Madison starts to cry. “Thank God. Where’s Seth?”
I just shake my head.
Her eyes grow wider. “But they were together the last time I saw them.”
Big Mike nods. “They were arguing about something.”
“Do you know what it was?”
“Nah. I assumed it was because Seth was being a tool bag and not following Porter’s directions, but they both went off down the path. I saw Porter grab Seth by the shirt.” He looked at Madison. “We waited for like thirty minutes, and they never came back. Porter had all the gear, so we got lost. Then it started to snow.”
“The worst part was the wolves,” Madison said. “They howled all night. We were afraid to stop and lay down.” She smiled over at Big Mike. “If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be here.”
Big Mike coughs and looks embarrassed. “I did what anyone would do.”
I smile. “Looks like there are a few heroes around here.”
I pull out a map and lay the paper on Big Mike’s bed. “So where were you guys? Do you remember where you saw Seth and Porter last?”
Big Mike studies the areas and eventually points to a spot on a marked trail. “It was about here. We saw a pack — a big one, too, like twenty of them — and we were following them. Then we found the dead ones close by.”
I eye the spot. “Do you remember anything about the area that would stand out to rescuers?”
Madison calls out behind me. Her eyes are closed. “Waterfalls. Pretty ones, too. All iced over and glistening like some kind of sculpture.”
“That’s got to be the Chasteen Creek area in Smokemount.”
Big Mike nods slowly. “Yeah, that sounds familiar.”
I fold the map. “That’s quite a hike. Especially in winter.”
He eyes me. “You don’t need to tell me.”
“I bet.” I stand. “Did you tell Agent Sweeney all this?”
Madison blurts out. “No. We haven’t seen him. But Reynolds came by and was working on getting extra volunteers to help.”
I glance out the window at the drifting snowflakes. Not too bad, but thick enough when you’re in the woods. “You can never have too many people looking.”
A voice pipes up behind me. “You’re not thinking of doing anything stupid, are you?”
Survival Skill #20
There is a simple method of handling an emergency situation. Remember the acronym S.T.O.P.:
Sit — Think — Observe — Plan.
When I spin around, Wyn is standing in the doorway, next to Skyler, who is leaning on crutches.
He studies me closely. “G, answer me.”
I salute. “Sir, yes sir.”
Madison and Big Mike laugh, but not Wyn. His face never changes.
“You still didn’t answer my question.” He peels himself away from Skyler’s side and moves toward me. “You’re not going to do what I think you’re thinking of doing.”
I act confused. “I lost you back at ‘you’re.’”
“Don’t play dumb.” He walks up and pokes my head. “I know you, and when you get something on the brain, there’s no stopping you.”
Madison jumps to my defense. “Wyn, Grace would never go up there after Seth. Alone. That would be suicide.” She looks at me. “Would you?”
“Not for free.” I smile at Wyn.
He narrows his eyes as Big Mike chuckles. “Not funny,” Wyn says.
I grab my coat and point to Big Mike, who is still smiling. “Depends on who you ask. Right, Mike?”
Skyler hobbles over and tugs on Wyn’s arm. “Let’s go. I need to get home. My leg’s starting to hurt.” She looks at me with sad eyes like I’ve betrayed her or something and then quickly hobbles out without saying anything. I glance at Wyn, wondering if he told her anything about our time in the cave.
He points two fingers at one of his eyes. “Don’t get any dumb ideas. I’ve got my eye on you.” I immediately know Wyn and Birdee have been talking more than I realize. He’s even picked up a phrase or two.
“Only one?” I do the same gesture. “Good to know.”
I buzz past him into the hall and wait for the elevator. My legs can’t take another flight of stairs.
Before the door opens, a hand touches my arm. “I mean it, G.”
I spin around and face Wyn as the door dings behind me, telling me it’s time to make an escape. “You’re being paranoid.”
“Am I? Then where are you going right now?”
“Birdee’s waiting for me downstairs.” I show him the text on my phone.
He seems satisfied. “Fine. I’ll check on you later. And you’d better pick up.”
I step inside the elevator car. “Deal.”
He stops the doors with his hand and leans in. “By the way, you look beautiful.” I must be shocked because he laughs and adds, “May want to close your mouth. You’re catching flies.”
I look at my reflection in the stainless steel doors and shake my head, trying not to smile. “You’re crazy.”
He steps back, and as the door closes between us, he calls out, “About you.”
Maybe there’s hope for us yet.
* * *
At home, once Birdee heads to bed, I can’t help but feel fidgety. I pace in front of the large window, watching the mountains peeking through the thin layers of clouds like they’re hiding from me. The image of Seth out there in the freezing snow haunts me. I know how it feels out there at night, but I had Wyn. Someone who cares about me.
If it wasn’t for Seth, I wouldn’t be alive, sitting in this cozy house. I think of the last thing he said to me in the woods, about owing him my life since he saved me. At the time, he was kidding, but now, I wonder if it was a prophecy of some sort.
Someone knocks on the front door, sending my heart into a tizzy. When I flip on the porch light, Agent Sweeney is standing there.
I swing open the door and don’t even greet him. “Did you find him?”
Agent Sweeney walks in and pats his coat with his hands to loosen the clinging snow. “No signs of him. And we have to call off the search for tonight. He’s not at Bradley Fork.”
I stare out at the looming mountains in the distance. The moon gives the horizon a grayish appearance, and tiny snowflakes tap the window, wanting to be inside.
I shut the door behind him. “You can’t leave him out there all night. He’ll freeze.”
Sweeney looks haggard, like he’s been up for two days. His eyes are surrounded by dark circles, and he looks ten years older just since yesterday. He clears his throat. “It’s definitely not good news. I just wanted you to know. I left the search tent and thought I’d stop by on my way to see Seth’s mom.”
“Thanks.” I nod and open the door again to let him leave, then something dawns on me. I follow him out the door and stand on the porch. The wind whips through me, reminding me of how cold I was on that mountain. “Did you say Bradley Fork?”
“Yeah.”
I think for a second. “Big Mike said they were at Chasteen Creek. That’s miles from Bradley.”
Agent Sweeney stares at me, and then shakes his head. “Porter was adamant when we found him. It was Bradley Fork. He’d know more than Big Mike. He’s a tracker.”
I grip his jacket as tightness fills in my chest. “Oh my God. That’s why you aren’t finding any signs of Seth. Because of Porter!”
He frowns. “I’m not finding anything because it’s snowing, and as you know, tracks get covered.”
“No. It’s because he told you to look in the wrong place.”
“Now why would he do that?”
I think for a second. “Maybe he didn’t want Seth to be found.”
“Grace, please.” Agent Sweeney pulls his hat on. “Porter is not a murderer. A little kooky, but not a killer of teen hikers.”
I try to piece it all together. “Big Mike said they argued.”
Agent Sweeney laughs. “Doesn’t surprise me. Seth can be a pain in the ass.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Do yo
u know Porter never even went to the hospital? He wouldn’t go. Instead, he went back in with a search team.”
“Look, you even said you thought something was going on. What if Seth saw something and Porter’s covering it up? Or worse, what if it’s Al? It can’t hurt to ask Porter again. Just to be sure he wasn’t delirious or something when he gave you the location. Talk to Big Mike.”
He nods. “I’ll stop by the hospital on my way home. Now get inside. It’s going to get nastier out here before it gets better.”
All night I sit in my room staring at those mountains.
I look at the map where Big Mike pointed. Bradley Fork is two miles south of Chasteen Creek. If Porter is lying and Big Mike is right, they’ll never find Seth.
Dead or alive.
I pace the living room all night, feeling the same way I felt when Dad was missing — on edge. Panic swells in my body, and the horror of leaving Seth out there alone clogs my head. It’s that helplessness of not knowing, the feeling that I could do something to make a difference.
I stare at my coat and backpack. No. I can’t go out there tonight. Not in this weather. I’ve learned my lesson on this one. It would be the dumbest decision since making it illegal to tear off mattress tags.
To distract my thoughts, I sit down and try to read Hatchet, but the story hits too close to home.
Seth is no Brian.
For the next few hours I lie on the couch and stare at the ceiling, wondering what to do. I think of how my mom felt when I was out in those woods; how Birdee felt when I was stuck in the cave. The thought of Seth trying to make it on his own is too much for me to bear. I owe him my life.
I can’t just give up on him.
I won’t.
As soon as the first crack of dawn arrives, I grab my stuff and head into the kitchen. Luckily, Birdee is not a morning person. Seth has been out there for over a day. There’s still time. He could have made it through one or two nights, but the longer he’s out there, the less his chances are of surviving.
I pause as I pack my gear. I have to go. I mean, I don’t have a choice, right?
I pull up the weather on the computer. Sunny but cold. Only a ten percent chance of snow. Agent Sweeney said it would get worse before it got better. That means if we don’t find Seth today, we might not find him until spring.
I know the way. It’s not too far. I can get in and out before sunset.
I bite my fingernails as I map out the fastest route, the best way to get to Chasteen Creek and back before sundown. I shove the map in the bag with my knife, then I sneak into Dad’s office and grab the key off the top of the cabinet. Unlocking the desk drawer, I reach in the very back, wondering if Mom put what I’m seeking back in the desk after they found it in the woods.
My hand touches something cold. I slide out the 9MM and grab a handful of bullets from the middle drawer. My hand shakes as I tuck the gun and ammo into the side pocket of my bag. I might be going out alone, but this time, if Al is out there, I’m prepared.
I sneak outside and roll out the snowmobile, pushing it down the hill. I can get in pretty close on this and walk the rest of the way. Then, when I find him, we can get out quick.
At the tree line, I sit on the seat and stare into the woods. This is it. Decision time. Once Birdee gets up, my chance is over. I rehash everything. It’s light out, and the weather looks clearer than it’s been all week. I have protection and transportation. I put on my helmet and start the engine.
I’m going.
Birdee practically said it herself.
Not doing anything is worse than doing the wrong thing.
Survival Skill #21
Making it in the wild depends on your ability to operate under stress, your adaptability and flexibility, and your determination to survive.
I race down the path toward Chasteen Creek.
I’m trying to get as far as I can before the woods get too deep and the snow gets too dangerous to ride. I park my snowmobile on the edge of some trees and log the coordinates, just in case it gets snowed over. Checking my compass and my map, I start to hike the rest of the way. I know these woods like the back of my hand, but in the winter, the trails and landmarks look very different, if they’re even visible at all. This time, I’m not taking any chances.
A thick blanket of snow covers the world, making it look new and untouched, pure and untainted. I stretch out my gloved hand and let the snowflakes rest on their journey to the ground. They linger for a few seconds before disappearing into the warmth of my mitten. The thousands that land safely tiptoe along the ground without making a sound. Tiny icicles cling to the trees and glitter in the morning sun like little prisms of light. The smell of wet wood fills the air as it basks in the sun, hoping to dry before nightfall.
I’m actually proud of myself. I took the precautions needed and made a plan. Dad would be proud of me, too. I held back my impulse and did things right this time. Some would question if I should be doing this at all, but not Dad. I think he would approve.
I walk along the path. Green shrubs reach up through the thick wall of white, trying to break out of its heavy hold. A noise catches my attention. I stop and listen as a faint whimpering sound fills the air like someone’s crying. I start to run.
It has to be Seth. Thank God!
As I jog around the bend, I spot flashes of movement through the white and green backdrop. Before I can hide, a pack of wolves walks out of the woods and crosses the path a few yards ahead of me. I practically skid to a stop and freeze.
It’s the first time I’ve seen any alive, and I’m immediately enamored with them. The larger ones stop as the younger ones skitter around their feet, wrestling and rolling. Their coats are a blend of tawny cinnamon mixed with gray and black.
I would go around them, but I don’t want to scare them off. I definitely don’t want to get attacked either. Wolves are much more protective when pups are around, and after reading about Porter’s wife, I’m not going to risk it. I decide to wait until they pass.
Slowly, I slowly lower myself to the ground and slip the pad of paper out of my bag’s mesh pocket. I frantically start to take down the data we’ve been looking for this whole week. Five males, three females, and two pups. I jot down what each member is doing. Sniffing. Standing guard. Rallying the pups. Everything they do gets logged. No matter how small.
I note their behavior as they cross the path and scamper into the woods. How the mom corrals the pups. How the alpha keeps an eye on the woods. How the other males play around until the alpha makes a move, and then they all follow. It’s amazing stuff I’ll probably never see again.
In this moment, I am so happy. To finally see a wolf alive and well. The way they should be. To see them interact in the wild is awesome, especially considering the animals are on the verge of extinction. Not many people get to see or will ever see what I’m experiencing.
This is what Dad loved most about being a ranger. Saving animals. Making a difference in their world by keeping the forests safe from poachers. Being one of nature’s keepers.
In this brief encounter, I realize why I can’t seem to stay away from the woods. Danger or not, this is and always has been my home. And even though I’ve kept my distance, when I’m here, I feel closer to Dad. I make a decision. There’s no way I can let what’s happened scare me away from this place where I belong.
I shift a little and immediately the alpha freezes and stares in my direction. I sit still but watch him closely, wondering if he’s the one I scared off the other day. His head is larger than the others’, and his body’s much thicker. The light breeze trails through his long, reddish-brown fur as if waving at nature. His ears perk up, and his mouth opens a little, showing his tongue. His eyes are surrounded by black, making it look like he’s wearing a small mask. He looks so regal in that moment.
He must decide I’m not a threat, because he doesn’t move any closer. I assume he’s used to people watching him if he’s from the reserve. But it still doesn’t
explain why he seemed so intent on attacking Skyler and me. He seems totally different now. Something must have spooked him that day.
But what?
My breath catches in my throat, and a tear comes to my eyes as I stare into his golden ones. It’s one of those moments in life that comes and goes in an instant.
It’s a moment I’ll never forget.
* * *
As quickly as they came, the pack heads off into the woods.
Their den must be close because wolves usually don’t stray far from home when they have pups. I note the location in my book and look back at where we’ve been searching previously. Porter’s tracking collars don’t seem to be very accurate.
I wait until they are out of sight before I leave. I get my bearings and head up the trail another mile to Chasteen Creek. I can hear the sizzle of the river when I get close, and I step out of the trees and look down at the water moving fast from the melting ice and snow. The mossy embankments are covered in a fine dust of flurries. Sheets of ice cover the rocks and icicles hang down from the roots of trees along the embankment.
I stick to the trail that runs along the river and come to a sign piled up with snow. I wipe off the wood post and follow the path north. Less than a mile to go until I reach the falls. I pray Big Mike was right. It’s Seth’s only chance.
Normally in the summer, this trail is not as remote, but in the winter, it’s a tough climb. The trek gets steeper and becomes harder to walk. My hiking boots slip as the path turns into an icy slope. The creek remains to my left as I climb the hill, holding on to roots and branches for support. Luckily, the weather is holding off for me. It’s actually nice — sunny and cold with clear blue skies above. If I want to make it back before dark, I still have a couple hours left before I need to head home.
When I reach the top of the falls, I glance around looking for prints of any kind, human or animal. Problem is, I have no idea where Seth could still be. If he wandered around, which is very likely knowing him, he might be anywhere. I lean over the falls and look down to the bottom.
Uncontrollable (The Nature of Grace, Book 2) Page 17