Nowhere Wild

by Joe Beernink

  They paddled on and reached the portage shortly after noon.

  “One more climb, and it’s all downhill after that,” Jake said.

  “Yep. Ready?”

  Jake lifted the canoe over his head and adjusted his grip.

  “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 43

  Jake

  Two nights later, they camped by the base of a set of rapids on the upper reaches of the Odei. Downstream from the white water, mist draped the riverbanks like sheets covering old furniture. They alternated shifts in the tent through the night. By sunrise, they had each slept about six hours. Jake felt at least partially refreshed when Izzy cajoled him out of the tent as the sun rose.

  Izzy cooked more venison and filled them both full of tea while Jake broke camp. Twenty minutes later, they set in downstream from the last set of rapids.

  Jake kept a wary eye out for the portage markers. He spotted the first one two hours after entering the flow. They were out of the boat and ready to haul their gear downstream as soon as the boat touched shore.

  “Jake . . .” Izzy led the way, scouting the trail. Jake had pinned his hopes on this one being easy. Using an old trail was usually better than breaking a new one. The closer they traveled to civilization, the better the old trails became.

  “Yeah?”

  “You need to see this.” She stood two boat lengths ahead of him, about to cross the grassy boundary between the shore and the trail. Jake barely had time to grip the center cross-brace on the canoe.

  “What is it?” He ambled over while stretching his back.

  She pointed to a shallow depression in the dirt. A track of footprints veered off the trail from the river. A broken branch here and a bent sapling there led to a campsite partially hidden from the trailhead. A small fire pit, circled with rocks, still radiated warmth.

  “It’s fresh. From this morning.”

  “Rick.” Izzy spat.

  “Probably.” Jake shook his head. He circled the fire in ever greater circles, looking for telltales that would prove the fire builder’s identity. A flattened cluster of weeds betrayed where a tent had been. Jake tested one of the leaves from a crushed plant with his fingers. “This was probably standing yesterday. So he wasn’t here more than a night. Two at the most.”

  “So he’s waiting for us?”

  “He should be all the way to town by now, Izzy. And as far as he knows, we’re ahead of him. So why wouldn’t he keep going? Maybe he got tired.”

  “If he wasn’t finding our camps, he’d know we were behind him.”

  “We could have camped anywhere. The odds of him finding our camps would be so small.”

  “He knows we’d have to come through here, right? He knows we’d be on the river and on these portages. He knows these woods.”

  “If he knew, this would have been the place to wait for us. He didn’t.”

  Jake could tell by her sour expression that she wasn’t buying it. He wasn’t either.

  “Can we hike it?”

  “I’d rather not. Not with the shoes you’ve got on. I’d have to carry you half the way.”

  Izzy smirked and shook her head. “How far ahead of us is he?”

  “Assuming he got moving around sunrise, too, he’s got an hour, maybe two on us. Depends on how hard he’s pushing today.”

  And on whether or not he stopped and is waiting for us.

  “How long is this portage?”

  “Not long, I think. Then there’s an open stretch, and another branch of the river joins in after that. There’s a set of falls a little way past the confluence. Big ones. Water gets real fast, real quick.”

  “So we keep going?”

  “We don’t have a choice.”

  “What if he finds us?”

  “We’ll just have to find him first, and avoid him.”

  Easier said than done.

  Jake walked back to the canoe. He had hoped Rick would have given up the chase by now. Rick had a fully stocked cabin, and Jake had taken nothing but Bill’s canoe and Izzy. Hell, she had almost taken herself. Except here, almost two weeks later, he was still chasing them. He spun back to Izzy as he reached the canoe.

  “Izzy?”

  “Yeah?” She turned her attention from the trailhead back to Jake.

  “Izzy, I have to ask. Why does he want you back so bad? You’re not his daughter, right?”

  “No. I told you my dad died from the flu,” she snapped as Jake walked closer to her. “He was a neighbor.”

  “Why then? Why does he keep following us?”

  “I don’t know,” Izzy said. She couldn’t meet Jake’s eyes when she said it, and Jake knew he had to press further.

  The man had shot at him. He had killed Bill Six Rivers. And the more Jake thought about it, the more convinced he was that Rick had molested Izzy. Something else nagged at him. She had left something out—something critical. He stopped, glanced back at the river, then up to the sky as he searched for the words. When all this was said and done, and the blood had been spilled—and it seemed Rick had already decided there would be blood spilled—Jake needed to know that there had been no other options. If he ever saw his father again, he needed to be able to tell him that. His father’s words echoed in his mind.

  Do what needs to be done.

  “I need to know who I’m dealing with, Iz. Because I’m going to need to take this gun out of its case.”

  She turned her eyes to Jake. Her face bore a pained expression. The words came in a burst that nearly knocked Jake off his feet.

  “Rick didn’t just kill Bill, Jake,” she said. “He also killed my sister.”

  CHAPTER 44

  Izzy

  “He killed her?” Jake took a step backward.

  “That’s why I had to run. He killed her and blamed it on the gangs. They took Angie, and they raped her. But he was already raping her, and when they did what they did, he killed them all. He said she was damaged . . . spoiled.” Tremors rippled through her voice. “He doesn’t want me spoiled like she was. He couldn’t deal with the fact that someone else did that to his woman. Now he wants me for his wife.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “I’m fourteen, Jake! I’m not going back to him. Ever. He took everything from me. Everything I had left, he took, and he destroyed. He killed Angie. He took me up there and he . . . he . . . he’s insane, Jake. Just insane.”

  Jake swore. But he didn’t question her story. The look of doubt that had so often crossed his face had vanished, replaced by rage, then pity.

  “I’m so sorry, Izzy. I don’t—I can’t imagine . . . what you went through. I can’t—I’m so sorry.” He slouched forward as if to give her a hug. Izzy retreated, albeit involuntarily. Jake stopped and squeezed his eyes shut.

  “Jake—” She moved forward, but Jake had already spun away. “Jake, thank you.”

  “Thank you?” He turned back to her.

  “Yes. Thank you. For saving me. That day. In the lake. I couldn’t keep . . . I couldn’t stay there any longer. I wanted to die. And then you came along and pulled me out. I’ve never thanked you for that. Because I didn’t know for sure that I really wanted to live. There’s just so much . . . in here”—she thumped her chest with her fists—“that I couldn’t let go. Can’t let go. It’s so hard . . .”

  She took two big steps and wrapped her arms around him. Jake paused, then hugged her back, his long arms wrapping her tight. The hug lasted long enough for Izzy to catch her breath and halt the sobs that shook her to her toes.

  Jake gave her a moment to collect herself before speaking again.

  “Izzy, we’re going to have to be quiet. We’re going to have to watch for him, and be ready to run if he gets close. If we get separated, just head south.” He pulled the compass from the carabiner and gave it to her. “I know this area well enough. As long as a blizzard doesn’t drop out of the sky, I’m pretty certain I can make it back to Thompson without that now. Just take care of it.”

  Izzy took the compass and clipped
it to the cord holding up her pants.

  Jake removed the gun from its case, chambered a round, and checked the safety. He hung it over his shoulder.

  “You okay with the pack?” They hadn’t made a dent in the venison yet. The pack, along with the bear canister, probably outweighed her.

  “I’ll make it. Let’s go.”

  Jake hurried back to the canoe, flipped it over his shoulders, and regained his balance.

  “Let me know if you need to stop.”

  “Just go. I’ll deal.”

  The canoe scraped every low-hanging branch, creating a screech Izzy was certain could be heard all the way to Thompson. Izzy tried to walk even more quietly to make up for the racket Jake made. Rick was close. She could feel it. Around the next corner, or around the next bend in the river, he would be waiting.

  Low clouds arrived around noon, but seemed reluctant to drop any rain upon them that day. Jake pulled them out above a section of flat water for lunch. Starting a fire would take too long. Besides, if Rick was close, he’d smell the smoke. Instead, they ate the dried venison cold.

  “We’re making good time,” Izzy offered. She sliced off a bite-sized piece of the jerky and pushed it into her mouth. It almost took more energy to chew the tough meat than what she’d get out of it in return.

  “Yeah. Pretty good.” Jake picked at his food.

  They would have made better time had they not been constantly on the lookout for Rick.

  “What’s up ahead?” Izzy asked. She wandered over to a cluster of cattails, plucked two, ate one, and handed the other to Jake, who ate it without taking his eyes off the river.

  “Pretty smooth for a couple more klicks, at least until the branch joins up from the left. Then the falls, if I remember correctly. After the falls, a long run of fast water down to the bridge at the Narrows. We’ll hop out there and go on foot to Thompson. It should be pretty quick and easy after the portage. All roads. No more trails to clear. No canoe to carry.”

  “And if you don’t?”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Remember correctly—where the falls are.” She smiled and gnawed on a piece of the deer meat.

  “Then we’re gonna get really wet,” Jake said with a nervous chuckle.

  They finished their meal and repacked their gear. Izzy paused as she dropped the food pack into the canoe. The river moved past their picnic spot at a decent speed. They’d barely done any paddling the last hour before lunch. Jake had steered while Izzy watched for rocks, downed trees, and Rick.

  “You think he’s still out there?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” Jake shrugged. He pushed the canoe closer to the water. Izzy did not move.

  “I should have that.” Izzy pointed to the gun still looped over Jake’s shoulder. “I can shoot.”

  Jake shook his head.

  Izzy stared into his eyes. “You still don’t trust me? After all this? You still don’t trust me?”

  “I do trust you, Izzy.” He scuffed his feet in the dirt. “But this isn’t just about trust. This gun is more gun than you’ve ever fired. The kickback will knock you out of the boat or break your shoulder if you’re holding it wrong.” He tapped the butt of the rifle. His eyes broke her stare and dipped toward the water. “Even if you could handle this gun, shooting a man is not like shooting a deer, Iz.”

  “How do you know? Have you ever done it?” Izzy crossed her arms.

  “No. No, I haven’t.” His face fell. “And I don’t want to, either.” He wiped his brow with his hand, chasing away a mosquito. “But if we have to, I gotta think that our chances would be better if I were the one to take the shot. My father gave me this gun, Iz. I’ve been shooting it for years. If someone has to pull the trigger on this gun, it has to be me. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be rude or mean or anything, but if it comes to it, I have to be the one.”

  Izzy took a breath. Five days ago, before the deer, his words would have sent her into a frothing rage, but today she understood. She understood Jake’s tenuous tie to his past. She had nothing left of her parents, and only tortured memories left of her sister. She would have done anything to have a single prized possession that held some sort of memory.

  “What are you going to do?”

  He shrugged at that one. “Hope I don’t have to do anything. He’s gotta think we’re in town by now.”

  Izzy didn’t share his hope. Rick would be waiting, somewhere.

  Jake put the canoe in the water. Izzy looked at him with an Are you sure? expression. Jake nodded, hopped in after her, and pushed them into the flow.

  CHAPTER 45

  Jake

  Below the confluence, everything did run faster. The second river entered from their left. Remnant snowmelt and the recent rains pushed the water into a gigantic standing wave as the two flows crashed into each other.

  “Dig! Hard!” Jake shouted at Izzy as the river threatened to spin them end for end. Jake flipped the paddle from one side to the other, not so much paddling as using the paddle as a lever against the side to correct the path of the out-of-control canoe. He should have gotten out and scouted the approach. The voice in his head was no longer his grandfather’s. It was his own.

  “Which side?” Izzy yelled. Ahead, mist thrown into the air betrayed the location of the falls. They seemed much bigger than he remembered.

  The right side seemed so much closer—calmer. An outcrop of rock created a swirling eddy that would allow them safe access to the shore. On the left, the water ran straight and fast. They’d have only one chance to cross it before plunging over the edge. The right side would have been the sensible choice—the easy choice. If he could see that, then Rick would have seen that, too.

  “Go left!”

  “Left?” Izzy glanced back at Jake as if he were crazy.

  “Left. Hard! Now!”

  He slammed the paddle against the stern. Izzy reached over the port gunwale, stuck the paddle into the water, and pulled. The canoe barely moved to the side. Panic seized him. He had waited too long. Jake rammed the paddle deeper into the current, nearly breaking it trying to lever the keel over.

  “Paddle!” Jake ordered.

  The port side dug into the water. White foam splashed over both of them. Jake thrust the paddle in again. The bow crashed through another standing wave. He ripped the paddle back out of the water and dug in again, prying the craft forward. He jerked the paddle out at the finish of the stroke and slammed it back in again. The exhausting process lasted perhaps a full minute. His shoulders burned from the exertion. His hands went numb from his grip on the paddle.

  Izzy hopped out as they reached the pullout and yanked the bow onto a narrow strip of exposed rock that offered the slightest protection from the swift water. Jake rolled out after her, gasping for air and latching one hand on to the canoe to stop it from pinwheeling away from the bank and over the falls.

  “How far?” Izzy said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

  “A few hundred meters,” Jake croaked. His lungs burned. He put his head on his knees to catch a full breath.

  “I don’t see any sign of Rick.”

  “Good.” Jake had counted on Rick taking the easy side, not because Rick couldn’t paddle across, but because Rick wouldn’t have believed Jake could power the canoe across that flow. Jake had almost proved him right. If it hadn’t been for Izzy’s help, he never would have made it.

  Jake rested a moment to let the lactic acid leave his shoulders while Izzy held tight to the canoe. Izzy grunted with effort.

  “On three,” he said. “One . . . two . . . three.”

  Jake began to haul the canoe from the water. A bloodcurdling scream from across the river stopped him mid-lift.

  “Isabelle!”

  Jake nearly lost his grip on the thwart. The hull was half-in, half-out of the water, with the bow clear and the stern still half a meter below his feet. Jake’s eyes jumped to the other side of the river. Rick stood there, with the big silver canoe on his shoulders,
the bow tipped up so he could see them. With a single, impossibly quick motion, he tossed the canoe from his shoulders and threw it to the ground. Thirty meters of roiling water separated them from one another. Even over the sound of the waterfall, the thud of the aluminum canoe hitting the ground rang clear.

  “You son of a bitch!” Rick aimed his words at Jake this time. “You little bastard!”

  Jake fumbled with his pack as it dropped to the ground. His frozen fingers slid on the wet gunwale. The tug of the current wrenched the canoe toward the falls. He leaned back without taking his eyes off Rick and wrenched the canoe onto the rocks.

  “Go home, Rick!” Izzy shouted in a much more powerful voice than Jake would have expected from her. She let go of the canoe as it tumbled onto the rock.

  Rick pulled something from the side of his pack.

  It took Jake just a fraction of a second to realize what it was. He turned to Izzy, still standing defiantly behind him. His left hand held the center brace of the canoe, which now lay in his lap. He used his right to grab Izzy’s tunic. With a sharp tug, he jerked her to the ground next to him. The shot from the shotgun reached them at the same time as the retort shook the water off the nearby trees. Steel pellets ripped through the side of the canoe and into the trees behind him. Jake pulled his feet back from under the canoe and pushed Izzy behind a large cluster of roots. Another shot echoed as he dove after her. Splinters of wood and droplets of sap coated his back.

  “Are you freaking nuts?” Jake shouted across the water. He rolled deeper into the trees and pulled Izzy with him.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” She rubbed a scrape on her knuckle. A drop of blood ran down her finger. Jake checked her as quickly as he could. The trail disappeared to their left. He held her close to the ground.

  “When I say go, I want you to run down the trail about fifty meters. Wait for me there. If I’m not there in five minutes, head south. Follow the river until you come to a bridge. Follow that south, and you’ll come to a highway. Head east. That’ll take you to Thompson. Just keep going.”