Alaska Wild

by Helena Newbury

  My voice grew cold as I reached the worst part. “They took me back to the base. No one even recognized me, at first, I was so thin and weak. But I thought that, once they did, it would be...happy. I mean, I thought I was safe. I thought I was home.” I shook my head. “Then they told me I was under arrest for slaughtering civilians. They let me heal up in the infirmary for a little while and then they shipped me home and court martialled me. Hopkins—the guy who actually shot that family—he’d already told his story and it had had weeks to set in stone. No one wanted to mess with that, especially with Hopkins’ dad pulling strings behind the scenes. Easier to throw me in a cell for twenty years. Except, as soon as the handcuffs went on….”

  “You were back in the coffin,” said Kate in a choked whisper.

  I nodded and slowly exhaled. The worst part was over now, my story pretty much done. Somehow, her being close had let me get through it. “I knew that if they put me in a cell, I’d last a couple of hours at best and then I’d be gone. This thing inside me would take me over and I’d be back in the coffin again, for good. I couldn’t take that. So the first chance I got, I ran. Hitchhiked to the only place I knew where I could disappear, where I could breathe.”

  “Alaska,” said Kate.

  I looked up at the stars. “Alaska. Out here, I can control it. At least while I’m awake. But it’s still there. That’s what the guy in Afghanistan meant, when he said I was going to enter hell.” I touched the side of my head. “The hell is in here. And it’s always one step away from taking me back.”

  “Bastard,” Kate said under her breath.

  I took long, slow breaths of cool night air. “You know why he did it?” I asked. “You know why that guy did all that, told them to bury me alive?” I was still staring up at the stars but I felt her shake her head. “The family Hopkins killed were related to him. His sister, his brother-in-law, his nieces and nephews.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Someone did that to my sister’s family, I’d want to do just as bad to them. I don’t hate that guy. I hate Hopkins, for letting me take the rap.”

  Kate nodded, her silken hair brushing against the roughness of my stubble, and I turned to look at her. I’d gone four years without ever speaking to anyone about what happened when I was captured. In the military debrief, I’d just said I was held prisoner: I hadn’t been able to face the details. But with Kate there to keep me grounded, I’d finally done it. I sure as hell wasn’t healed but, just like in the caves, I’d found I had a new weapon against the thing inside me.

  She looked so different, with her hair down. Softer, more vulnerable. But also wilder, more sexual. I wanted her again immediately. But even stronger than the urge to fuck her was the need to wrap my arms around her tight and never let her go. That feeling I’d had ever since the plane, that need to protect her...it had developed into something else, something much deeper.

  She was way smaller than me. She was nothing like me: she was as city as I was country and we were on opposite sides of the law. And yet...the way her body fitted against mine was just perfect, like we’d been built for each other. She was the softness I needed...but she had the stubborn streak she needed to break through to me when any sane woman would have given up.

  Kate was blinking at me, searching my face for what I was thinking. “What?” she whispered.

  We were face-to-face, only inches apart, our bodies pressed together tight by the sleeping bag. I’ve never felt so goddamn close to someone my whole life. “You said something, before,” I mumbled, stumbling over the words. “Before we ate. Before we kissed.”

  I felt her breath catch as she remembered. “Yeah?” she asked cautiously.

  “Yeah,” I said. My voice had sunk to a low mutter. Goddammit, I wasn’t good at this stuff. “I wanted to tell you…”—this is insane!

  But it felt right.

  “I wanted to tell you I feel the same way.” I said.

  She swallowed. “You think you’re falling—”

  “No,” I said, cutting her off. “Not think.”

  We stared into each other’s eyes. And then I was kissing her, deep and hard but slow, like we were joining together. I closed my eyes and, even with the stars gone and the breeze having died, I still stayed right where I was instead of slipping off into the blackness. I could feel Kate’s silken hair tickling my cheeks and her soft lips on mine, could hear her breath and smell the warm, feminine scent of her...and that was all I needed in the world.

  45

  Kate

  At some point, we drifted off to sleep. We were on our sides, face-to-face, with his arms locked tight around my waist and my head cradled on his shoulder. I could have happily slept like that for a week, after everything we’d been through that day, but I woke up after only a few hours. The fire was dying down but it was still cozy inside the sleeping bag. At first, I couldn’t figure out why I’d woken.

  Then I felt Boone twitch. He was dreaming again, his eyes tight shut. And now, for the first time, I really had some sense of what he was going through. Dear God. Trapped in a coffin, the wood an inch from his face, knowing there were hundreds of pounds of dirt on top of him...it was a testament to the strength of his mind that the nightmares only came at night. He still thought he was weak for being damaged; the truth was, any other man would have broken completely.

  I knew not to wake him, now, but I couldn’t leave him, either. I pressed myself closer to him, letting him feel my warmth right along his body. But his face was still twisted up with fear and I could feel his heart hammering in his chest. I stroked his back, crushed myself to his chest, but none of it worked. I’ve never felt so utterly useless.

  And then, not knowing what else to do, I put my lips to his ear and started to whisper to him. I told him it was okay. I told him he was safe. I told him I was there.

  I told him I loved him.

  And gradually, gradually, his face started to relax and his heart slowed. I felt his arms and legs soften and it was only then that I realized they’d been locked solid...as if chained. My heart twisted. He goes through this every night. Every. Night. Maybe he would forever. And I was all he had to help him.

  I knew there were professionals who could help much more: psychologists, counselors. But those people were in cities. I understood why he could never risk going back to civilization: even in some tiny place like Nome, they’d be searching for him. And as soon as some cop put cuffs on him, or locked him in a cell...I imagined Boone disappearing into himself, becoming a hunched, glazed-eyed shell of the man I knew. By the time they let me visit him, he’d be beyond help, his mind locked in the blackness forever. My arms tightened around him. No way. Not my man. I was all he had? Well, so be it. I’d stay in Alaska with him. I’d hold him every damn night.

  But when he’d dropped back into a deep, restful sleep, I had trouble joining him. I was having doubts: not about how I felt about Boone, but about myself. Could I really give up everything I’d ever known? And there was something else: a sense that this wasn’t right. When we got to a town, Boone could stay on the outskirts and I could raise the alarm about Weiss’s escape and maybe Weiss would be brought to justice...but what about getting justice for Boone? He was going to be on the run for the rest of his life, while Hopkins went free.

  It went round and round in my head until I had no hope of getting back to sleep. Also, I had to pee. So I slipped out of the sleeping bag, inching my way out like a worm so as not to wake Boone, and pulled on my clothes—it was chilly enough, out of the sleeping bag, that I even pulled on my jacket. I snuck away through the trees: fortunately, there was enough moonlight to see by. Once I was far enough from our camp that I felt modest, I ducked behind a tree.

  I was halfway back when I stopped and frowned. My eyes had adjusted to the dark now and I could see Boone standing by the fire. Dammit! He must have woken up. He’d be wondering where the hell I was. I opened my mouth to call to him...and then froze.

  The sleeping bag was still full. Boon
e was still asleep.

  The man by the fire turned, peering into the darkness.

  Weiss!

  46

  Kate

  He was staring right at me...but with the bright light of the fire right next to him, the forest must have just looked like inky blackness. We stared at each other for another three beats of my pounding heart...and then he turned back to Boone.

  I went to shout a warning...but I realized Weiss wouldn’t have come alone. His mercenaries or whoever the hell they were could be all around me. I was more use if I kept the element of surprise. So I forced myself to keep quiet and ducked behind the nearest tree. I peeked out just as Weiss booted Boone in the stomach. “Wake up!”

  I winced as Boone groaned and cursed. He came to fast, though, and started to scramble to his feet...only to find Weiss’s rifle in his face.

  “Where’s Lydecker?” asked Weiss coldly.

  Boone let out a growl and sprang to his feet. Weiss swung his rifle and knocked him back to the ground, then cocked it and put the muzzle an inch from Boone’s eye. “Where’s Kate?” he demanded. The way he said my name, sickly-sweet, made my stomach turn.

  “Halfway to the next town,” Boone growled. “We split up: I led you one way, she went the other, asshole.”

  Weiss smiled. “Cute. Except we found you with the drone hours ago. I’ve been watching you on thermal while we drove. I particularly enjoyed watching you go down on her. Pity there’s no sound. Looked like she really screamed.”

  Boone suddenly grabbed the muzzle of the rifle and ripped it from Weiss’s hands. My heart leapt...but just as he got it turned around and pointing at Weiss, the three mercenaries stepped out of the trees, guns leveled at him. Behind them, the two marshals, also holding guns. Boone froze, hate-filled eyes still locked on Weiss, and Weiss grabbed his weapon back.

  “Be careful,” muttered one of the mercenaries to Weiss. He sounded a little disparaging, as if he didn’t think Weiss should be in charge...and there was something about his voice, a heavy accent that I’d heard but couldn’t place.

  “He just surprised me,” spat Weiss. He drew back his rifle and slammed the butt of it into Boone’s stomach, doubling him over. “Now where’s the bitch?”

  I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out in sympathy. The pain was as intense as if it was me who’d been hit.

  “I can get him to talk,” said the lead mercenary. That accent again. What was it?

  Weiss shook his head. “I owe this son of a bitch,” he said. “We should be out of this godforsaken place by now.”

  As they argued, Boone lifted himself...and looked right at me. He must have glimpsed me earlier and had been avoiding looking at me until now. He stared into my eyes...and mouthed go.

  It felt like the ground had dropped out from under me. What? Was he seriously suggesting that I…. I glanced around at the dark forest. Imagined myself out there, alone. Imagined Boone as Weiss’s prisoner. No!

  But Boone stared at me, his face like stone. Now, he mouthed.

  I shook my head.

  And then Weiss looked down and saw Boone’s gaze. Followed it to me. Peered into the darkness and raised his rifle—

  I saw Boone launch himself at Weiss’s legs and the shot went wide. But then the mercenaries were opening up, bullets ripping into the trees all around me.

  I had no choice.

  I ran.

  47

  Kate

  Without Boone slowing them down, I would never have made it. But I could hear his growls of fury and the sounds of his punches slamming into their bodies. The one time I dared to glance over my shoulder, he was tearing into all of them, using his size and brute strength to beat their numbers. I remembered what Marshal Phillips had said about his arrest: brawling. Mason brawled like no one else.

  I sprinted through the darkened forest with no direction in mind other than away. I stumbled over the uneven ground and almost fell flat on my face a couple of times, but my panic lent me speed. After a half hour of headlong running I slowed to a stop, my lungs bursting and my legs aching. I strained my ears but there was nothing. I’d lost them.

  I slumped over and just stood there bent at the waist for a few minutes, getting my breath back. It was only when I straightened up that my situation sank in.

  I was alone.

  That sensation I’d had ever since I first landed in Nome came back: I was an insignificant little speck in the middle of an unthinkable vastness. Only now, for the first time, I was on my own.

  And I had no idea where I was. The forest looked the same in every direction. I had to keep moving, to try to get to the town Boone had been taking me to. But where was that?

  Nausea started to churn in my belly, that same slow, sickening panic you get when you’re a kid in the department store and you turn around and your mom isn’t there. I’m on my own. Completely. On. My. Own. The sky was starting to lighten: dawn was coming. But I was still days away from reaching a town. I was going to have to spend the night out here, alone.

  I can’t do this! I hadn’t realized how much Boone had made me feel protected. Ever since the plane crash, he’d been no more than six feet from me. Now, I’d never see him again.

  I dug my nails into my palms to stop that thought. If I went down that road I’d break down completely.

  Think! What would Boone do? I took a deep breath. Eat. I should get some breakfast and get my strength back, then take a bearing from the sun like he showed me and head north—that’s the direction we’d been going in. I’d have one of the rations. I went to unsling my pack—

  MY PACK!

  I froze, staring at the empty place on my back, willing it not to be true. I looked at the ground around my feet in case I’d absent-mindedly unslung it when I stopped. But my pack was still sitting beside the campfire, where I’d slept.

  The chill seeped right into my bones. I had nothing. No food or water, no flashlight, no bedding, no changes of clothes. I was in the wild by myself with nothing but the clothes on my back. Even Boone wouldn’t be out here with so little. Oh, shit….

  I could feel my legs weakening. I just wanted to sink to the ground and I knew that, if I did, I wouldn’t want to get up again. So I did the only thing I could do: I looked at the dawning sun, figured out which way north was and set off into the forest.

  It was utterly quiet. The sound of my shoes in the undergrowth was swallowed up by the vast wilderness on every side of me. I tried to focus on walking, to not think about my situation, but the panic was rising inside me. I am so completely screwed. I have nothing to drink, nothing to eat. And back there somewhere, Weiss had Boone. Tears welled up in my eyes. Was he still alive? Weiss seemed to take great pains not to kill him: why hadn’t he just shot Boone in his sleep and been done with it?

  Boone had told me to go. I knew I’d done the right thing: I’d had no chance against six armed men. But the thought of never seeing him again….

  Distracted, I snagged my foot on a fallen branch and stumbled, arms windmilling. I managed to get my balance again but my ankle ached. I gingerly put weight on it and found it was okay but the experience left me shaking. What if I’d sprained it, or even broken it? Out here, there was no one to help. I could have wound up dragging myself through the forest with my arms until the wolves found me….

  After that, I walked more carefully.

  By midday, the first hunger pangs were really hitting. By mid-afternoon, my stomach was trying to eat itself and my mouth was painfully dry. I’d been walking all day but there was no sign of progress: the forest looking the same in every direction. How does Boone do this? How can he be out here alone, for weeks at a time?

  There were only a few hours of sunlight left when I saw the rabbit. It had its back to me as it nibbled at some grass.

  Oh God. No, I can’t.

  I looked down at my hands. I had no knife. I’d have to break its neck. Nausea rose inside me at the thought. But that’s what Boone would do. I have to eat.

 
I crept up behind it, hands flexing, barely daring to breathe. Move like Boone moves. Slow and then quick. I leapt—

  And suddenly it was in my hands. A flurry of paws but I held on.

  The rabbit bent its head around and looked at me with big, black eyes….

  I sighed and opened my hands. The rabbit hopped away into the trees. I’ll go hungry.

  I knew I needed to make some sort of shelter. The temperature would plummet at night and I had no sleeping bag to keep me warm. I had no knife so I had to twist branches off trees and then lay them together to make a sort of lean-to against the trunk of a tree: it might keep a little of the wind off me but I’d still be freezing.

  That’s when I felt the hard, awkward shape of something in my jacket. When I realized what it was, I wanted to punch the air. The flint and steel Boone had given me. I could make a fire!

  It took me a half hour of collecting twigs and hunting around for dry leaves to use as kindling, but I finally got it going. The first crackle and spit as a twig caught, the first glow of warmth against my hands...it was like heaven. I threw on branches, building it up, and sat down beside it. I hadn’t realized how cold I’d already gotten.

  The elation didn’t last, though. As I sat there in my pathetic little lean-to, holding out my hands to the fire, night fell. The forest went black, beyond the tiny circle of firelight. Somewhere close, a wolf howled.

  I’m not going to make it.

  Boone had said the nearest town was three days’ walk from his cabin. But when we fled, we hadn’t necessarily been going in the right direction. We’d gotten back on track but it could still be almost three days away and that assumed I could even find it. And somehow hunt enough food to stay alive. And find water. And avoid getting injured.