Although I was filled with relief that Eric was alive, the enormity of what we were about to do suddenly overwhelmed me. “Are you sure we can carry this off, Will, without anyone getting killed?”
“I don’t like doing it this way any more than you do, Meg. But I don’t think we have any other choice. The rescue has to be launched now and we’re the only ones ready. Besides, we’ll have surprise on our side. They won’t be expecting anyone coming at them from the bush. All their attention will be directed at planes landing on the lake. I’m hoping we’ll be able to spirit Eric and Fleur away without any of them knowing. And if we do get into trouble, you have two very good shots in George and me.”
“And me,” Teht’aa interjected. “I can shoot as well as the two of you.”
“Yes, and you Teht’aa.” He gave her a sidelong glance then turned to me. “Now Meg, if you want to stay behind, I can understand.”
“No way you’re leaving me behind. I’m coming. But we’re now five in this plane. I thought it only held six. With Fleur and Eric we’ll be seven, which means one of us will have to stay behind and wait for Bernie to come back.”
“I’ve already thought of that,” Bernie answered. “I’ve managed to free up my Cessna for tomorrow. It’ll take one passenger.”
Knowing I would absorb the additional cost even if it meant using up another bond, I’d decided not to ask about the price, but Bernie brought it up.
“Don’t worry about the cost,” he said. “Eric’s my friend as much as yours. I owe him a lot considering all the business he’s sent me over the years. I’m prepared to eat some of the cost. Once this rescue mission is over, we can discuss it, okay?”
“And I’ve got some money left in my budget,” Will added as he tossed John-Joe his rifle case. The young man shoved it in with the rest of the gear. “Let’s quit standing around. Teht’aa, into the plane with you.”
I will admit that I felt considerably more at ease as we sped along the lake with Will’s comforting bulk sitting across from me. I’d spent a sleepless night worrying that this mission might get some of us hurt, if not killed. With his added skill as a rifleman and his experience as a policeman, I felt the danger was greatly reduced.
As we sped past I waved at my cottage perched on its rocky point and prayed that I would be returning to it tomorrow with Eric safely by my side. I could no longer pretend that Eric wasn’t a part of my life. I loved him. He was my other half. I would confess to him how I’d let my brother slide to his death and the terrible lies I’d told to cover it up. And I would leave it to the gods to decide my fate. If Eric no longer wanted any part of me, so be it. I would live with it, even though I would ache inside for the rest of my life. But if he chose to forgive me, I would accept whatever relationship he wanted us to have. And if he still wanted to marry me, I would gladly become his wife. I was no longer terrified of the idea.
I watched the red and orange splattered trees slide under us as the plane swooped over the forest and up into the cloudless sky. For the next two and a half hours we flew almost due north over a labyrinth of endless forest and meandering rivers and lakes. Only occasionally was this tableau sliced by a road or hydroelectric transmission corridor. At no time did we see the sprawl of towns; they were well to the south of us.
During the first hour I noticed the occasional cottage, sometimes a string of them, on the shore of a lake with the thin ribbon of a dirt road leading to it. But once we were beyond the main highway that threads its way to northern Quebec, the roads vanished, as did the dwellings. I did, however, notice with disgust the checkered ravages of several clear-cut logging operations.
With the noise of the plane’s engines making conversation impossible, my fellow passengers were equally absorbed in the passing scene and their own thoughts. It was only as the plane began its slow descent that we started taking notice one another.
We circled over the flat blue expanse of an empty lake then zeroed in for the landing. The plane bounced once, twice, then skimmed across the surface and finally settled into the water as the engines slowed. Bernie drove the pontoons onto a golden sandy beach close to a number of oil drums.
The crystal clear waters of the lake sparkled under the noonday sun, while the tantalizing scent of northern woods floated on the light breeze. Dark green coniferous trees carpeted the surrounding hills, with only the occasional splash of yellow to mark a birch or poplar. Fall had advanced considerably further in these northern woods than at home, where the colours were just emerging. The hills were low and undulating, unlike the much higher hills, almost low mountains, and steep cliffs that surrounded Echo Lake. But it gave off the same serenity and calm, which did wonders to help settle my nerves.
With no time to spare, we set about unloading the plane, and within fifteen minutes all our gear plus the canoes were lined up along the beach. After Bernie had refueled his plane from a couple of the oil drums, he prepared to take off.
“There’s rain in the forecast for tomorrow,” he said. “But don’t worry, I’ll be here, at three sharp as planned. If you’re not here I’ll hang around for an hour, and if you still haven’t come, I’ll come back the next day at the same time, okay?”
“Sounds good, Bernie,” Will answered. By unspoken consensus, he’d become our leader. “George and I both have our satellite phones, so one of us will be in touch. You also have the SQ emergency number, so if you don’t hear from either of us by Tuesday morning, notify them. But, hell, they should already be here by then. Surely it can’t take more than two days for them to mount a rescue operation.”
Teht’aa and I clutched each other’s hand as we watched the plane skim across the water and climb up and over the far shore. Even when we could no longer hear the drone, we both watched the tiny speck before it vanished into a jumble of frothy clouds.
It left behind a deadening silence.
We were alone, very alone.
What the hell had I gotten us into?
Chapter
Fifty
Worried by the threat of rain and unsure of Eric and Fleur’s state of health, we decided it would be better to have shelter ready upon our return. So we set up the tents, one George’s, the other Eric’s, in a clearing hidden from the lake. Eric’s was the three-man tent Teht’aa and I had used on our ill-fated paddle down the DeMontigny River. The outer covering still bore a few tiny burn holes where hot ash from the forest fire had dropped onto the nylon fabric. After eating our lunch, we stowed the rest of our gear, plus the food in the tents, taking only what we needed for our venture.
Although Teht’aa and I had wanted to share the same canoe, George insisted that we split up. With Will giving us little choice but to agree, he argued that we wouldn’t have the strength to maintain a good paddling pace against the strong upriver current. So I, sitting in the bow of Eric’s canoe, was joined by Will, with his rifle case tied securely to the thwart. Teht’aa joined George along with their two rifles in George’s twenty-foot canoe. With the addition of Will to our rescue team, George had brought the longer canoe to ensure sufficient room for both Eric and Fleur. Even though Teht’aa was a highly competent stern paddler, she bowed to George’s superior expertise and sat in the bow.
It felt surreal as we set out shortly after noon under the brilliant sun of a crisp fall day. With only the whiff of a breeze, it was a perfect day for a paddle. Apart from a ridge of cloud forming in the western sky, there was no foreboding of the danger to come. I even found myself enjoying the canoeing as we sliced through the flat water, until I remembered the real purpose of our trip.
We rounded a point and followed George’s canoe towards the distant mouth of a river. This was the river that would take us twenty or so kilometres northwards to the lake where Sunset Lodge was situated. According to George it followed a meandering course that included two sets of rapids and two waterfalls. We would only encounter one waterfall on our journey that we would portage around. The rapids we would line in order to save on time. He figured da
rkness would be starting to fall when we finally reached our take-out destination.
In a matter of minutes our canoe began to feel the force of the river’s current flowing into the lake. For a moment we seemed to stand still before we dug in and paddled harder. When we finally reached the mouth of the river, we momentarily drifted backwards, such was the force of the current. Then Will dug in with even greater strength and we moved forward, which made me very glad that I had his hefty bulk to power the canoe. George was right. Teht’aa and I would never have been able to paddle up this river. As it was, I soon tired, and judging by Will’s heavy breathing, he was tiring too. It was almost a welcome break when we had to stop and get out of the canoe to line the first set of rapids.
Fortunately, the rapids were relatively benign and the shoreline, although rocky, was walkable, which made lining easy. With the bowline gripped in his hands, Will pulled the canoe forward, keeping the bow as close to the shore as possible. I walked behind and used the stern line to keep the canoe from drifting too far into the swirling whitewater. Thirty minutes and a couple of wet feet later, we settled back into the canoe to continue our paddle along the next stretch of river before we reached the start of the portage around the falls.
Although my feet were feeling the water’s cold, they were starting to warm up inside my woollen socks. When we finally began our hike in to the lodge, I planned to replace my wet footwear with fresh socks and a dry pair of trail shoes. These I’d put in a daypack, along with supper, a headlamp, and other items I might need, including a can of bear spray.
Worried by the possible need to defend myself, I’d brought the only weapon I was prepared to use, pepper spray that had worked wonders on my one close bear encounter. I’d never known that a bear could move so fast when he scurried away, desperately trying to remove the burning sensation from his eyes and nose.
Following George’s example, we paddled as close to the shore as possible, where the current was not so strong. Will and I had developed a rhythm that made the paddling less tiring, so by the time we made it to the portage, we were feeling almost energetic. With his light pack strapped to his back, Will hefted the upside-down canoe onto his shoulders, while I wore my daypack and carried his rifle case. Since two people were required to carry the twenty-foot canoe, I also carried the gear Teht’aa and George couldn’t handle, namely their rifles.
I laughed to myself as I slung the straps of the three rifle cases over my shoulders. Here I was, the one person of the group who wasn’t a fan of bullet power, weighed down by three that, although intended for killing deer and moose, might end up killing a man.
An up-and-down, rock-strewn, sometimes muddy kilometre later I was very glad to see the end of the portage. My shoulders ached from the weight of the rifles. I’d had to put them down twice to ease the pain. Teht’aa, rubbing her shoulders as well, was just as glad to see the end, as was Will. The only one who looked as if he could’ve continued for several more kilometres was the slightest of us all, George.
We set our canoes back in the water, loaded them up, and continued on to the next rapid. By this time the sun had settled lower into the sky with two hours or more of daylight still remaining. The bank of clouds, however, had risen higher. Bernie had said rain was in tomorrow’s forecast. This growing ridge suggested it might be sooner. Hopefully it would hold off until we had Eric and Fleur safely secured in our tents.
I frequently scanned the shore for signs that our passage was being watched, but didn’t see any. And nor was I likely to. According to George, even though the river was filled with fish, people from the lodge never came this far downriver because of the falls a short distance downstream from where the camp’s lake flowed into the river. People fished only at the start of the river and rarely, if ever, close to the falls for fear of drifting over the precipice. We would be off the river well before there was any danger of being seen.
The sun had disappeared behind the cloudbank and twilight was settling in by the time we reached the take-out, a short distance from the bottom of the falls. Although the tumbling white was but a faint glow in the fading light, the forest reverberated with its power. We pulled the canoes out of the water and hauled them inland, where we hid them in a cedar grove. To provide greater camouflage, we spread several layers of freshly cut boughs over them. Then sitting down on boulders, we ate our dinner and discussed our next steps.
According to George the lodge was about two kilometres away as the crow flies. Walking, however, would add another kilometre or so, because of the need to skirt around two large marshes. Although the density of the bush discouraged people from coming this way, there was a barely discernable, ancient hunting trail that would take us close to the lodge. George had learned of this trail from a Cree trapper whose ancestors had used it in the days when they lived and hunted along these waterways of their traditional territory.
Although George said it normally took him no longer than thirty minutes to reach the lodge, he figured it would take us about an hour because — he looked at Teht’aa and me — some of us didn’t know the terrain. He suggested if we wanted to we could start with our headlamps turned on, but when we closed in on the lodge we would have to turn them off in case the light alerted people to our presence. In fact, he preferred that we not use them at all to allow our eyes to become fully accustomed to the dark by the time we got there.
While Teht’aa and I groaned at the thought of stumbling blindly through the blackness, Will brought out his infrared goggles and proposed that he go first to ensure that we didn’t lose the trail. George strongly disagreed. He said he could see as good as day in the dark, and since he was the only one who could interpret the trail signs, he had to go first. After a few more minutes of arguing, it was agreed that George would go first, followed by us two women, with Will bringing up the rear. Should either of us accidentally leave the trail, Will, wearing his fancy night vision goggles, would be able to redirect us.
We discussed whether we should remain together or split up into two pairs, one pair seeking out Fleur and the other Eric. In the end Will’s opinion prevailed. He thought that we should stay together until we had fully assessed the situation. We had no idea how much opposition or firepower we would be facing or how difficult it would be to locate and then free our two friends. Once we had a better handle on the situation, we could decide about splitting into two groups.
“And gals, one more thing,” Will added. “I don’t want you getting killed on me, so if there’s any shooting, I want you both to take cover immediately, okay?”
While I readily agreed, Teht’aa started to protest, but he cut her off. “Look, I know, you can shoot a rifle as well as any man, but getting caught up in a gunfight isn’t like shooting at moose or deer. It’ll be just too damn dangerous for you. And I sure don’t want your death on my hands, so as your friend, I’m asking you to hide if shooting breaks out, okay?”
Teht’aa glared at him. “Okay. But I’m still taking my rifle with me.”
“Fine, but only use it if your life is in danger, okay?”
The full realization of the risk we were taking took hold, and a yawning icy pit opened up at the bottom of my stomach. But this fear was something I would just have to deal with. Not for one second did I consider staying with the canoes. I wanted to be there when we found Eric. He would need me.
Chapter
Fifty—One
It was dark, very dark as we crept along the trail. And quiet, almost too quiet, our footsteps the only sound in the impenetrable blackness. I could sense more than see the hovering forest, while the narrow band of starless sky suggested the clouds had arrived. But not the rain, not yet.
Barely able to discern Teht’aa walking in front of me, I hung onto her pack as it bobbed up and down. Where she went, so would I. While I could hear her light step and behind me Will’s lumbering gait, George, at the front, walked as silently as a ghost. Vegetation brushed against my legs, leaves against my face. I tripped over a rock and wa
s only saved from falling by Will’s steady hand. A sudden noise close by made me jump. My heart raced.
“Just a grouse,” Will whispered.
I felt as if every nerve ending was straining to see, to hear.
But the further we crept along the trail, the better-defined trees, rocks, and my companions became and the more recognizable forest sounds. As my eyes grew used to the dark, my nerves settled down, until I felt a steely calm. My pace became firmer and brisker, no longer a drag on the others.
When we reached the clearing of the first beaver pond, I felt as if daylight had descended despite the cloud-filled sky. I could make out the darker hump of the beaver lodge in the middle of the pond and spied the spreading wake of the beaver making its way through the water on its nightly forage.
Not long after we skirted the second marsh, George stopped. We’d reached an intersection with another trail.
“We’re almost there,” he whispered. “You can see lights over there.” He pointed in the direction of the new trail to where I thought I could make out a faint twinkle through the trees. “That’s one of the outbuildings. The main lodge is about a hundred metres to the left of it.”
Will said, “George and I are going in to take a closer look. I want you gals to stay here.”
I quickly acquiesced while Teht’aa reluctantly grunted her assent.
“Wait by that rock.” He pointed to a flat boulder about a metre or so off the trail. “We’ll be back within fifteen, twenty minutes, and then we’ll continue on to the cabin where George thinks Eric’s being held.”
A Green Place for Dying Page 27