by Meg Benjamin
The prospect of pounding Ham into the ground like a fencepost began to sound attractive again. “Call the Rangers,” Cal grated. “Call everybody you can think of who might be able to help.”
Ham pulled out his cell phone and looked down at the screen. “There’s no reception out here.”
“Use the cruiser radio.”
“Nobody’ll answer. There’s no one back at the station because I’m out here with you.” Ham turned his hollow eyes toward Cal.
Cal unclenched his hands. He needed this idiot in one piece, at least for the time being. “Drive back up the road a ways. Keep trying until you get a signal on your cell.”
“Oh. Okay.” Ham turned back to the steering wheel.
Cal stepped into the pouring rain as Ham made a U-turn and headed up the road. He walked across the wooden bridge and climbed the trail to the trailer entrance.
It took him less than five minutes to circle the trailer. He tried to peek in the windows, but the shades were pulled down tight. He climbed the wooden steps to the front door and rattled the handle, only to confirm it was locked.
Cal took a deep breath and then pulled his foot back and kicked the door near the handle. Once, twice. The metal groaned.
He heard Pep whimper.
“Damn,” he muttered. “I meant to leave you with Ham. Sorry, buddy.” He kicked once more and the door flew open.
Cal stood in the doorway. In the dim light from the windows and open door, he saw a sagging sofa. A table and plastic chairs. A miniscule kitchen.
A flashlight lay on one of the kitchen counters. He picked it up, then walked quickly down a short hall to his left, shining the light in front of him.
Two bedrooms. Both empty. He took a deep breath, trying to relax his shoulders. He’d find her. Wherever she was. He walked back to the living room, pulling open every door he saw—two closets and a bathroom.
No Docia.
Stepping back onto the steps outside, he tried to make out the lay of the land through the sheets of falling rain. He could see the outlines of trees and limestone cliffs. Somewhere close by he could hear a fast-running river.
She could be anywhere.
His shoulders stiffened with frustration. She was here. She had to be here. He wouldn’t think of any other possibilities.
“Docia, where are you?” he yelled.
—
Docia had managed to get the laces on the hood to loosen slightly. She’d pulled it half off her head. Now she tried to push her arm through the opening, hoping she could force it down further.
She kept rolling against the tent walls as she struggled, rubbing off rainwater and condensation. The sleeping bag was sopping, soaking through to her body. Her skin felt chilled, the cold seeping deep into her muscles.
Not for the first time in her life she wished she were smaller. In fact, she promised herself when she got back to Konigsburg, she’d take off that extra five pounds that had been hanging around for the last couple of years.
When she got back to Konigsburg. She didn’t let herself think if.
Panic rose again, tightening her throat. “Get over it,” she muttered. “You’re not going to let that bastard get away with this.”
Besides, she needed to see Cal again. She really needed to see him. Each time she thought about him, her chest ached worse.
And then, through the drumming rain, she heard a voice. “Docia, where are you?”
Was it possible to have an aural hallucination? Docia could have sworn she’d heard Cal yell. She hadn’t tried yelling up to now, both because she was afraid Brody might still be around and because she figured no one was there to hear her. Her pulse hammered again.
“Cal,” she screamed. “Oh Cal! I’m here! I’m here!”
—
Cal froze on the trailer stairs. He was almost certain he’d heard her voice. Somewhere through the dense curtain of rain, she’d answered him. “Docia,” he yelled. “Docia where are you? Call to me!”
He heard the voice again, distantly, the words faint. She was out there. Somewhere.
In his pocket, Pep squirmed, digging his paws against Cal’s side. Then he yipped.
Cal looked down as the dog tried to dig his way out of the pocket. Cal shook his head. “No, buddy. Too wet for you out here.”
Pep yipped once more, trying to pull himself up, his paws slipping against the fabric, his huge brown eyes alert and urgent.
After a moment, Cal reached in and lifted him out, bringing him up to eye level. “If you can do this, I swear you’ve got a home for life.”
Pep licked his nose with a quick swipe.
Cal set him down. For a moment, the little dog stood huddled in the rain, his tail tucked between his hind legs. Cal’s heart dropped like a stone.
Then they both heard it—Docia’s voice faint in the distance. Pep’s head came up. He stared off into the trees for a moment and set off, galloping down the wooden stairs, toenails clicking.
Cal took a breath and followed, careful not to step on him.
Pep dodged around puddles, tripping quickly through the mud, sending little spurts of water flying up beneath his paws.
Cal thought about yelling again, but he didn’t want to distract Pep. Trees loomed ahead, and the sound of the running water was much louder now.
And then he saw it. A small red tent, poised almost at the edge of a drop-off. Cal shone his flashlight on the limp, water-logged sides, trying to see where the door was. Pep came to a stop at one end, his body drawn in against the rain.
“Docia?” Cal called.
Something moved inside. “Cal?” Her voice was muffled by rain and something else. “Is that you? Help me! I can’t get out.”
Cal reached down to scoop Pep up, dropping him back in the pocket of his sopping lab coat. He hoped the little dog didn’t drown in there. “Your favorite dog food and a warm dry bed,” he murmured. “For life.”
The front of the tent was almost at the edge of the drop-off. Cal looked down. Dark water churned less than ten feet below. He pulled down the tent zipper and stooped inside, shining the flashlight on a figure in a sleeping bag.
“Babe? Are you hurt?”
The figure managed to turn toward him, and he caught his breath. The fingers of one hand were curled over the edge of the hood. The drawstring was pulled half to the side of the face—he could see only one emerald eye. But the eye was Docia’s, and it was open.
Relief brought him to his knees.
“I can’t get out.” Her voice was muffled by the bag. “He put glue on the zipper. We’ve got to get away from here. The river…”
“It’s okay.” Cal fumbled in his jeans pocket. “I’m a good Iowa boy. I’ve got a pocket knife.”
“A pocket knife won’t cut through this.” Docia’s voice was desperate now. “It’s ripstop.”
“It’s a big pocket knife.” Cal pulled it loose, flipping out the four-inch blade and mentally thanking his dad for the Christmas present. “I’m going to cut the drawstring. Pull your chin back.”
With a few quick strokes, he sawed through the cord, then pushed the hood down.
Docia’s head appeared, curls around her neck, green eyes blazing. His throat hurt suddenly. “Are you okay?” he whispered.
Docia swallowed, lips trembling. “My head hurts. When we get back to town I want a margarita.”
“Right.” Cal yanked on the zipper. “It’s stuck. Something’s jamming it.”
“ It’s the superglue.” Docia grimaced. “Can you cut the bag?”
“I can try.” He pulled the fabric away from her body. “I’m going to cut along the side of the zipper. Scoot as far to the other side of the bag as you can.”
He pulled the fabric alongside the zipper taut and punched the knife through, then dropped the knife beside him and pulled the fabric apart with his hands. It came open with a deeply satisfying rip.
Beside him, Docia sucked in huge breaths, her chest heaving as reaction set in. “Oh God,” she whispered. “Oh God! Plea
se let’s get out of here.”
Cal dropped his knife back in his pants pocket and backed out of the tent carefully, feeling the edge of the drop-off with his feet. “Watch it. I think the bank’s beginning to crumble.”
Pep whimpered uneasily in the pocket of his lab coat. The water was definitely louder now. He edged back away from the bank, one hand on Docia’s shoulder.
“Be careful. Don’t slip.” He knew he didn’t need to keep reminding her, but for some reason he felt he had to say it.
Docia edged away from the bank on her hands and knees, while Cal resisted the urge to cover her body with his.
When they were a couple of feet away from the tent, she stood, glancing back at the drop-off, panting again. And then she threw herself against him, winding her arms around his waist, her shoulders heaving.
Cal buried his face in her hair, fighting to keep himself together.
“The rain’s making the river rise too fast,” Docia murmured against his chest. “We’ve got to get away before the high water comes. It’ll take out the bank.”
Cal nodded. “Ham went up the road to call the Rangers. He should be back by now.”
They staggered toward the trailer, arms wound tight around each other, then stopped.
No truck. No Ham.
“Shit,” Docia breathed.
Cal played the flashlight beam across the road below the trailer. Light reflected off a shining pool of rushing water. “The water’s over the drive.” His chest tightened. “Christ. I hope I didn’t get that idiot killed.”
Docia shook her head. “Ham’s from Konigsburg. No matter how stupid he is about being a police officer, he knows better than to drive into running water during a rainstorm.”
“Which means he won’t be back until the water goes down.” The tightness in his gut increased. “We could go inside the trailer. I got the door open.”
“No.” Docia’s lips thinned. “I may not have grown up around here, but I know we don’t want to be in a trailer on a riverbank during a flood.”
Cal eyed the trailer on its small promontory below the cliffs. “You think the water will get that high?”
“I don’t want to find that out when the trailer floats away.” Docia scanned the landscape quickly. “We could climb a tree. If we can find one tall enough.”
Cal followed her gaze, and then stopped. “What about a cave?” He pointed toward a dark seam in the limestone cliff above them.
Docia stared upward. Her voice sounded oddly choked. “Snakes. There could be snakes up there.”
Cal frowned. “Maybe. But we can deal with that if we have to. Come on.” He took her hand, pulling her toward the base of the cliffs.
Docia held back, digging in her heels. “I don’t… One of these cypress trees might be tall enough.”
Cal glanced at the rain-slicked trunks, the slender branches. “Too risky. We don’t know if the branches are strong enough to hold us. And the tree might get pushed over by the water.”
“Then we can look for a live oak. They’ve got nice, thick branches and they’re very sturdy.” Cal heard the desperation in her voice.
He stopped, watching her. “What’s up, Docia? Something I need to know?”
She stared at her feet, balling her hands at her sides. “I’m not much on heights.”
Cal had an unreasonable urge to snicker. He suppressed it. “It’s okay. I’ll be with you.”
Pep yipped urgently.
Docia glanced at his pocket, then sighed. “Oh, this just gets better and better. Okay, Doc, lead the way.”
Chapter Eighteen
Cal wasn’t sure whether he should climb first so he could find the hand and foot holds or let Docia go first so he could catch her if she slipped. In the end, Docia decided for him.
“Just do it,” she snapped. “I’ll be right behind you.”
He stuck the flashlight in his belt and placed his boot in a crack in the rock, sliding his hands up until he found a seam. Pulling up was relatively easy, although the wet rock was crumbly in his hand.
Limestone. Why did it have to be limestone?
He could hear Docia scrambling up behind him, breathing hard. Pep swung in the lab coat pocket at his side, curled into a tight ball. “Okay, babe?” he called.
“Oh, peachy,” she muttered.
Cal dug in the fingers of his left hand, reaching up again with his right to find another handhold, pressing his body flat against the rock and digging his toes in tight. One step at a time, one step at a time. “Hang in there, Docia,” he called.
Docia mumbled something that he couldn’t hear. Probably just as well.
After twenty minutes, they were over halfway there, and the sound of water below them grew louder. Cal had a feeling it was better not to look down to check how close it was to the cliff edge.
—
Docia had her eyes glued to Cal’s rear end. It kept her mind off how high they were, and it was a great distraction. She’d shaken off her sandals before starting up the cliffside, and now her toes were skinned and bleeding. It might be a blessing if they went numb, but then, of course, she wouldn’t be able to grip. Getting out of this adventure alive might take a miracle.
But she’d already had her miracle for the day, hadn’t she? Seeing Cal in the doorway of the tent was divine intervention for sure.
It’s not high, it’s not high, it’s not high. Oh lordy, just climb!
Above her Cal’s leg muscles bunched and strained as he pulled himself up the steep cliff side. His jeans were streaked with limestone dust. Docia watched him slide the scuffed toes of his boots into each hole, carefully testing them before giving them his whole weight. At least he had Vibram soles. No point in both of them getting killed.
His lab coat swung back and forth as he climbed. Every once in a while, she got a glimpse of a terrified Chihuahua eye.
“How you doing?” Cal called.
How do you think? “Fine.”
The whole experience was beyond bizarre. If her feet didn’t hurt so much, she’d swear she was dreaming. Maybe she was. Maybe she’d wake up to find herself in her bed at the bookstore. Better yet, in Cal’s bed at the barn. And it would be two days ago. And she could start over again and not be an idiot this time.
And then she heard Cal exhale a quick curse.
—
Cal pushed his boot into another seam and felt the rock crumble beneath his toe. He tried to dig in with his other foot, but slid against the rain-slick surface.
Below him, Docia squeaked in terror.
For a moment, he hung by his hands, his feet scrambling across the crumbling limestone surface, and then he found another crack. “It’s okay.” He rested his weight on his toes for a moment, trying to catch his breath. “I’ve got it again. We’re almost there.”
He heard Docia muttering again. It didn’t sound complimentary.
Pep whimpered.
Nothing like confidence in his athletic abilities.
He gave a silent prayer of thanks for the climbing experience he’d had with his brothers on the cliffs above the Raccoon River back home. Even if they had spent most of their time dodging the rocks and other debris his big brother Erik had thrown at them for the fun of it.
As he thought of rivers, he was suddenly aware of the sound of water below them again. Louder now, almost certainly. Don’t look down. Don’t look down.
He could see the dark emptiness of the cave opening another ten feet above them. Carefully, he slid his hands up toward the next crack. “Come on, babe, we’re going to make it now.”
—
Right. They were going to make it. If she could just force her feet to go on moving, just keep her hands gripping, just prevent her shoulders from being dislocated every time she stretched up again.
Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down. Below her the water crashed through something, rumbling. Docia bit her lip to keep from sobbing. You’re all right, idiot. You’ve come through everything so far, tha
nks to Cal. You’re going to make it now. Cal said so.
It wasn’t that high, after all. Not really. It was just like the rocks she used to climb with Daddy near Llano. The rocks where she’d slipped and broken her arm. Those rocks. What she mainly remembered was Daddy being really angry because she hadn’t done it right.
And then she had a sudden vision of her father’s face. He hadn’t been angry, had he? He’d been frightened. Upset that she was hurting. Funny how she hadn’t understood that at the time. Maybe because he’d yelled at her. He always yelled at her when he got upset, even with Donnie.
She took a deep breath and stretched her arms up again, feeling her biceps scream.
“Come on, Docia—” Cal panted above her, “—almost there.”
—
An agonizing ten minutes later, Cal’s hands lapped over the edge of the cave opening. He dug in his toes, then pulled himself onto the lip. Below him, he heard Docia gasping as she strained to pull herself up. One white hand appeared over the edge of the cave. Cal grabbed her arm, standing to pull her up as she slid her feet into the last few cracks.
And then his arms were around her, holding her tight against him, kissing dusty lips, his fingers stabbing into her tangled curls. “We’re here, babe,” he breathed. “Made it!”
Docia stepped forward and he saw her wince. He looked down to see her bare toes covered in white limestone dust. Something jolted in his chest. “Jesus. Why didn’t you tell me you were barefoot?”
She sank down to the cave floor with a thump, closing her eyes as she leaned her head against the cave wall. “So you could do what? Carry me up the cliff face on your back? We’re here, okay?” Her lips trembled slightly. “Thanks, Calthorpe. Thanks for everything.”
He knelt beside her, gathering her into his arms. “My pleasure.” His voice cracked slightly on “pleasure”, and he buried his face in her hair.
For a moment her shoulders moved under his fingers as she pressed her head against his collarbone. Then she sat up again, pushing the hair back from her face. “Did you check for snakes?”
Cal unclipped the flashlight from his belt and played it down the indentation in the limestone. The cave went back a good fifteen feet, maybe six feet across and four or five feet high. The light bounced off rugged ridges of limestone and the smoother white surface of the floor. “Nobody here but us.” He lifted Pep from his pocket and placed him on the floor behind them.
