Wildland

by Rebecca Hodge

  Countless cracks distorted the phone’s screen. The icons were gone. Nothing happened when she pressed the on button. A black, blank screen. Kat licked her lips, her mouth suddenly desert dry.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  She pushed each button on the phone repeatedly, holding her breath until waves of dizziness rocked her, but nothing changed.

  When she looked up, both Lily and Nirav were watching her. She dropped the phone into her shoulder bag without comment.

  Lily opened her mouth for a moment as if she were going to ask, but she glanced at Nirav and remained silent. Kat suspected Nirav had tuned in to the problem as quickly as Lily had, but she couldn’t speak the bad news out loud. She would break down completely.

  “Time to get going.” The threat of tears echoed in her voice.

  Nirav came close and took her hand gently in his. Lily picked up the shoulder bag and the end of Tye’s leash and for once started out without complaint. They waded into the tangled grasses of the old roadbed—their only path forward—as Kat concentrated on taking one unsteady step after another. A few yards in, she turned back for a final look at where they’d been. Her red hat sat forlorn on the landslide where it had landed when she fell, the only spot of color against the deserted patchwork of rocky brown and gray.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THURSDAY, 8:30 AM

  Where’s Kat’s car? The question reverberated in the cabin, and Malcolm looked again at the flaming scene below him. Scott was right. Steel wouldn’t burn. He should have thought of that—would have done so if he hadn’t been so twisted with worry. He had to get hold of himself, stay focused on the task at hand.

  “Well done.” He clapped Scott on the shoulder, and Scott looked startled. “Lou, we followed the road the whole way up, right?”

  The pilot nodded. “The smoke’s been heavy, but we would have seen a car if it was there.”

  Scott seized the possibility. “Maybe they got out before fire blocked the road. Made it to town. Missed us somehow?” As he said the words, his face fell. Even he knew the idea was absurd.

  Malcolm peered through the smoke. No hidden trail up the mountain, but what was that at the far end of the gravel patch? “Look there. That band of shorter scrub that’s burning. Is that the outline of a road?”

  “Could be.” Lou eased the helicopter along the route Malcolm indicated.

  He’d been at Kat’s cottage. Had there been an old road there? He couldn’t remember. He’d been talking to Nirav. Enjoying normalcy. The last thing he’d been thinking about was vetting escape routes, the hard-earned lessons of Afghanistan and Iraq set aside to enjoy some time off.

  “It’s a path of some sort,” Scott said. His voice rose in excitement, and although Malcolm wanted to share his confidence, he reined in the impulse.

  But it was a path, a definite path, where the fire burned grass and underbrush, a path leading from the gravel road into the deeper forest.

  They followed the route slowly, four pairs of eyes searching for signs of a car and four sets of anxieties dreading the prospect of finding it in flames. A half mile. Three-quarters of a mile. They hit a short stretch the fire had ignored so far, and Lou dropped even lower, the landing skids almost brushing the treetops.

  “There are definitely tire tracks down there.” Malcolm pointed. A line of crushed undergrowth marked the route where something large had forced its way through. Good job, Kat. Better than good. Nirav could be around the next bend. “Keep going.” He leaned forward.

  They continued their slow progress, flying over flames again, straining to see through the haze.

  “There.” Pete pointed ahead and to the right. “There’s the car.”

  It stood, dented and forlorn, with two doors standing wide open, its way forward blocked by an enormous downed tree. The car appeared untouched, but the fire burned only thirty yards away.

  “Where are they? Why can’t I see them?” Scott had his forehead pressed to the side window, his fists clenched.

  No one appeared.

  Abandoned. They’d gone ahead on foot. A woman and two children trying to flee this fire on foot. Malcolm wanted to keep going to find them, but first he had to confirm the car was truly empty. What if Nirav was down there, unconscious?

  There was no space to land. He pulled back from his position between the pilots’ seats. “I need to go down and check, make sure no one’s there. See if there’s a message.” It was the rational, one-step-at-a-time decision, but his gut ached over a delay that might prove pointless.

  Scott gave him an incredulous look. “What do you mean, go down?”

  Malcolm ignored him. Pete abandoned his copilot seat and scrambled between Scott and Malcolm, crouching low in the limited head space. He pulled the canvas cover off the equipment that bulked in the center of the cargo hold, exposing a large motorized cable winch bolted firmly to the deck. Big enough to lift machinery—plenty strong enough for anything they would need.

  Pete tossed Malcolm a black webbed harness. “You’ve done this before?”

  Malcolm nodded. “Special Forces.”

  “That would do it.” Pete sounded impressed, and Scott’s eyes widened.

  Malcolm put on the harness and adjusted it for a snug fit.

  Pete worked quickly, turning on the motor, unwinding a dozen feet of cable from the winch, checking various switches.

  Scott shifted toward the front of the cargo space, then moved off to one side by the door, underfoot and in the way no matter where he was. Pete clipped a remote-control unit to his belt and slid the right side-door open. Ribbons of smoke blew into the helicopter, carrying visible flecks of ash that clung to every surface. The air temperature jumped twenty degrees, the air conditioning overwhelmed by the fire’s heat.

  Pete reached up and out through the doorway and pivoted a heavy-duty pulley outward to position it above the open door. It extended out about two feet from the side of the helicopter. He fed the free end of the cable through the pulley and let the clip end hang free. A bit jerry-rigged compared to some systems Malcolm had used, but feasible.

  Malcolm unclipped the sat phone from where it dangled on his belt and set it aside on the folded canvas winch cover. He shifted past Scott to sit by the open door and clipped the cable to his harness.

  “All set?” Pete asked.

  “All set.”

  “Leave your headset on—should work fine at this distance.”

  Malcolm swung his feet out, rested them on the landing skid, and took a careful breath, cautious of the smoke. Wind slight but steady from the east. Fire moving closer, but he’d have enough time to search before it arrived. Lou brought the helicopter lower over the old roadbed, and when they were about thirty feet above ground, Malcolm stood up and stepped forward off the skid. He dangled now below the pulley, suspended by the cable, the vibrations of the helicopter transmitted to his chest through the steel fiber.

  “Ready.”

  Pete activated the winch and began lowering Malcolm down. Lou held the copter steady.

  Malcolm landed gently a few yards behind the car. “I’m down.”

  He detached the cable from his harness, and the helicopter rose a little, released from his weight. Scott was leaning out the door, watching, one hand no doubt keeping a death grip on his hand strap.

  No time to waste. Malcolm moved.

  Car—empty. No bodies, and although Malcolm had expected none, a wave of relief buoyed him. “No note. They headed on.” He heard an inarticulate noise in his headphones that must have come from Scott.

  Front seat—nothing of value. A scrap of white turned out to be a blood-stained tissue, and he slipped it absently into his pocket. No car keys, wallet, or clutter. Kat might have a bag with her.

  Back seat—two day packs. He glanced in Nirav’s. It held only his overnight things. The other bag, pink, had to be Lily’s. A glint of metal on the floor caught his eye, a small bracelet. He added it to his pocket.

  Surrounding area—a quick scan. T
hree apple cores. An empty wine bottle, a few remaining drops of water clinging to its sides. Malcolm’s opinion of Kat went up yet another notch. She’d thought about supplies before she left. The rotting log that had blocked the car showed obvious marks where several people had scrambled over its top. The old roadbed stretched ahead, unquestionably the easiest path. They would stay on it.

  Malcolm grabbed the day packs and walked behind the car. The smoke thickened; the fire closed in. Heat parched his face, and rivulets of sweat soaked his shirt. “All clear.”

  “Roger.” Pete lowered the cable.

  Malcolm caught it, clipped it on, acknowledged. In seconds, he was back at the helicopter, reversing his steps to get back into the cabin.

  “They’re all together.” He unclipped the cable but left the harness on. “Three apple cores. Packs from both children.”

  Scott seized Lily’s day pack, opened it, and pulled out a fuzzy red nightshirt. “Thank god. They made it this far.” His hand smoothed the fabric over and over.

  Pete rummaged in a canvas duffel and handed Malcolm a water bottle. Half the contents disappeared in a single long swallow, his throat screaming for relief after only minutes below. The thought of Nirav, down there with the fire, was a knife in his chest.

  “I could see where they climbed over the top of that downed tree.” He pointed.

  Scott peered out the open door as if he would be able to see anything. “At least it gives us a direction.”

  “Keep following the roadbed?” Lou asked. The helicopter started forward.

  “Seems like our best bet.” Malcolm took a smaller sip and glanced at his watch. 0842. Less than three hours since he woke. “The road lets them move fastest. So far, Kat is making smart choices.” If Nirav had to be caught in all this, at least he wasn’t trapped with a fool.

  Scott tucked Lily’s nightshirt away, folded the pack with exaggerated care, and put it into the corner of the cabin where it wouldn’t be stepped on. He seemed reassured by such a simple thing, but Malcolm’s tension ramped ever higher. Minutes were ticking away.

  Pete returned to the copilot seat, leaving the cargo door open and the winch-and-pulley setup ready. Scott scooted back from the open edge. He saw Malcolm watching him and gave an embarrassed shrug. “Don’t know how you do it. Makes me dizzy. No glass between me and the ground.”

  Great. Afraid of heights. Just what they needed. Malcolm shifted forward to take his place looking ahead, but then he remembered the bracelet and pulled it out of his pocket. The stained tissue tumbled to the deck.

  He held the bracelet out to Scott. “I spotted this on the floor of the car.”

  Scott grabbed it—silver, with dangling butterfly charms. “Thanks. It’s Lily’s. Her best friend gave it to her. She never would have left it behind if …” His voice broke, and he looked down. “What’s this?” He picked up the tissue, the dark-red bloodstains brilliant against the white.

  “I found it on the front seat. Lily and Nirav’s gear was in the back.” Scott’s eyes were wide and horrified, and Malcolm hastened to reassure him. Can’t have him panic now. “Only the one tissue. Not much blood. It looks worse than it is.”

  “Thanks.” Scott tossed the tissue aside and clutched the metal bracelet tightly. Tight enough that the charms must have dug into his skin. “I keep thinking about Lily, hurt.” He swallowed hard, holding himself together, but barely. A new recruit’s fear, suddenly confronting reality and finding himself out of his depth. “I’ll give this to Lily if we find her.” He paled further. “No, no, no, I mean when we find her. When.” He turned away, blinking fast, and stared out the open door.

  Malcolm returned his attention to the search. At least the fire hadn’t reached this far yet. They moved more slowly now, inching along the old roadbed, no longer looking for a car, instead looking for people on foot. Images of Nirav crowded in, down there somewhere, scared and hurt, and he forced them out of his head.

  Lou pulled back on the throttle, and the helicopter stopped its slow progress. “Which way?”

  Malcolm peered ahead. The faint track they’d been following had disappeared, buried deep in an old rockslide. The mountain dropped precipitously here, and he searched both sides, looking for the most likely route someone on foot would follow. Downhill had steep drop-offs. Uphill—equally treacherous. Would Kat have tried to cross that rockslide? No way. Far too unstable. Far too dangerous. Surely she had more sense than that.

  He shook his head. “They couldn’t have gone downhill here. Unless they backtracked, left the trail at some point we’ve already passed.” He pointed uphill. “Try that way.”

  Lou obediently angled the helicopter up the slope, but the farther they went, the rougher the terrain.

  “Can’t believe they came this way,” Pete said.

  “Agreed.”

  Lou turned the helicopter and retraced their route downhill, precious minutes wasted. Scott fidgeted, restless. “Where are they?”

  A loud crackling and popping exploded in their headphones, startling and unexpected, followed by a man’s voice. “Wolfpack two-seven-foxtrot. Wolfpack two-seven-foxtrot. This is Asheville Regional Tower.”

  Lou frowned and flipped a switch. “Asheville Tower. This is Wolfpack two-seven-foxtrot. Come in.”

  “Patching in a call from the Macon County fire chief. Over.”

  “Reading you three.” Lou adjusted knobs, and some of the crackling improved.

  More static followed; then the sharp voice of the fire chief Scott and Malcolm had spoken to came through the radio. “When I tell you to stay in phone contact, that includes answering the phone. Over.” His pissed-off tone transmitted clearly through the crackles.

  They may not have heard the sat phone ring, but its bright flashing signal should have caught Malcolm’s eye, and he’d left it where it would attract attention. He looked toward the winch cover, where he’d placed it. The phone was gone.

  “Roger that,” Lou responded. “What’s the issue? Over.” Malcolm turned back to the conversation.

  “Wolfpack, break off your search. Go immediately to these coordinates. Ready to copy.” Pete grabbed pencil and clipboard and wrote down the string of numbers the chief repeated twice. “Four hikers. One injured. This can’t wait any longer. The fire is closing in on their position. Over.”

  Lou glanced at Malcolm. This had been the risk from the outset, and here they were. No choice. The chief had laid it out. Malcolm nodded, the simple motion an ultimate betrayal of Nirav.

  “Acknowledged,” Lou said. “We’ll evacuate to the landing site we used on arrival. Over.”

  “An ambulance will be waiting. Out.”

  The radio went quiet, and Lou flipped off the transmission switch.

  “What are you doing? We can’t leave!” Scott shouted the words, his face red. “We need to keep looking!”

  Malcolm looked down at the mountainside, wanting with every fiber to continue the search. His jaw clamped so tightly his teeth ached, and he was having difficulty swallowing. “They have an exact location. We’re still searching. We’ll work fast and come back.”

  Lou altered the helicopter’s course to align with the new heading, which brought its still-open side door directly over the landslide.

  Scott took a deep breath, obviously ready to argue further, but he froze. “Wait, what’s that?” He pointed down at the rocks below. “That red spot.”

  Lou held the chopper steady. Pete pulled a pair of binoculars from a compartment beside him, held them to his face and squinted through them.

  “Looks like a piece of cloth.”

  Malcolm found it—a tiny fleck of red among the brown, about two-thirds of the way across the swath of tumbled rock. Pete handed the binoculars back and Scott seized them.

  He fumbled with the focus knob, taking so long to adjust it that Malcolm was ready to rip them from his hands. Finally, he nodded. “Red with white flowers. It’s Kat’s hat.”

  “Are you sure that’s what it is?” Malcolm
asked.

  Scott lowered the binoculars. “Positive. I saw her wear it when she picked up Lily for a walk.” He was smiling, obviously pleased they were on the right track. But then his face clouded. “You don’t think they tried to cross here and fell over that cliff, do you?”

  Malcolm didn’t answer, the same worry tightening his throat. Lou moved the chopper farther down the mountain and hovered over the sheer drop. They all scanned the rocky jumble.

  “Nobody there,” Pete said. “If anyone slipped over that edge, they wouldn’t just stroll away. They’d be down on those rocks. We’d see them.”

  Malcolm could breathe again. “Good. The hat proves they were here, and it looks like they crossed the rockslide instead of doubling back. We’re still searching the right place.”

  Lou nodded acknowledgment. As Malcolm fully expected, she put the helicopter into motion again, angling back uphill, away from the red hat and away from the old roadbed, obeying orders.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Scott’s clenched fist pounded the back of Lou’s chair, but she didn’t flinch. “They’re here! They’re close by!”

  Lou glanced at Malcolm for an instant, got his confirming nod, and held her course. “We’ve got our instructions. It’s my license on the line.”

  “Goddamn it! Turn this thing around!”

  Her voice slashed like sharpened steel. “Calm down or I’ll toss you off this bird when we drop these hikers.”

  Scott snapped his mouth shut, but after a moment he turned on Malcolm. “You asshole. You conjure up a helicopter like some magic act, and now you refuse to use it.”

  Malcolm held his own frustration in check. The last thing he wanted to do was abandon his son. “We’ll be back.” A firm promise. A promise he’d back with his life. “Fast as you can,” he said to Lou, and the helicopter gathered speed.

  Scott stared out the open door, watching until the rough tumble of the landslide disappeared. “We’re heading the wrong way.” He no longer yelled, but Malcolm almost preferred the shouts to the desolation that now dragged in Scott’s voice. “We may have just killed them.”