No Safe Haven

by Kimberley Woodhouse

  CHAPTER SIX

  JENNA

  April 7

  Sultana, Denali National Park

  6:27 a.m.

  Jenna stood up and surveyed the piles around her. Marc always teased her about being prepared for nuclear fallout, but she was thankful she had insisted on keeping the plane stocked with equipment in case of an emergency. The inflatable raft wouldn't do them any good right now, but the mountaineering gear would. For the hundredth time that morning she wished she had paid more attention to her husband's instructions about climbing, but Cole seemed to be at ease with the ropes and harnesses. She'd have to learn fast. That or trust him, and she wasn't quite sure she could do that yet.

  Cole worked on a camp stove that had seen better days before the crash. They didn't have a lot of gas for it, but at least they'd be able to heat water. There were three backpacks, two hauling sleds, five sleeping bags plus the one Hank had, ice axes, crampons, a shovel, stakes, ropes, and various other survival items. Her emergency bag had plenty of water and food for several days, and she always kept a couple flats of water in the plane, but what if it wasn't enough?

  Shaking her head, she went back to search for the snowshoes and skis. Marc had welded special holders into the back of the plane for them, but as soon as she reached the tail cone, she realized they were long gone. The crash had torn off the end of the tail with the rudder. The skis and snowshoes were stored in that narrow slot—so they were now buried somewhere on the mountain with the rest of the wreckage. With a sigh, she turned to take another look at what was left.

  What if Marc had stashed things in the seats? As Cole went back into the hold to search, she decided to follow her hunch and check the rest of the plane. Crawling through the mangled fuselage, she yanked on the seat cushions above her head and ducked as the contents of the compartments tumbled out.

  A small black case engraved with Marc's initials caught her attention. As she turned the shiny box over in her hands, she noticed the lock. With no way to open it without a key, she shrugged and tucked it into her pocket. She would save it because it was Marc's. And that made it important to her.

  "Jenna? Do you really need all this duct tape?" Cole's voice drifted over to her.

  She ignored the question and shook her head. He had no clue.

  Life vests and flotation devices filled the floor, but when she opened the next seat, her breath caught in her throat.

  "Cole! Come here!"

  As he approached, she heard his intake of breath. He'd seen them as well.

  "Jenna, where did you find these?"

  "In the seat. Isn't it wonderful? We can call for help!" Her excitement bubbled up. They would be saved.

  Cole picked up the small, handheld radios. "No, we can't."

  "What do you mean?" She yanked one of the radios from his hands. "Of course we can."

  "No. Jenna, we can't." He closed the narrow space between them and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Don't you see? Anyone can listen in. And it's naïve to think that if we called for help only the 'good guys' would hear us."

  "But—"

  "Jenna. Listen to me. We'll use it if we have to, but right now, someone wants you dead. And they'll stop at nothing to accomplish their goal."

  "I don't understand! If we called for help, couldn't the rangers protect us? Get us out of here?"

  He pried the radio from her fingers. "I'm counting on them helping us, yes. But right now, no one knows we are here—except the ones who tried to kill you. Hank dismantled the battery on the emergency beacon and somehow changed your flight plan. No one knows to come rescue us. No one knows where we were headed."

  "What? How do you know all this?" This couldn't be happening.

  "I watched Hank during the preflight check. And realized he could've done much worse. Which he obviously did." He raked his hand through his hair.

  "So, we really don't have any hope?" Her breaths came quicker. "Are you sure we can't hail the rangers?"

  "These things only have about a five-mile radius. From what you said, there's probably not a soul within thirty miles. The rangers are in Talkeetna. So who do you think is most likely to hear if we were to make a call for help?"

  The weight of his statement sat like a polar bear on her chest. She knew all too well he was right, but she'd pushed anyway. Always looking for a way out, for some small glimmer of hope. As much as she hated it, he'd made his point. Defeat filled all the tiny little crevices of her heart that had begun to dream of a safe and easy escape from this nightmare. "I guess we should finish going through all this stuff." As she picked her way through the remaining bags, Jenna wondered if Cole was trying to save them or get rid of them.

  ———

  In less than thirty minutes, they'd found a goldmine of supplies, but Jenna's heart sank every time they pulled out something new. Marc had teased her, yes, but he'd also put a lot of thought into these supplies. He spared no expense, only the best for his family. So why did she still doubt him?

  She pushed the traitorous thoughts back. Marc had been a wonderful husband. He loved her. She knew that. Closing her eyes, she brought a fist up to her chest. Yes, she knew that—but what about that conversation she'd overheard? Who was Amy? And why did he spend so much time with her? Now she would never know and the memories she had of their fifteen years together would always have a shadow over them.

  "Hey, Jenna." Cole called to her from deep inside the hold pulling her out of her depressing train of thought. "Check this out."

  The man had volunteered to climb into the tiny cargo hold—and that was no easy feat since he was well over six feet tall—but it unnerved her to have him digging around in their personal things.

  Jenna stuck her head into the opening, schooling the expression on her face. "What's up?"

  "I thought you might want to see this." Cole pointed to the corner.

  As she made her way over to where his finger directed, her heart did a flip-flop. There—taped to what would have been the upper corner had the plane remained upright—was her list.

  The list she'd made with Marc at the kitchen table the night he insisted they all take a trip into the mountains. Before Andie's dangerous episodes. Before brain surgery. Before Marc shut her out. Jenna remembered arguing with him . . .

  "Marc, she's just a baby, and with her diagnosis, we'd have to be really careful in case of an emergency."

  "Jenna, honestly," Marc teased her, "you always want to be prepared for everything, but we can't possibly protect her from every little thing that could possibly happen every minute of every day."

  "Oh, honey, I know that. But what if we got stranded in the mountains, or what if we had to make an emergency landing over water, or the weather turned bad and we crashed somewhere?" She knew her dramatics were overkill, but she needed him to see that she was right.

  Hands up, signaling surrender, Marc chuckled. "Okay, okay. You win. Let's make your emergency list, and I'll make sure the plane is always supplied." Reaching for her, he drew her into his embrace. "You know I love you."

  "Mm-hmmm." She relished his strong arms around her.

  "And even though I tease you, I love your lists."

  She swatted his arm.

  "I do, hon. It's a good thing. And I know it."

  ———

  Jenna's hand slid over the plastic-encased paper as the memory faded. Tears slid down her cheeks. Every year since, he'd ordered new gear, teasing her about the list. She'd had no idea it was here. No idea he'd kept it, posted it, used it as a guide.

  "He loved you very much, Jenna." Cole's hand on her shoulder invaded her private moment.

  Sobs shook her as she crouched in the corner, tracing the smiley faces and "I love yous" scribbled around the edge of the paper. They'd continued to banter as they'd worked on the list. The last "I love you" she'd
scribbled, he'd immediately tried to outdo her and wrote, "I love you more." Like he had the final word.

  "Jenna?"

  He just wouldn't leave her alone. Was it so hard to let her have a moment or two of grief? Good heavens, she had a daughter with a rare nerve disorder, she'd lost her husband only a year before, and now she'd been in a plane crash. It would be nice to just go back to bed and wake up from the nightmare of it all. If she had a bed.

  "Jenna, we really need to get moving. It's already light. They'll come. Searching." His tone impatient and worried.

  "Okay." She wiped the tears from her face.

  "I'm going to pack these flats of water on the sleds with some other supplies for later. We'll hide them away from the crash site."

  "Won't we need the water?" Her mind wanted to engage, but her heart hurt.

  "We can't carry the weight." He placed a hand on her shoulder again. "We need to go up. We'll melt snow if we need to."

  What was the use of arguing? She needed to put all her energy into protecting Andie. "What about . . . him?" She didn't want to look at Hank's injured body.

  "We'll send someone back for him. He's injured pretty severely, one, possibly both of his legs are broken, but he's got protection from the wind, and someone covered him up." Cole looked at her, his gaze determined. "You understand that we can't risk bringing him, don't you?"

  "What if we pulled him on one of the sleds?" The man had tried to kill them. The reasoning behind it eluded her. But leaving him seemed inhumane.

  "It's too dangerous and I don't think he'd survive. Besides, like I said, we need to hide the sleds with extra supplies for when we come back down." His gaze softened. "I promise we'll send someone back for him, and we'll try to make him as comfortable as possible."

  While she couldn't bring herself to admit that leaving Hank seemed like sweet revenge after what he'd done, she did feel guilty. All she could do was nod. She needed to think of Andie and do everything in her power to keep them alive.

  * * *

  ANDIE

  April 7

  Sultana, Denali National Park

  7:19 a.m.

  "What are you talking about? We don't need an ice chest with packets, it will just slow us down. And if you haven't noticed, we are surrounded with ice." Cole threw the ice chest onto the ground and glared at Mom. "Be reasonable, Jenna!"

  She is being reasonable.

  "You don't understand. Those are Andie's medical packets for her vest. They keep her cold, so of course we need them!"

  See? I told you. I smiled on the inside. Men.

  Mom stormed over and picked the packets back up. She shook a finger at him. "I'm trying to protect my daughter, and in order to do that we have to take them."

  Time seemed to creep by as I waited for their arguing to stop.

  "Never mind!" Mom crossed her arms and stomped over to our stuff. She started packing.

  I looked heavenward with a sigh. Please help Mom not burst a blood vessel. Or kill Cole.

  Cole watched her vent, then shook his head.

  Ya did it to yourself, dude.

  ———

  No! I stared at Cole. "But, he has to come with us, we can't leave him here!"

  Cole stared at the plane as Mom hobbled over.

  "What's going on?" She glared at him and put her hands on her hips.

  Cole ignored her and turned back to me.

  "Andie, there won't be enough time or energy to bring him with us." Cole shook his head. "I'm sorry. But we'll have to send someone back for him. He'll be all right."

  "No!" I kicked the snow and clenched my fists. Why couldn't they see that Hank didn't have that much time left? Tears fell again.

  "Andie, I promise we'll send someone back for him." Cole kneeled down in front of me and grabbed my fist. "But you need to let this go."

  "Why? Hank will die if he doesn't come."

  "Andie." Mom walked over. "We need to leave him in God's hands. There's nothing we can do about it."

  "Jenna, this isn't helping." Cole stood and again looked toward the plane.

  God, please, I can't leave him here!

  "What are you talking about? She's my daughter, let me handle this." Mom followed Cole over to some packs.

  I snuck back to the plane.

  Hank lay on the floor/ceiling. His gaze held confusion.

  Did he hear our conversation? Tears spilled out of my eyes and into my goggles, but I couldn't stop them.

  I grabbed four water bottles and some granola bars then put them next to Hank's left arm. My stomach growled. I needed to eat something. But who could at a time like that?

  "Why . . . are you . . . helping . . . me?" Scratchy and yet sweet, his voice seemed to float in the sad little plane.

  "Hank." I grabbed his hand and squeezed, not even thinking about the blood that coated it. If we were leaving him—if he was going to die—he needed to know something. "God loves you, just like He loves me. Just like He loves everyone." I gazed into his eyes, searching for a sign as more tears escaped. "Jesus died for you and me so that we can have eternal life with Him. All you have to do is believe in Him, Hank. Please, just believe."

  He just stared. After a long pause, he nodded.

  "Andie."

  I turned and saw Mom standing at the entrance, eyeing Hank.

  "We need to go."

  Giving his hand one last squeeze, I tucked his arms into the sleeping bag, and covered him with an old army blanket Dad used to use.

  Hank gave a firm look. "Go."

  I stopped and stared.

  "No time . . . Go!"

  ———

  I barely noticed as Mom put the climbing harness on me. She talked, but her words seemed to bounce off walls in my head, echoing.

  Yet, I still didn't understand them because they were slurred. I thought I was passing out. But I wasn't dizzy. No blackness came.

  I heard faint voices. Someone pushed me down.

  I sat in the snow.

  How did I get on the ground?

  Cole. Cole was pushing me back telling me to lie down. My stomach growled. That was it. I hadn't eaten anything all morning. I needed food.

  "Andie . . . Andie, can you hear me?"

  I shook my head and blinked trying to clear the fog.

  Cole sat, digging in the emergency bag. Something about him sparked inside of me. But what was it?

  Kind brown eyes shot up and met mine as he passed me a granola bar. Was he concerned about me?

  "Eat. Now." He turned back around.

  I shook my head and opened the bar's crinkled wrapper.

  Cole Maddox, are you hiding something?

  Cole checked and made sure our harnesses were secure, then we started climbing.

  I slipped a couple of times but regained my balance. The ropes and harnesses were uncomfortable, the straps of the pack pulling at my shoulders, but I didn't complain.

  Mom's and Cole's were uncomfy as well, and they weren't complaining.

  But my muscles ached and it hurt to breathe. Ugh, this is awkward.

  Stop it, Andie. You've climbed up hills and steep inclines before. Then again, none of them were even close to this steep.

  After climbing for what seemed like hours, Mom and Cole slowed down.

  It's me, I'm slowing them down. I always make everything harder for everyone. Stupid nerve disorder.

  We kept climbing, but the longer we climbed, the shorter the distance we seemed to go.

  Why is this taking so long?

  My face scrunched as my back began to itch.

  Then my face.

  But, it wasn't a normal itch. It was more of a static-y, tingling itch.

  My cheeks and back began to burn and my
legs weakened as things seemed to swirl around me.

  Was I overheating?

  Mom. I've got to tell Mom. Dizziness began to take over and my goggles started fogging up.

  "Mom? I—"

  My foot slipped.

  Air rushed all around me as the rope slid through my hands and the harness. I felt the rope's pressure on the butterfly bandages. My chest closed up. I couldn't breathe. Blurry images flew by as I sailed downward.

  Everything disappeared.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  COLE

  April 7

  Sultana, Denali National Park

  10:51 a.m.

  "Andie!"

  Jenna's scream echoed around Cole, and it was all he could do to keep them steady as she strained at the ropes to go after her daughter.

  "Jenna, stop! Hold still!"

  She wasn't listening. "Andie!" She looked up at him, terror in her eyes.

  Before she could say another word, he moved down the line to Jenna and yanked off his head gear.

  "I told you not to put her last! Do something! Please—"

  The wind whipped around them, making it difficult to hear. Standard climbing procedure was heaviest to lightest when skills were equal, or strongest people first and last. With Jenna's injury, he'd done the logical thing: made a decision. So many things could go wrong and with this unfamiliar terrain, he had no desire to put them all at risk by weighing them down. But that didn't matter to this terrified mom. He lifted her a few feet up the rock face to a ledge. "I'm going to anchor you here," he yelled. "Stay put. I'll go down after her." Sinking two of their ice axes deep into the snow-crusted terrain, he wrapped and anchored their ropes. "I need you to watch these, make sure they hold, and be ready to help, understand?"