Maybe someone’ll come along.
He waited a few minutes, rubbing his legs to keep warm. Then he lost patience.
It’s freaky up here. All rocks, no life. I won’t wait till VVR to catch up. If I step on it, I’ll get to them before they pitch camp for the night. I’ll keep my distance from Gordon. He might still be sore. Ecstasy would never hold anything against me for long. Even if Gordon blew everything completely out of proportion. We’re the Seven. They don’t want to be the Six. And I sure as hell don’t want to be the One.
So Stoli increased his pace, jogging down the far side of the pass as it descended gently past Lakes McDermand and Wanda.
***
Breeze trailed him by under an hour.
He’d also woken late, with a pounding head and a stomach feeling like someone had installed a wave machine. Inside his tent he groaned, unable to remember where he was or what had happened. Then it hit him.
Jerry.
He unzipped his shelter and staggered to his feet. The meadow was empty. Breeze sank to his knees.
Last night was so close. I almost had him. But then he ran.
He sat back on his heels and massaged his temples.
Think. What would the Seven have done? Gordon was pissed. They must have left without him.
Drinking last night was a mistake. I was too plastered to concentrate. Must’ve passed out eventually. Now Jerry’s gone.
But god bless the Sierras. We’re more than halfway to VVR. He can’t get off the trail. The bastard’s headed north. All I have to do is catch him.
Catching up with Jerry took Breeze into mid-afternoon. Jerry was younger and stronger. The wet snow near Muir Pass cost Breeze time.
He finally caught sight of him at McClure Meadow.
Right near a fucking ranger station. I can’t have some National Park Service grunt come running to his rescue.
Breeze bided his time, maintaining a consistent distance between himself and Jerry, sinking lower into the grass and keeping out of sight.
Half a mile past the ranger station, Breeze sprinted up the trail, cutting corners. Branches slapped him in the face. Pebbles flew behind him. He rounded a bend and saw Jerry standing at the edge of Evolution Creek, hands on hips, looking up and down river.
The idiot can’t decide where to ford.
Breeze ran.
“Hey. Jerry.”
Jerry turned. Breeze approached, panting.
“Jerry.”
“How do you know my name?”
Chapter 23
“I know you.”
Jerry peered at Breeze’s face. “Oh. I remember. You’re Freeze. From last night. From the poker game.”
Breeze stepped closer. “Not Freeze. Breeze. But who the fuck cares? My real name’s Ed Galeano. From Oakland. I owned Stoke’s Spokes. The bike shop. Ring any bells?”
“No.” Jerry turned back to the creek. “Should it?”
Breeze repositioned himself between Jerry and the water. “No? Then how about Kaylee? Kaylee Clark? Ever hear of her?” His eyes narrowed and searched Jerry’s face.
“Nope.” Jerry shook his head. “Sorry. I can’t help you.” He walked farther downstream. “But maybe you can help me. Where do you think is better to cross? Over here, or by those trees?”
Breeze’s mouth fell open. “Kaylee’s the girl you ran…”
Jerry returned and interrupted him.
“Wait till you see.” He tugged Breeze’s sleeve like an eager child and pulled him downstream. Breeze yanked his arm away. “Trust me, dude. You’re gonna wanna see this.” Jerry hurried down the bank and pointed at a large set of rocks across the river. “Check it out. Over there. Got ourselves a thru who thinks she’s at a nudist camp.”
A woman lay on a ledge in the sun, legs spread, one arm resting on her stomach. Jerry skipped back and pulled Breeze’s arm insistently.
“See? Told you.”
Breeze jerked from Jerry’s grip and shaded his eyes to lessen the glare of the sparkling water.
Who’s that? Grace? What’s she doing here?
“Okay.” Breeze snapped his fingers in Jerry’s face. “I see her. But forget her. Your problem is this side of the river. Your problem is with me.”
Jerry removed his pack and dug in the top pocket. He pulled out a cell phone and then sat on the bank, stripping off his shoes and socks.
“You stay here.” Jerry adjusted the controls on his phone. “I’ve got to get a picture of this.”
Breeze stared. “What the fuck is your problem, man? I’m telling you to forget her. I’ve been waiting months to meet up with you. The only thing you’ve got to do right now is listen.”
“Sure, man. We can talk. Just let me get a few good shots. If I get out in the middle I think I can zoom in on her beaver.”
Jerry chuckled and waded into the river.
Breeze dropped his pack and splashed in after him.
“Shhhh.” Jerry turned toward Breeze, put a finger to his lips, and pointed at Grace. “We don’t want to wake her.”
“Listen to me. I said leave her the fuck alone.”
“I’m not bothering her. One picture won’t hurt. A nice close up. I’ll have myself the best Facebook post of the hike.”
Jerry edged through the water, holding up the phone.
“You bastard.”
“Keep it down, man.”
Jerry continued to slink toward Grace.
Breeze overtook him and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, shit for brains. Drop that fucking phone.”
Jerry stared at him.
“But it’s for fun. Nobody’s going to get hurt.”
“Somebody’s going to get hurt all right.”
“Dude, you don’t have to worry about me.” Jerry snickered. “I’ve done stuff worse than this. Nothing ever happens. Trouble never seems to find me.”
“The reason for that, asshole, is because it finds other people.”
Breeze grabbed for the phone. He missed and knocked into Jerry.
“Hey, watch it.” Jerry shoved Breeze. “It almost fell in.”
Breeze swatted the phone from Jerry’s grip. It arced across the water and plopped into the shallows. Jerry’s face reddened.
“What’d you do that for?”
Breeze seized Jerry’s t-shirt with both hands and yanked him close. Jerry’s eyes widened.
“I told you to leave her alone. But you didn’t listen. Well, you’d better start listening to me. Real fast.”
Jerry pulled frantically at Breeze’s hands.
“Look, I’m sorry. Can’t take any pictures now anyway. So let me go. We’ll pretend this never happened, okay?”
Dark veins pulsed in Breeze’s neck. He leaned in close.
“This never happened? Nothing ever happened?” Spit flew as he spoke. “You say you’re sorry and go on with your fucking life?”
Jerry wiped trailing ends of saliva from his cheeks with trembling fingers. Breeze twisted his fists and wrung the fabric of Jerry’s shirt like a wet towel, drawing him even closer. Jerry shrugged pathetically and attempted a smile.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, dude. Let me go. I’ll disappear. You’ll never see me again.”
Breeze yanked his shirt. Jerry’s nose collided with Breeze’s forehead. Jerry howled as blood spouted. Breeze loosened his hold and Jerry wrenched away, stumbling into deeper water, clutching his bleeding nose.
“I dink you boke id, you basdard.”
He splashed water on his face and blood flowed freely, staining the river around him.
“Who’re you calling a bastard?” Breeze hurled himself at Jerry, a rain of pounding fists showering Jerry’s back. “You self-centered prick. Months of searching. You don’t even pay attention. You fucking ruined my life. You understand?”
Jerry shielded his head from the onslaught and plunged through deeper water toward the other side of the creek. Breeze staggered after him, landing punches on his ribs.
“That’s
for Kaylee. That’s for my store. That’s for Dell. For my money. For my reputation. My fucking life.”
“Sop id. You’re crazy. I don know whad you’re dalking aboud. I never med you before lasd nighd. You’ve god de wrong guy.”
“Like hell.”
Breeze clutched Jerry’s pants at the waist and lugged him backward. Suddenly, Jerry turned on Breeze with the fury of a cornered animal. He flailed blindly, pummeling Breeze’s face and head. Breeze defended himself with raised forearms. The current surged around their legs, threatening to knock them over.
Breeze latched onto Jerry’s right arm and in one movement yanked it under the water. The open palm of his free hand shot up and collided with Jerry’s chin. Molars smashed together with a crunch. Jerry’s head jerked backward. He teetered. Then fell backward.
Breeze heaved himself forward. His knee connected with Jerry’s solar plexus. Jerry groaned and tried to regain his legs. Breeze latched onto Jerry’s hair with both hands. He scowled into Jerry’s puffy, blood-stained face.
“You think you can do anything. Don’t you?”
Jerry shook his head.
“Yes, you do. Anything you fucking want.”
“No. Plead, no.”
“Yes, you do. But I’ll fucking show you.”
He plunged Jerry’s head under the water.
Fingers clawed at his wrists. Jerry’s torso twisted. Breeze raised his arms. Jerry coughed and gasped.
“You still think you’re king?” Breeze shook him violently. “Answer me.”
Panic-stricken eyes stared back at him. Jerry tried to pry Breeze’s fingers from his hair.
“You trying to tell me what to do?” Breeze spat in his face. Jerry moaned. “You make me sick.” Breeze plunged his head back under the water.
Water splashed in Breeze’s face as Jerry squirmed. Legs kicked. Hands tore at his arms. Bubbles rose around them.
Jerry’s arms slackened. Dropped to his side. Sank.
Breeze let go. The body bobbed in the undulating current, drifting face down in the direction of the waterfalls.
Breeze dragged himself to the bank. He gazed unseeingly downriver.
The bastard’s gone. Serves him fucking right.
Minutes passed. Water on his bare legs and arms shone in the bright light. He rubbed his eyes and scanned the horizon.
No one.
He spat.
Well, Jerry said he wanted to disappear. So I helped him. Gone without a trace.
Then his eyes widened. They swiveled abruptly to the ledge where Grace had been sunning herself.
It was empty.
Chapter 24
Shouts woke Grace from her nap on the rock.
Thrus?
She stretched her arms to the bright blue sky.
Where’s my tent?
She looked around.
Oh. The river. My phone.
The yelling continued. Grace shaded her eyes from the late afternoon sun and took in the opposite shore, where two backpackers waded into the river.
What are they up to?
She sat and raised an arm to wave, catching as she did so the sight of her bare body.
I’m naked. I’ll be the laughing stock of the PCT.
She snatched her warm shirt from the stone and stepped into her shorts. She slipped the components of her phone into its baggie.
I’ll fix it later. Hope it works.
As she packed the remainder of her things, the yelling behind her increased in intensity. She stopped to look.
About thirty feet upstream, the two men stood in the middle of the river. Water surged around their waists.
Is that Stoli and Breeze? What a strange combination.
Stoli started to run.
Well, if he falls in, Breeze will have to help him. See…he’s…
Grace leaned forward.
What the heck?
Grace watched Breeze pummel Stoli with blows. Stoli tried to escape. Grace reached her hands toward the figures, as if she could pry them apart. Then Stoli turned on Breeze. They fought savagely.
This is crazy. What’s gotten into them?
Grace pulled on her socks. She stowed her camp shoes with her sleeping bag, shoved her feet into her hiking shoes, and clambered off the rock, dragging her pack with her. All the while, she never took her eyes off the scene unfolding before her.
Their voices didn’t carry anymore above the churning river. But she saw them attack each other with fury, bodies bent, arms thrashing.
Why don’t they stop?
One hand wound tightly around her pack strap, ready to hoist it. She wiggled the toes of her shoes into the dirt, ready to run.
Stoli doubled over under the unrelenting assault. He stumbled, and Breeze latched on. Grace covered her eyes with her free hand. But she peered through the gaps between her fingers, her arms and legs tingling with fear.
I shouldn’t be seeing this. I should try to stop them. If Lone Star were here, he’d stop them.
Stoli fell backward in response to a solid blow to his chin and landed with a splash. He struggled to keep his head above water. Breeze flew at him.
“No!” Grace dropped her pack and dashed toward them.
Breeze grabbed Stoli’s hair.
Grace turned back toward the ledge. She scooped up her pack and flung it onto her shoulders as she charged down the trail away from the river. At the first corner she paused. Breeze was bent over, arms stiff, holding something under the water.
Grace sprinted faster than any thru she’d met.
Did Breeze see me?
The thought whipped her legs into further action.
He was crazed. Probably blind to everyone but Stoli. But…
Her feet pounded down steep switchbacks toward the South Fork San Joaquin River. Then she reached the canyon floor and slowed her pace at a set of trailside campsites. All the spots were empty.
Where are all the thrus when I need them? Where’s my Texas thru? I can’t even call him.
Grace skidded to a stop.
Or can I?
She turned back and cupped her hands to her ears.
Breeze isn’t on me yet.
She put down her pack. Her fingers groped inside and drew out the phone in its baggie. Her hands shook as she unzipped it. She removed the back cover and replaced the SIM card. Her fumbling fingers dropped the battery on the ground.
Perfect.
It was covered with sand. She blew into the crevices and brushed it with her shirt. The battery slipped into place. She snapped on the cover and pressed the button.
Please work.
She pushed the button again and again. But the phone remained dead.
Maybe it needs to dry out some more.
Her mind flooded with images of Breeze. She disassembled it quickly and continued jogging down the trail. A stream lapped over rocks. The last calls of birds echoed in the woods. Rays of lingering sunlight spilled between the trees and illuminated Indian paintbrushes, which glowed like hot embers in the increasingly cool air.
Later, shadows dimmed and the fir-lined path before her became tinged with blue as twilight grew. Her pace slowed to a trot.
Maybe what I saw back at the river wasn’t as bad as I thought? Maybe Breeze wasn’t holding him under? Maybe Stoli’s okay?
The knot in her stomach loosened. She imagined catching up to some friendly thrus. But half a mile later, she heard from behind the unmistakable thump of someone running.
She raced on as fast as her short legs could manage.
Chapter 25
She’s gone.
Breeze stared at the empty rock.
She was there when we walked into the river.
He racked his brain for images of Grace after the fight began. But he only called up pictures of Jerry.
Did she see us? There was a lot of yelling. Was she still there at the end?
His stiffened legs protested when he stood.
Only one direction. To Vermillion Valley Resort. Twent
y miles. Another day and a half. If Grace saw what happened, she’ll be heading there, right to the police. Or the next place she can get cell phone reception to call.
He started down the trail, then stopped.
My pack. It’s on the other side.
His eyes flashed across the water’s surface, searching for signs of Jerry’s body.
Must have gone over the falls.
Breeze plunged in. The icy coldness sucked the warmth from his legs like a vacuum. He fought against the current. At the other side, he hoisted his pack onto one shoulder. As he did, Jerry’s pack, shoes, and socks caught his eye.
He flung shoes and socks into the river and slung Jerry’s pack over his other shoulder, where it bounced uncomfortably against his torso. Mid-river, he tossed it as far from him as he could. It floated for a few seconds and then submerged.
On the far bank, his wet boots squished.
They’ll dry out as I go.
He cinched his waistbelt and shoulder straps and took off.
When I catch up with her, I’ll play it cool. If she saw me, I’ll know it. We can stay together. If someone sees us, we can pretend we’ve hooked up. Get to VVR. Then to Fresno. Maybe Canada.
He increased his pace. The trail switchbacked steeply toward the floor of the canyon. He cursed the rocks and widened his stride.
Got to get her before she gets close to a cell tower.
He cut corners, plunging straight down the incline, concentrating on the ground ahead of him, skidding and sliding as stones shifted under his feet, remaining erect only by hurtling headlong down the steep grade.
At the bottom, he followed the trail upstream.
Where the hell is she?
There. That must be her.
He slowed.
Don’t want to scare her.
His eyes focused on a yellow tent pitched at a campsite near the trail.
No pack. No shoes. Probably took everything inside, hoping I won’t recognize anything.
Breeze approached slowly across the carpet of fir needles, stopping frequently to listen and look around. He edged closer, picking carefully around twigs and stones. Five feet from the tent, he paused.
Act casual.
Wild Within (Wild at Heart #1) Page 16
