Portrait of Vengeance

by Carrie Stuart Parks

  The children glanced at the distant illumination from the marina. It seemed miles away. The lights from Dan’s boat reached the docks. A bouncing flashlight showed his progress from docked boat, across the dock, up the stairs, and to the parking lot. His SUV was the lone vehicle. The sound of his engine carried clearly across the reservoir, and the headlights tracked his exit up the hill.

  “Noah, Jess.” Noah was in front of me in the middle of the seat, Jess behind me. “You each need to shift so you are sitting on that side of the boat. You can paddle with your hands, no, wait, here.” I took off my scarf, opened it, then tore it in half. “Wrap the scarf around your hand. You’ll have a larger surface to move water.” Still on the floor of the boat, I started to move to the opposite side. The boat tilted and dipped. One of the children gasped.

  “Beatrice,” I said to the tiny girl sitting beside me. “You’ll need to move closer to the other side. We need to balance the boat for my weight.” Beatrice scooted away. The rowboat bobbled a little, then settled. “Now, I need Amanda to sit as close to Jess as you can. Ethyn, you move close to Noah. Olivia, sit on the floor next to Beatrice.” I removed my sweater and tied it around my hand. “Now paddle with me. Ready? Go.”

  Jess gasped. The water was cold. My sweater was quickly waterlogged and heavy. Noah and Jess did their best, but the boat kept turning with my more-powerful strokes. “Okay, you two paddle two times. I’ll go once. We might go straighter.”

  The splash of our hands and a quiet sniffling were the only sounds. The shore lights became a tiny bit larger.

  “Oh!” Jess said.

  “What is it, sweetheart?”

  “I dropped your scarf.”

  “That’s okay. You’re okay. Let’s switch sides so we’re using our other hands. Children, we’re all going to slowly shift to the other side of the boat. No one stand up.” We gradually moved. I was pretty sure the skiff wouldn’t tip over, but children could. The water was black. I’d never find anyone who fell overboard and sank.

  I tried to keep my mind off of what Dan was doing. He would have reached the dam long before this. Did he have bombs in his SUV? No. My gear took up the rear of the vehicle. He’d have to drive somewhere to get the explosives.

  When he blows the dam, we’ll be dead. Swept down through the torrents of water.

  Very clever. If our bodies were ever found, we’d just be another statistic of the catastrophe.

  The muscles in my arm ached from the weight of the soggy sweater and exertion. “Let’s take a break.” I didn’t have to repeat myself. Both children slumped in their seats.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  The water around us shivered, growing into waves that rocked the boat.

  In the distance, a klaxon horn beat the air. A warning the dam had been breached?

  Beatrice and Olivia started crying, clinging to each other.

  Almost imperceptibly the boat started to drift left. Toward the dam.

  I didn’t need to say anything. The two older children resumed paddling as quickly as they could. I did the same on my side. We were making progress, but too little.

  The horn was relentless, howling a warning. I envisioned cracks forming. A chunk giving way, water pushing harder, faster through the breach. The rushing water would open the dam wider, deeper—

  Don’t think about it.

  We had to make it to the docks.

  The klaxon continued to sound.

  I paddled harder, but it just sent us sideways. There was only one thing to do. “Children, listen to me. We have to get to those docks. I’m going to swim and pull the boat.”

  “But the water’s cold,” Jess said.

  What did Dan tell me? Fifty-eight degrees? I’d have less than an hour before hypothermia would cause exhaustion or unconsciousness. Pulling the rowboat would slow—

  By the time you figure this out, it will be too late.

  “We need to all move together.” I made sure they all heard me over the siren echoing across the reservoir. “We’re all going to scoot to the middle of the boat, all but Jess and Amanda. I’m going to crawl between you to the front of the boat to get the rope. Okay?”

  Little heads nodded. “Move slow and don’t stand up.” Time! We have to go faster. But the boat was overloaded and I couldn’t afford the children falling overboard. Again keeping my weight low, I passed between the girls and pulled in the bow line. Sitting on the tiny transom, I shivered as I tied the icy rope around my waist. Next came my shoes, which I left tucked under the transom. Now came the hard part. Getting into the water. If I jumped standing up, the boat would bounce too much. I’d have to slip over the front of the boat.

  Looking at each face, I said, “You are all so brave, the bravest children I’ve ever met. I’m proud of you. Now I’m going into the water. The boat will wiggle a bit. All of you must promise that you will stay where you are and hang on. Okay?” Six heads gravely nodded.

  Standing slightly, I turned my back to them and straddled the bow. The water was black, oily ink. My goal was the lights at the marina.

  I pushed off. The icy waters clutched me.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  THE FRIGID WATER CLOSED OVER MY HEAD.

  I opened my mouth to scream, sucking in the icy liquid.

  Surfacing, I treaded water until I could cough the stuff from my throat and lungs. I oriented myself to the marina, then started swimming, chill piercing my body. The boat dragged behind me, but not as much as I’d thought. The current pulling us toward the dam, however, was stronger than I’d anticipated.

  Keeping my face forward, staring at the illuminated shore, I pushed my arms and legs as hard as I could. My fingers were already numb, as were my toes. That will spread.

  Don’t think about it.

  I whispered through frozen lips, “Please, Lord, give me endurance. Strength. I can’t have saved the children from one death only to face another.” Swim. Kick hard.

  “Come on, Angel Gwen!” Noah’s small voice called from behind me.

  To keep my mind off the freezing water and the horrors about to happen, I plotted my path. Stroke, kick. The two main docks were my goal, starting with the nearest one on the right. Stroke, kick, kick. If I couldn’t make that landing, there was the second. If we swept past the first two, there was one more dock at the bottom of the boat ramp. Reach out, grab the water, pull forward. Kick. After the boat ramp, a small ridge rose between the marina and the dam. If we reached the ridge, there wasn’t a beach, just a steep incline. Swim, kick harder. One false step getting off the boat, and the deep water would engulf them. The earthen sides were too steep for such small children to climb. Kick, kick. No. We had to make it to a dock.

  Pumping my arms faster, I swam as fast as I could toward the first dock, now visible in the dim light. My arms grew heavy, my legs slowed.

  The boat was no longer being towed behind me. The current was tugging it to the side, and me with it. I made a lunge forward and swallowed water. Coughing, I reached for the edge of the dock. Too far.

  I wasn’t going to make it.

  The skiff was now facing me from the side, the line pulling me sideways and backward into the center of the reservoir.

  Renewing my efforts, I focused on the second dock. My breathing was loud in my ears. My lungs worked at getting more air. Arms were lead weights. Legs made of concrete. Push, kick. The second dock only a foot away. Grab it. Grab—

  I missed.

  Wanted to cry. Just stop. Just sink.

  Too noisy. The klaxon wailed, the sound bouncing off the mountains.

  “Angel Gwen! Swim, Angel Gwen!” the children chanted.

  A tug on the line. Little boy at the bow. Tugging on the line. Mouth moving. “Swim!”

  Moving my arms. First one. Then the other. Swim. Save. The. Children. Kicking my legs. Forward. The cold wasn’t bad. Swim. Getting warm. Swim—

  Something banged my arm. I grabbed, slipped, grabbed again. The skiff pulled my waist, tugging me away. I hung o
n. Looked up. The edge of the third dock.

  I reached for the rope. Couldn’t feel my hands. Wrapped rope around arm. Pull. Get boat next to dock.

  Clunk.

  More noise. Don’t care. Blackness lapped around my brain.

  Someone pulling my hair. Hard. Hurts. I gasped and coughed. Wouldn’t let go. “La go mm air!” Moving, pulling. Knees hit hard. Fell forward. Hurt.

  Gasping, crawling forward, still pulling boat. Water shallower. Forward. Little hands tugging on shirt. Out of the water.

  Little children crying. Someone pulling on rope. Darkness.

  I opened my eyes. Little squiggles around me. Cold. A blanket, no, sleeping bag was around me, as were the children. Trying to warm me with their bodies. Everyone shivered.

  “What happened?” My voice was a croak.

  A boy—Ethyn?—spoke. “You pulled the boat to the dock. We got out, but you sank down.”

  “I tried to pull you up,” Noah said, “but you were too heavy.”

  “You got out of the water,” Olivia said. “But you were really cold. I thought you were dead. You just flopped down.”

  “Did you pull me by my hair?” I asked.

  “Yes, but I had to let go,” Noah said.

  “I thought . . . Never mind.” I patted Noah on the knee.

  “There’s a cabin thing up there.” Noah pointed to the marina. “I broke a window and got in. Upstairs was an apartment. I took this sleeping bag. Will I get in trouble?”

  “No.” I gauged the distance to the marina. Could I walk that far? “But all of you are cold. Let’s go up there and get warm.” With help, I stood on shaking legs and numb feet.

  We were on a boat ramp leading to the parking lot. I held the sleeping bag over my shoulders with one arm, as my hands were useless. Beatrice was beside me, holding on to my frozen fingers. The other children held on to the sleeping bag and moved as one.

  Slowly, slowly, we moved up the ramp. The klaxon blared unrelentingly around us. When the ground leveled, I paused.

  Headlights appeared on the road, racing toward us.

  Thank you, Lord. We could send for help.

  The car slammed to a halt, spotlighted us. A car door slammed. I couldn’t see the driver.

  “I thought you’d be dead by now.” Dan Kus stepped into the light.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  MY LEGS THREATENED TO GIVE WAY. I WAS NOT GOING to give in. Locking my knees to stay upright, I pulled Beatrice, still holding my hand, behind me under the sleeping bag. I then opened my arms to form a barrier between Dan and the rest of the children. Whatever happened, they wouldn’t see it.

  The klaxon finally stopped, the sound fading with the last echoes. In the silence, I heard his harsh breathing and the quiet weeping of the children.

  “Did you return to see your handiwork?” My voice sounded gravelly and loud. “To make sure we were swept through the collapsed dam? To watch the reservoir empty?”

  Dan moved forward until he was in front of one of the lights. I couldn’t see his face, only his black outline. “The dam hasn’t collapsed yet. I blew the sluice gates and protective barrier around them. I’d hoped that would be enough.”

  He failed! The dam didn’t break.

  “I didn’t expect to see you, but I should have known.” Dan took a step forward. “You stand there, your arms outstretched,” he said in a strange, singsong voice. “You are truly the spirit of the bear, strong and courageous, guarding life.”

  I didn’t feel strong and courageous. I felt cold, exhausted, and spitting mad. I took a deep breath. Anger wouldn’t help. Reasoning might. “Dan, think of all the people, the death, the destruction you were trying to do. You don’t want to do this.”

  “But I do. Get in the car.”

  “But—”

  “Do you think a sleeping bag will stop a bullet? If you don’t get into the car, I will start shooting.”

  Dropping my arms, I turned and took hold of Beatrice, then gathered the others around me. My back was to Dan. A spot between my shoulder blades tingled where I imagined the bullet would strike. “Children.” My voice was surprisingly strong. “Go to the marina building and stay there. Stay together. Promise?”

  “Will you come and get us?” Amanda asked.

  Will I come and get them? “God willing, sweetheart.”

  “Promise?” Noah asked.

  I hesitated. “I promise.”

  Noah picked up the sleeping bag. The older children took the hands of the younger and walked toward the marina building.

  Turning, I faced Dan. He threw something at me, and it landed at my feet. One of my flex-cuffs.

  “Put it on,” he said quietly.

  I complied. The children were safe.

  Dan didn’t say anything. He moved to the passenger side and opened the door, then motioned with his gun. As I passed near him, he reached over and tightened the cuffs. With both hands, I pulled myself into the Sequoia.

  He slammed the door, got into the driver’s seat, and turned the SUV toward the dam.

  I pictured the towns downstream. Ahsahka, lying in the shadow of the dam. Once the massive structure collapsed, the escaping water would take out a chunk of Lewiston, still in Idaho, and Clarkston, in Washington state. The torrent would spew into the Snake River. The four dams on the Snake would open to dump as much water as possible, but the sheer volume of the contents of the massive reservoir would overtake them. Then on to the Columbia River, with four more major dams. Portland, Oregon, would be a memory. Complete catastrophe.

  A vein pounded in my forehead. I clenched my teeth together. How do I stop him?

  “Why, Dan?”

  “These are the people who stole my land, my culture. This is the government who murdered my family.” Sweat gleamed on his forehead. He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to me. “We were right, and we were righteous, but we faced the leader and his goons. There was the reign of terror, with the highest death toll in the country. They put us in prison. We went into hiding. And nothing changed.”

  “Dan, are you talking about the American Indian Movement? Wounded Knee and Pine Ridge?”

  “Of course.”

  “But that was in the early 1970s.”

  “Yes.”

  A police vehicle with flashing lights sat next to a split in the road. An officer with a flashlight waved us to a stop.

  I sucked in air and tightened my muscles to run.

  Dan lifted the pistol he’d left in his lap. “Say one wrong word and the first bullet kills him. The second is yours. Do you understand?”

  I nodded.

  He put the gun down, reached behind him, and brought out two jackets. One he threw over my lap to hide the flex-cuffs, the second he used to cover his pistol. He stopped and the officer approached the driver’s side.

  Dan rolled down the window. “Oh, hi, Dean, it’s me, Dan Kus.”

  “Dan, hey, good to see ya. Lotta excitement going on.” The young officer flashed his light into the car, spotlighting me. “Ma’am.”

  “What’s going on?” Dan asked. “I was way up the lake in my boat and heard the sirens.”

  “Someone blew up the Tainter gates and barrier. Good thing you’re off the water. In a boat and without a good engine, you’d have gotten swept down the spillway.” He looked at me. “You look wet.”

  “She fell in while trying to dock my boat. The current was pretty swift.”

  “Good thing you were there to help,” he said to Dan. “Anyway, just to be safe, they’ve put the Ahsahka on evacuation notice. It’s in the inundation area.”

  “Do they think the dam’s going to collapse?” Dan asked.

  “Nah. They’re sending out a crew to check, but the resident structural engineer said the blast wasn’t enough to do much damage, except to the gates. The evacuation is just a precaution. Where are you folks headed?”

  “I was going to head down 12 to Lewiston. Gwen here is staying there.”

  “Just be sure you’re
staying up high in the Orchards.” He laughed.

  Dan’s lips thinned. “Take care now.” Before I could react, he’d rolled up the window and put the car in gear.

  I kept my voice soft and calm. “You were a young man in the 1970s—”

  “I was twenty-two at the protest in Wounded Knee, February 27, 1973. A seventy-one-day standoff. My wife and daughter had been killed. I swore revenge, escaped from the reservation, changed my name. I plotted how to get even.”

  We’d traveled down the road from the dam. The lights from the town glowed in the distance. “And you decided to blow up the dam.”

  Dan nodded. “AIM developed a twenty-point list of our issues. I was going to force the government to honor the list . . . or else. I would die a martyr.”

  We reached Ahsahka, then turned left and crossed a bridge over the North Fork of the Clearwater. The rushing water ran high from the damaged gates. From the center of the bridge, the lights from the dam were clear. Ahead in the distance were more flashing lights. Immediately on the other side of the bridge, Dan turned left again, shut off his headlights, and headed up a small lane paralleling the river.

  “But you didn’t follow through with your plan to destroy the dam thirty-some years ago. What stopped you?”

  “The man sent to find me, to uncover my plans—”

  “My father,” I whispered.

  “Yes, your father, died in a plane crash. I didn’t have to look over my shoulder anymore. I changed fate. This time everything would be different. I defeated the enemy.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “The cycle of life.”

  I vaguely remembered Seth telling me Dan believed in reincarnation. “You’re talking about the time of Chief Joseph? When the US Army chased your people—”

  “The warrior who led his people to defeat the enemy was named Wahlitits. Shore Crossing in English. The name my Wy ya kin gave me. I was to finish the war, but this time I would defeat the enemy.”

  He stopped the car beside the raging river, checked his watch, and got out. He came around to my side and opened the door, holding the pistol on me. “Get out.”