by Dayle Gaetz
Amy wriggled closer, trying to get warm.
chapter eleven
The temperature kept dropping. The fire was hot, but a breeze crept up from behind, and Amy couldn’t stop shivering. I thought about the hot-water bottles on the boat. That gave me an idea.
The rocks near the fire were warm. I propped some against Amy’s back and gave her one to hold close against her stomach. She held it with her good arm and wrapped herself around it.
When they cooled I replaced them. “Are you warm now?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Hungry?”
“No.”
“I need to go for help.”
“NO!” she cried, and winced in pain. “Don’t leave me!”
“I have to Amy. You need help. We can’t wait until morning.”
“But the bears will get me!”
Oh-oh. Now I was sorry for what I had told her earlier. “Look,” I said, “bears hardly ever bother people unless you take them by surprise. And you won’t be going anywhere.”
But I will, I thought. And it would be dark before I got down.
“You said they come down to the river at night.”
“I only said that to keep you going. Anyway, bears are afraid of fire. You just keep that fire burning and they won’t come anywhere near.”
“Honest?”
“Honest,” I said. I hope.
I gathered enough wood to last all night and piled it beside Amy. I stuffed the trail mix and all the food wrappers in my pockets, so there would be no hint of food smell near Amy. I tucked my backpack under her head as a pillow. All I needed were the jeans and T-shirt I was wearing. I left everything else with Amy.
“I won’t be long,” I told her. “You’ll see.”
She looked up with tears in her eyes. “I’m scared,” she said.
“There’s nothing to be scared of. Just keep that fire going so we can find you. I’ll be back soon. I promise.”
I saw her take a deep breath. She tried to smile but winced in pain. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, “I’ll be fine.”
My throat tightened. She didn’t look fine at all. I patted her hand. “See you soon.” I started downriver.
Without Amy I moved a lot faster. My legs were tired and my feet hurt with every step, but without my backpack I felt as light as a deer.
Above the big waterfall I stopped to look down. The light was dim and the river roared below, dark and scary. There was no time to lose. I took a deep breath, gathered my courage and lowered myself over the cliff. I followed the easy route I had checked out that morning when I went down for my backpack.
Halfway down, groping for a foothold, my toe touched a loose rock. It wobbled and shook loose. I held my breath as it bounced down the cliff and splashed into the river. I swallowed and kept going. Slowly. Carefully.
At last I stepped onto the large, flat boulder at the bottom. That’s when I heard it. It was a strange sound—somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. So close!
I turned my head just enough to see over my shoulder. My mouth went dry. A chill ran down my spine. Below me was the biggest bear I had seen in my life. Its front paws rested on the boulder, its long, sharp claws were inches away from my foot. Its huge mouth was open so wide the rotten-fish stink of its breath nearly knocked me over.
I didn’t move. I could not have moved if I had wanted to. But I pictured myself scrambling over the rocks with that bear loping along behind. It would reach out and flatten me with one swipe of its giant paw. I squeezed my eyes shut.
The bear grunted.
My eyes flew open.
The bear sniffed the air near my feet. I had to keep still. It was my only chance, but it was so hard to do.
The bear moved one giant paw until its needle-sharp claws touched the toe of my shoe. My heart pounded against my ribs. I couldn’t breathe. The bear put its face close to my leg, like a near-sighted person reading a book. Its breath felt hot and moist through my jeans as it sniffed up and down my leg.
My heart stopped. Could the bear smell the remains of our lunch? How about the trail mix? I had to get away. I would kick that bear on the end of its soft nose and scramble straight up the cliff. Right. And be squashed flat in two seconds—ripped to shreds in three.
The bear sniffed my wet running shoe and grunted in disgust. It dropped down on all fours, lifted its nose to sniff the air once more, snorted and walked away.
I started breathing again, tiny shallow breaths. But I was afraid to move. I listened to that bear crash over rocks in the direction I needed to go. It tossed rocks aside, looking for mice or voles. A few minutes later, in the darkness of the woods above, I heard a loud crunch like a tree snapping in half.
Still I waited, scared out of my mind. Then I thought of Amy lying by the fire alone, afraid and hurting. I took a deep breath and climbed down from the boulder to continue on my way.
I tried not to look at the frightening shadows under the trees above. Any one of them could be hiding the dark shape of a bear. Once, in a shadow beside a boulder, I was sure something moved. Later, up in the forest, something rustled through the bushes. Something big.
It took me forever to reach the final stretch of river. Darkness crept toward me from all sides. Then suddenly, dead ahead, something orange and flickering caught my eye. A fire! Dad must be waiting on the beach.
“Dad!” I yelled. “I’m here!” But he couldn’t hear. All at once I felt so tired and my feet hurt so much that I wanted to collapse, right where I was. I wanted Dad to find me and help me over the last few meters of rough ground.
I stumbled over the dry riverbed toward the flickering light. “Dad!” But the river was too loud. Then I saw him. He stood by the fire, wearing a backpack and looking up the mountainside. “Dad!”
There was a movement beside me, a light flashed in my eyes and away.
Patti threw her arms around me, and I collapsed against her.
“Thank Heaven you’re all right!” she said. “Your dad was about to go looking for you.”
It felt good to be comforted by her. For two seconds I felt as if everything was all right. But of course it wasn’t.
She pulled back. “Where’s Amy?”
I swallowed. “Amy’s still up there,” I said softly, “she’s hurt.”
Her hands gripped my shoulders. Her voice was a whisper. “What happened?”
chapter twelve
We all piled into the dinghy. On Fanta-sea, Dad switched to the Emergency channel of the VHF radio and called the coast guard station at Comox. When he told them about Amy’s fire, they promised to send a helicopter right away.
Patti looked worried. “Do you think she’ll keep the fire burning?” she asked. “Amy’s not very good at things like that.”
“You’d be surprised,” I told her. I was sure that as long as Amy was awake she would keep that fire going.
Dad rowed back to the beach to keep his own signal fire going. While I took off my wet shoes and changed into dry clothes, Patti made me a pot of hot tea and a thick chicken sandwich. I was so tired I didn’t think I could eat, but I wolfed the food down and drank a mug of tea.
Patti couldn’t sit still. She paced back and forth and looked out into the night. We listened to the crackle of the VHF radio and hoped for the sound of a helicopter. Patti went outside to stand on the back deck.
I poured two mugs of tea and took them out. I handed one to Patti and she took it, but I’m not sure if she even noticed.
“Amy’s so helpless,” she said suddenly.
“Not so much as you think,” I told her.
“She always tried so hard to impress her father,” Patti went on. “But it never worked. He only wanted her to keep quiet and behave herself.”
Patti talked about her ex-husband as if he was dead.
“She loves her dad,” I said.
“I guess,” Patti said. “But he hurt her so badly that she wants nothing to do with him right now. She won’t even talk to him when he
phones.”
We looked up at the black outline of the mountain against a starry sky. It was so huge and Amy was so small.
“That’s why she wants to call your father Dad,” Patti said. “She really needs a father right now.”
“Uh,” I grunted.
“Jess, I know how much you must miss your mom.”
Where did that come from?
“You always will,” Patti said, “for the rest of your life.”
When I said nothing she went on, “I understand that, Jessica, and I want you to know I would never try to take her place.”
I grunted.
“And I don’t expect you to call me Mom. Patti suits me just fine.”
My throat was tight and aching. All I could do was nod.
“Do you hear that?” Patti asked.
I listened. In the distance was the thump-thump-thump of rotors.
“Do you want to go back to the beach?” I asked.
“Yes!”
I called Dad and stuffed my feet back into my wet shoes. When Dad rowed us back to shore we saw a light in the sky, growing brighter and brighter. We reached the beach and the helicopter hovered above us, so loud I couldn’t think. It flooded us with light.
Patti jumped up and down and waved her arms. She pointed upriver. I couldn’t believe it when they started lowering someone. A dark shape swung below the big machine and finally touched down on the beach. A man’s voice shouted, “Which one of you can help us locate the girl?”
I guessed it was up to me. I looked at Patti. She nodded but couldn’t speak. My dad put his hand on my shoulder and walked over with me.
“I’m Mike,” the man said. “I’ll help you into the horse collar.”
A few minutes later I was swinging through the night air, held by a big strap under my arms. I was facing Mike, whose harness was somehow hooked to mine.
I looked down. Dad’s fire looked so small and far away I was surprised they had spotted it. I should have been scared out of my mind, but everything happened so fast I didn’t have time to think.
A man and woman helped us into the big yellow helicopter. They told me to sit near the pilot and co-pilot.
“Hi,” the pilot had a friendly smile, “I’m Anne. We need you to look down and try to pinpoint the exact spot where you left your friend.”
“She’s not my friend.”
The pilot looked surprised.
“She’s Amy, my, uh…sister.”
Anne nodded.
“And if you follow the river, we should see Amy’s fire.”
The searchlight guided us up the river. I stared down, searching for the small glow of a signal fire. I recognized the high waterfall where Amy had been stuck. But everything looked different from up here. It was hard to tell a waterfall from rapids. And we moved so fast I lost track of where we were.
The searchlight fell on the lake. My heart clenched. We had missed her. “Don’t worry,” Anne said. “I’ll take us down a little closer to the ground.”
We headed downriver. Before I knew it we were back at the waterfall.
“Okay,” I swallowed and tried to stay calm, “we need to concentrate on the top half of the river. I’m sure that’s where she is.”
“And you’re certain she has a fire going?”
“Yes, I’m—almost sure.”
“Then let’s try turning out the searchlight. The fire will show up better that way.”
It worked. At last I spotted a tiny red glow and knew we had found Amy.
Mike and the woman who had helped me aboard went down on ropes. Two other people lowered a stretcher.
We hovered over the spot, but I couldn’t tell what was happening below.
“Don’t worry,” Anne said. “They are both trained paramedics.”
“She’s coming up!” someone called.
I could see the stretcher swinging in space, but I couldn’t make out Amy. It wasn’t until they hauled the stretcher on board that I saw her. She looked tiny and her skin was milky white against the blankets.
“Jess,” her voice was slurred. Her thin fingers reached up.
I took hold of her hand. “I’m here,” I said. “You did great!”
I’m sure she smiled before she winced in pain.
The co-pilot picked up his radio to call in. “We’ve got the girl,” he said. “We’re taking her to the hospital in Powell River. Call the Fanta-sea and let her parents know.”
chapter thirteen
At the hospital they wheeled Amy away.
A nurse with a clipboard came up to me. “I’ll need some information,” she said.
I stared at her dizzily. Was she swaying back and forth or was it me?
“Come, sit down.” The nurse put an arm around my shoulders and guided me to chair. “You’re limping!” she said.
“I am?”
How could I not have noticed? It felt as if there were sharp little pebbles in my shoes.
She took off my shoes and put them aside. My feet were a mass of blisters.
“How did you get so wet?”
“We had to walk through the water.”
“Wet socks and running shoes,” she said. “They’ll do it every time!”
After she patched me up the nurse found a quiet waiting room with a couch. I half remember her putting a warm blanket over me before I fell asleep.
“Jess,” said a voice above my head. I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Jess!”
“Dad?” I yawned. How did he get here so fast? I tried to ask but could only mumble. My eyes refused to open.
“We just got here,” Dad said. “We brought the boat around, but it was so dark on the water we couldn’t go very fast.”
I forced my eyes open and looked up at his tired face. I blinked toward a window at a pale blue sky. “It’s morning already,” I said stupidly.
Dad nodded, “It’s just past dawn.”
He sat beside me. “Amy is going to be fine. Patti is with her now.”
“Can I see her?”
“I don’t see why not.” He stood and took my hands to help me up.
My poor feet! They hurt so much I hobbled down the hall like an old woman.
Weak sunlight spilled into Amy’s room. She lay on a high narrow bed and had casts on one leg and one arm. She looked pale and fragile in that early morning light. When she saw me a smile crept across her face.
“Thanks Jess,” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep.
Dad squeezed Amy’s hand. “You’re a lucky girl,” he said.
Patti started to cry. She bent and kissed Amy’s forehead.
“Come on, Jess,” Dad said. “Let’s leave these two alone. I’ll buy you some breakfast.”
In the coffee shop I ordered a cinnamon bun and hot chocolate with whipped cream. The hot chocolate went down so good that I asked for another one.
Dad didn’t say a word; he just sipped his coffee and stared at his hands. Finally he said, “Jess, I’m really proud of you.”
“Anyone would have done the same thing,” I told him, embarrassed.
He looked at me then. “I don’t just mean last night,” he said, “I mean all the time. I’m proud that you are my daughter.” He studied his hands again. “I guess I don’t show it very well these days.”
I stared into my hot chocolate. “So? What’s to be proud of? I don’t get good grades like Amy. I’m not pretty like Amy. And, you may have noticed, I’m not the neatest person in the world.”
He laughed and rolled his eyes. Then he turned serious. “I didn’t get good grades either,” he admitted. “But you’re a good person, Jess, you care about people. And I bet you know more about the outdoors than anyone else your age.”
He put his hand over mine. “As for being pretty like Amy, why should you look like her? You look like your mother—so much that sometimes it hurts when I look at you.”
I gulped some hot chocolate. It burned in my throat. “I’m sorry,” I gasped.
“No, Jess. Don’t be sorry.
Be proud. Your mother was a wonderful beautiful woman and we will always miss her.” He sipped his coffee and put the mug down. “You know, Jess, she loved you very much.”
He paused then, as if he wanted to say something else but didn’t know how. “And I do too,” he added quietly.
“In that case,” I said, before he got too mushy, “when are we going hiking?”
“Soon,” he said. Then he smiled. “While Amy is in casts would be a good time.”
I laughed. “Right on.”
I thought about Amy. And I thought about her father. She had missed out on a lot. “But maybe one day, Dad, you could take her on a hiking trip. You know, just a father and daughter sort of thing?”
He looked surprised. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“No,” I told him. “Not anymore.”
Dayle Campbell Gaetz is the author of many books for children including Mystery from History, Barkerville Gold, No Problem and her latest mystery, Alberta Alibi. Dayle loves boating and over the years has owned a tiny inflatable raft, a canoe, four sailboats, eleven powerboats and a thirty-two-foot cabin cruiser. Dayle lives in Campbell River, British Columbia.
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