by Kristie Cook
No! Not Franklin’s dog tags! Jonathan pointed at the bear and yelled, “Drop it.”
The bear stood on its hind legs and lifted its nose into the air.
“You do not want to mess with me.”
The bear dropped to all fours then huffed and jerked its head up, lifting its front paws. It grunted then slammed them back to the ground and charged.
Jonathan spread his feet as wide as he could on top of the boulder, raised his arms over his head, puffed out his chest and roared at the bear. His primal scream was still echoing through the valley when the bear skidded to a stop. It huffed once then turned and ran the other way.
Jonathan slid off the boulder and ran after it. He didn’t relish the thought of digging through bear dung, but there was no way he was going to let Franklin’s dog tags disappear in a pile of bear poo.
It didn’t take long for the bear to out run Jonathan and disappear. He searched the ground for tracks, but didn’t find any. He stumbled across a game trail and followed it, even though he had no way of knowing if the bear had used it. All he could do was hope. And keep searching. Or give up and hike back to the car. With no food, no shelter and no way to build a fire, that’s exactly what any sane person would do. Especially since the temperature had dropped another ten degrees.
Franklin wouldn’t want Jonathan to risk his life, searching for his dog tags, especially since the odds of finding them were ridiculously low. He’d have a better chance of winning the lottery. He turned around and groaned out loud when he saw the dark grey clouds spilling over the northern peaks. He’d been so pissed off at the bear that he hadn’t been paying attention to the weather.
Jonathan had been born and raised in Leadville. He knew what mother nature was capable of. This wasn’t going to be an insignificant early autumn snow shower. A blizzard was coming.
He’d never make it back to his car before it hit and there was nothing left of his campsite. “I am so screwed.”
Jonathan shoved his hand in his hair and turned around as he considered his options. He could build a lean-to out of pine boughs, but he’d still most likely freeze to death. A yellow stain on the side of a mountain caught his eye. Mine tailings. A smile spread across his face.
His great-great-grandfather had survived several winters, living and working inside his primitive mine during the gold rush. Jonathan didn’t like caves or mines, but he didn’t have to go inside very far. Just enough to get out of the wind and the snow. He’d endured worse hardships in Afghanistan, he could handle a little snow. At least no one would be shooting at him.
Chapter Four
Breaking Boundaries
The melancholy sound of Canada geese woke River. She stretched her sore muscles and opened her eyes. The sun warmed her face, but her breath fogged the air when she yawned. Three white trails crossed each other in the sky—marks left by outsider’s flying machines. They were too high to see anyone on the ground. The ones River needed to hide from were the smaller, noisier contraptions. She needed to break camp and get going if she wanted to catch up with the goat herd. She’d been on their trail for a week and was more than ready for a nice long soak in the cleansing pool and her own bed. Besides, the mild weather wouldn’t last forever.
As if to prove her point, a handful of lazy snowflakes fluttered to the ground. The rare mix of sunshine, blue sky and snow was an omen of change. River sat up and looked over her shoulder. Dark grey clouds boiled behind the northern peaks. She pulled her sheepskin parka from her pack. The temperature plummeted as a gust of wind lifted her braid off her back and whipped it over her shoulder. If she didn’t find the goats soon, snow would obliterate their trail. It would be a long, cold winter without milk, butter or cheese. She fed Sugar a ration of oats and grabbed a chunk of jerky out of her pack to eat while she rode.
Two hours later, Sugar balked and refused to go around a weathered granite outcropping. She veered to the left, nearly unseating River. It wasn’t unusual for a change in the weather to make a horse frisky, but Sugar was acting downright skittish. She snorted and tossed her head then backed up. Something was making her nervous.
River shoved Sugar’s reins under her thigh to free her hands. She pulled her bow off her back and slid the bottom tip inside her boot so she could string it without dismounting. It gouged her ankle as she slid the string into the notch at the top, but she barely noticed the pain. The whole maneuver took less time than a single breath, but sometimes one breath could mean the difference between life and death.
River nocked an arrow and scanned the outcropping. Whatever was scaring Sugar was most likely hiding up there.
An angry snarl raised the hair on the back of River’s neck. Sugar dropped her head and bucked. River managed to toss her loaded bow away from her body before she slammed into the ground. The fall emptied her quiver and scattered arrows everywhere. River was lucky she hadn’t impaled herself.
Sugar took off towards home. Without the added weight of a rider, she should make it back to the ranch before the blizzard hit. Reuben would be worried, but right now, River had a much bigger problem.
The largest cougar she’d ever seen laid his ears flat against his skull, snarled and clawed the air. The cat wasn’t hiding in the rocks. It was on the ground, creeping closer.
“Hey!” An outsider stepped out from behind a rock and waved a stick at the cougar, drawing the beast’s attention. The aspen branch in the young man’s right hand was almost as long as he was tall and about three inches thick—but it wasn’t going to stop a full grown cougar.
River stretched one arm to the left and teased her bow into her hand with her fingers. The closest arrow was just out of reach.
The young man spoke in a low, calm voice as he edged closer, positioning himself between River and the cougar. “Don’t run. It’ll trigger his predatory instincts.”
River couldn’t breathe much less get up and run. But easy prey, lying prone on the ground, was even more attractive to a predator. The cougar narrowed his amber eyes, wrinkling his muzzle. He bared his teeth and hissed at the stranger then focused his attention back on River.
Time slowed as she watched the beast’s muscles bunch and twitch beneath his tawny hide. River didn’t want to witness her own gruesome death, but couldn’t look away when the cat leapt into the air.
The outsider screamed, “No!” and launched himself at the cougar, ramming his shoulder into the animal’s ribs.
River’s lungs finally responded to her body’s demand for air. She rolled to the side, grabbed an arrow off the ground and nocked it as she rose to one knee.
The cougar clamped his jaws around the outsider’s left wrist then flung him to the ground with a jerk of his head, severing the man’s hand. He cried out, but it was a shout of anger, not pain.
He sacrificed his hand to save my life. What sort of man does that for a stranger?
The young man sprang to his feet and faced the cougar. He glanced over his shoulder and said, “Stay behind me.”
Even now, he protects me. River couldn’t see his injury since his back was turned, but there was no denying his courage—or stupidity. “Get down. You’re blocking my shot.”
Instead of obeying her, he hefted the stick in his right hand and … twirled it.
The cougar sprang into the air.
The young man lunged to the side and smacked the cat on the back of the head as it flew past.
Amazing!
The cougar swayed on its feet for the briefest of moments then again focused his attention on River.
She finally had a clear shot, but the young man’s shout distracted her before she could release the arrow.
“Hey! Over here!”
The cat snarled at the idiot, eyed his stick warily, then obviously decided he’d had enough of that nonsense and ran away.
River released the tension on her bowstring and un-nocked her arrow then stood up.
The young man picked his severed hand up off the ground then turned it every which way,
examining it. “Shit. I’m going to need a new one.”
He must be in shock. If River didn’t get a tourniquet around his arm soon, he’d bleed to death … except there wasn’t any blood.
The young man tucked his severed hand under his left elbow then extended his right hand in greeting. “Hi. I’m Jonathan McKnight.”
River held her arms stiffly by her sides and stepped back. This outsider was probably infected with all sorts of diseases. “Your hand … why isn’t it bleeding?”
Jonathan’s smile faded as he took his severed hand out from under his elbow and showed it to her. His voice was soft but respectful. “This is just a prosthesis.”
River stepped back and covered her mouth and nose with her hand. Some diseases were airborne.
“It’s not going to hurt you.”
“That’s not the problem.”
“I just saved your ass from that mountain lion.”
“You’re contaminated.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Influenza, measles, strep, syphilis—”
“Hey! I don’t have any STDs.”
“You could be sick and not even know it.”
“I’m not infected and even if I were, you can’t catch syphilis by shaking a guy’s hand.”
“Influenza is airborne.”
“Jeeze. What a germaphobe.”
“My people don’t use outsider medicine. A bad case of strep throat could kill me.”
“Your people?” He scanned her body, then locked his gaze on her bow. “Do you belong to some sort of anti-technology cult or something?”
River pressed her lips together. She hadn’t mentioned New Eden, but telling him she was a part of a community bordered on treason.
“There’s a blizzard coming. You need to leave.”
“I need to find shelter. I was looking for a mine or cave to hole up in when that mountain lion surprised me.”
“Where’s your camp?”
“Destroyed by a black bear.” He grinned, displaying a set of perfect, white teeth and two dimples. “It seems the wildlife is out to get me. Two years ago I was chased by a wolf; a bear destroyed my campsite this morning; and now this.”
“Maybe you should stay out of the wilderness.”
“It’s a little late for that.” He rocked his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “I hate to ask, but can I stay at your place until the storm passes? I can sleep on the floor.”
“My place?”
“I assume you live nearby. Right?”
“I don’t live anywhere near here, but I know a place where we can find shelter.” Taking an outsider to the Enforcer’s cleansing station could land River in all sorts of trouble if anyone found out. But Jonathan had risked his life to save hers. Leaving him to fend for himself was a death sentence. Hopefully, she’d be able to escort him back to the border once the storm broke and no one would be the wiser. “You have to promise you’ll never come here again or reveal this location to anyone.”
Jonathan
“I don’t think I could find my way back here; even if I wanted to. How far is this shelter?”
“About twenty miles.” River nodded towards the forest then gave Jonathan an appraising look. “Can you walk that far?”
He could still do twenty miles in Army boots with a hundred pound pack on his back, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to follow River into the woods.
Dressed in buckskin and armed with a primitive bow and arrows, there was no way she didn’t belong to a cult. If the twelve-inch leather sheath strapped to her boot was any indication of the blade she carried, he’d need to watch his back.
She gave off a tough-as-nails vibe, but there was a certain vulnerability about her, too. What was she doing wandering around in the wilderness, all alone? Maybe she was a runaway.
Jonathan’s only other choice was to keep going and hope he could climb to the mine he’d spotted half way up the mountain. It would be a lot harder without his prosthesis.
He’d take his chances with Little Miss Pocahontas. He hoped she’d loosen up and tell him a little about herself during the hike. His curiosity was killing him. “So, what’s your name, kid?”
“River, daughter of Asher and Issachar’s daughter. And I’m not a kid.”
“What’s with the pedigree?”
River narrowed her eyes at him. “Lineage is very important to my people. I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Genealogy is important to my people, too.” Jonathan had never been bitten by the roots bug. Dad had tried to trace their line back to Scotland, where they’d obviously originated, but couldn’t get any further than his great-great-grandfather, the gold miner. “So, you’re Asher and Issachar’s daughter?”
“Asher was my father. My mother was Issachar’s daughter.”
“That’s a little confusing. Why not just use your mother’s name?”
“Only alpha males are named.”
“Alpha males? Like what, a wolf pack?”
River’s eyes widened for a split second. “No more questions.”
“I’m just trying to pass the time.”
“Alright, then. How about you answer my questions?”
“Why don’t we take turns?”
River fastened a series of toggles and loops around the hood of her parka, snugging it around her face. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-one. You?”
“Eighteen.”
At least she was legal. “River’s a pretty name, for a pretty girl.”
She rolled her eyes at him, but the corners of her mouth twitched up. “Are you trying to impress me?”
Jonathan kept his stump behind his back as he walked and tried to fake the confidence and cockiness that used to come so naturally. “I’ve got a ton of cheesy pickup lines. How about—”
“What’s a pickup line?”
Seriously? “You know … what guys say to girls to let them know they’re interested.”
“Interested in what?”
She was either teasing him or incredibly naive. He decided to go with naive. “It’s a way for a guy to let a girl know he likes her and wants to spend time with her.”
River’s lips twitched again, but this time she wasn’t able to hold back her smile. “You like me?”
“What’s not to like? Any girl that can shoot a bow is sexy as hell.”
River’s smile disappeared. She stepped sideways, away from Jonathan. “I’m not going to mate with you.”
“Whoa!” Jonathan stopped and held his hand up, palm out. “I wasn’t implying—”
“Sex is the same as mating.”
“Sexy just means attractive.”
“I’m not trying to attract you.”
“I was just trying to be nice.” Jonathan rubbed his face with his hand. The tips of his fingers were completely numb. So was his nose. Not good. He pulled his prosthetic out from under his elbow and dropped it on the ground. It pained him to lose it, even though it was broken, but his real hand was more valuable. He tucked his numb fingers under his left armpit and prayed it would be enough. “How long until we get there?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never made the journey on foot.”
River
Even though it would make her life easier, River didn’t want Jonathan to die. She pulled her felt mask out of her pack and tossed it to him. “Your nose is turning white.”
He managed to catch it and put it on, but just barely. His reflexes were obviously slowing down. She lost count of the number of times he stumbled and fell. Each time, it took longer for him to get up. And each time, she had to resist the urge to help him. He never complained, not once. She couldn’t help but admire his tenacity. She nudged his shoulder with her boot. “Get up.”
Jonathan staggered to his feet. By journey’s end, he was weaving and slurring his words like a drunk. He was no longer shivering, but that was a bad sign. His lips were as blue as his eyes—also a bad sign. But the cleansing station was deserted when t
hey got there and that was a very good sign.
The cleansing station wasn’t off limits to the general population of New Eden, but since enforcers were the only ones allowed to cross the borders, no one else ever needed to use it. So, although River knew where the station was, she had no idea what to do when she got there. Luckily, someone had carved detailed instructions into the wooden door of the pre-cleanse hut:
WARNING! Do not enter the post-cleanse hut until after completing the first cleanse unless given clearance by a commanding officer. Follow all instructions exactly. Failure to do so is punishable by death.
River’s heart skipped a beat then hammered her chest. What had she gotten herself into?
1. Use the outside access door to build a fire in the post-cleanse hut’s stove prior to cleansing during freezing weather. Failure to do so may result in death due to hypothermia.
River sent Jonathan into the pre-cleanse hut to get him out of the wind then jogged over to the post-cleanse hut to build the fire. She brushed the snow off the tinder box and raised the lid. Not only did she find lint, wood shavings and a striker; there was a bundle of tallow-dipped twigs. Enforcers spared no expense. She’d have a roaring fire in no time.
When the kindling caught, River double checked the flue then closed the access door. She waited until smoke flowed out of the chimney in an unbroken stream for three seconds then deemed it safe to leave the fire and go check on Jonathan.
It was much warmer inside the pre-cleanse hut, but Jonathan didn’t look any better. He’d managed to prop himself up by sitting in a corner with his back against the wall, but he was barely conscious.
River built a fire in the stove then poked at his legs with the toe of her boot until he opened his eyes.
Jonathan
Jonathan woke up with a start. “Stop kicking me.”
“Then stay awake.” River pointed at a stack of wooden boxes on the opposite wall. “I need you to take off your clothes and put them in Reuben’s trunk.”
“Whoa, don’t you think we should get better acquainted before we get naked?”