Denali Dreams, page 11
Sound carried on the howling wind.
David slowed, tugging his hood closer as he peered over his shoulder. What had he heard?
“Daaaavid!!”
He spun, feet partially stuck in the snowdrift. Squinted against the whiteout.
“David, help me!”
Plunging through the knee-deep powder, he got nowhere fast. “Jolie?”
“David, help!”
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Logan came to his side. “Dave, what’s wrong?”
“I …” No no no. He promised himself he wouldn’t rush to her rescue.
But he wasn’t a coldhearted jerk.
He stared out at the frozen tundra. He’d never forgive himself if he had the chance to do something and didn’t. What if a ranger had the chance to save Mariah—? “I think I’m about to eat my words.” He backed out of the tent. “Notify Camp 1. Give them her description. Notify next of kin.”
“I know what my job is,” Maggie said, only a little annoyed. “And you better know what yours is.”
David’s gut ignited as he pointed to Maggie. “Notify Camp 1. Send out her description,” he said, his mind and heart buzzing. “Beautiful blond. Raspberry North Face jacket, brown overpants, black boots.”
Maggie held his gaze. “Eye color?”
“Honey—brown.”
“Birthmarks?”
David scowled. “What? How would I know?”
“Well, you seem to know everything else about this beautiful blond.”
Heat stamped his face. “Just do it.” Her laughter trailed him into the icy terrain, along with a crunch of boots from behind.
“You sure you want to do this?” Logan asked.
David grabbed his gear and shouldered his pack. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know, maybe something about never rescuing rich kids off your mountain …”
His friend would never let him live this down. And trying to explain why he felt he had to do this would only make things worse. “If I tried to explain, you’d just mock me.”
“I’m already doing that.”
“Exactly.” David grabbed a radio then started through Base Camp, navigating the huddle of climbers waiting for the next Otter out.
“David.”
He hesitated and glanced back.
“Are you sure …?”
The question bore the implications of what he could find—or not find. It warned of losing yet someone else, and with Jolie’s connection to Mariah’s death …
“I have to.”
“No, you don’t.”
David smirked. “Yeah, actually, I think I do.” Sunglasses on, he looked toward the glaciers. “I had dreams about her screaming for help, my help.” He glanced back to his friend. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened and I didn’t try.”
Logan seemed to understand. “Keep us posted and Godspeed.”
He gave a two-fingered salute then headed toward Heartbreak Hill. This was his problem—always knowing when things weren’t right. It got him in the middle of too many messes. And in the heart of this situation, his first instinct was to teach her a lesson for leaving her team. Let her eat snow. Have a cold burial. But that would make him a jerk. Each step down the four-hundred-foot descent pounded against his anger.
Even if she was sick, even if—in the remote possibility—she was in danger, what possessed her to take off alone? Solo climbs were restricted to the most experienced climbers. Now, not only had she put herself in danger against the elements and the mountain, but she also put his life in danger. When would rich people get it through their thick skulls that there was more to life than them? Well, he’d help her understand once he found her.
If he found her.
Despite his irritation that told him to stop hurrying, let her feel some of the trouble she’d created, one thought pushed him: the thought of her broken body lying at the bottom of a crevasse.
God, help! Everything hurts.
It even hurt to think. But she must think in order to make it down the mountain alive, down to David.
No, not David. He hated her. Despised her. She could expect no help from him. Still, Base Camp would get her help. She’d avoid the normal routes, use her ski stick to check for crevasses as she went, but first …
Swallowing against what felt like wool in her mouth, Jolie slumped against a jagged outcropping. She tugged her water bottle from her pack and held it in her mouth, swished to wet her mouth, then gulped. With a heaving sigh, she squinted against the sun, which made her feel like she was walking through a sauna. Crazy since it was cold up here. But with her pack and whatever made her sick, her sweaty clothes clung to her body. Tempted to remove her jacket, she shook off the thought, knowing her body temp was too low. Fever … that was why she was hot.
Or was it?
Using her arm, she swiped the perspiration from her forehead. Squinted across the glaring white of the forbidding beauty. She understood why Gael loved it here. Why he’d chosen this place to propose. Though at the moment all she wanted to do was puke all over it.
Jolie took another swig of water then stored the bottle in her pack again. Her limbs felt like anchors and her brain like buried cache. Eyes fluttering as she took in a labored breath, she knew she needed to rest.
But what if … what if someone really was after her? To come after her now, they’d have to give a good explanation to the others about their departure. It would take some convincing.
Unless they said they were worried about her.
A groan escaped her lips again. She pushed onto her feet and swayed. Jolie swung out her hands. Rest, she needed rest. A stiff wind whipped around her, swirling and taunting, tugging her to go on. A little farther. In her mind’s eye, a cleft beckoned her to its shadowed space where she could tuck herself in and rest.
She gripped her forehead and plodded onward. Stumbled. Fell to a knee but kept moving. Urgency and fear hauling her down the mountain like prey. Reaching back, she rifled through her pack and caught her water bottle again. Sipping as she went, Jolie’s mind tangled. Or was it her feet that tangled?
Jolie shoved a hand through her long blond hair and grimaced. I’m going crazy. That was part of mountain sickness, wasn’t it—confusion? What if she couldn’t tell friend from foe? She hurried, glad she’d already placed the crampons on her boots.
What if they were closer? She glanced back. Pristine white snow glared at her. A dark spot stopped her, stopped her heart. Was that someone following her? Jolie swallowed. How would she protect herself out here?
She whipped around, plunged onward, heart thudding against the questions she could not answer. Oh, Daddy. Where are you?
Dead. She knew he was dead, but he’d always been there for her. Held her close when Gael died. Her mother vanished into the void of her own pain.
Jolie.
The voice whispered on the wind, pulling at her. Taunting her.
I am losing my good mind.
Jolie!
Certain she’d heard something that time, she glanced back. Though she saw nothing at first, a shape shifted up around the pass. There, near the jagged rock she’d slumped on. Had she really come that far? Or … was that another rock? Again, her mind tangled. As did her legs. She stumbled. But not before a blur froze her. She looked back.
Movement!
Her breath backed into her throat. Someone was following her!
He’d throttle her.
“Hey, Tony,” David said as he dragged the sled the last few feet to the Camp 1 Base Camp ranger’s tent, narrowly avoiding a cluster of tents.
“David?” He came out of his chair. “What’re you doing up here?”
“Missing climber. Blond, reddish coat, early twenties. Seen her?” He removed his jacket and stuffed it into the pack, the heat of the sun beating on him.
“No,” Tony said, looking around as if he might spot Jolie now that she’d been mentioned. The sun bronzed the guy’s skin like a surfer’s. “It’s been pretty quiet for the last couple of days, thanks to the good weather. Seen a few groups descend, but no loners today.”
“Yeah?” David panted as he squinted around the half-dozen groups gathered for rest and acclimatization. “Well, keep an eye out. Might have AMS.”
“You got it.”
David trudged up the incline, checking any place that might pose even the slightest shelter. “Where are you?” he muttered as he rounded a corner. Wove through Camp 1, double-checking with climbers and the rangers there to see if anyone had come across Jolie. Of course not. That would be too easy. And since she was out to make his life miserable, to put him in jeopardy, being here where it would make sense would defeat that purpose.
Trudging on, he determined in his heart to really let her have it. Enough was enough. He’d had it. And he had to admit, he was disappointed. She seemed to have a decent brain behind that pretty face.
He should just go back.
The dream.
But those too foolish to heed common sense weren’t his problem.
Then why was he still climbing up?
David!
Oh great. Now he was hearing things. And her voice. Soft, like the soft, waxy touch of a flower petal. Man, you are losing it.
“David!”
A whisper of a cry on the wind drew him ‘round. He looked up the pass. Pure white. To the side. Rocks. A crack that marked the dangerous maw of a crevasse.
Directly above it—
“Jolie, no! Stop!” He cast off his pack as he saw Jolie practically throwing herself down the mountain—straight toward the crevasse. “No!” He waved his arms. “Stop!”
“Help!” she cried out. “David, help!”
Jolie lunged forward.
And tumbled.
Slid down … down … straight into the crevasse.
Chapter 5
Noooo!” Heart in his throat, David threw himself the last three yards. “Jolie!” He went to his knees, moving as quickly as safely possible and using his ski stick to probe for more fissures that could send him to his death. “Jolie, are you okay?” Iciness bled through his overpants, numbing but not saturating. “Jolie.”
Why wasn’t she responding?
“Jolie! Can you hear me?” Panic streaked through him, his breathing shallow and painful. Calm down. You’ll find her.
A low moan that yanked on his heart pulled David closer.
Snow dropped away, his hand slid downward. He jerked himself up, pulse thundering. He scooted back and continued around, searching, calling. “Jolie, where are you?”
He peeked over the edge. The deep, vertical fissure in the mountain ran at least twenty feet deep, if not more. Where one ledge cut back, another jutted, barring him from a clean line of sight. Several chunks were broken … and another farther down. He angled trying to see around the jagged lips. She had to be—
A boot! He saw a boot. “Jolie! Jolie, can you hear me?”
Nothing save the bitter wind.
He’d have to rappel. David spun, dug his ice axe into the snow to use it as an anchor, then moved to pound in an ice screw as a secondary anchor. He donned his leg prusiks and prepped the mechanical ascender. At the lip of the crevasse, he padded the lip of the anchor to prevent the rope from digging into the snow and ice.
He used another rope and carabiner to lower his pack down into the crevasse. Once it was down, he went to work lowering himself into the icy gorge. Though it took only minutes to get set up at the bottom of this inverted pyramid, he felt like it’d been an hour.
David lowered himself onto his buttocks then rolled onto his belly, holding the rope as he eased over the edge, mentally chewing her out for not staying with her team and roped up. A team rescue would be so much easier.
He rappelled down the fifteen feet to where she lay. He unhooked himself, then using his stick again, he probed the area, praying he wouldn’t discover another crevasse.
“Jolie!” David scrabbled to her side, pressed two fingers to her carotid, and visually probed the rest of her for injuries. Nothing bent at an unnatural angle. No blood. Her pulse was there but rapid.
“Jolie,” he said, smoothing his hands over her limbs, assessing more firmly whether she had broken bones.
She moaned.
“Jolie, c’mon. I need you to wake up.”
Yes, definitely needed her awake. Eyes open. Fighting back. Anything to reassure him he wouldn’t have to attend another funeral.
“Hey.” He patted her cheeks.
Her eyes fluttered open, squinted, then locked on him. “Oh no.”
“Is that any—”
A demonic growl erupted—right along with her vomit. It struck his overpants, his boots, and jacket. Splatted his face.
David pushed back onto his haunches. “You have got to be kidding me!” His stomach roiled at the stench. He pressed the back of his hand to his nose and groaned as he stood, staring at the mess on his clothes. “Unbelievable. Of all the …”
“I’m sorry.” Looking miserable, Jolie bent in half, gloved fingers digging into the snow, sniffling. She peeked up at him, whispering another apology. Face blanched, lips not their sultry pink—
David gritted his teeth. He grabbed a handful of snow and rubbed off as much of the mess as he could. “Are you hurt?”
Surprise skated off her blanched face as she considered him, slowly shook her head, then pressed her fingers to her forehead. “No … I—I don’t think so.” Her weak, defeated voice depleted what little was left of his irritation.
With a huff, he dropped to his knees. “You’re pale. Let me check you over before we prusik back up.”
After an almost imperceptible nod, Jolie lowered herself to the crevasse floor and closed her eyes. David gently touched her side, probing for internal injuries. “Let me know if something hurts.”
She let out a sigh and draped an arm over her eyes.
“It was stupid to leave your team.” He smoothed his hands over her right leg, then the other, working his way up her left side till he positioned his fingers against her carotid again. Rapid, consistent pulse. “Rope up, stay with them—you wouldn’t have fallen.”
Her arm dropped away and she glowered.
He waited for her snarky comment, her witty comeback. Instead, she swallowed and shook her head quickly, as if warding off something.
“Your guide said you weren’t feeling well.” He crouched and ducked his head to look into her eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she said, her words thick with exhaustion as she hauled herself upright. “Can we get going?”
“First things first. I need to know what condition you’re in. Dizziness?”
She shook her head.
“Nosebleeds, drowsiness, shortness of breath, pins and needles?”
“Weak and sick.” As if that should sum it all up. “And my head hurts.”
“Probably hit it when you tried to do an aerial and ended up down here.” He meant it to be funny, but something weighted her features. She wasn’t talking back or fighting. And that worried him. “Jolie.” He touched her cheek, drawing her gaze back to his. “Why’d you leave your team?”
Something skittered through her expression but vanished as fast as it came. She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Dizziness?”
“No, everything is blurry.” She dropped her hands against her lap and squinted up at him. “Do you have anything to eat?”
“You’re hungry?”
She shrugged.
“Guess since you emptied your stomach all over me …” But it was weird. People with AMS usually had a loss of appetite. He retrieved a protein bar from his pack and her water bottle from hers then returned and crouched in front of her. David held them out. “Eat up.” He wasn’t sure she could make it. “We have a lot of area to cover.”
She studied him then took the proffered items. He hadn’t seen AMS or HACE like this. She seemed to have a severe case and yet, not. The headache was weird. Dizziness, yes. But the increase in appetite, the shaking fingers …
David readied the harness and prusiks, trying not to pay too much attention to Jolie, to her sluggish movements as she rinsed her mouth and tore open the bar. “Drink,” he ordered as he roped up. “Stay hydrated.”
She glared at him. Then her gaze rose to the height of the crevasse. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.” Jolie lumbered to her feet. “I’m sick. And tired.”
“And what, staying down here to freeze to death or wait for a snowdrift or avalanche to bury us is a better option?” He smirked, trying to rouse her from the stupor that had fogged in her strong spirit. “Sorry.” He cocked his head as he hooked the rope into the carabiner. “I like my toes nice and pink, not black with frostbite. Speaking of …”
He shifted a couple of feet and lifted her hand.
“What’re you doing?” she asked, surprise coloring her words.
He tugged off her thick glove, then the insulator. Warm in his hands, her fingers showed only the slightest tinge of the frigid temperatures. He stuffed her glove into his mouth as he removed the other and checked her digits one by one.
“How … how’d you find me so fast?”
The vulnerability in her question drew his gaze up, surprised to see the pale face filled with rosiness … and yet still pale. What was this?
Insanity, that’s what. Why was his mind even trying to go there? She was a Decoteau. A rich girl. He’d vowed to never deal with her or her family again.
He stuffed her hands into her gloves. “I’m a mountaineering ranger. I know where to look for trouble.“
Instead of striking back with one of her lightning-fast comebacks, Jolie just dropped her gaze and drew on the gloves. “I didn’t …”
Standing over her, he couldn’t tear his gaze from the soft lines of her cheekbones, the straight nose, the delicate eyebrows. Even sick and roughed up by Denali, she had a beauty that any guy with eyes couldn’t miss.
She looked up at him, her lips parted as if to say something, then she stilled.
Then at once all the indicators registered: her quickened pulse when he touched her, her red cheeks. As if she climbed a mountain. But she hadn’t. She’d fallen off one, sort of.
