Survive or Die

by Catherine Dilts

  “We don’t need to kill anything to win this part of the challenge.” Sotheara checked her digital camera. “I missed my shot, too.”

  “Keep quiet while we approach the pond,” Berdie said. “Wildlife might be getting a morning drink.”

  Aubrey hadn’t noticed before. Now she could see a swelling in the creek circled by bushes.

  “You two head upstream.” Berdie pointed at Aubrey and Sotheara. “Look for edible plants. You don’t look so hot, Madison. It’ll do you good to sit down while Rankin and I fish the pond. Maybe we can shake our tag-alongs if our team splits up.”

  “Is someone following us?” Madison asked.

  Rankin pointed to the trees, where Aubrey could see Fawn peeking through a scrub oak. Tweet stood in full view, snapping a photo of a black Abert’s squirrel on the trunk of a pine.

  “Let’s get moving,” Berdie said.

  Rankin must have been accustomed to taking orders from Jack Bender. He allowed Berdie to command the team without a bit of discussion. Aubrey and Sotheara were still in sight of the pond when the accountant knelt beside a bramble of pink wild roses spilling over a rock.

  “Rose hips.”

  Sotheara had covered her thick black hair with a colorful silk scarf. The long ends trailed behind her like streamers, adding color to the drab mustard team T-shirt over faded denim shorts. With the background of roses, the scene was irresistible. Aubrey snapped a photo.

  “Are rose hips on the list?” she asked.

  Sotheara unfolded a sheet of paper. “Yes.” She dropped her pack on the ground and pulled out a plastic bag. “I’ll pick one to prove we found it. I don’t want to destroy potential winter food for the wildlife.”

  It was hard to imagine winter. The rising sun promised another warm July day. They climbed higher, following the stream.

  “Wait,” Sotheara said. “Strawberries!”

  In her peripheral vision, Aubrey glimpsed Fawn crouching behind a tree.

  “I can see you, Fawn,” Aubrey yelled. “Quit following us!”

  Instead, Fawn hiked her denim skirt above unshaved legs and plowed through the grass.

  “What are those?” she asked. “Are they on the list?”

  Wild strawberries were one of the easiest edible wild plants to identify, resembling their domestic relatives on a miniature scale.

  “Your team thinks you’re an expert,” Aubrey said.

  “I lived in a teepee in Oregon for three years. I can tell you anything you want to know about Oregon plants, but this is Colorado. Everything is different.”

  “Admit it,” Aubrey said. “You don’t know anything about wild plants, except the kind that get you high.”

  “Like you’re an expert.” Fawn knelt and picked several of the precious berries.

  “Back off,” Sotheara said. “You’re taking food from the animals.”

  “You back off.” Fawn clambered to her feet. “We need these berries to win the challenge.”

  Aubrey might have been concerned about the women coming to blows if Sotheara hadn’t been a pacifist and Fawn a stoner. Their posturing subsided as quickly as it had begun.

  “Hey.” Aubrey held her hands up. “It is just a game.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” Fawn said. “You have a husband with a good job.”

  “I work, too,” Aubrey began, but Fawn talked right over her.

  “There’s nowhere else in town I can make as much money as I do at Bender Clips. Not without a college degree. I can’t go back to school at my age. And what about Tweet? We need our jobs. Way more than you.”

  Tweet glanced away from snapping a photo of a hawk on a pine branch to stare at the women. After his performance on the ATV course, Aubrey figured the boy had a shot at professional motocross racing.

  “Cheating is cheating,” Sotheara said. “It’s not justifiable. Stop following us.”

  “Fine. You’ve got me so upset now I can’t think straight to hunt for plants, anyway.” Fawn flopped onto the ground, collapsing like a rag doll. She pulled her stash from a cloth bag hanging from her woven belt and began rolling a joint. “It’s medicinal,” she snapped. “I have my prescription card if you want to see it.”

  “Not necessary,” Aubrey said. “I believe you need it.”

  Fawn motioned to Tweet. He heeled like a dog, sitting beside her in anticipation of sharing the joint. Aubrey felt a shudder pass through her. If her son Shane didn’t acquire ambition soon, he could become a boy toy for a fading hippie, wasting away his youth in a cloud of smoke.

  No. Not Shane. He was joining the Navy, according to Junie. Today. Aubrey checked her cell phone but had no signal in the meadow. Anything could be happening to her children right now, and she was in the middle of nowhere, out of touch and out of reach.

  ROWDY HUNTER’S

  SURVIVAL TIPS

  The Buddy System means working together to survive. But what if your buddy is as wilderness-impaired as you? If you’d picked a better person to go on an adventure with, chances are he wouldn’t have let you make the dumb mistakes that got you in this situation. Don’t panic, and don’t sit on a stump crying your little greenhorn heart out. Instead, figure out who’s skilled in what areas. Work together, not against each other, and maybe you’ll make it out alive.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Rowdy had not lied when he said the challenges were balanced to give the non-athletic a fair chance. Sotheara could see the Wild Cats racing around the forest, not slowing enough to notice the items they were supposed to be collecting.

  She harvested petals from yucca flowers with a texture and flavor reminiscent of celery. Aubrey ticked another edible plant off their list. Playing the game was not helping Operation Clean Sweep. Sotheara needed to investigate potential dumping locations marked on her map.

  Fawn pulled herself out of her stupor long enough to grab a handful of yucca blooms. Aubrey began arguing with her again. No one paid attention when Sotheara faded away.

  There was no such thing as a straight line in the forest. As Sotheara switchbacked up a steep slope, she monitored the location of her teammates below. They looked like ants. Berdie, Madison and Rankin were still fishing, while Aubrey shielded her eyes and scanned the meadow. Probably looking for her. Sotheara planned to claim she had to pee, then wandered further than she realized while seeking privacy.

  At the top of the hill, she hesitated. Rowdy’s book and campfire lectures warned them of the dangers of getting lost. Here she was, deliberately going off on her own when she could barely follow the map. Taking a steadying breath, then several more to refill her oxygen deprived lungs, Sotheara hiked across the top of the hill and down the other side.

  The mine tunnel had been artlessly gouged into the earth, exposing yellowish rock that contrasted against pinkish gray granite and the dark loam of the forest floor. A half dozen stout pine beams supported the entrance. Sotheara pulled a flashlight out of her pack. The air inside was cool, shaded from the summer sun.

  Stepping carefully with her bare feet on gravelly debris, Sotheara shone the flashlight on the rock walls. The mine had been abandoned before her ancient Grams was born, but the gouges looked fresh. The walls glittered with the false treasure of quartz and fool’s gold.

  The tunnel ended abruptly. Sotheara searched for a side tunnel, or a shaft plummeting downward, but found nothing. Perhaps the miner had not found enough gold, or silver, or whatever drew him to the rugged Colorado mountains, to justify further labor.

  Maybe he’d been hurt in a fall. Mauled by a bear, like Leonardo in The Revenant. Sotheara shivered and made her way back to the sunlight.

  Outside, Sotheara took several photos from different angles, then marked the map to indicate she had searched the mine. There was no nearby road. The stubby mine would not make a good dumping site. Still, she had examined a spot Sage had con
cern about. Progress, at last. Now to get back to her team.

  Sotheara began the trek, heading uphill first, then down the other side. Through the trunks of pine trees, she glimpsed a person lying in the middle of a trail. The distinctive pink Belle Starrs team shirt glowed against the muted forest colors.

  Berdie crouched by the water’s edge, holding a short fishing rod while Madison and Rankin hovered behind her. The line was taut. Although worried about the young accountant, Aubrey was glad Sotheara wasn’t present to witness the capture of the fish. Aubrey wasn’t opposed to sneaking the occasional tuna sandwich, but she suspected Sotheara was vegetarian by faith.

  Berdie’s pole bent in an arc. The pond erupted as the fish fought against the hook piercing its mouth. Rankin splashed knee-deep into the clear water as Berdie dug in her heels.

  “Get the net under him!” she shouted.

  Aubrey had to confess to a serious adrenalin rush as hunter and prey battled. Iridescent scales flashed in the sun. Rankin scooped while Berdie reeled. The net wasn’t large enough to contain the entire fish. Rankin slogged onto the bank and eased the netted fish onto the pebbly bank. The fish slowed its desperate struggle.

  “What kind is it?” Madison asked.

  “Steelhead trout,” Berdie said.

  “It must be two feet long,” Aubrey said. “I can’t believe it came out of this little pond.”

  “He’s a clever fish,” Berdie said. “Probably slipped off many a hook in his lifetime. Find a couple of poles so we can carry him.”

  Madison and Aubrey found two straight pine branches while Berdie and Rankin fashioned a sling out of Madison’s windbreaker. Rankin lifted one end, and Madison the other.

  “Did you get the rest of the list?” Berdie asked.

  “We got all the edible plants plus a dandelion. That wasn’t even on the list. Fawn and Tweet followed us, so they collected everything we found.”

  “Cheaters,” Berdie muttered. “So where’s your partner?”

  “I don’t know,” Aubrey said. “When she disappeared, I thought she came back here.”

  “I need to make a trip,” Rankin said. “Somebody spell me, okay?”

  Aubrey grasped the pine poles. Her soiled and tattered bandages made her injuries seem dramatic, but she could manage carrying a trout. “If you see Sotheara—”

  “I know, I know.” Rankin waved an impatient hand as he trotted away.

  As they hiked along the creek, the meadow narrowed. A rock cliff rose on one side like the wall of a crumbling castle. Something smacked Aubrey’s shoulder.

  “Ow! What was that?”

  Then Madison yelped.

  “Someone’s throwing rocks at us,” Berdie said. “From up there. Take cover!”

  A shower of pebbles and pinecones rained down. The women dropped to the ground.

  “Stop it, Fawn!” Madison yelled. “You’re hurting us!”

  The assault ended as quickly as it had begun. Aubrey stood to see who was launching the missiles. Another rock flew by, just missing her.

  “Guard the fish!” Berdie yelled. “Keep low. Follow me.”

  She crawled on her belly, pulling herself forward with her elbows. Aubrey crawled awkwardly behind the receptionist, the pine poles resting on her shoulders.

  “Where’s Rankin when you need him?” Madison asked.

  “Maybe he snuck around to take out the attackers,” Berdie said.

  Aubrey thought of the handgun he undoubtedly had tucked in his vest. She hoped he had better control of his trigger finger than he demonstrated during the archery challenge. When they reached the limits of their tormentors’ throwing range, they stood and dusted themselves off.

  “That was disturbing,” Madison said.

  “People are taking drastic measures to save their jobs. You can blame Bender for this.” Berdie placed her hands on her hips and looked around. “We’d better get back before something worse happens.”

  “Are we lost?” Aubrey asked.

  “No. I know exactly where we are. But we can’t follow the stream back to camp. We might be attacked again.” Berdie turned in a slow semi-circle, then pointed. “That way.”

  Madison and Aubrey lifted the fish sling and followed. Everyone was twitchy, expecting rocks or maybe even bullets to start flying at any moment.

  “What is that?” Madison nodded in the direction of a tree.

  Aubrey squinted, but all she saw was a dark lump.

  “Porcupine,” Berdie whispered. “Half way up that tree. Someone snap a photo.”

  Aubrey and Madison set the fish sling down. Madison reached for her smart phone.

  She snapped a photo, then walked closer.

  “Not too close,” Berdie said. “Don’t scare it.”

  Then Aubrey saw it, front paws clinging to the side of the tree, its rump resting on a branch. Quills bristled as Madison stepped closer. The porcupine climbed higher, disappearing into the branches. Madison trotted back to her team.

  “Did you see its little nose? And its little round eyes? It was so cute!”

  “I’ll bet no one else gets a photo of a porcupine,” Berdie said.

  Madison checked the camera. “And I got a good shot.”

  Then Tweet popped up, his blond dreadlocks decorated with pine needles and dried aspen leaves. “I got one, too.”

  “I’ve had it with you!” Madison yelled. “Give that camera to me.”

  Tweet clutched his camera to his chest. “You don’t own the forest.”

  Fawn struggled through the brush to Tweet’s side, her eyes bloodshot. She put an arm around his shoulders.

  “You don’t have to put up with any abuse from these women,” Fawn said.

  “Abuse?” Aubrey yelled. “You’re the one who threw rocks at us!”

  Fawn frowned. “We did not. Come on, Tweet. I’m tired of being insulted. Let’s go back to camp.”

  She tried to lead him back the way she’d come, but Tweet dug in his heels.

  “No, that’s the wrong way,” Tweet said. “I saw the map.”

  Aubrey remembered Stewart’s photo of Tweet the first night of camp. The young man had stared at a map with a blank look on his face.

  “Tweet’s right,” Berdie said. “Camp is this way. You have a good sense of direction.”

  “He has a photographic memory,” Fawn said. “If Tweet sees or hears something, he remembers it forever.”

  “Is that so, Tweet?” Aubrey asked.

  He nodded. “Pretty much, yup. Song lyrics, too. I hear a song one time, and I remember every word. That’s why I avoid pop stations.” He shuddered.

  “You lead, then,” Berdie said. “Let’s see what you can do.”

  “What kind of music do you like, Tweet?” Madison asked.

  “Reggae and thrash metal.”

  Madison knew songs in both categories of the seemingly incompatible musical styles. Aubrey joined them on Peter Tosh’s old Reggae anthem Downpressor Man. With an employer like Jack Bender, the lyrics promising a righteous comeuppance for a tyrannical ruling class seemed particularly appropriate. Berdie picked up on the chorus.

  No other Belle Starrs were around. No other humans at all. The birds and squirrels were silent. Spooked by the quiet, Sotheara padded stealthily across pine needles and pebbly rocks, working her way cautiously toward the person.

  Before she was halfway down the hillside, a wrangler popped out of a thick stand of scrub oak. From his build, it had to be one of the guys, not Reba or Millie.

  The fortuituous appearance of the wrangler meant Sotheara didn’t need to get involved. No reason to explain why she was running around alone, violating Chapter Six of Rowdy’s book extolling the virtues of the Buddy System.

  The wrangler raised an arm. Sotheara saw the glint of metal.

  Was he going to stab the pe
rson? Or administer first aid? Was that a walkie talkie in his hand? Hard to say, from this distance. Better safe than sorry.

  “Hey!” Sotheara yelled. “Do you need help?”

  The man looked up, his face shaded by his cowboy hat and the shadows of the thick forest, but not hidden well enough. It was creepy Bud. He saw her. Sotheara’s heart skipped a beat or two, resuming operation with a ragged cadence she was sure wasn’t healthy. Bud rose from his crouch over the figure, broke into a trot, and melted away into the foliage.

  Strange. Sotheara resumed her hike down the steep hill, heading for the fallen Belle Starr. Before she reached the trail, she heard voices. Singing. She ducked behind a pine tree.

  The group marched single file along a narrow stretch of trail, singing their hearts out, when Tweet stopped.

  “What’s the hold up?” Fern called from behind.

  “Somebody’s on the trail,” Tweet said.

  “Tell him to move,” Fern said.

  “She can’t,” Tweet said. “I think she’s dead.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Jessie’s pink T-shirt was bright against the dried pine needles cushioning the trail. Aubrey set her end of the fish sling down and rushed to the head of the line. She placed a hand on the marathoner’s shoulder.

  “Jessie.”

  Aubrey gave her a gentle shake. The woman was skin and bones. How she had the energy to run, Aubrey couldn’t imagine. Even the most fanatical runners on Ted’s team had a spare bit of padding. Jessie groaned.

  “Thank God, she’s alive,” Madison said.

  Jessie threw one hand out and tried to rise, so the women helped her sit. She looked from Berdie to Aubrey, her eyes unfocused.

  “Where am I?”

  “On a trail outside camp,” Berdie said. “You’re lucky we found you.”

  Jessie touched the back of her head and winced. “What happened?”

  “We were hoping you could tell us that,” Berdie said.