Behind some evergreens, the shore of the lake sloped upward with a denser stand of trees at the top of the rise a couple of feet back. She peeked through the foliage and made a decision. To the left in the middle of the incline was where she would dig her snow cave. Using a collapsible shovel from Jeremiah’s survival provisions, she began digging, keeping her mind focused on the task at hand. Ninety minutes later, with breaks to rest, eat a protein bar and drink some water, she finished the crude shelter she’d learned to make in her survival training class.
She stacked the duffel bags to block the entrance after she crawled inside, taking her shovel with her. After she lay down on the sleeping bag, which was spread out over a tarp, she turned on her flashlight and examined her snow cave. She’d curved the walls and poked some holes in them to allow fresh air to enter.
The small confines triggered a childhood memory. She’d been exploring a tight cave when her light had gone out, leaving her in the darkness with little wiggle room. At the memory, she began panting, her fear returning. Usually closed spaces didn’t bother her, but suddenly she struggled with the image of the cave in her mind. She had to do something to keep herself calm. She began singing her favorite Christmas songs.
By the time she finished “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” she couldn’t shake the question: What if she wasn’t? The cracking of ice mingled with the howling of wolves in the distance.
She pulled up her legs and clasped them. I’m not alone. You’re with me, Lord.
A crashing noise overrode all others. Bree braced herself as though the ground would move beneath her.
* * *
His alarm sounded on his watch, and David Stone punched it off and rose from the black leather couch where he’d been trying to sleep. He looked out the window of the hangar that overlooked the small airport near downtown Anchorage, where the Northern Frontier Search and Rescue Organization was based. The wind and snow that had plagued the area since yesterday had finally lessened. He turned away to check on the weather between here and McGrath. The area two hundred miles away where a Mayday call had been sent from a pilot, Jeremiah Elliot.
After hearing from the weather service that there was a break in the storm, David moved quickly toward his Cessna in the hangar. He’d already stocked it during the night. Two people’s lives were at stake, the pilot and his passenger, Dr. Aubrey Mathison. He knew of her because of her work in the remote villages. He hoped Jeremiah hadn’t crashed and had managed to land somewhere safely. However, all attempts to radio the plane had failed. He hated knowing people were out there in trouble and not being able to rescue them immediately because of severe weather.
David finally took off from the airport and flew northwest. Teams on the ground were headed now in the direction of the emergency signal transmitting from Jeremiah’s plane. By the time he reached the area where the plane had gone down, the sun would have risen and visibility should be good, unless the stalled storm behind the one yesterday began moving again. The window to rescue the doctor and Jeremiah could be a narrow one—only hours.
As the sun painted the sky with brilliant colors, he started his grid search, flying low enough to scan the terrain for a down plane or any signs of people.
David gripped the controls as the wind and air currents created a rough ride. He swung his attention between the gauges and the landscape below. Following a snow-covered stream snaking its way through the rugged land, he came to an open area, most likely a frozen lake. Across it he spied a plane partially submerged. The ice had cracked and the tail had sunk into the water.
He flew toward the wreckage to scout the terrain for the best place to land. Through the trees he saw a pack of wolves circling a section of a hill sloping away from the shoreline. Immediately he recognized the dire circumstances the survivors were in—if either of them were still alive.
David flew back around to assess the risk in landing. From the evergreen trees, he could tell the wind blew at least twenty miles an hour. With the threat of crosswinds, he had to choose his approach carefully.
He checked the activity of the wolves. So far they were keeping back from the hole in the hillside where he hoped the survivors had taken refuge, but that could change quickly. David reconnoitered the countryside around the lake for a safe place to land rather than touch down on the snow-covered ice. Generally, the middle of a lake was the strongest, but there could be exceptions, and he wasn’t sure the ice would hold.
He found a narrow patch of land maybe a mile away that he could use. Trees surrounded the area, and there were only two directions he could land—northwest to southeast or the reverse. The limbs swayed in the wind, and if the crosswinds were too much, he wouldn’t be able to.
He hoped this worked because if it didn’t, and he was forced to land in the middle of the lake, he didn’t know how he would be able to get to the people who needed to be rescued. The shoreline wasn’t thick enough to hold Jeremiah’s plane. Would it hold a person?
David lined his Cessna up to go in, panning the sky around him. To the west clouds grew dark, indicating the storm was coming in faster than he hoped. His window of opportunity to rescue Jeremiah and Dr. Mathison was narrowing even more. As he headed down toward the ground, he clutched the controls, fighting the crosswinds threatening to flip him over or drive him into the frozen earth.
About ten yards off the ground, he couldn’t hold his course and pulled the nose of his plane up. The bottom of his wheels barely missed scraping the tops of the trees.
One more pass. If that didn’t work, he’d have to check on the weather movement and decide whether to land on the precarious lake or return to base and hope the teams on the ground would reach the survivors soon.
* * *
Fear held Bree immobile as she listened to the growls outside her snow cave. Her back plastered against the duffel bags in the opening, she gripped the loaded shotgun. She had extra ammunition in her front pocket and a knife in the other one. If the wolves managed to break through her barrier, she would defend herself as best she could.
“Get back,” she yelled, swiveling around to point the weapon out a small hole. “If you don’t, I’ll shoot.”
The wolves continued to yap and growl. A brave one came into the hole leading to her opening, blocking most of the light. Aiming down into the snow to avoid killing the animal if possible, she squeezed the trigger and the blast exploded from her gun. The wolf yelped; then silence followed. She peeked through the gap no bigger than a half-dollar and saw the animal backing out.
Shaking, she eased her grip on the shotgun, her hands aching. Her heartbeat thundered a fast staccato rhythm in her ears, almost drowning out another sound—the welcomed sound of a plane flying overhead. She prayed the pilot could make out the wreckage despite the fresh snow that had fallen overnight. What if the aircraft had sunk totally into the water, taking with it Jeremiah’s body? She’d wanted to check this morning because all night long she’d heard the creaking of the ice. But then the wolves had arrived.
And the pack was getting braver as the minutes ticked away.
Bree listened for more sounds of the plane overhead. Nothing. And the wolves were still outside her snow cave. The sun no longer shone. Although darkness wouldn’t fall for another few hours, the light had dimmed. Was more bad weather moving in? If so, her rescue would be delayed further.
But someone knew where she was—at least she thought so. She clung to that hope even when another wolf returned to the opening, its low growls sending shivers down her spine.
A gunshot cracked the air. She peered through a gap in the bags. The wolf was gone.
The person in the plane? Had he found her after all?
Another blast pierced the cold air, accompanied by a yelp.
Then more silence.
“Help! I’m in here,” Bree shouted. She slowly removed the bags from the entrance and
crawled from her haven.
When she emerged from the snow cave, the wind whipped against her and her gaze latched on to white bunny boots. Lifting her head, she trekked upward past black extreme-cold pants and parka to a face covered by a balaclava and a pair of dark goggles. The lone man must be six-three or six-four, with a muscular physique. Her attention fixed upon the revolver in his gloved hand.
Friend or foe? Her heart seemed to stop beating for a couple of seconds, then it raced.
TWO
David stared down at Dr. Aubrey Mathison, and she peered up at him with huge brown eyes widened by fear. He’d seen that look many times over his twenty years in the military. Removing his goggles, he smiled. “I’m here to take you and Jeremiah back to Anchorage, Dr. Mathison.”
She blinked, transfixed for a long moment.
“The wolves are gone. They won’t be back.” I hope.
She fit her hand in his outstretched one. When he tugged her up, she scanned the area. Through the dense evergreens, her attention fixed on the aircraft, partially submerged in the water, the front end clinging to the shore as though glued to the ground. “Jeremiah’s dead,” she murmured in a thick voice.
“In the crash?”
“No, I believe he had a heart attack.” She swung her gaze to his; pain reflected in her eyes’ expressive depths.
“I’m sorry. Jeremiah was a good man. He’d assist occasionally with air searches when we needed extra help.”
“We?”
“The Northern Frontier Search and Rescue. I’m part of that organization.” David glanced to the west and frowned. “We’d better get out of here. A storm is moving in. My plane is about a mile from here. I didn’t think it was safe to land on the lake.”
She stared at Jeremiah’s aircraft. “He saved my life. He managed to land even when he was in pain. The ice didn’t crack until last night. I heard it from my snow cave.”
“Good thing you didn’t stay in the plane and you made yourself a shelter.”
“God was looking out for me. Let me get my duffel bags.”
While she crawled back into her snow cave, David traipsed a few feet closer to the plane at an angle to the left and looked through the stand of trees between him and the lake. All evidence of Aubrey’s footprints yesterday along the shore was gone. Inches of new snow blanketed the landscape.
He’d need to let the authorities know about the conditions for when they retrieved Jeremiah’s body. Through the broken windshield of the plane, he saw the older man slouched over the steering wheel. He’d seen his share of death while serving in the Middle East, but it was always hard, especially when he knew the person. A memory threatened to worm its way into his thoughts. He slammed it back into the past.
“I wish there was a way to take him back with us.”
At the sound of the doctor’s voice, he turned. “Me, too, but we need to leave now.” He closed the short distance between them and handed her a thermos of water. “Drink this. I don’t want you to get dehydrated.”
“Thanks. What water I had I finished last night. The wolves came before I built a fire to melt some snow.”
After she returned the jug, David took both of her bags. “Let’s go.”
“I can at least carry one.” She tried to take the nearest duffel, but he declined.
He started up the incline, his grip firmly in place on both handles. “I doubt you slept much if any last night. I’m rested, hydrated and well fed.”
She slogged behind him. “I had several protein bars with the last of my water. I was conserving the rest in case I wasn’t rescued right away, especially when the storm continued through last night. I had to clear my entrance every hour.”
“And never warmed up?”
“I spent ten minutes shoveling drifts away from the snow cave, then fifty minutes huddling in the sleeping bag with all the clothes and blankets I could pile on me.”
“A long night,” David said as he crested the rise circling the lake and started for the thicker wooded area a couple of yards away.
The repetitive sound of a helicopter’s rotary blades caused David to stop and turn at the edge of the snow-caked grove of evergreens. No one he’d contacted while organizing the search was in a helicopter. Maybe they were fleeing the winter storm, then had spotted the down plane and were coming to help.
Something instinctively prompted him to step back in the shadows of the trees, pulling the doctor with him. Then he waited for the chopper to come closer. It slowed and hovered over the wrecked aircraft. The chopper was all white with no visible markings on it. He thought instantly of a covert mission. But here? Why Jeremiah’s plane?
“Shouldn’t we let them know I’m okay?” she asked, taking a step forward.
He urged her back. “No. I’ll radio in when we get back to the plane that you’re safe. The people searching by air are using planes, but with this storm they should be returning to their base, as we should be.”
Suddenly two men, dressed totally in white, lowered themselves to the ground using ropes. Rifles were strapped across their backs and each one also had a sidearm. The hairs on David’s nape stood up, and his gut roiled.
Although he and Aubrey were a distance away with a stand of trees between them and the other men, she opened her mouth as if to yell something to the two guys. David dropped one duffel bag, clapped his gloved hand over her lips and hauled her back against his chest, moving deeper into the woods so the slope partially hid them, too. He leaned down and whispered, “Don’t say anything. This doesn’t look right.”
A faint spicy scent wafted to him and for a second riveted his attention. But then he caught sight of one of the men wrenching the pilot’s door open and yanking Jeremiah out of the cockpit, then passing him to the other guy on the ground. David stiffened. The way they tossed Jeremiah about wasn’t how a rescue team would treat a body.
Snow started falling from the dark clouds overhead, but not quickly enough to erase Aubrey’s and his footsteps from the incline behind the trees along the shore. He prayed the men focused on the wreck and nothing else. At least the one in the chopper holding the gun kept his gaze trained on what was going on down at the aircraft.
She wiggled in his embrace, her mumbles muffled by his glove. He dragged her even farther into the trees until he could only see the guy in the helicopter perched in its opening.
With instincts born from many years in a combat zone, David knew they’d left without being seen. Had the people in the chopper heard of the downed plane and decided to plunder it? Whatever their purpose for being here, it wasn’t a good one. At any moment they could spot the footprints heading away from the snow cave and come after them, especially if they decided to search the area. He prayed the men would see the urgency in fleeing the storm, which was predicted to be worse than the small one that had come through yesterday.
The farther away from the lake he hauled Aubrey Mathison, the harder she fought him. He was barely able to clutch one of her duffel bags. When they were far enough away from the unknown men, where they couldn’t hear Aubrey and him talking, he released her, but he was ready to stop her if she started back the way they’d come.
She yanked away and swung around, fury darkening her beautiful face. The last time he’d seen her at the rescue of a young child, it had been summer and her blond hair had been pulled back in a ponytail. He’d admired her then, and he did again now with fire shooting from her eyes.
“Did you see how they manhandled Jeremiah like he was a slab of meat?”
“Yes, and that’s why we aren’t throwing a welcoming party for them.” He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice, although the wind would carry the sound of their voices away from the men by the lake. “We need to get to the plane and get out of here. Something isn’t right. I’ll tell the authorities what happened and let them sort
it out.”
She peered down at the one duffel bag. “You left one back there? It had some of Jeremiah’s possessions that I—”
“Yes. I’m sorry about that, but I had more important things on my mind.” He hoped the chopper didn’t fly over that area and see the snow cave or the duffel bag.
The red in her cheeks from the cold deepened.
“I’ll make sure the people who come back later search for it and give it to you. Okay?” He swept his arm wide, indicating the direction she should go.
With a huff, she spun around and charged forward angrily. Whether at him or the two men, David couldn’t tell. Amid the snow still coming down, he quickly caught up to her and walked in the same path he’d used to come to the lake. It made his trek a little easier, and he noticed Aubrey did the same thing.
Other than the howl of the wind, silence reigned between them as they plowed through shin-deep snow. The effort slowed Aubrey’s pace.
“Is it much farther?” she finally asked, weariness weaving its way through her voice.
“Through those trees about a hundred yards. There’s a small clearing where I managed to land my plane.”
The sound of the helicopter lifting up above the lake propelled David into action. He grabbed her hand and half ran, half dragged Aubrey to the trees as the chopper appeared in the darkening sky. It headed toward Anchorage, in the opposite direction from them.
David held his breath, waiting to see if the helicopter’s flight pattern would continue southeast, away from where his plane was parked north of the lake. When it stayed its course, he hurried Aubrey along as quickly as possible. His revolver and her shotgun were no match for the heavily armed men. What concerned him the most was the increased velocity of the wind, the dropping temperature indicated on his watch and that they had probably half an hour of remaining daylight.
Aubrey stumbled and went down in the snow on the edge of the clearing where his Cessna was. He turned to her and lifted her up, snow all over her parka, face and head covering. Drawing her toward him, David brushed his gloved hand across her cheeks and forehead. The urgency of their situation heightened a connection with her. Any earlier anger was gone, replaced with worry on her face.
The Yuletide Rescue Page 2