Big Game

by Daniel Smith

  The president sighed and lay back down in the freezer. “Holy crap. Why is everybody hunting me?”

  I looked at him for a second, then reached in to grab him again. “No, President, get up. We have to go. They’re coming back.” I pointed at the sky as the thud of the helicopter began to drown out the sound of the river. “Hazar and Morris are coming back.”

  “I honestly don’t think I can do this anymore, Oskari. I’m beat.”

  “No. We have to keep going. I have to save you. There’s no one to help us. Instead of looking tough, we have to be tough.”

  The president sat up and put his hands on his face. He rubbed hard, then looked up at me. “Oskari, you’re more of a man than anyone else I know.”

  “We’ll head back into the trees,” the president said as I helped him out of the freezer. “They won’t be able to find us in there, right? You can use your skills and —”

  “It’s too far.” I glanced back at the forest on the other side of the wide, muddy bank, and remembered how the men had slipped down from the helicopter on ropes. If they saw us running across the mud, it would be easy for them to drop down at the tree line and stop us. They would shoot me and capture the president.

  “It’s our only chance,” the president said, starting in that direction. “Come on.”

  “No.” I stopped him. “Help me with this.” I grabbed his jacket and tugged at him, encouraging him to help me push the freezer toward the raging river. The froth was boiling at the banks, kicking cold spray into our faces.

  He resisted, looking back at the trees, then turning to search the mist for the return of the helicopter.

  “They’re too close,” I shouted. “We’ll never make it before they get here.”

  Always the helicopter. Always coming at us like a nightmare that wouldn’t give up.

  “But —”

  “You said you believed in me! I’ve fought for you, tooth and nail, just like I’m supposed to. Like Hamara said. You have to help me with this. You’re mine and I know what to do. Haven’t I got you this far?”

  He looked at me, grimacing with pain and doubt, then glanced back at the sky as the familiar thud of the helicopter grew louder and louder.

  “All right,” he said. “I’m in your hands.”

  “Then push this into the water.” I put my shoulder to the freezer chest and dug my toes into the mud.

  “My God, you want to use it like a boat?”

  “No way,” I said. “We’d never survive the waterfall in this. I have a better idea.”

  “Waterfall?”

  “Just help me get this in the river,” I shouted. “It’ll make us harder to find.”

  Now the president seemed to understand what I wanted to do. If we left the freezer chest on the bank, Hazar and Morris might spot it from above — a white box lying in the dark mud — and it would make their job easier. If we put it in the river, it would disappear forever.

  It only took a couple of good shoves for us to get it right to the edge and tip it into the raging torrent. As soon as the water touched it, it skewed the box and snatched it away, dragging it into the main current. The freezer bobbed and spun as it raced along in the white water of the river, then it was gone.

  “What now?” the president asked. “Bury ourselves in the mud? Jump in?”

  “Close,” I said. “Come with me. I have a plan.”

  We were both in a bad way, aching and hurt, but we supported each other as we stumbled along the riverbank, moving in the direction of the flowing water. Above, the helicopter circled, buzzing this way and that as it searched for us.

  “We’re lucky to have the mist,” the president said.

  “The forest sent it,” I told him as we came off the mud onto a more solid part of the bank. There was thin grass here, and large rocks that funneled the water toward the falls.

  “You really think so?”

  “Of course.” I had to shout over the noise of the river. It was getting louder all the time now, drowning out the searching helicopter, but the president didn’t seem to notice, he was so deep in thought.

  “Well, it’s the only thing keeping us safe at the moment, but …” He shook his head and stopped.

  “But what, President?” I encouraged him to keep going, moving forward to our escape.

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me,” I shouted.

  “They have access to satellite feeds. I saw it on Morris’s phone when we were on the mountain. It was right there on his screen, an aerial picture of him and me and the helicopter. If they have that, then they’ll have access to thermal imaging, too. That means —”

  “It means they can see our body heat, right? I’ve seen it on a video game.”

  “Yeah, of course you have. Well, it means the mist won’t help us, and that … oh my God.” The president stopped. “This is your plan?”

  Just ahead, the riverbank disappeared. It fell away as if we had come to the end of the world and there was nothing more beyond it. Nowhere else to go. Squinting into the patchy mist, though, we could just about make out the surface of Lake Tuonela more than a hundred feet below.

  “We’re going to jump,” I shouted.

  “No way!” The president tensed and started to turn back. “No way!”

  “It’s fine.” I grabbed him and made him come with me to the edge and look down. There wasn’t much to see, though, because the water spilled from the river, cascading over the black rocks, and disappeared into the sheet of mist that swirled below us.

  “We can’t jump over there, Oskari. We’ll die.”

  “No, we won’t,” I said. “I promise.”

  I kept hold of his jacket and led him farther along the cliff top, telling him to be careful not to slip on the rocks. We kept on, moving away from the main spout of the waterfall, until we came to a rocky ledge that jutted out across the lake, to the left of the place where the bulk of the river smashed into the surface below.

  “It’s safe to jump here,” I told him. “Take off your jacket.”

  “No way.” The president shook his head and limped back. “I’d rather take my chances back there with them.”

  “They’ll kill you.” The noise of the water was like thunder, my voice almost lost to it.

  “This will kill me. If they wanted to kill me, they would have done it already. I’ll take my chances.”

  “They’ll kill me,” I shouted. As we spoke, I took the bow and quiver from my back before unfastening my camouflage netting and shrugging it off to the ground. I removed my jacket and took the fire kit from the pocket before throwing it to one side.

  “They don’t want you,” he said. “They want me. If they get me, they’ll forget about you.”

  “They’re not getting you,” I shouted at him as I secured the fire kit in the zip-up pocket of my hoodie. “They’re NOT getting you!” Crouching, I took out my knife and cut strips from my camouflage netting, twisting them into cords. “Take off your jacket.”

  “This is not a good idea, Oskari,” the president shouted in my ear.

  “Trust me. I first jumped over these falls when I was five years old.” I put one of the cords around his waist and fastened it with a tight knot.

  “What?” He looked stunned.

  “I jumped with my dad. I’ve done it many times since.” I put a second cord around my own waist and secured it. “Now, take off your jacket.”

  “Many times?”

  “Well … twice. But I know it’s safe. I’ve seen lots of people do it. We all do it when we are five.”

  “Are you people mad?”

  “No! I told you — we have to be tough.”

  “Well, you’re right about that.”

  I took the third cord and looped it around the one I had put on the president, slipping it under his belt for extra security.

  “When my dad and I jumped,” I explained, “we tied ourselves together like this so we couldn’t be separated.” I put the other end of the third cord around m
y own and secured it with a good knot. “If you don’t take off your jacket, it will be more difficult for you.”

  The president swallowed hard and fixed his eyes on mine. “Well, I guess if you could do it when you were five …”

  I jammed my knife back into the sheath on my belt and clipped the fastener before putting a hand on my pocket to check that my fire kit was still there. With that done, I collected the bow and quiver, making sure they were secure. I had everything I needed to survive.

  “And you really did this when you were five?” he asked, slipping out of his jacket and throwing it down into the lake where it wouldn’t be found.

  “Yes, really. Now jump!”

  With that, I shoved him hard over the edge, and threw myself after him.

  The cord pulled tight between us as we dropped and dropped. The wind rushed around me, cold and fierce. It forced its way into my nostrils and open mouth, filling my lungs with its freshness until I thought I might burst. The spray from the falls made it feel as if I was tumbling through rain, and the sound of wind and water was deafening, but it was only a few seconds before I hit the lake.

  I struck it with force, like an explosion in my ears as I plunged into the water and sank. The falls pushed me deeper into the cold darkness, frothing around me, disorienting me. It was impossible to know which way was up and which was down. The cord around my waist tightened farther as the president was washed in a different direction, and my chest began to heave for breath. I had to get to the surface, but I didn’t know which way to go. I kicked out in panic, my legs heavy with sodden jeans and boots, starting to think maybe this had been a bad mistake. We shouldn’t have jumped. It was a mistake, and now we were going to die down here, drowned in the lake beneath the torrent of the waterfall.

  I twisted and turned, looking for the surface, surrounded by bubbles and rock and current. Kicking toward what I thought was the surface, there was a sudden jolt as the bow jammed against the rocks behind me. Panic rose higher and higher. I had to get free.

  I tried to go down, wriggling to loosen the bow, and when I did, the weight of the water caught me again, pushing me deeper.

  My chest was burning now. All my breath was gone, and my vision was beginning to darken. All I could think about was the näkki lurking in the depths below, watching me with those staring, yellow eyes. I imagined it reaching up with its writhing tentacles, curling them around my feet and dragging me down. I was five years old again, terrified of the monster in the lake, kicking out in horror. I wanted to open my mouth, to draw air into my body, but there was no air to be had. Panic was coursing through me, telling me to take a breath; telling me I would have to open my mouth soon, but I knew that if I did — when I did — all I would suck into my lungs would be water. And that would be the end. It was just as I had imagined that first time, when I had jumped with Dad. The näkki would take me and I was going to die.

  In my fight against the powerful current of the waterfall, I didn’t notice the cord pulling at my waist. As my flailing arms and legs weakened, and my world began to die, I didn’t notice that I was already moving through the water.

  Then I was rising. Up and up. Bubbles boiled around me.

  It was Dad. He was pulling me up. Of course he was. Dad, who was so strong. Dad, who had killed the bear. Dad, who had dragged me up to the surface when I was five years old. He was saving me again, pulling me out of the water to take me home to Mom.

  Hands on me now, grabbing the hood of my sweater, dragging me up and out of the water.

  I broke the surface with an explosion, bursting out and opening my mouth wide. I gasped for air, sucking it deep into my lungs, overwhelmed by the relief and exhilaration of still being alive.

  “Dad!” I said, looking around, light-headed and confused. “Dad?”

  “Just me, Oskari.”

  The president was beside me, holding my hood with both hands, treading water. His chin was touching the surface of the lake, small waves lapping at his face, and he spat water from his mouth. “Thought it was game over, eh?”

  “The bow got stuck. I couldn’t swim up.” Faint, lingering memories of Mom and Dad, and the slithering tentacles of the näkki, reeled in my head, giving me a strange sense of disappointment and discomfort that mingled with the joy of having survived.

  “Didn’t I tell you to get rid of it? Make a smaller one?”

  “I have to —”

  “I know, I know.”

  We floated side by side, treading water, and I looked at him. “Thank you,” I said. “For saving me.”

  “I guess we’ve got each other’s backs.”

  “Yeah. Pretty cool, wasn’t it?”

  “Cool? You almost drowned.”

  “I know,” I said, and began to laugh. I couldn’t explain it. I guess I was just happy to be alive, and the president must have sensed that, too, because he couldn’t help smiling and then laughing along with me. If anybody could have seen us, they would have thought we were lunatics.

  Our laughter was short-lived, though, because as we swam away from the drag of the waterfall, we heard the helicopter descending over the lake and circling above us, hidden by the mist.

  “They know we’re here,” the president said.

  “Thermal imaging?” I asked.

  “Could be. Either that or they’re guessing.”

  I used my knife to sever the cord that joined us together, and we swam deeper into the mist. “There are small islands in the lake,” I said as we slipped through the calmer water. “If we can get to one of those —”

  “If they have thermal imaging, no island is going to help us.”

  “But we have to take that chance, right? What else can we do?”

  “Pray?”

  We might have been swimming in circles for all we knew. Everything looked the same. Water, water, and more water. The mist hid us from the circling helicopter, but it also hid everything else from view, and we couldn’t swim for shore or for one of the lake islands if we couldn’t see them. It was difficult to move, laden down as we were with our clothes, and the water was cold, making us sluggish. If we didn’t get out soon, we’d probably freeze or drown anyway, and Hazar and Morris could stop looking.

  “What time do you think it is?” the president asked as we swam side by side. “My watch stopped.”

  “Nine thirty.” I squinted into the sky, searching for the helicopter.

  “That some kind of hunter thing?” he asked. “You can tell by looking at the sun?”

  “Can’t see the sun.” I lifted my left wrist. “I have a waterproof watch, though.”

  The president spat out a mouthful of lake water. “Nine thirty, eh? I should be in a conference right now, sitting on my ass drinking coffee. Saving the world.”

  “It’ll have to wait.”

  We kept on swimming, finding a slow rhythm as we pushed on through the water. Although we couldn’t see the helicopter through the mist, and the echo across the calm lake made it difficult to pinpoint, it seemed to be coming closer and closer to our position.

  “You think they know where we are?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe whoever’s looking at those satellite feeds and giving them directions can’t see us for some reason. Maybe the thermal imaging’s no good because we’re so damn cold and not giving off much of a signature, who knows? I should have paid more attention to satellite stuff, I guess.”

  The thought of all those cameras up there, looking down at us from beyond the clouds, had a strange effect on me. I felt like a goldfish in a bowl; as if there was nowhere I could go to get away from those prying eyes. I was thinking about what thermal imaging looked like in video games and on TV, and I was seeing us in those pictures — a gray landscape, with two tiny white bodies, glowing as we swam about as if in midair. I hoped the president was right, and that the cold water was lowering our body temperature and making us hard to spot, but the problem was that it was also making it harder and harder to keep going.

 
“I’m getting tired.” I was exhausted and wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep swimming.

  “Me, too, but don’t stop. Whatever you do, don’t stop.”

  I knew why he’d said it. If we stopped, the cold and tiredness would seize and cramp our muscles, and that would be the end of it. We’d sink into the darkness and disappear. So, while the helicopter searched from above, we pushed on and on through the mist and water as if we would be swimming forever, until hope came in the shape of an unexpected object floating on the lake.

  “Look,” I said, trying to lift my head out of the water to see better. “What’s that?” It was a few yards ahead of us, unclear in the mist. “Is that … ? It is! The freezer!”

  With a renewed burst of speed, we swam toward the chest and grabbed hold, giving ourselves a much-needed break. As soon I stopped, though, everything hurt. I hadn’t thought about it when I was swimming, but now all the cuts and scratches on my skin stung, and my muscles ached.

  “We can’t stop,” the president said, so we held on to the chest, side by side, and began kicking, pushing it through the water, resting from time to time. “Oskari, how big is this lake?”

  “Big,” I said. “But we should have found something by now.” I stopped kicking, lifted my face to the wind, and breathed deeply. “What’s that smell?”

  The president stopped, too, and wiped his face before sniffing. He turned around, looking in all directions. “Gasoline? Some kind of fuel?”

  “That’s what it smells like to me.”

  “Fumes from the helicopter?”

  “No, this smells different. Stronger.”

  As I spoke, something caught my attention as it floated past. Something silver, flashing, bobbing up and down on the surface of the lake. I reached out and splashed at the water, making the object drift close enough for me to grab and hold up for us to look at.

  “A fish?” the president said.

  “Looks like roach,” I told him, seeing how the light caught its scales. It shimmered green and blue and red, just like a drop of petrol on the surface of a puddle. “This lake is full of roach. Bream and perch, too.”