by Ann Gimpel
She felt instantly contrite. “Sorry. No chopper till after the storm, and that’s at least two days—”
“What?” Blue eyes flashing, he got to his feet, took her arm, and pulled her away from Mitch’s cot. “Barring a miracle, he’ll be dead long before then.”
“Him and the others out on the trail,” she muttered.
Tim raked his hands through his hair. “I feel goddamned helpless.”
She put her hands on his shoulders and met his gaze. “We aren’t helpless. This is what happens when you leave civilization. You have to rely on your wits. If you’d somehow missed meeting up with me, you’d be in a world of hurt. Not dead, but headed in that direction.”
“That’s not helping.”
“Maybe not, but you need to hear it anyway. Modern life has lulled us into a sense of complacency...” She felt like she was being patronizing, so she shook her head and started over. “Things are more...real out here. More immediate. But more dangerous too. You realize what a slender margin separates being alive from falling prey to something that can kill you. It puts a finer edge on things—”
Jake shoved his way into the tent, his arms full of clothing and sleeping bags. “Whew. Stinks in here. How’s Mitch, Doc?”
“Not good.”
Jake dropped his things onto a pile of clothing. “Shit. I was afraid of that. He was pretty far gone when I found him. But he sort of rallied. And he knew who I was. Damn.” He hunkered next to his friend. Tugging an arm out of the sleeping bag, he took Mitch’s hand and stroked it.
It was such an oddly tender gesture from the burly mountain man that Moira felt the quick bite of tears. She swallowed hard. She couldn’t afford to be emotional. The stakes were too high. Jake tucked Mitch’s arm back into the bag, straightened, and started out the door. She called him back. “We have plenty of warm things in here. HQ said we could have a fire—”
Jake’s braying laughter drowned out the rest of her words. “Damn straight of them,” he sputtered after he could talk again. “Jesus Christ himself couldn’t get anything to burn out there. ’Sides, even if the snow let up, wind’s brutal.”
A chortle bubbled up from somewhere deep in Moira, followed by another. She tried to hold them in, but failed. Soon she was howling just like Jake had been. The whole situation was black humor at its finest. The storm, the birds, the lost trail crew. Permission to light a fire under impossible conditions.
“I’ll be fine, really I will. Got to get some air,” she managed. Moira stepped outside. Snow blew in her face, effectively blinding her. She raised her hands to wipe it away and realized she’d left her gloves in the tent.
Christ! I’m really losing it.
Feeling disgusted actually had a salutary effect. The craziness left as quickly as it had come. She inhaled deeply, letting the chilly air clear her mind.
Just before she let herself back inside, she heard a raven caw, and her blood congealed in her veins.
Chapter Six
Tim dug through the EMT kit, a nearby candle lantern providing a thin beam of light. “Who the fuck packed this? An extra from Catch 22?” He held up a steri-pack that contained an intravenous needle and another with tubing. “What good are these without saline?”
“I think they only pack that when they expect to have a paramedic along.”
“What are you? Doesn’t the Park Service require you to have some medical training?” Judging from the bitten-off tone of his words, he was having a hard time controlling his frustration.
“Yes, but I’m only an EMT with a Wilderness First Responder certification.”
“Oh.” He sucked in a breath. “Sorry I was short with you. I might be able to save this man, if I had what I needed.”
Turning away from her, he extracted a tube and squeezed it into Mitch’s mouth. It was probably the glucose paste they used for diabetics. The stove was going, so she pinned the door flap open a few inches for better airflow. Hopefully, the raven she’d heard wouldn’t take it as an invitation. Tim pulled poly bottles out of Mitch’s sleeping bag, refilled them with hot water, and tucked them back next to the comatose man.
Now that she had time to think, Moira couldn’t figure out what had happened to the rest of the trail crew. Only some of them were newbies. Everyone else would’ve known to turn tail and run once it started snowing hard. Which meant they should have been back hours ago. It was only about six miles to the Muir Trail Junction. If what Jake told her was accurate, the crew had been working just a couple of miles from camp. For an ugly moment, she pictured the dead mule and wondered if Ryan was deranged enough to send his bird hit squad after her people. It made sense, in a sick sort of way, for him to pick off anyone who might help her protect herself.
She swallowed hard, fury battling with horror. If he’d really done something like that, she’d see him hung from the nearest yardarm.
“Goddammit. No, you don’t,” Tim yelled. Moira twirled to look at him. Tim pounded on Mitch’s thin chest. He tilted his chin, fished a plastic protector out of the EMT kit, and started rescue breathing.
“Need help?” Jake was by the cot in an instant.
Tim eyed the other man. “Do you know how to do this?”
Jake shrugged. “Sort of. We all had to take a basic first aid course to be Park Service workers.”
“Okay. You do the breathing. I’ll do chest compressions. He looks like he has osteoporosis. Got to be careful. If I hit him too hard, I’ll break a bone.”
Moira bit her lower lip until she tasted blood. Mitch had been close to worthless on two other crews she’d overseen, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to die. Needing to do something to distract herself from the thumping and wheezing coming from Mitch’s cot, she organized the boxes and piles of gear, sorted finger food for dinner, and hauled out the big pot to start melting snow for drinking water, since the gallon jugs were well on their way to being frozen.
Time dripped past, punctuated by a wet, gurgling that didn’t sound good.
“It’s no good. He’s gone.”
She turned in time to see Tim straighten.
“You sure?” Jake’s eyes looked haunted. Moira knew the feeling.
“Yeah. CPR hardly ever works outside of a hospital, and we had too many things going against us. Thanks for helping, though. It meant we could keep trying longer.”
“I’ll move him to one of the other tents.” Jake hoisted Mitch, sleeping bag and all, over one shoulder and lumbered out the door. “Probably won’t be back for a while. Need to say goodbye, proper like.”
“I’m sorry.” Moira went to Tim and laid a hand on his arm.
“I knew he didn’t have a chance after I first examined him—”
“But you tried anyway. And I love you for it.” The minute the words were out, she clapped a hand to her mouth, not believing she’d actually said them. “Ah, what I meant was—”
“Don’t ruin it, mo ghrá. I know you didn’t feel safe, or loved, last time around, but I plan to change all that. It’s just going to take us some time.” He drew her into his arms. “It’s okay about Mitch. I learned I couldn’t save them all early on in med school. Death doesn’t bother me as long as I know I did everything I could.”
She felt the beat of his heart against her ear. And something else too: a sense of the rightness of being with him. Long-buried knowledge that she belonged with Tim, now and forever, clamored for recognition. She let it run free. The time for pretending it didn’t exist was over.
“Okay. I won’t try to take back what I said. Besides, I really did mean it. I fell in love with you when you helped me pick up my books after those bullies taunted me about being Irish and tried to run my bike off the road.”
A soft smile lit his face. “I remember that. We were about fourteen at the time.” He snugged his arms around her. “Mo croi. My heart. I’ll keep right on protecting you for the rest of your life if you’ll let me.”
She leaned into him. He felt solid and comfortable. When she tilted her
face up, he settled his lips on hers, gentle at first, then firm and more demanding. His tongue sank into her mouth. She felt her body respond, melting into his, and twined her arms around him.
“Ah, whoops. Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“It’s okay, Jake.” She moved out of the circle of Tim’s arms. “Both of you. There are things you need to know. Mind you, I’m not certain of any of them, but still... You remember Ryan?” She eyed Jake.
He made a face and spat on the floor. “Unfortunately. Never liked that man. Never could understand why you didn’t see what a shady bastard he was.”
Wonder why it was so obvious to everyone else?
She cleared her throat. “He used some sort of Native American magic to command a bunch of ravens. They’re what killed that mule. And it’s why they’ve been flying into the tents. For all I know, they attacked the rest of the crew.” She blew out a tense breath. “It’s the only reason I can think of that none of them came back here.”
“Mules would’ve come back on their own—” Jake began, apparently not fazed at all by her statement.
“Unless they’d been hobbled,” she broke in, “and there was no one left to untie them.” It was Park Service policy to secure stock at worksites when they weren’t being used.
“Do you want me to try to look for them?” In a departure from his normally laid-back manner, Jake finally sounded worried.
She shook her head. “Definitely not. That would be suicide.”
“Wait.” Tim cocked his head to one side. “What was that?”
She started to say wind, but the word died on her lips. “Mules,” she said, excitement thrumming through her. “That’s mules braying.”
“Could be the ones you turned loose,” Jake reminded her.
“Might be the others too.” She grabbed her hat and gloves from a cot near the door. “I’m going to find out.”
“Not alone.” Both men spoke in unison.
The wind seemed a little better when she went outside. Still brisk, but she didn’t have to fight against it to stand upright. It was almost totally dark. Between that and the snow, it was disorienting. Moira clicked on her headlight and held herself still, listening.
“I think it’s coming from over there.” She pointed with a gloved hand and started off, wading through snow that had drifted knee-high in places.
Too bad I didn’t think to bring snowshoes.
Moira made clucking noises as she walked. The mules knew those usually presaged a grain sack and sometimes came running. But sometimes not. They were far more contrary than horses, and much more independent.
“Come on, sweetie. Come to Momma.” A bay-colored head materialized in the beam from her headlamp. “Yes, it’s going to be all right.”
“Is it one of the other ones?” Tim was right behind her.
“Uh-huh. Let’s see who he brought with him. Mules don’t usually travel alone.”
“Moira?” A female voice rasped.
“Yes. Oh my God, yes. I’m here. Paula?”
“No, it’s Christine. Paula’s—” A sob cut off her next words and then a tall, thin woman bundled against the storm, hurtled out of the dark and into Moira’s arms. The woman shook violently, crying and gasping as bits of what happened tore out of her.
“Only one—I’m all that’s left. Me and the mules. Five of ’em anyway. Birds got the other one.” More sobs. “And everyone else too. Christ! Never seen nothing like it before. Fucking ravens pecked out everybody’s throat. Knew they was bad luck, but they went for us like... like...”
“Hush. You don’t need to say any more. Here. Let Jake take you inside and get something hot into you. Tim and I will take care of the mules.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Truly I am.” Christine raised a blotchy, tear-stained face. “Didn’t pack up the saws. They’re probably ruined under all this snow. I—”
“They’re not important.”
“But the regulations say—”
“I know what they say,” Moira interrupted. “I helped write them. Now listen to me. You have to believe me when I tell you no one will blame you for leaving Park Service equipment under the circumstances. No one.”
“Well, if you’re sure...” She transitioned from Moira’s arms to Jake’s.
“More than sure. Now go. You won’t do anyone any good if you die of hypothermia like—”
“What?” Christine sounded stunned. “Who else is dead? For fuck’s sake—” Fresh tears started to flow. “Must be Mitch. Crap!”
Moira winced, feeling like an idiot, and an insensitive one at that.
“It’ll keep.” Jake’s gruff voice ended the conversation. “Come on. Hot water’s on the stove.”
Five mules milled around them. Tim had already started removing the tack from one. “What do you want to do with this stuff?”
“We need to put it in one of the tents. Let’s move the mules closer, so we don’t have to carry it as far.”
“Humph. Should’ve thought of that.” He re-buckled a strap.
Chapter Seven
By the time they came back into the supply tent, her headlamp was dimming. Moira grabbed a couple of triple-As from her pack and swapped them for the ones in the lamp. Christine was curled on her side on a cot, snoring softly. Jake sat watch over her looking like Cerberus guarding the gates of Hell.
“How is she?” Moira asked quietly.
“Frightened. Exhausted. But she’ll make it. Got food into her and about a quart of tea.”
“Good work.” Tim laid a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Did she pee?” Jake nodded. “Even better.”
“Lucky we only lost two mules,” Jake muttered half to himself.
Yeah, not so lucky about the nine people.
Moira kept that thought to herself. She had no idea what she’d tell John when it was time to turn the phone back on.
Uh, you see, my ex is this deranged Native American. He called up spirit birds and they—
Moira dropped onto a three-legged stool. Supporting her head, she closed eyes that felt gritty and tired.
“You ought to eat something.” Jake eyed her, seeming to understand how shattered she was. “You laid out food, but I bet you didn’t eat any of it.” He clasped his hands behind his back and moved his gaze from her face to the floor. “This won’t help your appetite, but before Christine fell asleep she told me there were at least fifty of those damned ravens. They tag-teamed the attack, almost as if they could communicate with each other.”
“How’d she escape?” Moira opened her eyes to look at Jake.
“Brandon. Fool kid threw himself on top of her. Birds got him. Couldn’t get to her.”
“Don’t think about it now. Nothing we can do.” Tim scooped up the plastic lid where she’d put their dinner and dropped it in her lap. He pulled up a stool and started eating. “You said something about tea?” He looked hopefully at Jake.
“Yeah. Pot on the stove is full. I’ll rustle up some cups.”
Half an hour later, stuffed with jerky, cheese, crackers, tea, and cookies, she did feel better. “We need a plan.”
“Uh-huh, like sleeping in shifts,” Tim said. He shifted his gaze to Jake. “Any more guns here? Other than Moira’s that is? I meant to look, but never got around to it.”
The other man looked away.
“It’s okay, Jake,” Moira said. “I won’t tell, and we may need it.”
He got to his feet. “Back soon.”
Tim scooted closer to her and cupped her chin in his hand, examining her face. “I never did get to those wounds, but they don’t look infected, and that one did close up. You need to rest. Jake and I will flip for first watch. We’ll do two hour shifts.” He shone his headlamp on his watch. “It’s nine now. Means I won’t have to wake you till one.”
She considered arguing. After all, she was supposed to be in charge and responsible, but the day had taken a toll on her. She wouldn’t be much good for anything if she couldn’t close her eyes for a little wh
ile. “Okay.” She tried to smile, but it felt forced. She was scared. Damned scared. Something that could wipe out almost her entire trail crew could make short work of them too.
In a horror-stricken corner of her brain, she imagined Ryan somewhere close, just waiting to loose the ravens.
It was almost as if Tim had read her thoughts. “We’re ready for them,” he murmured. “And we won’t make the mistake of underestimating how much damage they can do.” He turned her face toward his. “I will not let anything happen to you. There hasn’t been a day since we separated that I didn’t think about you. Now that fate’s finally brought us back together, I’m not going to sacrifice joining my life to yours for anything.”
His jaw tightened. “If that fucker you were married to would show up in the flesh, I’d fight him like a man. This spirit mumbo jumbo is crap. He’s sending the hired help to do his dirty work for him.”
She snorted. “Yes, that would be Ryan. Never got his hands dirty if he could sucker someone else into—”
“You flaming, fucking slut. You never give up, do you?”
Moira stiffened. She got to her feet, staggering from weariness, and raked the darkness with her gaze as she spun in a circle. It was Ryan’s voice, but where the hell was he? And what the fuck was he doing? Hiding in some sort of psychic space spying on them?
“You always were a coward,” she growled. “Show yourself.”
The air developed an electric quality, almost as if it were on fire. She smelled ozone. A cracking sound came from behind the iso-butane cook stove. Ryan’s form gradually took shape, floating a foot above the ground.
She heard Tim suck in a breath. She didn’t blame him. The whole thing was damned intimidating. She’d watched Ryan a time or two when he dabbled with magic. Once she’d even walked in on him when his face was painted with something that looked like blood.
Moira took a step toward Ryan. “This is between us,” she snarled through clenched teeth. “Do not kill anyone else.”
“Or?” The mocking tone of his voice made her want to choke him, but lunging for his projection wouldn’t buy her anything. Bile burned the back of her throat. Her stomach roiled.