The Charity

by Connie Johnson Hambley

  Jessica followed his gaze. She could not see anything but smoky shafts of trees and snow. “Show me where.”

  “Just up to the right.”

  The riders guided their horses carefully along the mountainside. About an inch of snow had fallen since the storm began, obscuring the contours of the ground. Tuckerman’s hoof hit a patch of ice and the big animal scrambled to regain his footing.

  “Whoa! Whoa, boy. Easy fella!” Hoyt expertly piloted his horse across the unseen ice. “The goin’s gettin’ pretty bad.”

  Jessica nodded in agreement. “We may need to head down earlier if the snow continues the way it is. Let’s just cover as much ground as possible while we’re up here.”

  They reached the spot and looked around them. The wind blew the snow around them in tight circles, forming little drifts along the horses’ legs. A faint glow of yellow could be seen a few yards ahead.

  Hoyt was the first to reach it. Dismounting Tuckerman quickly, he reached the object and picked it up. Recognition was instant. “It’s a jacket from the school.”

  Jessica swept her right leg over Gapman’s neck and jumped off. She looked at the jacket and the spot where it lay. Soft snow shifted across the surface. New flakes joined their companions along the smooth ground. Something just was not right. What was it?

  “Gawd! That kid’s up heyah without a coat! C’mon, Jess, we gotta go.” The discovery propelled the man forward.

  Hoyt was back up on Tuckerman’s back before she could stop him. “Wait a second Hoyt. You said you saw something.” Her eyes searched the ground for clues. The snow and wind obscured any traces of human footsteps within seconds. Her eyes scanned the trees. Thick arms of pine intertwined in dense patches, masking all daylight through them.

  “I musta been seein’ things. C’mon! That boy’s up here. I just know it.”

  Jessica held on to Gapman’s reins and looked at her friend. “No. Something is just not right. We’re over five miles from where Toby was last seen. The terrain between here and there is rough and has been scoured by search teams. How could a kid make it this far without leaving as much as a footprint? And if he did make it this far, why take off his jacket now?”

  Impatience seasoned his words. “He’s a young kid, Jess. Anything’s possible.” He looked at the slope before him with narrowed eyes. “Looks like he was following the logging trail.”

  “People on the brink of hypothermia and exhaustion start to make mistakes. Do you think he is capable of following a trail?”

  “We gotta think so. If hypothermia hit, then Toby may have been at the point nearing hypothermic sleep and took off his coat in delirium. If so, he’s in rough shape. Let’s go.” Hoyt turned Tuckerman abruptly and thundered through the woods.

  A sudden loud snap terrified Gapman and Jessica found it impossible to keep her hold on the reins. The animal’s eyes were ringed with white and his nostrils flared.

  “C’mon, Gapman. Steady guy. Easy fella.” The words came out and drifted through as almost a melody. The big chestnut horse began to respond to the trusted voice.

  Jessica watched in horror as Tuckerman reared upward and lost his footing, careening backward onto his rider. The black horse screamed in terror and protest. Hooves and legs struck out wildly in all directions as the panic-struck animal tried to regain a safe foothold to stand. The tree which had sprung violently upward from its vise in the snow, whipped about in frenzy. Everything was moving. Jerking. Except Hoyt.

  It was all over in a few seconds. Jessica tethered Gapman to a tree and waded out to help her fallen team member.

  “Hoyt! Hoyt!”

  He was lying face down in the snow. She reached him, rolled him over and brushed the snow from his face. She took a sigh of relief when his eyes blinked open. His features hardened into an expression of pain.

  “Hoyt? How are you doing? Can you move?” Jessica began to expertly assess his condition.

  “My Gawd, Jess! What the hell was that?” He winced as he tried to sit up.

  Jessica looked over at the still swaying tree. “I’m not really sure. It looks like that tree must have been caught in the snow, or something and Tuckerman’s hooves released it. When it whipped upright, it scared the heck out of Tuckerman.” The horse was standing a few feet away, its head up and legs still braced for action. His breath was coming out in large puffs of steam in the cold air.

  Her two hands quickly but gently ran down Hoyt’s legs and arms, feeling for obvious breaks. Her eyes never left his face.

  He knew it was no use lying. “One of Tuckerman’s hooves caught me in the side.”

  Jessica opened his clothes and felt along his skin. She watched as his jaw muscles clenched.

  “You’re lucky. The skin isn’t broken, probably just a rib or two. Hurts like anything, eh?”

  Hoyt faked a smile. “You oughtta know.”

  She managed a wink at the reference to herself. “Try to stand.” Jessica let Hoyt lean almost his entire body weight on her as she picked him up and brought him to his feet. She positioned him against a tree as she checked out Tuckerman. Over her shoulder she called, “How do you feel?”

  “Never better.” He held his side and took short little breaths. “I can ride.”

  Jessica retrieved the radio from Tuckerman’s saddlebag and relayed the discovery of the jacket and Hoyt’s fall to base. She finished her report with, “We’re starting our descent now.”

  She brought the two horses around. Using their bodies to block the wind, she opened the map and planned the route back down the mountain.

  “It’s actually a decent ride down. We need to backtrack along the ridge about a mile. When we hit the Skyler Peak mark, we’ll turn and head down the mountain, using the Skyler trail and its traversed path to make things easy.”

  The two searchers were reviewing the map when the radio burst to life again.

  “Ridge Team, come in.”

  Jessica brought the radio to her mouth. “Ridge Team here. Go ahead.”

  It was Michael’s voice. “Say again where you found the jacket.”

  Her mouth twitched in irritation. She wanted to get moving, but she repeated their earlier discovery, using the map to offer additional reference points. She knew on the other end that Michael was comparing the transmitter readings to her verbal positions. They synced up.

  “How’s your teammate?”

  “Hurt, but he can ride. We’re using the Skyler Peak Trail for our descent.”

  “Can he make it alone?”

  Jessica brought her chin in and straightened her back at the suggestion. “Negative.”

  “Put Hoyt on.”

  Jessica tried hard to keep her face in one expression as she handed the radio over.

  “Hoyt here. Go ahead.”

  Michael repeated the question. “Can you make it down alone?”

  “Yes. I think that boy’s not too far off. The terrain ahead is too rough for me now or I’d go on.”

  Jessica stared at Hoyt in disbelief. “You’re crazy.”

  “I can make it down on my own. You gotta try to find that kid.”

  There was a long pause before Michael’s voice burst back. “From where you are, Jessica can go on for another two miles then come down the south side of Pine Mountain. I can’t have both of you double back when the boy could be near. I’ll have a team with additional supplies meet Hoyt on the Skyler trail. Jessica can continue on to the Cumberland camp building that’s about three miles down from the Pine Mountain marker. The trail’s well marked, but tough. You might have to leave the horse up there.”

  Jessica took the radio from Hoyt’s hands. “Are those Devlin’s orders?” She knew Devlin would never order two team members to separate in a storm like this. Especially if one was injured.

  “Devlin’s second in command now. Those are my orders.”

/>   Hoyt leveled a stare at Jessica. “He’s right, Jess. That boy does not have a chance. I can make it down the Skyler Trail, but I’d never make it to Pine Mountain. You can do it.”

  She had never been on a search team where the members were placed at such an obvious disadvantage to the weather or the territory. “You heard what he said! Leave Gapman up here if the going gets too tough! This is an insane idea. It’s just not safe.” She was much less concerned about herself than she was about Hoyt. What if there was another injury to him that she couldn’t detect? What if something happened to him?

  He read her concern. “We’ve got transmitters if something happens to us. I’ll check into base every fifteen minutes. You’ll hear me and you can do the same.” He hesitated. The look in his eyes shone with the depth of emotion of a man who had felt too much pain in his life. “Jess, that boy... he’s gotta be scared out of his wits. Think of him. If he’s just ahead you’ll never know if you turn back. He’s a friend of Karen’s, Jess. You’ve got to find him.”

  Jessica put her head down and felt her heart pound in her chest. She knew Hoyt’s pain at having a daughter like Karen and she knew what every friendship meant to the young girl.

  “Ridge Team. Respond.” Michael’s voice was more insistent.

  Hoyt kept his eyes on Jessica as he pressed the ‘talk’ button. “Ridge Team will separate here.”

  “Fine. Good luck. Base out.”

  The radio sputtered back into silence and the two people stood in the howling wind on the mountaintop looking at one another. Without a word, Hoyt reached his arms out and gave Jessica an embrace.

  Jessica stayed in the embrace for a long while. Finally, she moved away, reached into Gapman’s saddlebags and pulled out a pouch of food. “You’ll need this more than I will. I have more food in my pack.” She knew that having a full stomach would help the injured man generate heat and strength for his solitary trek. Wrapping Hoyt’s ribs for the journey took a little more time. Finally, she said, “I’ll help you mount up.”

  Hoyt let out a gasp of pain as he mounted Tuckerman. Leather reins were gathered up into his gloved hands and he remained there, motionless, just looking down at the young woman who refused to leave his side and now was willing to risk her life to save that of a little boy.

  “Jess. I know who you are now more than anything.”

  Within a few minutes, the two riders rode away from each other without looking back.

  Jessica listened to the radio carefully. It had been over two hours and Hoyt called in his position regularly. He had made fairly good time, considering the conditions, and was more than half way through his descent. She made her periodic status reports as well.

  Her going was much slower than Hoyt’s. She opted for a more zigzagging path to cover more ground. Something was still missing, or maybe she was just failing to see the connections. Either way, she was frustrated.

  The mountainside was a series of jagged rock outcroppings and sharp walls. The snow had let up a little and she could see down into the smaller gullies and ravines. Her eyes searched the snow for any odd shape or cranny that could hide a body. Several times her heart skipped a beat as she looked at a rounded mound. Closer examination would show it to be a rock or fallen log. Each time, she edged Gapman on, growing more determined to find Toby.

  It had been a while since she had ridden Gapman, but the horse and rider picked up like two old friends at a reunion. She had watched him carefully for any signs of nervousness when they began their trip yesterday and had found none. But ever since she and Hoyt separated, he would toss his head and tick his ears forward. Each time, Jessica would stop, thinking the horse was spotting something she had missed. It was always a false alarm. Jessica could never see anyone.

  Gapman’s head drooped as he sniffed his way along the trails. He was beginning to lose his footing more and Jessica realized it was time for the animal to get a break. She dismounted and got some provisions for them from out of her pack. Unrolling her sleeping bag in one throw, she tossed it over the horse’s back and settled on a log.

  The horse pawed at the ground, picking at whatever dried vegetation he could find, and nibbling at the food laid out for him from the packs. Jessica used a small gas stove to melt snow for the animal and her. Eating unmelted snow could lower their body temperature enough to trigger hypothermia. She did not want to take any chances and heated enough snow for both of them.

  Jessica laid the map down in front of her. Picking out landmarks she had seen, she approximated her location now and that of where they found the jacket. She chewed her food and thought about the possibilities.

  She must have sat still for longer than she thought, for when her mind focused again, the map was covered with snow. She picked it up and dusted off the newly fallen flakes. The map left a smaller imprint where it had rested on the ground.

  All of the pieces fell into place. “Oh my God! That’s it! Let’s get out of here, Gapman. We’re in trouble.”

  Scrambling, she shoved the gear back into the saddlebags, not taking precious seconds to roll up the sleeping bag. “I can’t believe I was so stupid.” The fastest way off the mountain for her now was straight down and she pushed Gapman to go as fast as he could.

  All the while, she cursed herself for not seeing it sooner. She couldn’t blame Hoyt for trusting his own eyes, but she should have known better.

  For all of the times she tracked people along an avalanche trail or in a blizzard, she knew one thing remained true. New snow could never fall under an object. When Hoyt lifted the jacket up, fresh snow from this storm was under it and it was not covered with all of the morning’s new snow. That meant that the jacket got there after the snow began, and there were no footprints anywhere to be seen around that jacket. She remembered how thickly the pine boughs intertwined overhead and Hoyt’s false alarm at seeing something in the distance.

  “Somebody put that jacket there just so we could find it. Get going, Gapman!” The horse responded to the extra urgency he heard in his rider’s voice. His muscles tightened and he increased his speed.

  “This is Ridge Team to Base Twelve. I’m starting my descent now.”

  Jessica’s eyes carefully swept the ground for another tree set as a snare trap.

  Further up the trail, a figure sat hunched against the wind. Head down, he looked at a map and listened to the steady ‘beep... beep... beep’ of the receiver at his side. He put a finger down on the spot and smiled.

  “Aye. She’s comin’ straight at me, now.” He spoke the words aloud and was surprised to hear how quickly they were whipped away from his mouth by a cold blast of wind.

  He stood up and stretched his stiffened back, then walked over to a neatly curled roll of fabric. He could not resist the urge. For what seemed to be the hundredth time that day, he snapped open the olive green roll and stared admiringly at its contents.

  Knives of every shape and size glinted in the gray light. Flakes landed on the blades and quickly melted, leaving a single drop of water to sparkle along a razor edge.

  He took great pride in his work. His was a craft few could aspire to his greatness—by making the physical pain of others last as long as necessary to hear their screams, or to cut short the heartbeats of the victims, leaving the look of questioning shock on their faces.

  For a moment, his mind drifted back to when he was a young boy in Belfast watching his family die at the hands of the British. He was with his sister in a crawlspace, hidden there by their mother. Through a crack in the wall, he watched his life change. One by one his family members were dragged from the normalcy of their living room into the hell of the street and bludgeoned. The household was systematically cleansed by four young men who wanted to fill their evening with something worthwhile to do and to empty themselves of hate.

  A boy’s high-pitched shriek shredded the air with anguish. The gang momentarily stopped their be
atings until they could locate the young witness. Instead, they found his young sister and dragged her out into the street as well.

  Emerging from the crawlspace and surrounded by a small band of spectators gathered to review the carnage, the boy looked at their bodies. At first he was racked with huge sobs. But as he gaped at the pulpy faces of his family, and at their twisted, bruised limbs contorted by their final agonies, he began to laugh. One soldier, senseless with shock at what lay at his feet, tried to stop the orphan’s unnerving and disrespectful laughter by slashing the boy’s mouth with a knife, carving forever a skewed smile. The young killer’s laughter escalated into the hysterical cries of the insane. At that moment, all ability to care for anyone else bled out of him. The young killer became himself—cut off from feelings, alone.

  The cold metal in his bare hands drew him back to the present. He rolled the blade over. The motion made the droplets and flakes sparkle, bringing the blade to life. Pleasure and anticipation tightened his loins.

  Meticulously, he rolled the fabric up and patted it.

  Devlin had waited long enough. Not comfortable with what he was about to do, he pulled his cap down squarely over his eyes and took one last look around the yard. The snow had been coming down heavily and more than six inches covered the ground. It was easy to see that no one had walked down the steps of the house that morning. Nor had any car entered the driveway or left since the storm began.

  There were absolutely no tracks anywhere around the house. He could hear a phone ring inside. For a woman that was frantic about having a son lost on a mountain in a blizzard, she sure was making it hard for people to stay in contact with her.

  He took a deep breath and heaved his shoulder against the old door. Wood splintered. He repeated the move several more times before the hinges finally gave way under the assault. He stood in the hallway and rubbed his shoulder. The house was in perfect order. Nothing so much as a coffee cup was out of place.

  It had been a hard morning at the base station. Volunteers were milling about, waiting for the go-ahead to begin a new search pattern. Several townspeople had brought their coon dogs and hounds to assist in the search. It was a zoo. Devlin had a hard time keeping everyone organized as he appraised each person’s skills and assigned them to a search team. The storm had put everyone on edge and shouting matches were frequent.