by Karen Black
My immediate thought was that his partners probably didn’t know what happens under U.S. law when a person dies. When Mike probates my estate, since he knows about the deed and the rhenium, there will be a search for it. And Charley’s attorney, Sam, undoubtedly made a copy of it and has the legal description. And last but not least, if we do die here, when we’re finally found, as I’m sure will happen, just don’t know when, the deed is wrapped in plastic and safely tucked in my boot. I thought it best not to share that juicy bit of information with Jack. When our attorneys find the property, maybe his “partners” will think Jack screwed up, and he’ll be dealt with in the same way they handled the others. I might not be around to see it, but it will still be poetic justice.
Then I had another thought. “Jack, I don’t think you want to kill us, and I think I have a solution that would be good for all of us. Corky and I don’t want to run a rhenium mining operation. We’d certainly be willing to talk with your partners about selling the property.”
Jack paused for a brief moment, seemed to consider my proposition, then shook his head, “Sorry, too late. Charley’s murder complicated everything, and now you know too much.”
Corky pleaded, “Jack, is there anything I can do to change your mind?”
I knew what she was offering. “No,” I shouted.
Jack also understood. “Sure, kiddo, I could screw you here in front of your lover, but I’d still have to leave you here to die. I can’t do that. I have some scruples.”
Corky responded tartly, “Too bad. I hoped to bite it off, grab your gun while you were writhing in pain and shoot you.”
Jack laughed softly and shook his head, then said solemnly beneath his breath, “What a waste!” He slammed the door shut, and we heard a ker-chunk as the latching mechanism engaged.
Corky immediately finished freeing herself and untied my hands just as Jack started the helicopter engine. We listened as the thrum of the rotor blades grew dimmer, then disappeared. I pulled her into my arms. “Corky, honey, I’m so sorry I got you into this.”
She moved closer and I could feel her shiver. “Greg, you didn’t ‘get me into this.’ I knew Charley before I knew you, and Charley left this property to both of us. So you had absolutely nothing to do with ‘getting me into’ anything. I doubt Charley knew what he had gotten into or what he was getting us into until it was too late. I’ll bet the bombing of your house was his first clue that the danger wasn’t from the drug cartels, or maybe he assumed it still was. He probably made up that alias for you so the bad guys, whoever they were, weren’t looking for you, but for your alias…who would simply disappear. Before that, when he first found the property and put it in our names, I bet he thought he was doing us a big favor, giving us something that would make us a lot of money.”
She pulled away and looked around the room. “What are we going to do? I’m really not fond of the idea of starving to death,” she made a face then grinned to lighten the mood.
I grinned back, in spite of myself, but I didn’t share her apparent optimism that we would find a way out of our cold and scary prison. But Jack was right about one thing. Despite the danger, I was still glad that I finally had some answers. Some. But who in the hell was the contact at Tinman? And how could we warn Hennie?
CHAPTER XXXI
Friday, Saturday Somewhere in the Alaskan Wilderness
Corky seemed to take charge of our escape. “Check the bars. The windows are fairly small, but I could squeeze through if we can pull those bars loose. That metal looks like it’s really old; maybe it’s rusty and we can bend it enough to pull it out of the wall. Also, see if you can find anything we could use to insert into the lock, like a paperclip, or something like that. Do you happen to have a credit card on you? Wouldn’t you know it, I don’t have a hairpin in my hair, and I dropped my purse outside when Jack pulled the gun on us. If I can get out, there’s probably something in my purse I can use to pick the lock.”
The windows were just above my eyesight, so I stood on one of the chairs to better see how the bars were installed and test how strong they were. Despite several strong pulls on the first window, the bars didn’t budge. I moved to the second window. From the east-facing windows, I could see the gravel road that I had seen from the air several yards below and a brief view of the stream disappearing into the forest. And, as it had also appeared from the air, the east side of building was perched right at the edge of a long, steep incline.
Rust was much more evident on these rods than had been on the first, giving me hope we might be able to pull these out. I exerted as much strength as I could muster. I thought I felt a little give, bowing ever so slightly, but it remained securely in place. Over the next few hours, I repeatedly pulled and tugged until my arms were sore and I was shaking from fatigue. I even tried a technique I’d only heard about. I removed my leather belt, tied it around the bars and around my body, put my feet against the wall and pushed back–hard. It left a nice mark around my waist and the bars intact. Those suckers wouldn’t budge. I couldn’t believe how they could have been so securely embedded into wooden logs, even ones that were almost a foot in diameter.
Once the sun fell behind the mountains to the west, the pale light inside the cabin quickly faded. It started to get very dark and it started to get cold. I searched for the switch to turn on the light, finally found it above the bulb, but it didn’t work. Either there was no electricity or the bulb was burned out. Either way, no light.
“Let’s try to get some sleep and try this again in the morning,” I suggested, trying hard to conceal both my disappointment and my mounting concern. I had to appear strong for Corky.
“Why don’t you take the couch first, I know you’re exhausted,” Corky suggested.
I pulled her into my arms and mustered as much humor as I could, “I’ve heard some beds described as ‘sleeps one, stacks two.’ Why don’t we share it?”
“I like the way you think,” she giggled nervously (oh, how I loved that sound right then) and as we both lay on the couch. She snuggled into my arms as best she could without knocking me onto the floor. “Let’s take our jackets off and lie close together, so our combined body heat will keep us warmer, and use our jackets to cover the tops of us as best they will.”
We cuddled together, our bodies slowly warming the cold vinyl. A whisper of wind rattled an eerie nighttime silence, broken only by the yips, barks, howls and various vocalizations of the coyotes talking to one another, or warning predators to stay away. Once it sounded particularly high pitched like they might have been calling others to share a meal, probably one of the many snowshoe hares who called this area home. The icy cold reality of our situation prevented me from falling asleep for a long time.
We awoke the next morning after a fitful, uncomfortably cold night, but we had made it through. Morning presented some problems. We both needed to pee, and we were hungry. More importantly, we were thirsty. The windows were on the sunrise side of the mountain, allowing the sun shining through to light up the room, but it also meant the small accumulation of snow on the window sills from the previous night’s light snowfall would be quickly melting and dripping outside. I remembered from the short survival course my dad made me take, the body needs water more than it needs food. They said that you could survive up to three or four weeks without food, but often less than a week without water.
I grabbed Corky and pulled her over to one of the windows. “Corky, cup one hand, and brush all the snow you can from that window sill, and then lick your hand and swallow the liquid. It won’t be much, but it will provide a little water.” I watched as she collected a small amount of snow, which immediately turned into a small amount of water. I did the same from the other window.
That certainly wasn’t enough liquid to sustain us even one extra day, and I started to seriously worry about how the hell we were going to get out. There has to be a way out. Somewhere…we just have to find it. The place had electricity, or did at one time, so it couldn’t be t
hat far out in the sticks. What could it have been used for before? Had this been a gold mining area? I examined, inch by inch, what I guessed were hand-hewn large log walls and floor, looking for any weak area. Nothing–until the light reflected off something shiny. “Look. What’s that under the couch?” I asked. We quickly scooted the couch away against the far wall and rolled up the weathered rug.
“Hey, we can use this rug as cover for warmth if we don’t get out of here today,” I said. Then, noting the dismal look on Corky’s face, I quickly reassured her, “But we’ll get out today.”
A metal grate, about two feet square, was built into the floor that had been covered by the rug. It didn’t look like it had been accessed in a long time, but neither did it appear to be bolted to the floor, just wedged in very tightly.
“Corky, help me get that hook off the back of the door. Maybe we use it to lift a corner of this grate.”
“What’s that going to do for us?” she asked, skeptically.
“I’m not sure, but maybe it’s a tunnel or some kind of shaft. Maybe this cabin was built over a gold mine or something. I’m hoping it’s something that might lead to the outside.” I tried to convey more optimism than I actually felt. I didn’t know if it was a way out or not, but we had to try.
Luckily, the screws holding the hook to the door were loose enough we were able to remove them. I took the hook over to the grate, put the hook part into the opening in the grate to use as a lever and pulled. It didn’t come out, but I could feel some give. I hooked it under another piece of the grate, then stood on the hook’s handle. One side of the grate raised about an inch.
“Look, Corky, look. I think we can get this open!” I yelled, my excitement bubbling over.
She peered over my shoulder. “Yeah, but we still don’t know if that’s a way out.”
I moved the hook around to the second side of the grate, and repeated the action. “I know, but it’s a chance. And I’m not seeing another way out at this moment. If this doesn’t work, I’ll share with you my Plan B when I come up with one.”
She patted my shoulder. “Sorry for being such a Debbie Downer. I’m starting to get really scared.”
I looked up at her face tightly lined with worry, and patted her hand which was resting lightly on my shoulder.
Once I had elevated all four sides about an inch, which appeared to leave about another inch of the grate frame wedged in the floor, I stuck the hook into the middle of the grate and pulled; I felt it give a little, then suddenly it popped out, sending me sprawling backwards on my butt, the grate grazing my head as it sailed over and landed on the floor beside me.
Corky checked my head. “It’s not bleeding, but you’ll have a good bruise on your forehead,” she said in a concerned but dejected voice.
I peered into the dark, dank, smelly hole in the floor. “I’ll bet dear old Jack didn’t know about this,” I exclaimed. The light exposed about the first foot or so of what appeared to be a narrow shaft.
Having lost her optimism of yesterday, Corky now radiated gloom. “Greg, if you do what I think you’re thinking of doing and drop down into that pit, what happens if it’s just a deep hole and then you can’t get back up?”
Okay, I didn’t like to think about that option, and she was right. It could mean that the fall to the bottom and striking my head against unforgiving stone could kill me; or there could be water at the bottom and I could drown; or I could simply stink to death in a fetid cesspool…maybe it had been a septic tank…all sorts of unwelcome or deadly options suddenly leapt into my mind. Or it could mean a way out, and I didn’t see any others. It was like playing disaster roulette, and I didn’t know which number to put my money on, but, like a gambling addict, I had to play.
“Honey, I know it’s a risk, but we need to get out of here, and we need to do it today, and the windows aren’t looking like very good options. Please, help me. I grabbed the ropes and tied them together with a square knot to make them as long as possible. Now I needed to secure the rope to something in the room, something strong enough to bear my weight. The couch seemed to be the only possibility. I pulled it to the edge of the hole and flipped it on its back. Despite its cheap vinyl covering, it had what appeared to be a strong wooden frame, hopefully strong enough. Wrapping the end around the frame, I tied it tightly with a power cinch knot. That should hold the rope securely, assuming the frame didn’t break.
I pulled a trembling Corky into my arms. “Honey, I’ll go down as far as the ropes will allow, to see if I can determine what this is. I think it might have been an old gold mine shaft, and they built this shed to cover the opening. But if I can’t tell if it has access to the outside, then I’ll pull myself back up, and we’ll try to figure out something else. But, right now, this looks like our best chance.” My tone conveyed an air of confidence that surprised even me.
Keeping her head down, she just nodded her obviously reluctant agreement.
“A kiss for luck, please.” I cradled her chin in my hand and tilted her head up.
She tried her best to hide her fear, and gave me a lingering kiss. “I love you, Greg.”
If things turned out badly, I would remember that goodbye kiss for however long I lived. A sudden realization brought me up short, and I felt a sudden chill, as if I had an icicle in my spine. If I died in this shaft, what would happen to Corky? I pulled her closer, mentally debating the pros and cons of what I was about to do, and the risks. I really didn’t like our chances…either one of us…but I simply couldn’t see any alternative but to take this chance.
“I love you too, Sweetheart. We are going to get out of this,” I assured her, wishing I felt as confident as I was trying to make myself sound.
With a lot of trepidation, mixed with a small dose of hope, I slipped one foot into the bowline hitch I’d made at the bottom of the rope, and holding tight, started to lower my body into the cavity. Once I was at the end of the rope, it was so dark, I couldn’t see what was below me. I knew the sides of the shaft were rough but slippery–I’d rubbed against them on the way down–and that they had remained consistent in size…about two feet square.
I hung in the darkness, trying to figure my next move. Fortunately, the sofa frame seemed to be bearing my weight, but climbing back up would put more strain on it. I did not want to give up. Going back up could mean we might do exactly what Jack had planned. Realizing that all things must come to an end eventually, no matter how much we want to hold on to them, I could only hope ours was not a love story that was over almost before it had a chance to begin, but watching Corky slowly die of starvation was simply not an option for me.
But that’s what would happen to Corky…unless she just jumped down the shaft to join me. Actually, suicide might be a better option than starving, but I certainly couldn’t say that to her. I could only hope she’d come to that conclusion on her own if I didn’t make it.
Hoping I could see something, I dangled there for several minutes, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. In the absolutely stillness, I heard a sound, very faint at first until I directed all my senses toward it. The more I strained, the clearer it became…the burbling sound of water as it flowed over rocks. This had to be an opening to the stream I’d seen from the air, the stream beside the gravel road I saw through the windows. For the first time since Jack slammed that door shut on us yesterday, I felt optimistic. I had to go for it.
“What do you see?” I heard Corky call down.
Should I warn her what I was about to do? I turned my head up and shouted, “Honey, I can hear bubbling water. This has got to be an opening to a stream, and it doesn’t sound like it’s that far away. Please don’t be frightened, but I’m going to let go of the rope and drop on down. I love you.”
“Greg!!!” Her panicked voice echoed down.
Lowering myself as far as I could while hanging onto the rope, I slipped my foot out of the knot. Although my heart was pounding wildly, I felt strangely calm for just having made a decision that could c
ost me my life, and probably Corky’s too. This just had to be a way out. Taking a deep breath…hopefully not my last…I let go. At first I just fell freely feet first down the slippery shaft; then the shaft widened and I started tumbling, knocking my head against the sides. I couldn’t control my fall, all of a sudden my body flipped and I was going down head first, banging against jagged rocks extending from the sides. Things went black.
CHAPTER XXXII
Saturday, Somewhere in Alaska Wilderness
When I came to, I was lying in a sandy area next to a fresh water stream. I tried to survey my surroundings, but couldn’t focus my eyes. My ears were ringing, and my head hurt like hell. Prompted by a feeling of urgency to get Corky out of that place, I tried to stand, but my weak, numb legs buckled under me. I fell backwards in a whirlwind of confusion. Okay, dumbshit, I chastised myself, you’ve probably sustained a slight concussion. I remembered bumping my head when I started tumbling down the shaft. Just give yourself a little time. I lay back and closed my eyes, breathing deeply, until things stopped spinning.
It took several minutes to regain my equilibrium, before the feeling of vertigo disappeared. When I opened my eyes several minutes later, sunlight reflected off the flowing water. I leaned over, cupped my hands together, dipped them in the stream scooping up a handful of the cold liquid, and drank. God, that was refreshing. You don’t realize how good water tastes until you have to go without it. I scooped up another handful and rinsed the grime and blood off my face, then dried my hands on my pants.