North Woods Law
The Great North Woods Pack
#5
Shawn Underhill
Copyright © 2016 by Shawn Underhill.
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction.
It was the masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at the futility of life and the effort of life. It was the Wild, the savage, frozen-hearted Northland Wild.
—White Fang
It certainly was cold.
—To Build a Fire
Prologue
She Froze.
One foot was on the top step, the other on the step below. For a long moment she remained that way. Awkwardly mid stride, staring at the glass of the front door. Frozen in motion.
After the initial flash of fear her training kicked in. She told herself to breathe to settle her heart rate. A good thought, but the effort was in vain. Her heart was drumming and her chest felt too tight to receive the frigid night air. Her nose was frozen. Breathing through it felt like inhaling through a thin straw. And the longer she stood there, the worse it would get.
A harmless image is all that kept her from entering her warm house. A smiley face, drawn in the frost on the glass of her front door. A simple image of jest. Drawn by a warm finger. Not her cold finger.
Her small house stood alone on a wooded lot with no visible neighbors.
Her eyes darted. A part of her wished to return to her warm vehicle. The idea was appealing in a simplistic, childish sort of way. Problems? Just run away. Hide.
But she couldn’t run away. And she knew she couldn’t just stand there freezing. The temperature was double digits below zero. Frost bite was only minutes away. Death followed close behind.
Forcing down that urge to flee, she fumbled her cold hands to remove her bulky gloves from the much thinner liner gloves. After stuffing the gloves into her side pockets, she opened her parka. Reached in. Felt the meager trapped warmth scatter in an instant. Closed her right hand on the grip of her pistol and drew it. Then opened the door with her left hand. Stepped in slowly at the edge of the kitchen, scanning around, and leaned back against the door to close it behind her.
The intruder was a female. Seated in a chair at the far corner of the modest living room. Twenty feet separated them. She had started a fire in the little stove and now sat there smiling back at her.
“Don’t panic,” the intruder said, her tone soft.
The older girl stood in the dim light of a soft bulb over the kitchen stove. She was looking across the living room at the quiet figure in the far corner. Naked, wrapped in a blanket, her neck and collarbones showing pale. She looked young.
“Stay calm,” she said.
“Who are you?” returned the older girl. Her heart was still drumming and her lips and throat were bone dry.
“Does it matter?”
“Maybe.”
“It doesn’t. Believe me.”
“Believe you?”
“Did I stutter?”
“Why should I believe you?”
“You haven’t got many other options. And even if I told you who I am, my name would mean nothing to you.”
“Just wanna know who I’m talking to.”
“Understandable. But not necessary.”
“Okay, so, what do you want?”
“Wrong questions,” said the younger girl. “Sit down. Relax. We’ll have a nice talk.”
“About?”
“Everything.”
“What, the weather?”
“Yes, it’s cold out,” mocked the younger girl. “Boo-hoo, so sad.”
“Okay,” said the elder. “You pick.”
“I drew a smile. Why are you so jumpy? You’re acting like I drew a frown or wrote a death threat.”
“I’m not in the mood for mind games,” said the elder. “What are you doing in my house?”
“Waiting for you.”
“Why?”
“We have to talk.”
“So tell me what you want,” said the older girl. In her mind she was screaming at herself to breathe slowly. Keep calm and clearheaded. Hold her pistol steady with the sights on center mass. All this while asking herself who this could be and how she could have gotten here.
“That’s right,” said the younger girl. “Breathe easy. Relax. Getting upset won’t help either of us.”
“Do you need help?” returned the elder. “Is that why you’re here?”
“No,” returned the younger. “Not at all.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Should I want something?”
“Most people want something when they break and enter.”
“Do I seem like most people?”
The older girl answered with a small shake of her head.
“Sit down,” said the younger, firmer. No more smile. “I’m not here to hurt you. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”
“Careful.”
“I usually am.”
“Big talk.”
“No,” she said softly. “Just facts.”
The older girl sat slowly on the arm of the couch, keeping as much distance between herself and the other as possible. The gun was getting heavier and more difficult to hold steady by the second. She was cold and tired and far more frightened than she cared for this intruder to know.
“That’s better,” said the younger. “Anxiety is terrible for your health. It takes away from life.”
“Thanks for the info. I’ll try to keep it in mind. Now what’s your deal?”
“Before I tell you, I have a question.”
The elder said nothing, waiting.
“Do you love life?”
She cut off a little gasp of nervous laughter saying, “What sort of question is that?”
“A very important one.”
“I don’t want to join your cult. And I don’t like political surveys.”
“Don’t make light,” said the younger. There was a darkening of her tone and expression. “I’m asking you an important question. Do you really love life? Is it everything to you?”
“What are you getting at?”
“The truth.”
“Why? Why me?”
“Answer me,” said the younger.
“I don’t like this game.”
“I’m not playing one. Answer me. Honestly.”
“Sure, I love life.”
“Is that why you’re shaking? Because your love of life is more powerful than your fear of the unknown? No. That’s not what I sense from you.”
“I wonder why.”
“I dislike dishonesty. It makes me … irritable.”
“Don’t threaten me,” hissed the elder.
“I’m not,” said the younger. “I’m asking you very plainly the most important question in your life. You keep ducking, because you’re afraid and don’t want to face it. Now, put all that aside and tell me the truth. Do you want to keep living your life?”
The elder kept silent. Breathing deep and slow.
“You’re disappointing me,” said the younger. “I thought you were the bright one of the bunch.”
“What am I supposed to say?”
“I told you,” said the younger, her tone lowering. “I want the truth.”
“This is crazy.”
“No. It’s a simple question.”
“Sure. Yes. I love my life. Okay?”
“Then, you must hope to survive this night.”
“I’m the one with the gun. I think I’ll be the one that lives.”
The younger girl smiled as she said, “No. You won’t.”
“Are you nuts? Off your meds
or something?”
“That would be easier for you.”
“Look, I can help you. I can get you some help. I can—”
“I ask nothing. I need nothing.”
“Nothing? It’s below zero out and you’re naked under my blanket.”
“You’ll have to trust me,” said the younger.
“Why should I? If you’re not in trouble and you’re not crazy, then, what are you?”
“Finally,” said the younger, her face momentarily brightening. “Good question.”
The other kept silent.
“Think of me as a force of nature. How does that set with your worldview?”
“You need serious help,” returned the elder, laboring to hold her voice steady.
“No. You are the one in need. And I’m giving you a glimpse behind the curtain. My name means nothing because I’m more than a name. More than an individual. I’m a part of what I represent and serve. An extension of something greater.”
“Sure you are. And I’m on the cover of the swimsuit edition.”
“Stop!”
The elder swallowed hard.
“Listen to me. I am what you fail to understand. What you seek to subdue and control. That’s why you’re so afraid. A primal response to forces beyond one’s control.”
“Enough.”
“No,” said the younger. “I’m the presence in the shadows. The sound in the night. The stick snapping in the dark. I raise the hackles of dogs and set them trembling. Set the crows squawking and the squirrels chattering. I watch those who believe themselves alone. I warn. I defend. I cull. When I must, I punish. I avenge. I make right.”
“Shut up,” said the elder, her jittery finger just squeezing the pistol’s trigger. A pound of pressure. Then two pounds. Three.
“Truth is hardest for people to face. Truth and death.”
“Shut the hell up. Get out of my house. This is my last warning.”
The younger kept silent. She stood up very slowly, her face hard, her eyes unblinking. Her movements seemed effortless. Silky smooth. No nerves at all.
“Slowly,” said the elder.
“Control is an illusion,” returned the younger. “A human invention. You should let it go.”
“You a psychologist now?”
“No other animal plays that game of pretending to have control. You can only control your own reactions to circumstances in this life. Nothing more.”
“Okay, my turn. Stay wide of me or I’ll shoot you.”
“You won’t.”
“Don’t try me. I’ve had a hell of a day.”
“You won’t.”
“You a mind reader or something?”
“Unnecessary. Everything I need to know about you is clear to my senses. You’re not half as angry as you are frightened. And I know killers. They don’t hesitate when the time comes. Don’t entertain. Don’t bargain. I know. I am one.”
“Stop,” said the elder. She rose and backed slowly into her kitchen, making way for this strange intruder to reach the door. Wishing the kitchen went on for another twenty feet.
“I can’t be stopped by a gun,” said the younger.
“You sound so sure.”
“I know.”
“Look, I don’t care what you think you know. I want you out of here. If you need help, I can try to—”
“You lie. You care very much. You’re fighting back tears even now. Your insides are shaking like your hands. Your mind is darting all around. You fear the unknown. You fear harm and death. Believe me, if you pull that trigger, all your fears will come true.”
“Did you kill that man?” the elder asked after a moment.
The younger kept her expression hard. The darkness of her eyes gave way to a little flickering glow. Like embers flaring up from cold ashes. She took a short and fluid step, almost floating.
“Careful,” warned the elder girl with a failing voice.
Another step.
“I don’t want to do this.”
“I know,” said the younger, her tone soft again.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“That’s honest of you. I believe it. Now that you’re finally being honest with me, I’ll get to the point. You need to know that I’m nothing like that man you work with. I am not against you. As long as you stay within your bounds, no harm will come to you.”
An exasperated gasp escaped the elder girl as a lone teardrop started down her cheek. Her chest heaved. Her eyes were glossing over.
“You’re no killer,” said the younger, edging closer.
“I will if I have to.”
“I know you won’t.”
“How do you know me?”
“Enough with all this talk. We’re getting nowhere. I want you to listen very carefully, before you get more upset.”
“Why should I?”
“Because, I want you to survive this night.”
Chapter 1
A sea of glaring white.
Apart from branches of leafless trees, bushy evergreens and the granite ledges of windblown mountains, Maine’s north woods were lost under feet of snow. Mile after mile of undulated forest rolled on seemingly without end, stretching out ahead like a giant white camouflage blanket. The sky was mostly clear and the afternoon sun glistened on the frozen earth.
At midday the temperature had reached into the teens. Now, with the afternoon waning and the weak December sun fading fast, the temps would soon plummet below zero.
“You’re awfully quiet,” said Joseph Snow. He was speaking over the drone of the Piper bush plane’s motor. Speaking loud but not shouting.
“What?” Evie responded at his side, mildly jolted from her thoughts. The steady grumbling and vibrating of the prop motor had lulled her into a sort of lazy trance, like a baby in a car seat. She turned from the plane’s side window to her grandfather at the controls.
He responded with his soft, deep laugh.
“What?” she asked again.
“Lost in your surroundings, I guess.”
“It’s sort of mesmerizing.”
“I still get lost in these landscapes, just as I sometimes get lost in my many years. I have to keep reminding myself that these sights I’ve seen a thousand times are all new to you.”
“You’re saying it gets old after a while?”
“Old? Not at all. I love this countryside now as much as I loved it at your age. Perhaps it just gets a little more predictable with time.”
“Am I crazy or is there more snow up here than at home, in Ludlow?”
“There often is a little more,” he answered. “And it’s a bit colder. A combination of northwest air, great lakes moisture, latitude, and all that colliding with the patterns swirling off the North Atlantic. The result you see is the norm for these parts.”
“I was just thinking,” she said. “It’s hard to imagine how anyone can survive these winters. I mean the humans. Or even the poor animals for that matter.”
“It can be unforgiving at times,” he confirmed. “But the animals are tougher and more resourceful than most people give them credit for. And as for the humans, the population is quite sparse. But you’re right. It takes hearty folks to withstand these conditions year after year. Not quite Alaska tough, but tough all the same.”
“Funny,” Evie said. “Last winter I would’ve been terrified by the prospect of spending a few days up here.”
“Not now,” he said with a smile.
A little shiver of anticipation moved through her as Evie said, “I can’t wait to get my feet on the ground and put some miles on those logging roads.”
“It’s good to be excited,” her grandfather said. “I’m thrilled to see you so eager. Remember to keep your head in your eagerness. It’s easier to lose than to keep.”
“I think I’m ready,” she said.
“You’re as ready as you’ll ever be. My point is, as great as you have become, remember that the wilderness is greater still. Never underestimate it. I can�
��t stress that point enough. Many who do underestimate it pay a terrible price.”
She nodded, waiting for him to resume.
“Around Ludlow, you’re never more than a few miles from the security of home and family,” he elaborated. “Northern Maine is a different story.”
“I’ll be careful,” she said.
“I know you will.”
“Practical is my middle name.”
Joseph Snow smiled.
Chapter 2
Kerry Bowers looked up. She could hear the prop plane high overhead but couldn’t spot it through the snow-dusted evergreens. She was sipping the last of her hot coffee from a thermos, savoring every last drop of the steamy warmth. The sound of the plane made her wonder if its occupants were any warmer than herself.
This was her second winter as a warden. It was a great job, really. She couldn’t complain. Apart from the absolute coldest days, it was her dream job. Against multiple qualified applicants she had won the position just a year out of college and warden training. The dream job she’d aspired to for a decade became her daily reality.
Now, in the midst of knowing all that it entailed, the job wasn’t quite as ideal as she’d imagined.
She had stopped her aging snowmobile with its feeble electric hand warmers to give her frozen fingers a break from the wind, and now she paced up and down the hard-packed trail, stomping her feet to keep her toes from going numb. As long as the toes prickled, they were okay. The surface of the trail felt hard as iron against the grippy rubber soles of her boots.
As she finished the last sip of coffee she refused to look at the cargo sled towed behind her snowmobile. The less she looked at the sled, the less she thought of its cargo. If she could just stop thinking about the cargo, she might have a chance of putting this whole experience behind her. Tomorrow was a new day. A better experience surely awaited.
One can only hope.
Four hours prior to this coffee break she’d found human remains hanging from a tree. Two tibias and two fibulas. The discovery confirmed that she’d followed the directions properly. She’d been warned before being dispatched by Jones, the warden that discovered the scene, but that warning hadn’t fully prepared her. She’d placed the bones into a body bag, then she’d sifted through feet of disturbed powder, a mess left kindly by Jones. He had set aside the larger portions of the spine and ribs, along with several of the leg bones. The rest she’d had to sift and search for, the better part of an hour’s work.
North Woods Law (The Great North Woods Pack Book 5) Page 1
