Inside the Echo

by Jen Blood

  Recluse, meanwhile, had done a full 180-degree turn on the path, searching for the source of the noise. Judging by the roar of the engine, whoever was driving was going like hell.

  Obediently, Ava and Violet went into the woods. Violet tried to drag Recluse along with her, but the dog would have none of it. After a minute’s struggle, Megan took hold of the dog’s collar herself and shooed the other women away.

  The sound of the engine got louder. It was definitely headed in their direction. Recluse pranced where he stood, nervous himself. Megan held tight to his collar to keep him from running away, or getting hit. This could be their salvation… Or, she reminded herself, it could be the shooter, coming for them with a mode of transportation that all but guaranteed he would catch up to them. Megan sent up a silent prayer that their nightmare was about to end, and help truly was just a few meters away.

  A few seconds before the snowmobile rounded the bend and came into view, Megan made her decision. Through the trees, she saw the blaze of yellow on the machine itself, and tried desperately to see the driver. When she failed, she grabbed Recluse and yanked him into the trees with her. She crouched there, waiting, until the snowmobile rounded the bend.

  She almost wept at sight of the MAINE WARDEN SERVICE insignia on the side of the sled when it finally came into view. She stood abruptly, one hand still wrapped tight around Recluse’s collar, and shouted as she waved her other arm over her head.

  “Hey! Stop! I’m with WildFire Expeditions—”

  She’d barely completed the sentence when the driver slowed the machine, though the fact that she was still well off the trail and partially hidden in the brush meant she couldn’t be positive whoever it was had seen her. At the same time, she felt a change in Recluse beside her. A low growl escaped the dog’s throat, something she felt more than heard above the roar of the engine.

  “It’s all right, Rec,” she told the dog. “This is a good guy.”

  The snowmobile slid to a stop. The driver turned to look in her direction, his helmet making it impossible for her to see his face. The weight of his stare and Recluse’s ratcheting anxiety raised her own enough that she paused where she stood. She didn’t step farther out into the open, painfully aware of her own vulnerability. Of the danger she may have brought to all of them.

  The driver continued to stare in her direction, trying to see through the patchy brush. He wore a heavy-duty Carhartt snowmobile suit over his clothes, so she couldn’t tell whether there was a Maine Warden Service uniform on under that or not. She wondered for a split second whether it might be Hogan, but dismissed the thought. She would know if it were him, whether she could see his face or not. Before she could decide whether to stay or run, she caught another glimpse of movement in the distance – this one slower. Someone on foot.

  “Hey!” Megan shouted again, louder this time, as a fresh surge of fear spurred her forward.

  At last, the driver spotted her through the trees. He killed the engine and started to get off the machine. As he did, Recluse started barking so violently that Megan thought he would tear the collar right out of her hands. The man on the snowmobile held his hands up in a gesture clearly meant to indicate that he meant no harm, but Recluse didn’t ease up. He continued barking, straining so much that Megan had to fight to hold him at bay.

  “Recluse, settle!” she shouted, but the dog ignored her.

  The driver moved to remove his helmet, not trying to get any closer. Megan, likewise, remained where she was. She was eager for rescue, but preferred to do it without more bloodshed – something that seemed inevitable the way Recluse was going at it.

  “You’re with the WildFire group?” the man asked, once his helmet was off. He was younger than she had expected, most likely mid-twenties, with blond hair and a pale complexion. She’d never seen him before.

  “I was,” she said. “Damn, are we glad to see you.” She had to shout to be heard over Recluse, who still wasn’t giving an inch.

  “It’s okay, buddy,” the man said, his voice low, extending a hand. Thankfully, he didn’t take a step closer.

  “I’m sorry about this,” she apologized. “He’s been through a lot the last few days. We all have.”

  “I bet,” the warden said. He took a step closer, and Recluse responded with even more ferocity than before, forcing Megan to yank him back with all her strength.

  “Maybe you should take a step back,” she suggested. “I’m not sure what his problem is, but he seems serious. Have the others been found yet? My sister – Heather?”

  “We’ve got them,” the man assured her. “They’re okay. Your sister’s in the hospital, but she’s all right.” Though he looked a little hurt at Recluse’s reaction, the warden didn’t hesitate to retreat a couple of steps.

  Even with the additional space and Megan’s renewed hope, however, Recluse continued to bark. The warden put the radio to his ear, plugging his other ear to shut out the mad dog Megan struggled to keep under control.

  And then, suddenly, something changed. In that instant, it felt as though the wind shifted. The world slowed. Megan heard the sound of thunder, familiar enough now that she knew even before the bullet struck…

  The warden fell to his knees, the radio falling from his hand. The shot had come from behind him; the exit wound sprayed blood across the snow, far enough that Megan felt it wet her face, stain her clothes. Someone – Ava, Megan thought – screamed. Megan stood for a second, frozen, until there was a rustling in the trees where the shot originated.

  A man dressed in black from head to foot stepped out, his face the only thing uncovered.

  “Hey, baby girl,” Justin drawled. His smile was thin, his face drawn. Prison hadn’t been good to her ex-husband. “I’m home.”

  Recluse had stopped barking, leaving behind an absence of sound more deafening even than the gunshot. Now, though, he began to growl once more. Megan yanked his collar hard as she turned back toward the woods.

  “Come, Recluse,” she shouted. Panic rode high within her, shutting out any intelligent thought she might have had.

  Summoning what she was sure was the last of her strength, she dragged the dog along until he kept pace, then bolted ahead. She could hear footsteps behind her. The monster, in pursuit. If she lost this race, she knew without a doubt what her end – their end – would be.

  “Keep going,” she urged the dog, shouting the words loud enough that she hoped Ava and Violet heard her. “Don’t stop.”

  They ran.

  Chapter 14

  Flint K-9 Search and Rescue

  February 4, 7:00 a.m.

  I RECEIVED A TEXT from Hogan just before getting back to the lodge:

  Report for duty 0800 Grafton Park Entrance. OK?

  I texted back confirmation, then waited for any subsequent information. Not surprisingly, none came. He provided no information about the status of the search, but I assumed he would have told me if anyone else had been found overnight.

  My mind was going a hundred miles an hour as Phantom and I skipped up the steps to the lodge. Did they have any more information about what had happened? Was Heather Wright awake yet? Had she been able to tell them anything about the shooter? And what was the deal with Sally Price – and, specifically, her bizarre reaction to her even more bizarre son-in-law?

  My thoughts were interrupted once I reached the top step and the front door burst open, nearly knocking me off my feet.

  “It’s about time,” Bear said. “I just got off the phone with Abe Wright – he said he can definitely use the help. We’re ready to go. I want to show Ren around the place.” He and Ren were both bundled up and in good spirits, their earlier argument apparently forgotten. Casper and Minion, meanwhile, were underfoot and unmistakably unhappy about being left behind.

  “Just give me a minute to get my gear. Have you seen Jack yet?”

  “Right here,” Jack said from the kitchen, and appeared with a mug of coffee in hand. He looked freshly showered, and was already shaved
and dressed. “Do we know how the day’s supposed to play out?”

  “Just heard from Hogan,” I confirmed. “He wants us at the park entrance in an hour. That gives us enough time to drop Bear and Ren over at WildFire before we go to the park.”

  “Sounds good. I’ve already replenished my pack – I’m ready whenever you are.”

  That, in a nutshell, was what I’d been expecting when I first decided to bring Jack on board at Flint K-9. Punctual, professional, ready to go at a moment’s notice. I told the others to give me five minutes, ran upstairs and got my own gear, and was back down with two minutes to spare.

  It was ten past seven by the time we loaded the van and set out, with me at the wheel and Jack once more in the co-pilot’s seat. Phantom was the only dog traveling with us today, Bear and Ren in the bench seat in the back. I glanced in the rearview and smiled at sight of the two of them sharing earbuds, one in Bear’s ear, the other in Ren’s, as they sat locked in their own little world.

  A light snow had started and winds were picking up, but overall it looked like the weather was going to cooperate today. A storm system coming through that night, however, could mean trouble, with high winds and mixed precipitation predicted. I pointed our van north, up the mountain toward the WildFire base. My windshield wipers beat a steady rhythm as the snow continued. Jack and I chatted about the search, what I knew about the area, where else I thought we might be looking today... Everything and nothing, my encounter with Sally Price effectively forgotten.

  Half an hour later, we passed a sign indicating WildFire Expeditions in one mile. We were traveling up a steep, narrow grade with just a guardrail to protect us from a sheer drop to our right. With the increased elevation, the wind and snow had picked up and I was starting to second-guess my earlier thoughts about the weather.

  Meanwhile, Jack remained silent, tense, beside me.

  “It’s not much farther,” I said, as we rounded a bend in the road.

  “Not that I don’t trust your driving, but that’s good to hear,” Jack said.

  “Definitely,” Bear said, inserting himself into the conversation for the first time since we’d set out.

  I glanced in the rearview mirror. The road was empty, no sign of a vehicle for at least that small stretch of highway visible. When I returned my gaze to the road ahead, I saw a car come out of the turnoff to the WildFire place, about a half mile up ahead.

  The vehicle got up to speed fast once it hit the road. It quickly surpassed that speed, barreling toward us at a pace that would have unnerved me in the best driving conditions.

  “What the hell are they doing?” Jack asked, gripping his armrest tight. I kept my eyes on the road, my hands locked on the wheel.

  It was a dark SUV coming toward us – an expensive one, by the look of it. When the vehicle was just up ahead, nearly upon us, a crawl of dread worked through me as the license plate registered.

  SENATOR

  I shifted my gaze to the driver as the car sped past, Sally Price’s terrified eyes locked on the road.

  “What’s she thinking?” Bear asked, his own voice panicked at sight of the rogue SUV. “She’s going to get herself killed.”

  “Or someone else,” I said.

  I slowed down and pulled a U-turn, focused on keeping all four wheels on the road, everyone in the car stone silent. In the back, Phantom had picked up the strange vibe, and I could sense as much as hear her pacing and pants.

  I got the van turned around and had time for a single deep breath, my eyes on Sally’s SUV up ahead, when I saw her front tires hit a patch of ice. She fishtailed, drifting into the opposite lane on the steep grade headed back down the mountain – directly into the path of a plow truck that hadn’t been there earlier. Her brake lights locked on as she ground the brakes, but found no purchase on the snowy road.

  The sound of the oncoming plow’s horn sounded, surreal and almost mournful on the isolated road. But it was the scream of tires and the clash of metal as the two vehicles collided that, I knew, would follow me into my dreams.

  I watched in horror as the SUV hit the plow head-on at speed, pushing it back until both vehicles were barreling backward down the mountain, the drivers powerless to slow the descent.

  I cursed under my breath as I drove on slowly, inexorably, toward the crash. Meanwhile, Jack fumbled with his phone, then swore himself when he realized we had no signal.

  Phantom was barking in the back of the vehicle, and I glanced in the rearview just long enough to see Bear and Ren paralyzed, terrified, in the rear seat. I reminded myself of their safety, of our safety, and slowed our van to a crawl as we approached the scene of the accident.

  Sally’s SUV came to a halt only when it hit a steel guardrail, nearly taking the rail out before the vehicle finally stopped. The plow rested on its side a few feet beyond, in the middle of the road. With snow flying and wind blowing, I could tell nothing beyond that.

  I found a spot as far over on the shoulder as possible and pulled our van to the side, already calling orders over my shoulder.

  “Bear, if we can’t get cell reception get the radio. Let them know we need an ambulance and somebody to help get these vehicles off the road before somebody else comes along and makes this even worse.”

  “Got it,” Bear said, already pulling out the radio. “Where do you want us?”

  I hesitated, but only for an instant. We were off the road as far as I could safely get with the van, but that didn’t mean we were completely out of harm’s way if another vehicle came around that corner.

  “Get Phantom and take her out toward the tree line – not beyond, but far enough that you’re away from the road.”

  I expected an argument, but was relieved when I didn’t get one.

  “Jack,” I began, before he cut me off.

  “I’m with you,” he said.

  I got out of the van with my heart racing, sick to my stomach. We went first to Sally’s SUV since it was closest, and I froze there. The windshield of the senator’s vehicle was cracked, with blood and white hair at the center of the spider webbed glass. The passenger’s door was open; Sally wasn’t in the vehicle. I looked around, perplexed.

  “Come check the plow with me first. Then we’ll go look for her, once we’ve got backup.”

  I nodded. Head down, I ran beside Jack to the up-ended snowplow.

  The engine was still going, music – Led Zeppelin, I thought – blaring inside the cab. Jack got down on his hands and knees in the snow to peer inside, and I followed suit. A young man, no more than twenty-two, was in the driver’s seat, eyes open but bleary.

  “We need to get him out fast,” I said to Jack. “If another car comes around that turn before help arrives, they won’t have time to slow before they hit the truck.”

  He nodded his agreement, then leaned down and knocked on the window to get the driver’s attention. “We’re going to get you out,” he shouted, over the competing sounds of the engine, the music, and the storm.

  The driver snapped to attention, his eyes widening. He said something that I couldn’t hear, then began to cry – the sobs of someone deep in shock. I looked at Jack.

  “We’ve got to get him out of there,” he said. I agreed, though at the moment I didn’t have a lot of ideas as to how to do that.

  I moved in as close to the windshield as possible, hands cupping my mouth to magnify the sound, and shouted. “Can you reach the button for the window?”

  It took him a minute, but the directive seemed to pull the man slightly out of the grip of hysteria. He looked around, orienting himself – not easy, I was sure, in his current state. Then slowly, painfully, he reached to the door beside him and pressed the button. For a second, nothing happened. I was already deciding whether I would go back to the van to get a crowbar myself or just send Jack when, finally, the passenger’s side window moved. Jack forced it down the rest of the way. I winced as the music got that much louder, and called in one more time.

  “Turn off the truck,”
I said. “Can you do that?”

  The man nodded. He took a deep breath, apparently focusing, and his hand moved to the ignition. Two endless seconds of fumbling later, and the world went blissfully still.

  “Good,” I said, quieter now. “You’re doing great. Can you tell me your name?”

  “What the heck was she doing?” the young man asked, rather than responding. His eyes were haunted, pupils enlarged from shock or concussion. “What was she thinking? She came straight at me.”

  “I know,” Jack said, his voice low, soothing. “It’s not your fault. But right now I need you to focus. I want you to stay as still as you can, and we’re coming in to get you. Can you do that?”

  “I think so,” he said.

  “Will you get the kit from the van?” Jack asked me. I nodded and stepped away from the plow, grateful to get away from the diesel fumes.

  I slid twice on my way back, going down hard once before I recovered as I raced for the emergency kit we kept in the van at all times. Bear and Ren had Phantom over by the tree line, but came closer at my approach.

  “What can we do?” Ren asked.

  “Come on over to the plow,” I said, after a moment’s hesitation. “Both of you. Bring Phantom. We may need her. Did you reach someone on the radio?”

  “Yeah,” Bear said. “They’re on their way – they said it shouldn’t be too long.”

  “Good.”

  We returned to the plow with Phantom at a heel by my side. Ren and Bear trailed behind me, and I wondered as I have a hundred times before in raising Bear, whether I had exposed him to too much by allowing him to be this much a part of search and rescue from the time he was small.

  To my surprise, the plow driver was already out of the vehicle when we returned, and was seated beside Jack in the snow, well clear of the road.