"Good idea to leave Seth Lemon out," said Elder Mobly. "His daughters after all."
The Prophet nodded. "Elder Lemon is a good man, but better to ease him into this."
"The cost must be huge," said Elder Biggars. "Four men for the Yuktapah portion, and all their equipment. Two extra men for the transfer in Fairbanks. A Hawker Siddeley cargo charter, crates, mining equipment."
"Not to mention actual mining leases in the Yukon to make shipping the equipment legitimate," said the Prophet, laughing. "God thought of everything. And money's not a problem. If they find one of our offshore accounts, we've got many more to tap."
"What about customs—drug smuggling searches?" asked Mobly.
The Prophet smirked. "Drug smuggling between Fairbanks International and Erik Nielsen in Whitehorse has hardly been an issue—no logic to it. Sure they'll give our crates a cursory exam, but the hidden compartments won't be found."
"When will all this begin?" asked Elder Riggs.
Flack said, "Already underway. As soon as we pinpointed the location of the cabin, we sent the fishermen up the Yuktapah. Justin Patrick will soon be eliminated and my twins will be drugged and crated."
Elder Riggs frowned. "The boy's body…won't there be a police investigation? Alaska State Troopers?"
"No body. The kids are to be dealt with while they're away from the rangers. Then it'll look like a disappearance. Rough country up there. Three teenagers lost forever in the wilderness. Air and land searches, of course, but no law-enforcement involvement. That's why it's so important that the boy's body be buried deep. We don't want a reoccurrence of the mine-shaft fiasco in the Bitterroots. Those bodies we dumped up there have been our albatrosses. Can't have that again…"
"Our appeal lawyers are screaming that we shouldn't have been tied to those deaths," said Mobly
"Yes," said the Prophet. "And those screams, the religious freedom issue, and a pile of money, will get us released."
12
Rumblings
Back at the cabin, Umbriago decided he was part of the household and found a spot in the kitchen next to the stove that apparently reminded him of what it was like to cozy up to his mother. And getting him to eat was no problem whatsoever, in fact quite the opposite was true. He guzzled all the sugar milk he was offered and consumed so much people food that the kids thought they might be creating a problem bear—one who would love human goodies to such an extent he would hang around campsites when he was grown.
"Don't want him to be another Big Bertha," said Janie.
Justin made a face. "She's a good bear."
"Of course she is," said Janie, "but they did have to relocate her from Katmai. And anyway, we don't have to concern ourselves with such things at this stage in Umbriago's life. Now we just have to fatten him up and get him ready for his reunion with his mom."
Justin walked to the window. "If those last two rifle shots we heard toward the Yuktapah didn't end Big Bertha's life. I wish we'd have gone on."
Rachel stopped beside him. "We had to get back here with Umbriago, Justin. And even if the other guide and his hunter did shoot Bertha, what could we have done about it?"
"At least I'd know," he answered. He was aware he'd invested far too much emotional capital in an animal, and a fat, awkward one at that, but he couldn't help it. From the moment Big Bertha had emerged from her den this year with Umbriago and Little Bertha in tow, he'd fallen in love with her. And as he'd proven in the incident with Bruno the boar, he would do anything to protect her and her cubs.
His attention was distracted by Umbriago who had managed to climb up to the long, wooden counter running under the cabinets and who was now opening the cabinet doors willy-nilly to search for new culinary delights.
"Get down from there!" Janie ordered, and Umbriago, as if he was a child caught in an act of disobedience, complied. He jumped on the couch next to Janie and looked up at her lovingly.
"Good bear," she said, stroking his head, "really good bear."
"Weird little bear," said Rachel, smiling.
The cabin shook, but only for a microsecond, and though the teens exchanged quick glances, nothing further happened—other than a long, low growl from the direction of Glacier Lake. But whether the sound came from the underworld or from a large, hungry cat, it was impossible to say.
They spoke to Rex and Martha that evening, outlining all that had happened, including the encounter with the hunters, the dead sow, the minor quake, the micro quake, and the long, low growl. But most of all they enthused over their rescue of Umbriago and his rapid adaptation to cabin life.
"Don't let him make himself too much at home," said Martha. "May be difficult to reacclimate him to the wild. And we don't want Big Bertha or Bruno following him to our place on a regular basis."
"If Bertha's still alive," Justin said softly. He then explained about the last two rifle shots and his worry concerning what they meant.
"We'll just have to wait and see," said Rex. "Promise you one thing, though. Bilboa and Barnes and their protégés won't get away with anything. They underestimate the National Park Service."
"Hope so," said Justin.
"When are you guys coming back?" Janie asked.
"Day after tomorrow," said Rex. "Some new readings and long-term projections, but nothing imminent according to the superintendent and the USGS."
"Cubs?" asked Janie.
"Depends on the sows—where are they?"
"As we told you, one is dead," said Justin, "and the receiver is down so we can't tell you about the location of Bertha and her friend, but we'll keep trying."
"Give us an update when you can," said Rex. "We'll decide about the cubs when we hear about the sows."
"And if the radio receiver is still out?" asked Justin.
Rex hesitated. "Guess we'll leave them here in Denali for a while. We can always come back and get them. Congratulations on your success with Umbriago."
Nothing out of the ordinary occurred the next day. The sky was bright and clear, the sun was unusually warm, and the air was fresh and clean. The surface of Glacier Lake was smooth and untroubled, and even Mount Yuktapah to the northeast was no longer belching plumes of smoke.
The trio of young people busied themselves most of the day with their regular chores which they knew had to be completed on a daily basis for the bear-management station to run smoothly. Janie cleaned inside the cabin; Justin made repairs on the outside and on the outlying structures, including the bear-proof storage bin on the platform at the top of the tower; and Rachel did double duty, sprucing up the yard and doing her best to get the GPS receiver working again. In the latter task she was unsuccessful. And they all took time off periodically to play with Umbriago who by now was acting as if he were the fourth teenager in a very special quartet. When twilight arrived, they were ready to call it a day. It was time to prepare the evening meal they had decided would consist of fried graylings, green salads, and French fries.
"I know Umbriago will eat the graylings raw," said Rachel. "Wonder how he'll like them cooked?"
Janie laughed. "He'll try anything—even the French fries—you watch."
"What kind of dressing do you suppose he'll take on his salad?" Justin asked.
Lying flat on their bellies on the edge of the plateau, looking down on the cabin, the four faux fishermen, fat Joe from Idaho, Montana Mike, and Jack and Ernie from Washington, watched as Justin and the twins wrapped up their duties and disappeared inside.
"No sign of either ranger," said Joe. "Helicopter gone and the sun's going down. I tell you those brats are alone, and the adults aren't coming back tonight."
"Looks that way," said Mike. "Let's go down and get this over with. We need the rest of the light to get back to camp and the canoes."
Joe said, "Few more minutes, just to make sure we get everything right. We go in fast, no knocking on the door…don't give them time to contact anyone."
Ernie asked, "Won't the door be locked?"
Fat Joe lau
ghed. "Up here? No reason to lock the door, no people around, and bears don't know how to work locks. Doubt if the front door even has a lock."
Ernie looked skeptical. "And if it does and it's locked?"
"Then we crash the door—get to the kids quickly, drag them outside, so there's no sign of a struggle and no blood inside. Whack the boy somewhere on the way back, bury him deep—real deep—off the trail, get the girls to the canoes before we drug them. They might as well hike under their own power. Cross the river upstream of the hunters again, follow the loop until we get back to our peninsula."
"Rangers said we should move to higher ground," said Montana Mike.
"Won't be there long enough to worry about it. Everything clear?"
The other three fishermen nodded their heads slowly, and if they had any disagreement with Joe's plan or any hesitation or any second thoughts about kidnapping and murder, they didn't say so.
Umbriago sat contentedly on Janie's lap at the dinner table as she fed him his third bottle of sugar milk. "Greedy little guy," she said.
Rachel watched her sister with satisfaction. Janie seemed to be recovering somewhat from the fear and insecurity she'd been displaying recently. Of course she would never be an aggressive person or a type A personality, but it was pleasant to see a bit of the old fire and spirit return to Janie's eyes. But Rachel would be careful to keep her word and not leave her sister alone—at least until Janie released Rachel from her promise.
Justin grinned at Janie's handling of Umbriago. "You treat him like a real baby."
"He is a real baby," Janie said, "—just not a people baby."
"How about we play some cards after dinner?" Justin asked.
The girls both agreed, and Rachel said, "If Umbriago will let us. He might insist on getting into our game."
"We'll deal him in," said Justin.
13
Home Invasion
Janie's eyes glistened with tears as she watched her sister flit around the cabin. How fortunate Janie felt to have Rachel in her life—loyal, brave, loving. What a wonderful, supportive twin. And from her place on the leather couch, she watched Justin, too: a treasure, a joy; and apart from Rachel, Janie's best friend. The kind of boy who would certainly grow into a strong, protective man. Both he and his Uncle Rex were antithetical to the horrible men who had filled Janie and Rachel's lives at the polygamous Sheba Hill Temple in Montana.
The day had been productive, and the evening promised to be sweet, especially with little Umbriago running around sticking his nose into everything and acting as if he were the prince of the Yuktapah Preserve.
Janie felt warm and safe, and she knew her cheeks were red with pleasure and satisfaction; but at the moment of her greatest contentment, the door burst open and four men whom she recognized as the fishermen from the low-lying sandspit rushed into the room.
Umbriago snarled and charged the ankles of the fat man who led the way, causing the man to kick the little bear like a football, sending him squealing into the corner.
"Hello, kids."
Janie's heart sank. Not again. Not more demon-inspired men without souls. Please, not now, not here.
Justin lunged for fat Joe, but was easily restrained by Ernie and Jack who pinioned his arms and forced him to the floor. "The rangers will be back any minute!" Justin cried.
"Doubt it," said Joe, "but just in case, we'll head out now, need the daylight anyway to make it back. Mike, get the girls' coats."
"What about the boy's?" Mike asked.
"He won't need it," said Joe.
Rachel, who had hurried to the corner to see about Umbriago, looked up from her squatting position. "What is it? What do you men want? Why won't Justin need his coat? Make it back to where?"
"Our camp," said Joe. "You ladies are going for a nice, restful canoe ride back down the Yuktapah—courtesy of the Reverend J.J. Flack."
Janie and Rachel's faces blanched in terror, and Janie searched for her sister's eyes—but Rachel had turned her attention to Justin who was kicking and squirming to try to free himself from the grasp of the two men restraining him.
Janie understood at once, and her fear for her own welfare diminished as she concentrated on the probable plans the men had for Justin. No coat, no canoe ride, no future.
Astonishing, Rachel thought, how the Prophet of Sheba Hill had again insinuated himself into their lives, how he had retained his obsession with them, how he still believed they were two of his wives—his double portion from God. Would this craziness never end? She and Janie had thought J.J. Flack's conviction and prison sentence had eliminated once and for all his control over their lives. They clearly had been wrong. He was now reaching out from Deer Lodge (confident somehow he would be released) to force them into compliance with his will. She stumbled along the trail, while reassuring Janie that all was not lost. She was also keeping a close eye on Justin who was being dragged up the slopes, kicking, yelling and biting. He obviously suspected what the men had in store for him, and he was determined not to go gently into that good night.
Ernie and Jack stopped the procession and Ernie exclaimed, "This is ridiculous! This kid isn't cooperating at all. It'll take us all night to get back dragging him. And I'm getting tired of him biting me."
Fat Joe assessed the situation. "Right. And we're far enough away from the cabin now." He released Janie's arm and pushed her to the ground. Then he lifted a nickel-plated revolver from his belt. "Let's get it done. Tie his feet, check to see if his hands are still secure. I'd hate to have to chase a young boy through these woods."
Rachel and Janie looked at each other in despair. Their cheeks were soaked with tears, for they knew there was nothing they could do to save their friend.
Rachel gazed directly into Justin's eyes and was pleased to see that though he understood exactly what was about to happen to him, he was not giving his murderers the satisfaction of seeing him cower in fear. Even with his hands and feet tied and with Fat Joe advancing on him with an extended revolver, Justin's expression was defiant, and he smiled coldly. "Saw your shovel," he said. "Thought you might ask me to dig my own grave."
Joe chuckled. "No chance. A shovel in the hands of a desperate boy is a weapon. We'll do the digging…deep."
The other three men laughed and Rachel felt icy hatred surge through her. If it was possible, she'd kill all four without a second's hesitation. She would send them to God and let them see how they fared at His judgment.
Janie lowered her head so she wouldn't have to watch the inevitable; but Rachel kept her eyes wide open so that someday she could tell the exact truth about what happened on this day.
Justin grinned at each of the girls. "I love you two," he said. "I've loved you since I first saw you in that silly gazebo on Sheba Hill. I loved you in the Bitterroots when we lived on squirrels and grubs. And I've loved you in Alaska. God bless you both."
And then, as if a large face above the clouds had been listening, the ground heaved, Glacier Lake gulped and dropped four feet, the plateau below them crashed into the canyon, and Mount Yuktapah exploded.
14
Nature's Fury
Rachel, who had already loosened the rope on her wrists, now ripped it free and ran straight to Justin to release his hands and feet. Earthquake or not, eruption or not, there was no way she was going to leave him trussed up like a rodeo calf.
Then the two of them raced to Janie, and Justin knelt to untie the binds on her hands. When he was finished, the three friends embraced, overjoyed that Justin had not been shot and the twins were not on their way to the fishermen's camp.
They did a quick survey to evaluate their situation.
The murderous kidnappers had reacted with predictable self-interest and had scattered as if the world was coming to an end. Every man for himself was a motto they had lived by all their adult lives, and one they had no difficulty defaulting to in the present emergency.
Justin turned to Mount Yuktapah. The top of the peak had vanished, and there was still
enough twilight remaining to see what was left of the dome sliding toward the base. And yet there was enough darkness descending on the mountain to reveal a red glow emanating from a gray cloud spreading into the sky.
Rachel and Janie joined him. Janie said, "Looks like an atomic bomb."
"Might be worse," said Justin. "That angry gray cloud will collapse down the flanks of the mountain and start running through the canyons and valleys."
The ground beneath their feet had stopped rocking and rolling, but it was still rattling, as if they were riding in a car with bad shock absorbers over a rough patch of highway. Janie's voice vibrated when she spoke. "What does it mean?"
Justin shrugged. "Not sure, but I know the ash, gas, and debris up there is superheated—you can see it glowing red—and I know it moves fast when it hits the ground."
"What will happen?" Rachel asked.
Justin put his arm around Janie. "It'll kill everything in its path—trees, animals…people."
"Us?" asked Janie.
"It's pretty far away," he said. "It might dissipate before it gets here. I think it depends on how hot it is, how high it goes, and how much garbage is up there."
"When will we know?"
"Won't be long. I've read about these pyroclastic flows—hundreds of miles an hour."
"Can we do anything?" asked Janie.
"Watch and wait, hope the cloud starts getting smaller, not larger…hope the red glow goes away."
Rachel motioned toward Glacier Lake below them. "It's like the earth took a big drink of water. The lake's so much smaller."
"And the plateau's gone," said Justin. "At least the helicopter wasn't parked down there."
"What about the river?" asked Janie.
"No idea," said Justin, "suspect it's acting up all along its course, though."
"The fishermen…kidnappers?" asked Janie.
"Murderers," said Rachel. "Probably still running, tripping over each other trying to get away."
RUNAWAY TWINS and RUNAWAY TWINS IN ALASKA: BOXED SET Page 16