Surviving the Wilderness, page 4
“The way he looked me over makes me think not much gets past him,” Jeff said. “He might’ve seen something. Also, the thin woman clutching her tin mug...”
“Suzanne,” she supplied.
“She’s addicted to nicotine and itching for a cigarette,” Jeff said. “She might’ve snuck out at night for one. Any idea what the tall woman by the fire is scribbling in that notebook?”
“Charis is an author,” she said. “Self-published with a huge online following. Writes about this incredible handsome detective who does karate and solves crime.”
“Huh.” It was amazing how loaded a single syllable could be. Then he smiled. “Guessing you wish he was here with you now instead of me?”
She felt a smile turn on her lips.
“Hey, Jeff?” A man who looked to be in his sixties, judging by the lines etched in his sun-tanned face, shoulder-length gray hair and long beard rushed across the ground toward him. “Long time! How you been, man?”
She watched as Jeff’s shoulders stiffened.
“Who is he and how does he know who I am?” Jeff asked hurriedly under his breath. “He’s vaguely familiar but normally I never forget a face.”
“Kirk used to take trips with us through our old job,” she said. “He was on at least one that we led together. Former Canadian military.”
“Air force.” Kirk reached out with a suntanned arm and shook Jeff’s hand.
“Good to see you,” Jeff said.
“Didn’t know if you’d recognize me,” Kirk said with a chuckle. “I was clean-shaven with a buzz cut last time you saw me. Then I figured if I was now retired, I might as well look it.”
A sudden crash sounded, followed by Addison shouting, “Naugh’y dog! No t’ief!”
They looked over to see Butterscotch wagging his tail at an overturned plastic plate with what looked like the remains of someone’s abandoned meal scattered on the ground.
“Well, that’s what someone gets for leaving their plate unattended,” Quinn said. She watched as Addison shook a serious finger at the dog, who was too cheerful to care. Seemed campers had woken up enough to start snapping pictures of the mischievous puppy. “Don’t worry, we have way more food left than this crew can eat in a day.”
“That your little girl?” Kirk asked.
“Yup.” Jeff nodded.
“Precious, aren’t they?” The older man smiled. “I have a little granddaughter her age. Catherine, named after my mother. Good solid name, not like those awful modern ones they come up with nowadays.” Quinn hid a smile. She’d heard this line a few times before. “Would do anything for her.”
“Hey, Quinn!” Marcel was practically jogging through the trees. “I need to talk to you!”
On his unsolved mystery podcast, which was followed by tens of thousands of avid listeners, Marcel came across as serious, focused, and very authoritative. But in person, he was a gangly thin man in his early twenties, with huge round glasses perched on a narrow nose, and the perpetual look of a startled meerkat. Kirk took his leave and wandered over to the coffee. Marcel rushed up to Jeff and even though he was twice half his size, Jeff instinctively stepped back.
The blogger looked at Jeff and blinked. “Who are you and where did you come from?”
“I’m Jeff and I live in an old hunter’s cabin about fifteen minutes’ walk from here,” Jeff said with a tight smile.
“It’s not on the map,” Marcel said. “I checked very thoroughly and there’s nothing around here.” For a moment she thought he was actually going to ask Jeff for proof. But instead Marcel turned to Quinn. “You’re totally right about which route we should take. I know I tried to twist your arm into taking one of the smaller river branches because, according to my research, there was something totally awesome there you’d want to see. And I promise it would’ve been totally worth it.”
“I’m sure it would’ve been,” she said. “But I can’t justify going that far out of our way for a secret something that might be there. Not on this trip. Maybe next time.”
“Even if it’s about an hour from here as the crow flies,” Marcel said.
“An hour by crow but almost four by canoe,” she said.
“Fair enough.” Marcel grinned. “Also, judging by the clouds and wind, I’m now thinking the rain’s going to hit us a lot faster and harder than we were expecting, so the fastest route is definitely the best.”
“You have internet access?” Jeff asked. “How? I thought there was no cell phone signal or internet around for miles.”
“Oh, I didn’t check the weather forecast online,” Marcel said. His smile grew. It was large and slightly goofy. “This whole trip is technology free until we get reunited with our phones and laptops at the final stop tonight.”
“Although we do have a satellite phone for emergencies and walkie-talkies,” Quinn said quickly. “Rose still has the phone actually. It was how I contacted her.”
“Unless someone tried to smuggle something in,” Marcel added. “It’s not like Quinn went around checking everyone’s bags for contraband.”
“Then how are you checking maps and the weather?” Jeff asked, sounding genuinely curious.
Marcel reached into his back pocket and pulled out a laminated, homemade, spiral-bound flip book.
“I got paper maps,” he said proudly. “Weather maps, satellite pictures, old explorer’s maps from back in the day, some over a hundred years old. Plus, all sorts of meteorological, geological and geographical data.”
An engine roared behind them, growing louder by the second, accompanied by the sound of something crashing its way through the trees. Fearful gasps and startled shouts rose from around them. Voices swore. Immediately Quinn turned to look for Addison just in time to see Rose preemptively scoop her up into her arms and shelter her there protectively, turning the little girl’s face away from whatever was causing the commotion. Blinding lights beamed through the trees. A horn blared in a long wail, as if someone was pushing against it.
Then they saw the large black vehicle smash its way through the forest.
“That’s Vic’s truck!” Jeff shouted.
It broke free from the trees and careened toward the rock cliff. The wheels shot over the edge. For a fraction of a second, the cab seemed to hover midair, and she could see a figure slumped forward over the wheel.
The truck plunged nose-first, free-falling down into the raging river below.
FOUR
“Vic!” Jeff’s voice seem to echo in his ears. He ran straight for the water, tunnel vision blocking everything but the sight of his brother’s truck wedged nose-first as it slowly sank into the water. The memory smell of the charred remains of his colleagues’ trucks three years ago on the other side of the world swept through his mind, along with the pain of its smoke stinging his eyes. No! He wouldn’t—couldn’t—remember that now.
He forced the memory away, yanked off his boots, dove in and swam for the truck. And immediately he realized his mistake. While there were definitely parts of the river that someone of his strength and size could swim with relative ease on a good day, others were dangerous enough to kill even the strongest person in an instant.
The current hit him full-force, tossing him back and dragging him under. He struggled to the surface, barely gasping a breath before the rapids crashed over him again. His chest ached with the need to breathe. He forced himself to the surface once more and heard Quinn behind him shouting his name.
“Jeff! Take my hand!”
The river tossed him backward into her and they collided like bowling pins. He felt her grab him around the neck in a lifeguard hold. But he wrenched her arm away. No, he wouldn’t let Quinn risk drowning to save him from his own mistake.
Then he felt her arm grab him again and this time she held on.
“Jeff, it’s okay!” she shouted. “Trust me!”
He felt solid ground under his feet, dug his heels in and pushed himself backward. She let go and they stumbled to shore. It was only then he realized she’d not only stopped long enough to throw her climbing harness back on, she’d anchored it to a tree. He didn’t know whether he was more embarrassed he hadn’t thought of that or impressed that she had. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
“Where’s Addison?”
“Rose took her into our tent, she didn’t see a thing.” Her words came rapid-fire. “That your brother’s truck?”
“Yes,” Jeff said. “But I couldn’t tell if it was him behind the wheel.”
“Okay.” She yanked the harness free from the tree. He looked around the campsite and it felt like every eye in the place was staring at him. “Let this be a lesson to all of you that nobody—no matter how strong—is going to have a perfect record against nature. Even the toughest person is going to get knocked down by the wilderness every now and then. Even Jeff. Even me. So right now, I need you all to stay back, let us do our jobs and not try to do anything stupid. We’ve got this.”
“Who’s in the truck?” One camper yelled the question everyone must be thinking and Jeff was trying hard not to let overwhelm him.
“Is it Bruno?” shouted another.
Quinn didn’t answer. Instead she scooped up two life jackets from a nearby canoe, thrust one at him and buckled the other one on over the harness. “Come on,” she said. “If we can’t get to him by swimming upstream, we’ll just have to go around the other way.”
He followed as she ran up the slope, through the tents and along the top of the cliff, past startled campers with a singular and focus. They reached the trail of broken branches and wreckage where the truck had careened from the trees and over the edge. More concerned campers crowded around the edge.
“Stand back!” Quinn shouted.
Jeff looked down at the truck below. It was wedged on a steep angle against the side of the cliff. The vehicle was sinking fast, its front bumper already under water along with half the hood. But the cab was still out of the water.
Please, don’t let it be my brother. I need Vic to be okay.
He turned back to see Quinn anchoring the harness to a tree so thick she couldn’t get her arms all the way around it and had to blindly throw the rope from one hand to the other. She made it on the first try. Then ran back to him.
“Sadly, we’ve only got one harness,” she said. Then she unexpectedly reached her hand out to his and he stared at it for a long moment before realizing she was waiting for him to take it. “I don’t think we should risk losing each other on the way down.”
“Agreed.” He clasped her wrist and she took his, like one soldier pulling the other out of danger. Determination flashed in her eyes and there was something so unbelievably beautiful about it that it took his breath away.
“Hey,” Quinn said softly. “It’s going to be okay.”
They turned, ran in unison toward the edge of the cliff and leaped. Their bodies fell through the air. He felt her hand slip from his, then half a second later his body hit the water, went under and immediately bobbed back to the surface.
Instantly the current caught hold of him, this time slamming him hard against the bed of his brother’s truck.
“Quinn!” He shouted her name and scanned for her in the water. The harness rope disappeared around the front bumper.
“I’m here!” she called. Her face appeared over the other side of the cab. She was clinging to the top of the passenger’s-side door. “It’s not Vic! It’s not your brother!”
Thank You, God! The words flew instinctively through his mind as relief flooded over him, without him stopping to question why a man who didn’t believe in prayer was doing it now. He forced his way through the water to the driver’s-side door, looked in and started. The body, which was at least a foot too short to be his brother, was slumped forward over the steering wheel. But the disfigured face with its huge hook nose and vacant holed eyes was turned completely toward him. It took a full four seconds for his brain to process that he was looking at a man in a gruesome troll mask.
“Is this who attacked you?” Jeff shouted.
“Yeah,” Quinn shouted back. “Bizarre, isn’t it?”
Hideous and terrifying more like. No wonder she’d been so confused. The body shuddered a breath. Its head lolled sideways. He heard Quinn barely stifle a scream followed by a prayer of thanksgiving.
“He’s still alive!” she cried.
Jeff braced himself against the top of the cab, grabbed the door handle and pulled. “It’s locked!”
“This side too!” Quinn called back. “But the window’s open a crack. If I take off my life jacket, I should be able to squeeze my arm through.”
“Don’t. Take. Your. Life. Jacket. Off!” he bellowed.
But it was too late. He watched in vain as Quinn yanked the zipper down.
* * *
She could hear Jeff shouting at her to stop and to keep her life jacket on. Something about the depths of the concern in his voice was almost enough to make her stop. Instead, she wriggled her way out of her life jacket with one hand while maintaining a tight grip on the truck with the other. She transferred the life jacket to the same hand holding on to the truck, hitched her body up as high as she could, and squeezed her arm through the small gap in the top of the window. It was so tight, her shoulder ached as her fingers struggled in vain to reach the lock. Help me, Lord! She gritted her teeth and fought through the pain until she felt her fingers touch the lock knob and pry it up.
The truck was tilted on a sideways angle toward her and was submerged a good foot deeper on the passenger’s side than it was on the driver’s. The door unlocked and when she yanked it open, half a dozen empty beer bottles rolled past her, clinking and clattering as they tumbled into the water. The truck stunk so heavily of booze, it was like someone had drenched the seats in beer. She hauled herself into the truck, climbed gingerly across the seat, and pulled the mask off. It was Bruno. His pulse was weak, and he was muttering under his breath like he was talking in his sleep and furiously angry at his dream. She glanced at Jeff through the corner of the windshield. He was shouting up to someone above them she couldn’t see.
“Vic’s here!” he told her. “Sounds like he was upstairs, saw Bruno steal his truck and drove after him in mine.”
Thank You, God!
“Tell him he’s alive and semiconscious,” she said. “The truck’s full of beer and he seems black-out drunk.”
Yet as she said the words, she felt the odd niggling at the back of her mind that something wasn’t right about the scene.
How had he drunk that many beers that fast? If he’d started drinking before stealing the truck then why were all the bottles in the truck? But she hardly had time to figure it out.
“We’ve got to put the harness on him and get them to haul him up,” she said. “We can’t risk taking him downstream if he has any head trauma or internal injuries.”
“Don’t like it,” Jeff said. “But I agree.”
Quinn maneuvered her way out of the harness, slid it onto Bruno the best that she could while he limply protested like a cranky, sleeping child. Then she leaned past him and unlocked the driver’s-side door for Jeff. He yanked the door open and water cascaded through with such force it would’ve knocked her backward out of the truck if she hadn’t wrapped her hand around the seat belt.
Jeff helped fasten the harness and did a quick check for injuries.
“We should put my life jacket on him too,” Quinn said.
“No, we’re not—” he started.
“Jeff! Yours is too big and mine will protect his neck and his core—”
“I know!” He cut her off. “And you’re right. But what’s going to keep you from drowning?”
Her eyes met his and held his gaze for a long unflinching moment. “I’ve got you.”
They slid the life jacket on Bruno and slid him out her side of the truck. Jeff hollered up to his brother and they watched as her co-guide’s limp body was slowly hoisted into the air.
“So far, so good.” Jeff looked at her over the hood. “Just stay there and hold tight, and I’ll come to—”
The truck dropped suddenly, taking Quinn with it. For a moment, she struggled, fighting desperately to get back to the surface. Then she felt Jeff’s arms envelop her, pulling her out of the water and clutching her to his chest. She wrapped her arms around him, tucked her head into the crook of his neck and rested in his strength as they spun downriver together.
She felt as jolt as he dug his feet hard into a rock. He staggered to shore, still clutching her. They hit the sand and collapsed side by side on their backs, panting with exertion, his arm cradled under the crook of her neck and her face resting on his chest.
Thank. You. God.
“Hey!” Her sister’s voice rose from behind them. “You guys okay?”
“Silly Daddy,” Addison chirped. “You don’t swim in clothes!”
Quinn rolled over and sat up as Jeff leaped to his feet. Rose jogged down the slope toward them, holding Addison by the hand. She let go of the child, and Jeff swept Addison into a hug. Butterscotch barreled past him into Quinn and quickly licked her face, as if to check that she was still alive, then trotted over to Jeff. Rose repeated what Jeff had said about Vic seeing Bruno stealing his truck and taking off after him.
“He thinks it’s a case of potential alcohol poisoning combined with a drug overdose,” Rose said.
“Drugs?” Quinn repeated.
“Apparently it’ll be next to impossible to get a medevac to land here,” Rose went on, “so he’s going to drive Bruno to the nearest clinic and see about getting paramedics to meet them on the way.”
“Sounds good,” Jeff said. He glanced at Quinn. “You mind keeping an eye on Addison while I go talk to my brother?”
“No problem.”
