RUNAWAY TWINS and RUNAWAY TWINS IN ALASKA: BOXED SET

by Palamountain, Pete

  "Yuck," said Janie. "We ate squirrels in Montana, but we never said we liked them."

  Rex and Martha Carlson sat at the conference table in Denali with the superintendent, six other National Park Service rangers, two USGS reps, and four Alaska State troopers.

  "Our kids are trapped up there, and they're not alone. Must be twenty or thirty fishermen, hunters, hikers, inside and outside the preserve. We need planes and long-range choppers—in the air now!"

  The ranking trooper nodded. "Advance word is that the northern portion of Glacier Lake is okay for pontoons, but in the south in Yuktapah Canyon the lake has gone underground."

  "Oh no!" said Martha. "That means the Station is gone, too. We're only a few hundred feet from the southern tip of the lake. Those poor kids."

  Rex touched her arm. "Resourceful…all of them—especially Justin. Don't sell them short."

  The superintendent said, "We'll saturate the area with park service aircraft, too. We'll get in there and find the survivors—believe me."

  "Our fault," said Rex. "We should've brought our interns with us."

  "They're capable of staying on their own," said the superintendent—otherwise we wouldn't have chosen them."

  At the bend in the Yuktapah, the three interns were pleased to see that despite the swelling of the river and the floating debris, the Bilboa and Barnes outfitters' camp still stood—high and dry.

  "Look how wide the river is," said Rachel. "If the fools upstream didn't move off that sandspit, they don't have a camp anymore."

  "Let's hope they were washed away with the rest of the crud," said Justin. "…if they made it back. Couldn't happen to a more deserving pile of pond scum." He stopped in his tracks, frozen at the sight before him, his eyes riveted on two bearskins hung out to dry on a long line between two trees. "Two skins!" he said moving closer. "They only had one skin." He increased his pace and when he arrived at the line, he exclaimed, "Both are sows, but neither is Big Bertha! One we saw in the valley beyond where we found Umbriago. The other is one of ours, too. You can see where her collar was."

  Janie and Rachel joined Justin at the bearskins. Rachel said, "We heard two more rifle shots day before yesterday…remember? Guess this second skin is the result. But really, Justin, with all that's gone on, maybe we should redirect our concerns."

  "Big Bertha will always be my concern," he said.

  "I know," said Rachel. "But we need to find the hunters—"

  The same thought seemed to strike the teenagers at the same instant. They turned from the bearskins and looked around the camp. "Where is everybody?" asked Janie. "They wouldn't go out hunting with the earthquakes and the eruptions, would they?"

  "Not likely," said Justin. "Something's wrong…"

  The flap on the main tent flew open and the three remaining fishermen filed out, led by Idaho Joe with a pistol in his hand. "Or something's right," he said, grinning. "Imagine, walking straight into our hands. We couldn't believe it when we saw you on the hill. Welcome."

  "Where're the hunters?" Justin asked.

  "Sleeping with the graylings," said Montana Mike.

  "All of them?"

  "They stuck together, so they died together. Brave men, I must say."

  Rachel asked. "Five murders—don't you men have hearts?"

  "Afraid not," said Ernie from Washington. "We needed their canoes; they wouldn't give them up…so they gave up their lives."

  "I thought there were four of you," said Justin.

  Ernie flinched. "Jack went over a cliff running from the eruption. We tried to save him."

  "I'll bet," said Justin.

  Janie removed Umbriago from under her shirt and placed him at her feet. He looked around at the six humans, as if he had no idea what was expected of him; and then he trotted over to stand close to Ernie. Ernie shooed him away, and Umbriago retreated several feet, but still hovered close.

  Janie's spirits crashed. Evil men again and again. She felt like giving up and taking her place beside her mother at the Montana Mental Health Center. It couldn't be worse than the constant pressure of dealing with such men. She turned to look at her sister who held her head high and then at Justin who held his head even higher. Defiance, courage. Janie raised her head and hardened her expression.

  "Your camp on that sandy arm was wiped out, wasn't it?" said Justin.

  Joe nodded. "You and your rangers were right, but as you can see, we've recouped."

  "Rescue teams will be all over this area."

  Joe laughed. "It's a big area."

  "They'll follow the path of the Yuktapah."

  "Three fishermen heading home…with two beautiful, young girls asleep and concealed in the bottoms of our canoes. Troopers will wave and move on to help those in trouble."

  "You can't canoe down river in this garbage."

  "It's beginning to clear, haven't you noticed? One or two hours and the five of us will be on our way." As he spoke, Joe slipped his pistol in his belt and took a small black needle pack from his pocket. "Time to rest, my dear," he said to Rachel.

  Justin started forward, but Mike pulled an automatic from his waistband. "Not so fast, young man. Your turn will come."

  Rachel ran to protect Justin, but Joe reached out, grabbed her arm, and yanked her jacket down around her shoulders. He then jabbed a pre-prepared needle into her upper bicep through her flannel shirt.

  She felt it immediately. She turned helplessly to Justin and tried to shrug. He smiled and she knew he understood. Her last thought as she lost consciousness was that Justin must be what God had in mind when he made boys.

  Janie thought of running, but she could see it was no use. Where would she go? The men would be on her in seconds, and anyway, she had no desire to desert Rachel and Justin when they needed her most…even if she couldn't save them physically. She clinched her teeth and stepped closer to Justin.

  Joe extracted a second needle and walked toward Janie.

  Justin moved in front of her.

  "No problem," said Joe, nodding to Mike, "we can deal with you first. You can sleep with the graylings next to the hunters."

  "Our bodies—" Justin began.

  "Won't be found. We've got the perfect spot…plenty of room for six in one little nook."

  Mike raised his automatic.

  Umbriago, in the meantime, was growing impatient with being ignored, and he moved closer to Ernie once again and began rubbing against his leg. Ernie reacted violently and kicked the little bear in the side, propelling him twenty feet toward the edge of the clearing. Umbriago howled as if he'd been attacked by a mountain lion and continued to howl to make certain all knew how betrayed he felt.

  The kick was the last act of cruelty in Ernie's short, wasted life, for out of the woods charged Big Bertha, her teeth bared, her eyes glazed with rage. She raced straight for Ernie, and when she reached him she embraced him like a lover, crushing his spine in the process. He fell from her grasp and she took a swipe at his neck with her right paw, opening his jugular. Then she bent over him and severed his head from his body with her jaws and teeth.

  Everyone present stood transfixed. The attack was so swift, so bloody, so unexpected, that no one was prepared to think, let alone run.

  Finally Mike and Joe came to their senses, glanced at each other, and ran to the tent, closing and zipping the flap behind them. It was a ridiculous, inadequate shelter, and one that Big Bertha could destroy in seconds if she chose; but she didn't choose. Instead she waddled to the edge of the clearing and began to lick Umbriago. And for his part, he at once forgot his human family, and responded to his mother's ministrations.

  Justin watched the reunion for a few seconds and then shouted to Janie. "Hurry. Let's get out of here. She might think we're still a danger to her cub."

  "Rachel?"

  "You hold her under one arm, I'll take the other. We're strong enough. If we have to we'll drag her. But we're not leaving her, that's for sure. Come on, let's roll!"

  "The men?"


  "They've got guns. We've got to get as far away as we can. They'll stay holed up because of Big Bertha, but if she leaves them alone and goes off with Umbriago, they'll come looking for us."

  18

  Wilderness

  "Wasn't Bertha magnificent?" Justin said to Janie as they stopped to rest on a small outcropping of rock on the crest of a hill.

  "Magnificent might not be the word I'd choose," she said. "Bertha left that man's head lying on the ground."

  "He deserved it. He was a killer."

  "So is she now."

  They'd propped Rachel against a large boulder and Janie was massaging her sister's hands, arms, and shoulders, hoping to hasten the exit of the powerful sedative from her system.

  "Bertha's not a killer," he said. "She was defending her cub…and us."

  "Doesn't matter. In the end, Rex and Martha will have to come for her—put her down. You know that."

  He didn't answer, and he stood staring down at the surrounding countryside with an intensity that surprised Janie.

  "I know what you're thinking, Justin. Why do we have to tell anyone what Bertha did? Am I right?"

  He confirmed her guess.

  "We have to report what she's done, you know that. Now that she's tasted human blood, she might find she likes it. Suppose someone innocent dies because we hid the truth?"

  He didn't respond, and she didn't press him further. It was not a matter that had to be settled immediately.

  They had run from Bertha and the killers with two concerns in mind: save Rachel and get away as fast as possible. But such an urgent, unplanned escape had left them without their pack, their food, their blanket, or their pup tent. They did retain their jackets, Justin's knife (always sheathed to his side), and Justin's cigarette lighter. But besides these minimal survival tools, they were now without resources in the eastern wilderness beyond the Yuktapah Preserve.

  Justin put aside his worries about Big Bertha and knelt to help Janie with Rachel. "Is she stirring at all?"

  Janie shook her head. "She's out of it. They must have used something extra strong."

  "They probably planned on booster shots on the trip to Fairbanks. She might start responding sooner than we think."

  "Hope so."

  "In the meantime I'll carry her again—she's not that heavy, and when I run out of steam we'll drag her. But let's be on guard not to leave a trail for those two bums to follow. Hard ground, if possible, rocks, detours, water—anything to distract them. They're stupid, shouldn't be difficult to leave them behind."

  "Stupid but evil," said Janie.

  Rex and Martha refueled in Fairbanks, and now with the two additional gasoline tanks that had been fitted some years ago to their Bell 407 and the extra fuel they carried in the bear-management compartment (dangerous but necessary in the present circumstances), they were ready to spend a considerable number of hours searching the southern reaches of Yuktapah Canyon.

  The volcano was quiet. It had apparently spent its fury, and though they couldn't fly close because of the still dangerous ash cloud, they got close enough to see that the mountain no longer had a cone.

  "Must have been quite a blast," said Rex.

  Martha said, "Wish we'd have been here to protect our kids."

  "Me, too," he said.

  They flew southeast and when they arrived at the northern end of Glacier Lake, Rex said, "Lots of fallen trees and rubbish, but it looks okay to land the float planes and drop in teams."

  "Wonder what's going on under the lake?" Martha asked.

  He sighed. "Something's going on under every part of Alaska. Can't worry about that now, not while there's rescuing to be done."

  "We don't want to lose more lives to that volcano."

  "It's quiet now."

  "That's what we thought before."

  Near the southern end of the mile-long lake Rex's confidence began to weaken. "Good grief. They were right at Denali—this part of the lake's gone underground…and the canyon has folded in on itself."

  They continued south until they reached the area when they estimated the station should stand, but there was nothing to be seen. It was as if someone had turned the earth with a giant spade, leaving only fresh, empty soil.

  "Maybe they got away before this happened," said Rex.

  Martha gazed out her window in despair. "Got away to where?" she said.

  Idaho Joe and Montana Mike left the tent after several hours and were gratified to see that the monstrous sow was nowhere in sight. She had taken the cub and returned to the woods.

  Ernie's head still lay on the ground not far from the rope that held the bearskins.

  "Bad death," said Joe.

  "No death is good," Mike said.

  "Some worse than others."

  "Better get rid of the body. Might raise too many questions."

  "Head, too," Joe said with a chuckle.

  They cleaned the camp grounds thoroughly, buried Ernie's remains under the back of the Yuktapah where they'd disposed of the hunters, and then loaded up with food, tent, rifles, water and other supplies for the chase.

  "I still want those girls," said Joe. "And I really want that boy dead. He's been lucky so far, but his luck's about to run out. But we've got to hurry. Need to get back here as soon as we can, hide the twins in the canoes and take off. The Prophet's got money all over the world, and I want some of it."

  "Will the cargo plane wait in Fairbanks?"

  "You can bet the Prophet's already arranged that. It's up to us now to earn our dough."

  "Rangers and troopers will be showing up."

  "We can avoid them if we're careful, and talk our way through if we have to."

  Mike stuck a Ruger 1-H with scope through the straps of his back pack. "Like to get a shot at the boy with this baby. Hope he sticks his head out from behind a tree."

  "Don't hit the twins."

  "I won't. I know where the money is."

  Justin and Janie made a major decision. They would keep increasing the distance between themselves and their probable pursuers, but they wouldn't flee blindly into the wilds. If they could manage it they would execute a giant semi-circle retreat, so they could avoid Idaho Joe and Montana Mike, but still be within a reasonable distance of home base. And hopefully, Rachel would soon be refreshed and be able to assist in their plans.

  Justin was still carrying Rachel, but now he lay her down gently and said, "Wish she weren't so leggy—like trying to hoist a moose calf. Don't know where to put everything. Let's go back to dragging her for a while. I'll do the left arm."

  Janie complied, and with great care they began to progress across a broad, green valley. The sun had now declined below the surrounding hills, and it was clear that twilight would soon be on them—and after that darkness. Before long they would have to start looking for a spot to spend the night.

  They continued in the same fashion until they reached the middle section of a hill above the valley. There was a small grove of larches that seemed to offer a promising area to make camp. They laid Rachel on the soft grass and set about constructing a lean-to against the side of a small cliff face. When they completed the structure, Justin examined their work and then prepared to leave camp.

  "Where are you going?" asked Janie.

  Armed with a hardwood throw stick Justin said, "Off to look for dinner and breakfast. Berries, arctic squirrels—whatever."

  "I like my squirrel well done," Janie said, with a touch of her old spirit. She didn't like being left alone, but she supposed Rachel was with her, even though unconscious.

  19

  On the Run

  They woke surprisingly warm the next morning. Justin had used his knife and his hands to dig a shallow bed inside the lean-to and had lined it with skunk cabbage leaves (smelly but practical). He then covered the two girls and himself with a blanket of pine branches, grass, twigs, and needles.

  Rachel was fully awake now, on her feet, and filled with questions regarding what happened at the outfitters'
camp. When she heard about Big Bertha's charge, she smiled and said, "Good for her, one less bad guy to worry about."

  Janie and Justin exchanged glances.

  "Actually two less," said Janie.

  "Yeah, I remember that much. The fourth guy is lying at the bottom of a cliff somewhere."

  Justin had built a fire, and he grinned at Rachel as he turned a juicy chunk of meat on the spit he'd fashioned from a paper birch stick.

  "Arctic squirrel?" asked Rachel. "Had to happen, I guess."

  He laughed. "Janie and I ate the arctic squirrel last night. This is special…snowshoe hare—saved it to share with you when you came out of your long sleep."

  "Rabbit's better than squirrel," Rachel said.

  Justin corrected her. "Not rabbit, snowshoe hare."

  "Thought they were the same thing."

  "Not really, but let's eat. We'll talk on the trail."

  In a matter of minutes they had eaten, knocked down the lean-to, and done their best to eradicate all traces of their campsite. No sense in giving the killers a landmark to assist them in their pursuit.

  As they hiked they discussed the four primary problems they must deal with during their flight: Number one (overwhelmingly) was preventing recapture, for if they were caught, nothing else mattered—Justin would be dead and Rachel and Janie would be on their way to Fairbanks. Second was water, but fortunately, at least in the present area, there was plenty of drinking water available in the many streams and creeks that were tributaries of the Yuktapah. Shelter would be time consuming, but they'd all had experience building shelters in much worse conditions in Montana's Bitterroots. That left food as their biggest concern, but Justin felt he could kill enough meat (using the throw stick he'd stuck in his belt), his shoe laces and select vines), and they could all gather large quantities of spring berries. And if they had to, they could search for grubs, insects, and other crawling things. The girls rejected the latter group out of hand, but Justin knew if they got hungry enough, they'd cry out for delicious squirmies.