Smitty stuck his fingers into the blackened earth where Mike had built his fire. It was still slightly warm. “No doubt about it,” he reported to the others. “Looks like he spent the night here.”
While the kids picked over the wreckage, Pop searched the perimeter around the airplane. Seeing something at his feet, he reached over and picked up the spent flare cartridge. “Looks like he tried to set off some kind of flare,” Pop shouted to the others.
They were becoming more excited with each new find. It was all starting to fall together, and they could sense that they were getting close. Now it was just a matter of time.
“Hey!” Ben popped his head over the side of the wreck. “Come here and check this out!”
The others ran over and joined him on the far side of the plane. Ben pointed with a smile at the wall of the baggage compartment. On it a charcoal note had been scribbled in big letters. It was Mike’s own handwriting, and it read, “MIKE’S BAR-B-QUE HEAVEN—ASK ABOUT OUR SPECIAL!”
“That’s my Mike!” Pop chuckled. “Thank the Lord he still hasn’t lost his sense of humor!”
As the minutes slowly ticked by, Mike could feel himself slipping over the edge toward unconsciousness. He was starting to suffer from hallucinations and was having a hard time keeping his eyes from rolling back into his head.
He was afraid of letting himself close his eyes. Afraid that if he passed out, he might never wake up again. He was beginning to have muscle cramps and shake involuntarily from the chills as the venom made its way deeper into his system. “Cold . . . so very cold,” he muttered.
He had managed to collect a few dry sticks and twigs that lay around him and now carefully arranged them into a small pile by his side. He opened the box of safety matches and felt inside to discover that only one was left. He held it up in front of his face to examine it, but it was just a blur.
He would get only one shot at it. He knew that he couldn’t blow it.
He laid the match head against the cover and quickly pulled it across the rough surface. Nothing happened. He tried it again and this time the match flared to life. With trembling hands he carefully set the flame into the pile of sticks. Slowly, it smoked and then caught fire.
Mike rolled over and waited for the fire to give off its heat. It was then that he heard a noise. He lifted his head and looked toward the entrance of the crevice, but all he could make out were the movements of a blurry shape.
“Jake?” Mike called.
There was no answer.
Mike continued to try to focus his eyes as the shape approached. Suddenly a smile spread across his face. It was his dad!
“Dad, I . . . I knew you’d come,” Mike said, extending a hand toward the approaching figure.
“Hello, kid!” his dad said, warmly smiling down at him. “Did you miss me?”
“Oh, Father! You’ll never know—” Mike suddenly stopped himself.
The vision in front of him was starting to shift. Mike struggled to bring it back into focus. When he finally did, the face was closer. Only it wasn’t the face of his father.
“I’m back!” Josh hissed through a toothy grin.
Chapter 12
POP, SMITTY, AND THE KIDS had momentarily stopped their vehicles to take stock of the situation. They had continued traveling due east from the crash site and now were coming up on the small town of Cottonwood.
While the others took turns drinking water out of a large jug, Spence stood in the bed of Smitty’s truck and studied the surrounding landscape through a pair of large binoculars.
“Well, I’m beginning to think he may have made it into Cottonwood,” said Smitty, gazing off at the buildings in the distance.
“Then maybe we should go look for him there,” Ben suggested.
“I’m for that,” Pop agreed.
Spence hopped back down off the bed of the truck and handed the binoculars to Smitty.
“See anything, Spence?” Pop asked.
“No,” Spence said with a shrug. “Just a red truck over by the cliffs.”
“Yeah?” Smitty raised the binoculars in the direction of the truck. “Probably part of the search party. Let’s check it out on our way into town.”
Seth stepped around Josh toward Mike and pulled out a canteen to offer him some water.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Josh pushed Seth away.
“Offering him some water! Look at him! He’s about ready to die on us.”
“Not until we get what we came for!” Josh turned his attention back to Mike and studied his face. “You know, you really should’ve used a better sunscreen,” Josh said, sadly shaking his head.
Using all the strength he could muster, Mike pulled the flare gun out of his jacket and weakly trained it on Josh. “Go away,” he warned.
With one slap with the back of his hand, Josh easily knocked the gun out of Mike’s hand. It tumbled away and landed out of Mike’s reach.
“Oh, we will. We will,” Josh assured him. “But first, I believe you have something that belongs to us. It’s about a foot high—and green.”
Mike looked off into the distance for a moment, and then a look of recognition came over his face. “The Grinch?” he deadpanned.
The veins in Josh’s neck and forehead bulged. It looked like he was going to lose it at any second. He finally reined his temper in and turned to Seth, shaking his head. “Can you believe this kid?”
Josh pointed a threatening finger at Seth. “Start looking around. It’s got to be here somewhere.”
Leaving Mike alone for the time being, the two robbers spread out and started searching the chamber.
Josh returned shortly with an armload of dry sticks. He stoked Mike’s small fire until it was a substantial blaze. The dark nooks and crannies of the chamber slowly became illuminated in its light.
Seth crept toward the far end of the crevice examining the floor. He noticed a thin stream of sunlight hitting the sand at his feet. Curious, he got down on his hands and knees to investigate. Looking through a small narrow crack he was able to see out to where they had parked their truck. His eyes popped at the sight. “Hey, there’s a cop and a bunch of kids looking at our truck!” he exclaimed in a low but panicked voice.
Mike took a deep breath and started to scream, “Smi—”
Josh’s hand clamped down over Mike’s mouth like a steel trap.
While the kids sat waiting on their quad runners, Smitty walked up to the truck and, after peering in, tried the door handles. They were locked. He looked down at the dirt and noticed two sets of footprints leading away.
“Nothing here to go on,” he called back to the others. He glanced up at the rocky cliff. “Maybe they’re up there looking around.”
Smitty cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted toward the cliffs. “Hello! Can anyone hear me?”
He waited a few seconds, but there was no response.
“Mike!” Winnie called as loud as she could. They listened again, but only heard the echo of Winnie’s voice bouncing back off the rocks. “It’s gonna be dark in a few minutes,” Winnie said with a worried look on her face.
Smitty walked over and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find him,” Smitty assured her. “Let’s go check in town.”
The inside of the crevice was deathly quiet. Josh and Seth both held their breath as they waited for the people outside to leave. They had heard the voices calling as clear as day, but they weren’t about to answer.
If they only knew, Josh thought with a smile on his face.
“Seth, put out the fire!” Josh whispered, finally breaking the silence in the chamber. “I don’t want them to get lucky and see a smoke trail.”
“Okay, but I think they’re leaving,” Seth whispered back.
Mike knew that if he was going to make a play it had better be now! He looked around, frantically trying to come up with an idea. He spotted the half-buried flare cartridges still lying in the sand where he had dumped them earlier. If I can
only reach them!
Seth was still lying on his stomach, watching the people move around outside. “Yeah, look, they’re getting in—”
“Put out the fire!” Josh sternly repeated.
“Whatever you say.” As Seth rose from his position and started slowly making his way toward the fire, they heard the sound of engines starting.
Josh slowly began relaxing his hold on Mike.
Mike saw his opportunity and took it. He lunged forward and scooped up the flares in his hand. In a move of desperation, Mike aimed as best he could and threw them all toward the red-hot center of the fire. He was lucky—they landed where he’d planned.
Seth had just been ready to stomp his foot into the middle of the fire when it happened. He froze in his tracks as he realized what Mike had done.
Josh jumped to his feet, shielding his eyes from the impending explosion.
But nothing happened.
Seth slowly opened one eye and carefully peered down into the flames. Aside from a little extra smoke, everything looked normal. It looked like the flares were just going to burn themselves out quietly.
Josh and Seth looked at each other with relief and laughed nervously.
Mike lowered his head in bitter defeat. These signal flares were duds, too!
“Nice move, bright boy,” Josh remarked. He leaned close to whisper in Mike’s ear. “Too bad it didn’t work.”
As Seth placed his foot back into the fire to stomp it out, the first flare went off with a concussive bawoom!
Blinded by the incredibly white light, Josh jerked his head back just in time. A flare rocketed away, just grazing his cheek.
Bawoom! Bawoom! Bawoom! Bawoom! The remaining rockets ignited in rapid succession. Within the tiny chamber, the sound was deafening. The flares flew in all directions, ricocheting off the walls in a shower of sparks.
Mike pulled his leather jacket over his head and lay as flat as he could against the floor. Josh and Seth both ran around in circles looking for cover, their eyes wide in panicked terror. They waved their arms around wildly as if they were trying to swat away a swarm of mad yellow jackets.
The chamber had become a brightly colored conflagration of smoke and whining missiles.
A few of the missiles managed to find their way free of the chamber and rocketed out of the crevice into the sky. They arced high in the air and then exploded when they had reached their zenith. They bathed the entire desert landscape in a brilliant red light.
Smitty brought his truck to a screeching halt. He jumped out of the door and looked up at the sky in stunned amazement. It looked like some kind of insane Fourth of July extravaganza.
“What in the blue blazes!” he slowly muttered.
“That’s gotta be Mike!” Ben said with a knowing smile.
Josh screamed as he saw a flare coming straight for his head. It seared a neat path across his scalp and then bounced off the wall and headed straight back for him.
He turned to run and came face-to-face with Seth. Their heads hit together like a couple of overripe melons, and they fell together to the floor.
They looked up just in time to see that another flare was headed straight for them. They rolled apart, and it hit between them, embedding itself deep in the sandy floor. Then the timed fuse went off, and the rocket exploded. It sent sand flying, turning the larger pebbles into flying shrapnel, which tore through Josh’s and Seth’s clothes and stung their skin like buckshot. They grabbed themselves and howled in pain.
The smoke seemed to part for a slight moment, and Josh and Seth both caught a glimpse of the exit out of the crevice. It was every man for himself as they scratched and clawed their way out. With flares still chasing them from behind, they finally stumbled clear of the crevice wall and dove headfirst down a shale slope. They finally came skidding to a dusty stop at a pair of large cowboy boots.
As they lay there coughing and sputtering, they slowly became aware that they were lying at someone’s feet. They both tilted their heads and followed the legs up until they came face-to-face with the business end of a Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum.
“You boys have a permit for all this?” Smitty said dryly.
Now that things seemed to be under control, Winnie, Ben, and Spence ran past Smitty and entered the smoky crevice. Although all the flares were now out, the place was still thick with smoke.
“Mike? Mike?” Winnie called.
“Over there!” Ben yelled, pointing at a still shape on the floor.
As they raced over to him, Mike slowly pulled the jacket off his head.
“Oh, Mike!” Winnie exclaimed, horrified at his condition.
A smile came slowly to Mike’s lips as he looked up at his friends. “Hey, guys,” he said weakly. “You ever eat a lizard?”
Epilogue
WHEN MIKE ENTERED THE HOSPITAL he was in serious condition. The doctors moved fast, filling Mike full of IV fluids and giving him a shot of rattlesnake antivenom. Within a couple of hours he had stabilized and had already begun to feel much better.
His right leg had only suffered a slight fracture, but the break was still bad enough that his leg needed a cast. By the time they had finished wrapping it, Mike was fast asleep. That night he slept deeper than he ever had before. And by morning his condition was so improved that he was even allowed to see visitors.
Gail, Pop, Grandma, Winnie, Ben, and Spence all crowded around his hospital bed trying to talk at the same time. Mike looked up at them warmly and drank it all in.
Ben was in the middle of enthusiastically telling the whole story from his point of view. “Your compass was just lying there, so we went into the courtyard of the motel. And Spence said, ‘Look at this,’ and he held up Jake’s ball. And then, when I saw the Illinois license plate, man, I knew you were dead meat!”
Gail Fowler winced at the phrase “dead meat.”
Winnie gave Ben a swift elbow to the ribs. “What?” exclaimed Ben, having no clue that he’d done it again.
Gail took advantage of the lull in the conversation and sat down next to her son on the bed. “Mike, while you were . . . missing, I started digging around in some old photos.” She pulled a gift-wrapped square package from behind her back. “I had this one framed.”
“Thanks, Mom,” said Mike as he started unwrapping the picture. “This is great.”
The door flew open, and Smitty bounded into the room. He held an empty leash in his hand and had a look on his face like he had just gotten away with something.
“Smuggled a visitor in for ya, Mike,” Smitty whispered. “Don’t tell the nurse.”
Before Mike knew it, Jake had leapt up onto the bed and was in his arms. Except for some bandages wrapped around his feet, he looked like his good old self.
“Jake!” Mike gave him a big hug. “You missed the fireworks show!”
“Hey, everybody! How about a picture?” Grandma suggested. She held up an antique camera and motioned for everyone to gather around Mike.
As they each jockeyed for position, Mike finished unwrapping the picture his mom had given him. It had been taken during the camping trip. He and his dad stood next to each other, holding fishing poles and grinning from ear to ear. Mike had one hand around the neck of his father. In the other, he proudly held the large trout that he had caught.
About the Author
ROBERT VERNON got his start in the entertainment industry while working for television legends Johnny Carson and Dick Clark. He was a founding member of Focus on the Family’s film department, where he wrote, produced, and directed many of the Adventures in Odyssey video episodes.
Robert is the creator of The Last Chance Detectives. He produced the video series, wrote the screenplays, and directed Legend of the Desert Bigfoot. He also wrote and directed the Last Chance Detectives audio series, Last Flight of the Dragon Lady.
Robert lives with his wife, Kristen, in Santa Clarita, California. They have three sons, one grandson, and a dog named Chance.
Robert Vernon, Escape from Fire Lake
Escape from Fire Lake Page 8