond that moment when he came back home.

  He wondered how long it might be before rescue actually arrived. The more time he spent thinking of Lilly the more he felt the need to get back. He felt guilty for enjoying his life in the woods. It might be hard to make her understand why he sat in one place for two; three, or four weeks instead of hiking out once he had food.

  Lilly would accept it, but could he ever adequately explain it? But the thought of leaving camp, and again heading off into the wilderness still frightened him. Of course, he told himself, after two weeks of Karl’s tutelage he had far more confidence in his ability to survive. But the memories of the misery he endured in the wild were still fresh, cold, fatigue, illness, and hunger. No amount of time in the woods would make him comfortable with the yellow eyes of the mountain lion staring him down. Nor could he forget buzzards circling lazily in the heavens waiting for the moment he ceased to stir.

  It was early light when it happened. Karl had gone off in the woods to empty his bladder. Alan lay on his back watching the morning sky while waiting for the sticks he added to the night’s remaining coals to flare up. The daylight spread through the clearing quickly. Karl returned from their latrine pit. A foul odor followed him.

  “What reeks?” he asked.

  Karl shrugged, “I slipped and fell. I landed on the rotting carcass of that coyote. Karl’s loose pant leg was spotted with moist stains. Before Alan could make further comment, Karl’s arm suddenly pulled up to his chest. He winced in pain and sunk to his knees. His breathing was rapid and he massaged his chest with his right fist.

  “I think it’s my heart, son.”

  Alan hopped up, suddenly fully awake. He helped Karl to stretch out by the fire and placed a bag under Karl’s legs to elevate his feet.

  “You can’t be having a heart attack!” Alan said, barely hiding the anxiety in his voice.

  “I don’t think it’s a bad one, but I doubt that I can wait until those satellites find us.”

  Alan thought for only a moment, “Then I will need to hike out for help!”

  “I’ve no doubt you can do it.” As Karl spoke, pain passed across his eyes.

  Quickly Alan began to prepare for the hike out. For the last few weeks he had often studied the aero maps from the plane. At first it was driven by curiosity to figure out where he had been. Later he had was drawn by the tantalizing prospect of emerging from the woods on his own, a modern day Livingston.

  Aiming for light and swift travel, he packed quickly. Then he amassed food stores and firewood near Karl. He put his medicines and the nine-millimeter pistol within easy reach.

  Off to the side, Ralphie watched.

  You’re gonna be all right Alan!” he said.

  “You know, I think you’re right,” Alan replied with a smile. Then Ralphie was gone. It was the last time Alan ever saw him with such reality.

  Within half an hour he was ready to hit the trail.

  “How do you hold a course?”

  “Pick two objects ahead, keep them lined up until the first one is close and then pick up two more.”

  “How do you find north?”

  “North star. Split the shadow of a stick in the ground an hour apart, moss on trees, or a wrist watch.”

  “Most important rules?”

  “Protect body heat. Maintain food and energy reserves. Rehydrate as often as possible, and….”

  Karl interrupted him, “You’re gonna be just fine! Just don’t fight the wilderness.”

  Alan looked at Karl lying on the ground.

  “Are you going to be okay?

  “Sure,” Karl replied. “I’ll see you in a few days!” Karl dug into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. “Here, take this, you might need it to catch a ride into town. Alan took the proffered money.

  Alan continued to linger. At last he looked up, “I just wanted to say thanks!”

  Karl waved him off with his hand. “It’s been a pleasure. Now get outta here!”

  Alan turned and strolled briskly toward the far side of the glen. Karl called after him? “Hey you forgot your smokes!” He held up a crumpled pack with three cigarettes left.

  “I don’t need them, I quit!” Alan yelled back and a moment later disappeared into the woods.

  For ten minutes Karl did nothing. He lay still waiting to see if Alan returned. Then he sat up and lit a cigarette. He inhaled deeply, held the smoke and then let it slide out again. Then he clenched the cigarette between his lips and let the smoke curl up past his face. Taking his pocketknife he cut the stained pants leg open. Even with the cigarette smoke he involuntarily made a face at the stench that reached him. The stump of his amputated leg was heavily infected, parts had turned black, a certain sign of gangrenous tissue.

  He poked at the dead tissue with the tip of his knife but he felt nothing.

  “It would have been a hell of a lot easier to have actually died of a heart attack, than this is going to be,” he muttered to himself. “It’s too bad I didn’t have another week of penicillin”. “What the hell, maybe he’ll make it back in time.” And so saying, he got up and hobbled down to the creek where he tried to wash away the lingering smell of death.

  Alone in the woods Alan made steady time. The terrain going east was less torturous than where he had been before and he was able to maintain a brisk but steady pace. Whenever he passed anything edible he would pause to quickly gather some food and then would nibble as he walked. He sipped water at every opportunity. Now time was of the essence. Soon he would be back in the world of corner pharmacies so it was not important if he contracted giardia.

  With food both in his body and his pack, and armed with knowledge and dry clothes Alan didn’t feel the usual trepidation when the sky turned rose colored. As dusk grew around him he continued to walk. Before the last light failed he worked his way uphill away from the low-lying areas where the coolest night air would pool. With reluctance he curled up for the night and was soon fast asleep.

  The next morning he was ready to go before dawn. He continued east as the tops of the trees were just beginning to show against the gray sky. As the morning passed storm clouds gathered overhead and he began to hear the low rumble of thunder careening among the mountains. Soon hard drops of water hit his face and the air turned chillier. He slipped on a rain parka he had made from the vinyl in the rear plane seat. The rain grew in intensity. He wiped his face with his hand and continued on.

  The storm passed quickly and the thunder rolled down the valley from below now. The sun broke through in scattered pools and the woods grew steamy with the late June heat. His ankle began to throb. It was not fully recovered and he was setting a hard pace. By early afternoon he came to the Anasett River. Less than two days, he thought. He ate a late lunch beside the water and soaked his foot in the languid water that slid by. The hills were flattened out here and there was room for the river to spread out. It was broad perhaps a hundred feet, but he could see the shallowness of it. Below the bank he watched a trout play in the stream. He tried to tempt it with a hook and line, but the fish was disinterested.

  Rather than hike in wet shoes, he slung his sneakers around his neck and waded in. The water swirled lazily around his legs and he found it easy to maintain his footing. Shortly, he was climbing the damp bank on the far side of the river. He took one last look at the Anasett, thinking it the most idyllic of rivers. He made himself a promise to return someday and camp by its banks, to spend a day
casting a line in its waters, and exploring its banks. But as it is so often in life, he would never make the return.

  By late afternoon he was far past the river. Once again he was working his way mostly upgrade as the hills once again steepened and he mounted another range. Sunset found him well above the surrounding countryside. To the west was the setting sun an amber ball low in the sky. Below it lay softer lower hills near the Anasett River. Behind him, to the east, the range continued to climb but he was near the top. On the far side he expected to find the Snake Back Trail.

  Alan’s desire to continue onward into the twilight was tempered by the swelling in his ankle. He swallowed a couple aspirins that Karl had forced upon him despite Alan’s insistence that aspirin was a good blood thinner for heart attack victims. Karl had been insistent that he didn’t need them, which, unknown to Alan, was the truth.

  Sleep wrapped itself around him before the last light failed. As the moon climbed into the night sky, Alan dreamed of another night with a full moon and fireworks exploding in the sky. He dreamed of his brother who had found a giant flare down by the quarry the week before the fourth of July. They had hidden it behind the tool shed. Instead of puny sparklers they would have a giant roadside flare. In the dream his brother struck a match and lit the wadding at the top of the flare. But it sparked like a fuse not a flare and a brief moment later the stick of TNT exploded while his brother still held it. Alan was blown back and landed with a bone-crunching thump on the hard ground. Stars exploded in the dream and then it was gone and Alan opened his eyes to the night sky. He was drenched in sweat despite the night air.

  Sleep had left him. At this elevation the trees were sparse and the moonlight full. Visibility was good, the light intense enough that he could make out colors around himself, and so he decided to move on. He ate pieces of smoked fish while he wrapped his ankle with long strips of cloth. The ankle was stiff but serviceable. He laced up his shoes. Then he washed down two more aspirins with a slug of water.

  He turned and left the ghost of his long dead brother behind and worked his way slowly uphill between the shadows and the boulders. By the time dawn began spreading her long silvery fingers across the sky he was at the top of the range. Looking to the east he watched the sun break the horizon. It burst forth in a golden blaze of joyous light. He had gained several thousand feet and the air was cooler than the day before. He savored the warmth of the sun as it caressed his face.

  Around him the landscape was gray granite rocks, large boulders and a scattering of trees and low shrubs. The terrain was open and easy hiking. At his approach lizards would scurry aside. Ground squirrels scurried from nook to cranny, chattering at him while gathering seeds. Overhead an eagle soared. While he watched, the bird dove toward him, swooped across the rock and carried off a careless and unsuspecting squirrel. Alan found he now accepted it as the way of Nature. Some live and some die, he thought. One could spend all one’s days looking out for life’s eagles but that didn’t guarantee your longevity. It seemed better to get on with the business of living.

  Alan began to descend and just along the main tree line he came upon the Snake Back Trail. It was as Karl said, well worn from much use. It seemed to head toward the higher peak above the one he had just crossed. Turning south he began to follow the trail as it meandered along the ridge. It wound up and down but as it slanted to the southeast there was a net loss in elevation.

  Late that afternoon Alan was shocked, as he came around a curve in the trail, by two people trudging toward him under heavily laden packs. He could not have been more startled had he been facing a bear or mountain lion. He hadn’t interacted with anyone other than Karl for weeks and he found himself skittish of humans as though he had become a feral animal himself.

  As for the couple that approached him, their smiles of welcome failed as they more clearly saw the rusticated figure that approached them. Their faces showed dismay as they eyed the bearded, bedraggled figure closing quickly. His clothes were headed toward being rags and his pack was far too small to hold adequate gear. In fact, the pack appeared to be little more than a tattered rag.

  They knew he was coming out of the woods and his appearance urged caution to any reasonable person. The hikers stepped aside to allow Alan to pass. To him they appeared to be in their twenties, a muscular boy and a lithe blond haired girl. Both were neatly groomed for being in the woods whereas Alan appeared more closely related to Sasquatch. They tried to smile and nodded a polite hello. “How far is it to the trail head?” Alan asked.

  “The boy found his voice, “About two days, right around twenty miles.”

  “Thanks,” said Alan.

  “How long have you been in the back country?” the girl asked.

  Alan thought, “About six weeks I guess!” They looked at each other in disbelief.

  “But where is your gear?” they chorused.

  Alan patted the small sack on his back. “Right here! Then with a grin, he poked the youth’s backpack with one finger. “Anyone who needs that much gear to survive in the woods is either ignorant or crazy!” And so saying he turned and walked away.

  The boy and girl knew the disheveled man was certainly crazy. The woods suddenly felt far more dangerous than they had previously thought. The hikers were relieved when Alan had gone.

  On the trail Alan was like a horse heading for the stable. He moved with long easy strides, pushed by a sense of urgency. Late in the day he passed a small group of hikers. He gave them only the briefest of nods and was unaware of the gaping stares that followed him out of sight. By the time night fell he came to the fire road where he continued to hike in the bright white moonlight. The night was warm and sticky. The moon had crossed the peak of the sky when he reached the trailhead. Several cars were parked, but no one was about. Alan thought about pushing on to the ranger station but he was exhausted and had been hiking with a pronounced limp for the past couple of hours. He found a dense area of brush that he crawled into. He curled up and fell asleep as comfortably as any wild animal of the woods.

  The next morning he tried hitchhiking but cars seemed to speed up as they passed him. After walking for several miles an old pickup slowed and two ranch hands going into town gave him a lift to the Ranger Station at Silver Lake State Park. In three and a half days he had covered what was normally a five or six day trek.

  Alan washed up in a restroom. In the ranger station, Alan announced that he had found a crashed airplane, that there was a survivor and that the survivor needed medical attention. The Ranger was incredulous in that he had no reports of a missing aircraft but to his credit he saved his doubts until after he summoned Search and Rescue.

  Alan answered the Ranger’s questions as briefly as possible. He told how he was trailblazing cross-country when he encountered a downed aircraft, the man’s name was Karl and he had been there for a period of time. The Ranger found Alan taciturn and gave up trying to draw him out. He was used to loner types who hiked solo and had little to say. He suspected that Alan might be cultivating marijuana in the mountains and made a note to watch for any bright green patches as they flew in.

  Within a half hour a helicopter hovered in and settled to the ground driving dust and loose debris before it. Without shutting down the rotors a crewmember hurried over and gave Alan a helmet and gestured for him to come aboard. They boarded the chopper and it lifted off leaving the Ranger behind. Alan gave the pilot the aero map with the crash site marked. The plane swept swiftly over the ranges that Alan had trekked. He saw the Anasett River pass below them. Soon they were circling the location where the plane should be. Alan expected to see smoke rising through the trees from the fire. Certainly Karl would put green leaves on the fire to make it smoke. The pilot and co-pilot exchanged a look that bared their doubts about Alan’s veracity. The third crewmember swept the area with infrared heat sensors as the craft hovered and then slowly moved up the valley. Suddenly he called across the microphone, “We’ve got a hot spot at two o’clock!”

&n
bsp; The pilot nosed the chopper forward and soon they could see a break in the trees. Below them the aircraft was visible, but there was no sign of Karl. The fire pit appeared to be nothing but ashes, but on the infrared scope it glowed bright green.

  “There’s no where close to set down! We’re going to have to use the winch.”

  As the helicopter hovered the crewmember harnessed up, hooked into the winch and stepped out of the craft. Alan watched him turn slowly in the air as the co-pilot lowered him to the ground. Shortly the man was on the ground and the winch was retrieved. The co-pilot hooked on a gurney and then lowered it to the ground. Alan watched as the man below unhooked the gurney. Soon he saw him dragging Karl from under the wing of the plane, he seemed limp. With no sense of haste the man strapped Karl into the stretcher, then gestured for the hook.

  The pilot nosed the craft into position and the hook was lowered. The crewman on the ground hooked it to the gurney and then stood on the gurney rails and hooked himself on. The pilot rev-ed the engines higher and the craft rose straight up. The winch spool began rolling, its whine silenced by the roar of the rotors.

  Alan watched as the basket came close. Karl seemed limp. As it came abreast the open port, the basket slowly rotated and Alan could see Karl’s face. Karl’s eyes were open but they stared unseeingly off into eternity.

  The body was left in the gurney. It was fixed in position outside the aircraft, then the helicopter banked hard and headed for their base.